Death Comes to the School

by Catherine Lloyd

  “You’re welcome, Lady Kurland.”

  Mrs. Jarvis opened the parlor door and gestured for Lucy to follow her out into the main hallway. The fragrant smell of baking pies wafted out from the depths of the inn, followed by a wave of stale ale and hops from the public bar.

  “Now, you take care, my lady.” Mrs. Jarvis patted Lucy’s shoulder. “It’s icy underfoot.”

  “I will. Thank you.” Lucy buttoned up her coat and made sure that the ribbons of her bonnet were tightly tied before she ventured outside. The wind had picked up, but there was no sleet or snow to worry her. “Good-bye, Mrs. Jarvis.”

  She set off down the street toward the rectory, hunching her shoulders against the slice of the breeze that tugged at her clothing. There was no sign of a carriage in the circular drive in front of the rectory, which meant that her father and brothers had not yet returned.

  Mr. Clapper had met with a woman in either Kurland St. Mary or one of the surrounding villages. Seeing as the only women of property Lucy knew had all lived in the area for as long as she had, Lucy was fairly certain that Mr. Clapper hadn’t been visiting one of them. Which left Miss Broomfield, who had closed the school earlier than usual and had been in a foul mood with her students the entire day.

  It seemed only logical that the teacher had met with the so-called solicitor, but for what purpose? Surely, an inquiry directed to Mr. Clapper would help clear up any lingering doubts as to whether he’d been in the village to see Miss Broomfield or not. But how to find him? Would a letter suffice, or would she need someone to go to London and find him and his offices in Cheapside?

  Robert would certainly not approve of her traveling to London in the current weather, but would he see the necessity of sending someone to check the dubious evidence Lucy had so far gathered? Normally, she would have persuaded him to do so, but she wasn’t sure she had the energy for another fight at this juncture.

  She let herself into the rectory and stamped her muddy boots on the well-worn mat in the scullery before taking off her bonnet and pelisse and entering the kitchen proper. Her sister, Anna, sat opposite the cook at the kitchen table, with a list in her hand. She looked up as Lucy entered, and offered her a bright smile.

  “Good morning, Lucy. Mrs. Armitage is arranging flowers in the dining room, and I’m consulting with Cook as to the increase in food required to deal with the arrival of two growing boys.”

  “Don’t you worry about that, miss.” The cook smiled. “I have plenty of provisions in store for now and for the Christmas season.”

  “Thank goodness for that.”

  Lucy joined them and helped herself to a cup of tea from the pot on the table. She had not lived at the rectory for three years now and had gradually learned not to interfere in Anna’s decidedly informal way of managing her staff.

  Anna turned to look at the kitchen clock. “Father said that he hoped to be back by midday, but that it depended on the state of the roads and the weather. Mr. Pugh, the shepherd, told me he expects it to start snowing any day now.”

  “And Mr. Pugh is usually right about such matters.” Lucy sipped her tea. “As long as we can hold the afternoon party, and the ball on Christmas Eve, I shall be happy.”

  “I assume several of the guests will be staying overnight after the ball?” Anna asked. “I know that Robert asked Father if he could accommodate some of his friends. Are you still considering your trip to Cambridge?”

  “The letter went out only today. I’ll wait and see whether I receive a reply within the next few days. I suppose the professor might go away for Christmas.”

  “I do hope not.” Anna turned toward the window. “I think I hear the carriage.” She stood up and took off her apron while patting her hair. “Come on, Lucy. Let’s find Mrs. Armitage and greet the twins on the front step.”

  * * *

  After a tumultuous hour spent with her twin brothers and a luncheon with her father, Lucy was tired but content. Her brothers had grown even taller and had not changed one bit, which made her very happy. She had practically brought them up after their mother died at their birth, and secretly considered them her own. Sending them away to school had at first seemed cruel, but they seemed to be thriving.

  She’d already arranged for them to come and spend the following day up at Kurland Hall, where she knew Robert had plans to entertain them. Her smile faded as she turned out of the rectory gate and continued down through the village toward the school. Despite insisting he had no time for children, Robert was remarkably patient both with the twins and the Stanford children. He would make an excellent father. . . .

  Lucy pushed that thought away and considered her recent conversation with Mrs. Jarvis at the Queen’s Head. Andrew Stanford was a lawyer in London. Perhaps he would know of a way to ascertain if Mr. Clapper really did practice the law and live in Cheapside. She would write a note to Sophia when she got home, and would ask his opinion on the matter.

  “Afternoon, Lady Kurland.”

  Startled, Lucy looked over her shoulder to see one of the Kurland Hall farmers grinning at her from his cart.

  “Good afternoon, Mathias. Are you headed home?”

  “No. I’m off to the blacksmith’s, my lady. I was wondering if you would like me to take you up?”

  Lucy considered the length of the High Street and smiled gratefully at Mathias. “As I am going to the school, that would be most helpful.”

  He came down to help her climb up onto the driver’s bench and then clicked to his horse to restart.

  “My horse is throwing a shoe. Don’t want him to go lame. Sir Robert wouldn’t like that.”

  “No, indeed, he would not.” Lucy settled her skirts and held tightly to her reticule. The wind had picked up considerably, and there was now a hint of rain in the air. “Do you think you could send a message up to the house on your return?”

  “Of course, my lady.”

  “Will you tell Foley to send the carriage down to the school to collect me at five o’clock?”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Thank you.”

  From her high perch, she had already noticed a couple of children heading for the schoolhouse and that the front door was ajar. She’d sent the key down to the smithy earlier. Rebecca Hall was nothing if not efficient and would make a remarkable teacher one day. Lucy wasn’t quite so sure that poor Josephine had the necessary force of manner to persuade a roomful of children to obey her. She might do better as a governess. In two years’ time, when the girls were eighteen, Lucy would make sure that whatever they chose to do, they received the necessary support and references.

  “Here you are, my lady.” Mathias stopped the cart and came around to lift Lucy down. “I’ll pass on your message.”

  “Thank you.” Lucy hesitated by the cart. “If you are still in the vicinity when the children come out of their rehearsal, please do not hesitate to take any of them home.”

  “I’ll do that, my lady.” He touched his hat to her. “Afternoon.”

  Lucy made her way into the school, pausing at the door to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. For the first time in over a week, there was the joyful sound of young voices in the building. In the center of the classroom, Rebecca had cleared a space to allow the dozen or so children present to stand grouped together. Their ages ranged from five or six to around fourteen.

  Josephine stood beside Rebecca, her expression serious as she attempted to quieten some of the more raucous elements. She smiled down at one of the little girls and took her hand.

  Rebecca clapped her hands. “Everyone be quiet, and let’s start with ‘While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks.’ ”

  “Washed their socks,” piped up one of the boys, and everyone giggled.

  Rebecca gave the little boy a hard stare. “Don’t sing that in church, or Sir Robert will scowl at you.”

  “And you’ll cry like a baby and pee your breeches!” said the boy next to him.

  There was more laughter, and for the second ti
me that day, Lucy allowed her spirits to lighten and laughed along with them.

  Rebecca’s head shot up when she noticed Lucy by the door.

  “Lady Kurland!”

  All the children turned to gape at her. Most of them were smiling, but a couple hid behind their larger peers, perhaps fearing she had come with the aforementioned Sir Robert.

  “Please carry on.” Lucy gestured at Rebecca. “I’d love to hear you all sing.” She took a seat at one of the desks and sat up straight, her hands folded on her lap.

  “Ready then?” Rebecca counted to three.

  To Lucy’s amusement, the little boy who’d made the joke about the socks proved to have the most beautiful voice, and it soared over the others like a lark. The second carol, “Adeste Fideles,” proved a little more difficult for the children, because of the different language, but they muddled through it quite successfully.

  When they finished, Lucy drew off her gloves and applauded. “That was very nice. A little more practice, and I don’t think Sir Robert will be scowling at anyone. In truth, you might even make him smile.”

  “Thank you, Lady Kurland,” the children chorused. Lucy rose from her seat. “I’ll leave you to continue, girls, while I attend to some matters in the teacher’s study. Leave the key on the desk, Rebecca. I will lock the door when I leave.”

  “We won’t be much longer, my lady,” Rebecca said. “It’s getting dark, and I promised we’d get the little ones home safely before it rains.”

  “Mr. Wilson is at the smithy with his farm cart. He is more than willing to take anyone home after his horse’s shoe is repaired.”

  “Thank you, my lady.”

  Lucy walked through to the back of the school, leaving the door ajar as the children launched into another chorus of the second carol. After a cursory glance around the study, she climbed the stairs to the teacher’s quarters and considered what to do next. The faint sound of the children singing permeated through the shadow-striped floor and petered out.

  If Miss Broomfield had hidden something, where might it be? Lucy went into the bedroom, took the chair from the dressing table, and set it in front of the chest of drawers again. Was it possible that she had missed something on top of the cupboard? She stepped up on the chair and reached up with one hand, but her fingers encountered only a layer of dust, and she reluctantly stepped down. She checked inside the chest of drawers and the closet in the wall, but there was nothing.

  The singing started again, and she hummed along as she turned her attention to the storage cupboard, where a hip bath hung on a hook on the wall and other bulky items sat on shelves. She hadn’t looked through the storage cupboard on her previous visit, but she knew she had no choice but to investigate it now. With a sigh, she started pulling things from the shelves.

  After a long while, when she was beginning to feel quite fatigued, she stepped back onto the landing, having found nothing of import, but having improved the appearance of the storage cupboard beyond recognition. The school was now silent, the children long gone, and dusk was falling.

  With a weary sigh, Lucy headed for the last of the rooms. She had to open the curtains just to be able to see. There was a bookcase and a little cupboard to explore. She attempted to move one of the armchairs, but it was too heavy, so she returned to the bedroom to collect the small chair she’d used before.

  A door banged somewhere down below, and she went still, her gaze seeking the clock on the mantelpiece. Was it already five o’clock? She knew Mr. Coleman wouldn’t hesitate to come into the school if she didn’t appear on the step at the correct time. The clock wasn’t ticking, as she had forgotten to wind it on her last visit.

  She peered out of the window, but the view wasn’t helpful. She couldn’t determine if the carriage had arrived at the front of the building or not. She certainly hadn’t heard anything. Glancing down at the chair, she placed it in front of the cupboard set high in the wall over the bookshelves and climbed on the seat. She opened both the doors wide and scanned the lower shelf.

  It was quite hard to see. She reached up and her fingers brushed against something that had fallen flat on the very top shelf. She stood on tiptoe, trying to get a proper grip on whatever it was, as one of the chair legs wobbled on the uneven surface of the tiled fireplace. A draught of air behind her made her attempt to look over her shoulder, and then everything shifted. She started to fall, her hand clenched around whatever she had found on the shelf.

  The last thing she remembered was hitting the floor, narrowly avoiding the falling chair, before her prize was ripped from her grasp and she fell into blackness.

  * * *

  Robert glanced impatiently around the empty schoolroom and marched through into the teacher’s study. There was no sign of Lucy. It was only by chance that he had encountered Foley in the hall at home and discovered that his wife was no longer at the rectory with her family, where she was supposed to be, but in the school. He’d told Foley he would drive down and bring her home himself. He had no idea why she’d decided to go to the school, but he had his suspicions.

  “Lucy?” he called up the stairs. His irritation died when a faint groan floated down to him. “Lucy!”

  His breath caught in his throat as he stumbled up the stairs. The door to the sitting room was open, and his wife lay in a tangled heap on the floor. He hurried over to her, discarded his cane as he knelt down on the floor, and then gathered her into his arms.

  She opened her eyes and blinked at him. “Robert. What are you doing here?”

  “Saving you, apparently.” He scanned her dazed face and then noted the overturned chair. “Did you fall?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure.”

  “How can you not be sure?” Robert tried not to snap, but it was difficult. “You’re lying on the floor, damn it.”

  “I thought I heard someone coming up behind me, and I tried to turn my head. The next thing I knew, I was falling.”

  “You probably heard me calling your name downstairs and overbalanced.”

  “No. I most certainly did not.” She met his gaze. “I’d just checked to see if Mr. Coleman had arrived, and there was no sign of a carriage. Did you walk down?”

  “I came in the gig. Can you sit up?”

  Lucy winced as he drew her into a more vertical position. “I was feeling around the top shelf of the cupboard and found something. I had to stand on tiptoe to reach it, and that’s when the chair was knocked from under me.”

  “Probably because you caused it to fall.”

  She showed him her hands. “Then how come whatever I found has disappeared?”

  Robert stared at her. “Are you quite certain you had a good grasp on whatever it was and didn’t simply leave it up there?”

  “If you let go of me, I can easily remedy that by checking.” She attempted to push away from him, but he stopped her by the simple expedient of picking her up and placing her in one of the armchairs.

  “Stay there. I’ll look.”

  He righted the chair and, with some trepidation, climbed up. His superior height meant he had no trouble seeing all the shelves, and they were definitely bare.

  “There’s nothing up there.” He took his time returning to the floor and winced as his booted left foot hit the floor. “Are you sure you didn’t just drop whatever you found?” He pointed at an object close to the fireplace. “Is it that?”

  She didn’t immediately reply, and he turned back to see why, only to discover she’d gone quite pale.

  “Are you going to swoon?” Robert asked urgently. She shook her head and moistened her lips with her tongue. “That flatiron wasn’t there earlier.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Perhaps I should be more grateful that you arrived when you did, Robert.” She raised her troubled gaze to meet his. “The person who pushed me off that chair might have intended to use that iron to put an end to me.”

  Chapter 12

  “The important question is, what did I have
in my hand that made someone contemplate killing me?” Lucy asked.

  She was tucked up in bed while her husband paced their bedroom, his expression brooding. He’d driven her home, delivered her into the arms of Aunt Rose, and left her to take her dinner in peace on a tray in bed. Despite falling on the floor, Lucy had suffered nothing worse than a bruised hip and shoulder. She suspected she might feel worse on the morrow.

  Robert spun around to stare at her in a rather intimidating manner. “The important thing is that, as per usual, you decided to wander down to the schoolhouse without telling anyone where you were going, and exposed yourself to unnecessary danger.”

  “You make it sound as if I was being deliberately underhand. I did send a message to Foley, and Anna knew I was going to the school. I was merely supervising the children while they learned the carols for the Christmas service, which you agreed I could do,” Lucy pointed out in her most reasonable tone. “You are just annoyed because I got hurt.”

  “Of course I am annoyed! Wouldn’t you be?”

  She set her dinner tray aside. “I would be furious if I had discovered you in the same situation. You know that. But I hope I would try to be reasonable about why it happened, instead of glowering at you as though you were deliberately trying to inconvenience me.”

  He shoved a hand through his already disordered hair. “Lucy . . .”

  “I apologize if I scared you, but we did learn something valuable.” She sat forward, her braided hair sliding over her shoulder. “There is obviously something we are missing from our knowledge of Miss Broomfield. Did she have an accomplice who helped her steal the jewelry or sells it on for her? Or did someone mistake me for her in the darkness?”

  “And attempt to kill her again?”

  “Mayhap this second person was unaware of what had happened to Miss Broomfield. Or perhaps it was someone who received one of her letters and wanted to kill her, as well.”

  Robert sank into the chair closest to the bed and regarded her through his steepled fingers. “You are incorrigible.”