“One might say that.” Robert fiddled with the collar of his coat. If truth be told, she’d made him feel rather uncomfortable.
“Did you ask her whether there had been any odd visitors at the inn?” Lucy said. “I assume you are trying to ascertain whether the man Josephine saw was a local man or a stranger.”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Jarvis was unavailable, but I hope he will receive my message. I’ll send Dermot down to speak to him tomorrow to make sure,” Robert replied.
“Have you also spoken to the villagers who live near the school?” Lucy persisted. “Although the majority of those cottages contain our farmworkers, who are not at home in the late afternoon. What about the Hall family at the smithy? They see everyone passing by.”
“Lucy . . .” Robert held her gaze. “I’m fairly certain my aunt has no interest in hearing about these matters. I can assure you that I have everything well in hand.”
“But—”
Robert turned away from his wife and smiled at Aunt Rose. “What delights do you have in your hatbox, Aunt, that are so important that you insisted on having them sent down from London?”
To his relief, Lucy made no more attempts to change the conversation and listened quietly as Rose described her two new bonnets and a lace cap, which she insisted would make all the ladies in the neighborhood jealous.
* * *
When they reached the hall, Lucy waited until Rose started up the stairs before she followed Robert down the corridor to his study. She didn’t bother to knock and just marched straight in to find him limping over to his desk.
“Is your leg troubling you?”
He shot her an irritated glance but didn’t answer. She could tell from the hard set of his jaw that he was in pain and was refusing to admit it.
“Robert . . .”
“I am fine,” he snapped as he sat down and fiddled with his pens. “Will you please stop fussing over me?”
She stopped in front of his desk and waited until she had his complete, if reluctant, attention. “Am I not allowed to discuss the matter of Miss Broomfield’s death with you?”
“That’s not what I said,” Robert retorted. “I merely suggested that there is a time and a place for such discussions, and that my aunt would probably not wish to be part of them.”
“So you are willing to hear my opinions on the matter.”
“Of course.” He put down his pen. “I always appreciate your contributions.”
“Balderdash. You didn’t even ask me whether Josephine had remembered anything about what happened yesterday.”
He sat back and looked up at her, one eyebrow raised. “Probably because I assumed you were going to tell me, anyway, in your own good time.”
“No. You hoped I wouldn’t,” Lucy retorted. “You hoped I’d sit quietly and not ask any questions to anyone about anything ever again!”
“That is somewhat of an exaggeration, my dear.” He lined up the pens on his desk. “You are not well. You agreed with me that you would not involve yourself too deeply in this matter. In fact, you promised me—”
“I did no such thing! I promised not to attempt to run the school.”
“You knew what I meant.” His blue gaze was steady and unflinching. “You are already exhausting yourself organizing a ball and a village party. You have guests to care for, and your twin brothers are coming home for the holidays. Owing to your father’s somewhat selfish disposition, I suspect that we will be entertaining them at the hall for the duration of the holidays.”
“I am quite capable of managing all these things,” Lucy said firmly.
“I know you are, which is why I’m suggesting you focus your energies on those things and stop chasing after a murderer!” He shoved a hand through his dark hair. “Am I being unreasonable to expect you to take care of yourself?”
She raised her chin. “You are certainly being very high-handed.”
“I am your husband. If I’m not allowed to tell you that you are attempting too many tasks, then who is?”
“Perhaps you might consider that I know myself well enough to make those decisions without help from you.”
He flung out his hand. “Which means that regardless of my position on the matter, as usual, you will go your own way and ignore me.”
Good gracious. Now he was as cross as she was. Lucy pressed a hand to her heart and took a deep breath. Was he right? Her father could probably quote many instances from the Bible that showed where her obedience lay. But if she gave in and kept quiet, she would wither away, and then what?
“Are you ordering me not to take any interest in Miss Broomfield’s death?”
He was silent for so long that she almost forgot to breathe.
“No.” He sat back, one arm resting on the back of his chair. “I refuse to be cast as the villain in this play.”
He sounded so defeated, her resolve wobbled.
“Thank you for that at least.”
His gaze dropped to the ledgers piled on his desk. “Is there anything else you wish to say to me? Otherwise, I would like to get on. I have the end-of-the-year accounts to wrestle with.”
“I know you will not believe me, but I truly do not wish to fight with you.” He didn’t look up, so Lucy continued. “I just want to make sure that whoever killed Miss Broomfield is brought to justice.”
“As you said.” He continued perusing the accounts sheet. “I’m sure that is what we all wish for.”
“And I know that you will do everything in your power to make that happen.”
“Indeed.”
“Then can you not allow me at least some share in the endeavor?”
“I’ve already told you that I won’t stop you doing whatever it is you’re going to do, anyway.”
She bit her lip. “That makes me sound so . . . contrary.” “You are contrary.” He still didn’t look up. “You turn my concern for you into something to be fought over and mauled to death.”
“No,” she whispered. “That’s not what I mean to do at all.”
There was a brisk knock on the door, and Dermot came in, carrying a pile of papers. He stopped dead and looked from Lucy to her husband.
“I do apologize for interrupting you, Lady Kurland, Sir Robert. I will come back later.” He turned on his heel, but Lucy was already moving past him.
“I was just leaving. Please stay. I’m sure Sir Robert would be delighted to talk to you.”
Chapter 7
“May I come in?”
Lucy looked up from her letter writing to discover Robert at the door of her sitting room. He looked as tired as she felt, and seeing as they had barely exchanged more than a dozen words since their disastrous argument the day before, she was somewhat surprised to see him. She’d deliberately waited until he’d left the breakfast table before partaking of her own meal. It was not like her to be such a coward, but she had a sense that she had offended him deeply, and she had no notion of how to fix the issue without surrendering to his demands.
“Of course.”
He entered the room and took up a position on the hearthrug in front of the fire, reminding her forcibly of her father. “I wish to clarify something I said yesterday.”
Lucy turned in her chair to look at him but didn’t speak. She hated being at odds with him and had felt sick to her stomach all night.
“Aunt Rose reminded me that you had taken possession of Miss Broomfield’s belongings and that you were intending to sort through them today.”
“That is correct.” Lucy raised her chin. “Would you like me to relinquish the task to her entirely, or should I simply make a bonfire and dispose of everything in one fell swoop?”
A muscle twitched in his cheek. “I was going to say that I have no issue with you dealing with her effects. In truth, I would appreciate your help in the matter.”
“Oh.” Lucy twisted her hands together in her lap. “That is very . . . gracious of you.”
“As you said yesterday, I also do not wish us to fight.” He
inclined his head. “If you do find anything interesting in your search, I would appreciate it if you would let me know.”
“I will certainly do that,” she said, hastening to reassure him. “And thank you again.”
He went, as if to leave, and she held up her hand. “There is one more thing.... I arranged to meet with Josephine and Rebecca in the schoolhouse this morning so that they could help me go through the rest of the books in the study and upstairs.”
“Then meet them, and make sure that they are the ones doing the work and that you are just supervising.” He nodded and turned, as if to leave.
Lucy rose to her feet and rushed across the room to take Robert’s hand. “Thank you.”
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. “Make sure you wrap up warmly. It is bitterly cold out there.”
She cupped his cheek with her palm. “I am sorry for being such a troublesome wife.”
“No you’re not.” His smile was reluctant but still very welcome. “But I can’t say I didn’t know what I was letting myself in for when I proposed to you, can I?”
“You were certainly well aware of my faults.”
“As you were of mine.” His blue gaze grew serious. “We can do much better than this, you know.”
Lucy swallowed hard. “I realize that I am not the most congenial of partners at the moment. I will try to do better.”
“As will I. My temper is never at its best during the cold winter months.” He released her hand. “If you are to meet with your young charges at the school, you had best be on your way. Have you arranged for the carriage to take you, or do you intend to walk?”
“I’m taking the carriage.” She gave him a grateful smile. “Aunt Rose is visiting Anna at the rectory, so I will take her there first.”
“Excellent. Perhaps I will see you this afternoon.” He nodded and left the room, while Lucy resumed her position at her desk.
She attempted to finish writing her letter, but the ability to concentrate had deserted her. Beneath his somewhat irascible exterior, Robert was a good man, and she was being foolish by challenging him over everything. The problem was, she didn’t know why she kept doing it....
She had always questioned her father about everything and had suffered the consequence of his irritation with her throughout her childhood and beyond. He much preferred Anna, who dealt with him in a far more sympathetic manner. Even though he’d encouraged Lucy to expand her education and read widely, he’d never appreciated it when she displayed her knowledge.
Robert liked her just as she was . . . or he had until recently, when she’d twice failed in her wifely duty of giving him an heir. Not that he’d ever say that to her, but the thought of his obnoxious cousin Paul inheriting Kurland Hall couldn’t possibly sit well with him. She was almost thirty. Most of her friends had three or four children by now. Even Penelope and Sophia, who had married comparatively late like her, had succeeded where she had failed.
Grace and Dr. Fletcher had assured her that her ability to conceive had not been compromised by her previous miscarriages. She was not convinced they were right, and seeing as Robert had avoided her bed for the past few months, the chance of proving them right was far from settled.
With a sigh, Lucy gave up on her letter writing and put her pen away. She still had a lot to accomplish before Christmas Day. There were invitations to write and the festivities to organize. If she focused on the things she could accomplish, maybe she would feel better about the things that currently eluded her.
* * *
After leaving Rose at the rectory, where she was warmly greeted both by the rector and Anna, Lucy was driven to Lower Kurland. Josephine was ready to depart, meaning that Lucy didn’t have to deal with the Greenwell ladies. She did leave a message to confirm their dinner arrangements for the upcoming Friday.
Josephine was well wrapped up against the cold and seemed disinclined to talk on the short journey back to the village. Lucy wondered if the girl was worried about reentering the school. She decided not to say anything to draw attention to the matter, in case she made things worse.
To her surprise, when they alighted from the carriage, the outside door to the school was already unlocked. She pushed it open and went inside, Josephine trailing behind her, to find Rebecca Hall already setting a fire in the main schoolroom.
“Good morning, Lady Kurland,” Rebecca called out cheerfully. “I thought I’d start a fire. This place is as cold as a tomb.”
“I didn’t realize you had a key to the building, Rebecca,” Lucy said.
“My father made a copy of both the front and back door keys for Miss Brent.” Rebecca grinned. “She was always worried she would lock herself out. We keep them in the smithy in case they are needed.”
Lucy wondered if Robert was aware of that, but decided not to question Rebecca too closely, as there was a lot to do.
“I tried to start a fire in the kitchen, as well, my lady, but the chimney wasn’t drawing properly, so I stopped.”
“I remember Miss Broomfield telling me that one of the chimneys was blocked,” Lucy said. “I told her I would have someone come down and see to it.”
“There’s probably a bird’s nest fallen in there, or something has died,” Rebecca commented, with all the practicality of a girl raised in a farming community. “Can’t smell anything rotting, though.”
“Thank goodness,” Lucy murmured as she passed through the schoolroom into the kitchen behind. “Come along, Josephine.”
Rebecca carried on chatting as she pulled out a chair and waited for Lucy and Josephine to sit down at the small pine table. She reached out to poke her friend’s arm. “Did you really find the body, Josie? Was it scary?”
Josephine shuddered, and Lucy hastened to intervene.
“Yes, Josephine did discover that Miss Broomfield was dead. It was hardly a pleasant experience.”
Rebecca nodded sympathetically. “Did her heart stop, my lady? My father always reckoned her temper would get the better of her. The way she used to get all red in the face and start shouting at everyone . . .”
“I don’t think that’s how she died, Rebecca,” Lucy said. “In truth, Dr. Fletcher thinks she was killed.”
Rebecca’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, Lordy! Who would’ve thought that would happen here in Kurland St. Mary?”
“It is certainly unusual,” Lucy conceded. “Sir Robert is attempting to discover the culprit. I have complete confidence in his ability to resolve this matter in a timely and satisfactory manner.”
“Of course, my lady.” Rebecca nodded. “Can I tell my parents about this?”
“I’d rather you kept it to yourself until we have apprehended the villain who did this.” Lucy held Rebecca’s brown gaze. “Do you think you could do that?”
“I’ll try, my lady, but I’m not very good at keeping secrets.” Rebecca shifted in her seat. “My dad says I have a big mouth.”
“Then if you can’t remain silent, mayhap I can tell your parents and swear them to secrecy.”
Lucy was fairly certain that the news was already known throughout the village. Keeping a secret in Kurland St. Mary was virtually impossible.
“You could try, my lady, but my mum does like a good gossip.” Rebecca looked even more doubtful than Lucy felt. “What about Josephine’s family? Do they know?”
“Sir Robert informed the Greenwells when he took Josephine home after she discovered Miss Broomfield was dead.” Lucy sat back. “Do you think we could move on to discussing what needs to be done in the schoolhouse?”
After setting Rebecca and a subdued Josephine to sorting out the books on the shelves in the study, Lucy went up the stairs to the teacher’s private apartment. She had a sense that she was missing something important, some clue to Miss Broomfield’s enigmatic personality, some sense of the woman who had lived amongst them without a friend or an acquaintance who had even noticed she was dead.
She turned a slow circle on the landing, taking in the
silence and the lack of even a hint of remaining fragrance or essence of the schoolteacher. It was almost as if Miss Broomfield had divested herself of any hint of who she really was before she’d embarked on her teaching career in the village.
Perhaps Lucy was being foolish and she would form a different picture of Miss Broomfield once she’d sorted through her personal effects. Last night, after speaking to Robert, she’d read the letter from the school in Cornwall that Dermot had placed on her desk stating that the teacher had been dismissed for unbecoming conduct. The letter had only made her more curious as to what exactly had transpired. Surely, Robert wouldn’t object if she wrote to the headmistress with some questions of her own?
She wandered into the bedroom and studied the sturdy bed frame and the bare mattress. A small crucifix hung over the bed. It certainly didn’t belong to the fittings Lucy had provided for the apartment. She must have missed it in yesterday’s gloom. Had Miss Broomfield been a Roman Catholic? It might explain why Lucy had rarely seen her in the parish church. She had to climb onto the bed and steady herself before she was able to reach up and remove the cross from its nail. There was a small piece of twine wrapped around the base, and it secured something wrapped in paper to the back of the wood.
She placed the crucifix in her pocket to examine later. She could only hope she had discovered the key to the locked box she had found in the cupboard the day before. Just as she was about to get down, from her superior vantage point, she noticed something concealed on the top of the chest of drawers.
Climbing down from the bed, she contemplated how to reach the object, and she ended up standing on the rather wobbly chair that usually stood in front of the dressing table. She was fairly certain Robert wouldn’t approve of her current actions, but he couldn’t see her and would never know, as long as she didn’t fall and break her neck.
She retrieved the flat velvet box and sat down on the side of the bed to open it. The clasp gave easily. Lucy gasped as she took in the beautiful diamond and ruby necklace and earrings nestled in the satin. Why would a woman who chose to teach at a rural village school have such expensive jewelry? Had she inherited them from a family member, or was their appearance more sinister?
Death Comes to the School Page 10