Death Comes to Kurland Hall (19 page)

She glanced at him as he ushered Charlotte into the parlor.

“Major Kurland, you are limping quite badly. Please sit by the fire.”

He did as she asked without comment. Charlotte came to lean on the arm of his chair, one hand patting his bad knee.

“It was quite funny to see you being bowled over, Major, but I'm sorry that you hurt your leg.”

He smiled to reassure her as Miss Harrington disappeared in the direction of the kitchen. “It's all right. I'm sure I will be perfectly fine for the walk home.”

Betty came in with a tea tray, followed by Miss Chingford and Miss Harrington, who paused by his chair to lay a hot cloth on his knee. She didn't fuss over him or issue any instructions, which was surprisingly comforting.

“Tea, Major?”

“Yes, please.” He glanced across at Miss Chingford, who had taken the seat opposite him. “How is Miss Dorothea?”

“She is feeling much better, sir.”

“I'm glad to hear it.” He hesitated. “Have you decided on your plans for the future yet?”

“Our solicitor, Mr. Brewerton, says that we shall have a small annuity from my mother and that we have been offered a home with my father's oldest sister, who lives in Northumberland.”

“Ah.” Robert tried to think of something positive to say. “I've heard it is a beautiful part of the country.”

“Indeed. I'm not quite certain it would agree with me, sir, so I am continuing to investigate other possibilities.” Miss Chingford flashed a rare smile at Miss Harrington. “The rector has offered us a home for as long as we need it.”

“How . . . kind of him.”

“Miss Harrington persuaded him.”

Robert had nothing to say to that. He accepted some more tea and waited for the ache in his leg to subside, which it did more quickly with the addition of the heated cloth.

“I understand that Mr. Fairfax is leaving in a few days,” Miss Chingford said.

“That's correct. He hasn't specified exactly which day yet, but I suspect he'll tell me that soon.”

Miss Chingford raised her eyebrows. “But I thought it was all agreed that he was leaving on Wednesday. Isn't that the day he said he would come and collect us, Lucy?”

Robert very slowly put his cup down on its saucer. “I beg your pardon?”

“I believe that's what he said, Penelope.” Miss Harrington darted a look at Robert and then raised her chin. “Mr. Fairfax asked me if I would do him the honor of accompanying him to meet his household.”

“For what purpose?”

Miss Harrington looked at him as if he were an idiot. “He said that it was your idea, Major. That you recommended my housekeeping abilities and thought I might be able to help him make sense of what is required at his new home.”

“I don't remember—”

“Be that as it may, Major,” Miss Chingford interrupted him with a sweet smile. “Isn't it kind of dear Mr. Fairfax to take such an interest in our Lucy? One might wonder at his motives.” She flicked a knowing glance at Miss Harrington. “Perhaps he wishes to see if
you
will make him a good housekeeper, Lucy.”

Robert stared at Miss Harrington, who was blushing. Was it possible that Thomas was considering her as a potential wife? That wasn't what he'd meant to happen at all when he'd recommended her housekeeping.

Patting Charlotte's hand, Robert stood up, the cloth falling from his knee to the floor. “It sounds as if Thomas has arranged things to his satisfaction. Now, I really must take Miss Charlotte home before her nurse thinks I've lost her for good.” He bowed. “A pleasure, as always, ladies. Please remember me to Miss Dorothea and the rector.”

Charlotte obediently followed him to the front door and put on her outdoor things before joining him in the walk back up the long drive to Kurland Hall. Luckily, she seemed tired from her adventures and was more than willing to let Robert contemplate in solitary silence a future without Thomas and Miss Harrington in Kurland St. Mary.

He arrived at the manor house, deep in thought, only to encounter Charlotte's brother Terence and Thomas in the kitchens. While the children were taken up to the nursery wing to be bathed and to have supper, Robert invited Thomas to join him for dinner.

As they sat drinking a glass of port at the end of the meal, Robert said, “I hear you are intending to leave on Wednesday.”

“That's correct. Did Foley tell you?”

“It was Miss Chingford. She said that she and Miss Harrington were going with you to assess the state of the house and the staff.”

“When you suggested I ask Miss Harrington for her advice, I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of it myself. She was more than willing to come and look over the house with me.” Thomas hesitated. “I suspect she longs to have a home of her own.”

Robert refilled his glass. “And do you think Fairfax Park might suit her?”

“I don't know, sir. I thought if she went and saw it . . . I'd get a better sense as to whether a marriage proposal would also be acceptable.”

The clock on the mantelpiece ticked loudly in the silence as Robert considered what to say. “Do you think she will accept your proposal?”

“I'm not sure, sir. What do you think? You know her better than most people.”

“She would be a fool to turn you down. I've often thought you two would suit rather well. You both manage me very competently.”

Thomas frowned. “But there is the question of my illegitimacy. Miss Harrington is the granddaughter and niece of an
earl
.”

“If she cares about you, she won't let that affect her decision. She is a woman of remarkably good sense.” Robert reached inside his pocket for one of his cigarillos so that he could avoid looking directly at Thomas's earnest face. “The rector likes you. I'm sure he would prefer to see his daughter married than wasting away her talents at the rectory.”

Thomas stood up and placed his napkin on the table. “You . . . wouldn't object if I courted Miss Harrington, then, sir?”

“How could I possibly object?” Robert managed a smile. “It has nothing to do with me.”

Thomas blew out a long breath. “Perhaps she doesn't intend to marry at all and prefers to stay and manage the rectory.”

“You won't find out unless you ask her, Thomas, will you?” Robert said rather too heartily. “Take her to Fairfax Park and see how you both feel after that.”

“Yes, Major Kurland, I will, and thank you.”

“For what?”

“For employing me here, for . . . trusting me.” Thomas swallowed hard. “I think I will deal with the Fairfax estate far more competently now.”

“You certainly need have no qualms as to your abilities, Thomas. They are all your own.” Robert forced himself to meet the young man's gaze. “I wish you all the best with your future.”

“Thank you.”

With a smile, Thomas left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Robert remained at the dining table and helped himself to a large glass of port. He would miss Thomas.

He would miss Lucy Harrington even more....

With a curse, he downed the port and refilled his glass. Had she realized Thomas was determined to make her his wife? Surely she had. No young woman went to view a young man's estate without realizing why he was showing it to her in the first place. Not that the estate was Thomas's, but it might as well be his for the next ten years or so. And Miss Chingford had done her best to drop lots of hints to Robert about the possibility of Miss Harrington being stolen from under his nose. He suspected that was the only reason she had invited him back to the rectory at all.

Raising his head, Robert stared out into the night and caught the faint lights coming from the church and the rectory opposite. He'd asked Miss Harrington to marry him, and she'd refused. He'd told her that he cared for her, and she'd looked at him as if he'd slapped her face.

Perhaps it was time to realize that whatever he did would never be right and that Miss Harrington was destined to marry another. Thomas was young, healthy, and ambitious. He was also intelligent, personable, and of an even temperament, which Robert secretly envied. All in all, he was a far better candidate for matrimony than an irritable cripple with an uncertain temper and a terror of horses that refused to go away completely.

He should let her go. Glancing down, he saw his hand had curled into a fist. His fellow cavalry officers hadn't called him “Forlorn Hope” Kurland for nothing. He still wasn't certain if he was prepared to lose this particular battle without one last stand.

Chapter 18

L
ucy yawned as the carriage made its way along the bumpy road. She hadn't realized quite how far Fairfax Park was from Kurland St. Mary. They would have to stay at the house for at least a week to prepare themselves for the return trip. The coffin bearing Mrs. Fairfax had already started its slow journey home, and the body would rest in the chapel at the park until the vicar held the funeral service later that week.

Mr. Fairfax was on horseback, leaving the ladies to the carriage. Due to Miss Chingford's machinations and the need for a chaperone, they'd ended up taking Miss Stanford and Mrs. Green with them, as well. Lucy had assumed the two ladies would be leaving for London, but apparently, Major Kurland had insisted that Miss Stanford stay at Kurland Hall until her brother returned. The excursion to Fairfax Park was a blatant attempt to separate her from Mr. Reading, who had stayed in the village. Mrs. Green had privately confided to Lucy that Major Kurland had thought it a good idea to get Miss Stanford away from Kurland St. Mary while he dealt with Mr. Reading.

Lucy nudged Penelope, who was sitting beside her. Miss Stanford and Mrs. Green were both asleep.

“Do you think Dorothea will be all right by herself? I told Betty to stay with her at all times.”

“I don't think she has any intention of running away again. She has nowhere to go. Neither of us does.”

There was a bleakness to Penelope's tone, which made Lucy feel terrible. “You can stay at the rectory for as long as you wish. My father was very clear about that.”

“Which is very kind of him, but I suspect we would soon be fighting, Lucy. We are both rather managing.”

“I suppose that is true.” Lucy sighed. “Were you able to get Dorothea to tell you exactly what happened the night your mother died?”

“I believe I understand what happened now.”

Lucy sat up. “You agreed to tell me what you found out.”

“There is nothing to say.” Penelope's shrug was unconvincing. “I am quite certain Dorothea did not harm our mother, and that is an end to the matter.”

“But did she see anyone else?” Lucy persisted.

Penelope flicked a warning glance over at the other side of the carriage. “Do you really want to discuss this now?”

Lucy subsided into her seat and gave Penelope her best glare. “We will talk about this later.”

“Perhaps,” Penelope said. “I would imagine you would be too busy deciding whether Fairfax Park will make a suitable home for you.”

Lucy felt her cheeks heat. “There is no suggestion of that. Mr. Fairfax merely values my opinion on domestic matters.”

“I think we both know it is more than that.” Penelope sniffed. “I only wish I'd had the forethought to engage his interest before he thought of you.”

“You are more than welcome to try.”

“Would you not like to be mistress of Fairfax Park? I am surprised at you, Lucy. Mr. Fairfax would make an unexceptional husband, and you would live very well.”

“Until his half brother became of age to take on the estate himself.”

“By which time, if Mr. Fairfax has any sense, he will have sufficiently feathered his own nest to provide you with an alternative home and a good income.”

“You are terribly mercenary.” Lucy shook her head. “I doubt Mr. Fairfax has any such thought in his mind.”

The carriage slowed and rocked as the coachman negotiated a turn through a set of iron gates and past a lodge. The figure of the gatekeeper passed in a blur as the sun began to set and the elm trees lining the long drive closed overhead. Eventually, Fairfax Park was revealed as a sturdy stone building of a similar size to Kurland Hall but built in a later era.

A footman opened the door to the carriage and let down the step. Mrs. Green was the first to emerge, followed by a surly-faced Miss Stanford. Lucy waited until last, her gaze fixed on the set of stone steps leading up to the double front door of the house. The structure appeared to be in excellent order, with a covering of ivy that softened the harshness of the gray stone.

“Welcome to Fairfax Park.”

Lucy turned to see Mr. Fairfax striding toward her. “Thank you.”

He paused beside her, his face lifted to the line of windows above the door, which reflected back a smattering of the reddish sunset.

“It is strange to be back here. I never thought it would happen, and in such tragic circumstances.” He swallowed hard. “I will have to attend to my half brother in the nursery. He needs to hear about his mother's unfortunate death.”

“Would you like me to accompany you? I am quite used to dealing with small boys.”

He took her gloved hand and brought it to his lips. “That is very kind of you, but I think I must do this alone. Please make yourself at home. I will see you and the other ladies at dinner.”

Lucy nodded, and he walked with her up the steps and introduced her to the butler, a Mr. Simmons, who appeared to be a very competent man. Simmons passed her over to the chief housemaid, who escorted her up to a very nice bedchamber, which faced over the park at the back of the house.

It was a relief to take off her bonnet and gloves and wash off the dirt of the road. After speaking to the maid assigned to her and Penelope, Lucy lay down on her bed for a short nap. She spared a thought for Major Kurland, who hadn't once spoken to her before she'd left on her journey. He'd said he cared about her. Had he assumed that her acceptance of Mr. Fairfax's invitation to visit Fairfax Park was also an acceptance of a proposal of marriage? Her father had been delighted at Mr. Fairfax's interest in her and had urged her to consider her options very carefully indeed. She couldn't decide whether Major Kurland's unusual silence on the subject was good or bad. She would almost have preferred it if he'd lost his temper with her. At least then she would have known where she stood.

As her eyes closed, she found herself smiling.
Poor Major Kurland.
When he shouted at her, she refused to have anything to do with him. How on earth did she expect him to behave? The idea of becoming mistress of a large estate with a pleasant husband was not one that any woman in her right mind would discount. But she had always hoped for more than a dutiful marriage. Could she grow to love Thomas Fairfax? She certainly liked him very much.

She reminded herself that the visit did not have to culminate in a proposal of marriage, and that she was perfectly capable of avoiding such a situation if the need arose. Perhaps it wasn't too late to steer Mr. Fairfax's affections toward Penelope. She seemed far more accepting of a marriage of convenience than Lucy would ever be. A year ago the idea of
any
marriage had seemed acceptable, so what had changed? Her last thought as sleep overcame her was of Major Kurland winking at her at Sophia's wedding. She might never marry, but her weeks in London and her encounters with the major had certainly made her think differently about what she required in a husband.

It was unlike her to be so unsettled. She would set her mind to inquiring into the state of Fairfax Park and finding out more about Mrs. Fairfax. That should keep her occupied and less disposed to give in to her emotions.

 

Robert sat at his desk in the lamplight and studied the immaculate records Thomas had left behind him. When he hired a new land agent, the man would have no difficulty in following his predecessor's plans for the farms, fields, and cottages of the Kurland estate. Thomas had done a fine job.

Robert consulted his pocket watch and calculated that Thomas and the ladies should have reached Fairfax Park earlier that afternoon. He'd almost considered going with them, but his pride had stopped him. If Miss Harrington wanted to marry Thomas, he wasn't going to stand in her way. He wanted her to be happy, and if Thomas made her happy, he was content with that.

A knock on the door announced Foley with his dinner on a tray and a bottle of red wine. With no guests left to entertain, he was back to his more slovenly ways.

“Major Kurland, there is a note for you. I have placed it on the tray.”

“Thank you, Foley.”

His butler lingered, setting out a glass for the wine and taking his time uncorking the bottle, while Robert picked up the note and read it.

“Damn the man,” he muttered.

“Is Mr. Paul bothering you again, sir?” Foley shook his head. “He always was stubborn, that one.”

“Mr. Paul is threatening to travel up to Mr. Fairfax's home to ‘rescue' Miss Stanford.” Robert balled up the note and threw it in the fire. “I suppose I will have to go down to the Queen's Head and see him.”

“Eat your dinner first, Major. From what I hear, the landlord won't let him leave unless he pays some of what he owes.”

“Which I doubt he has the means to do.” Robert groaned. “He is
infuriating
. If I let him chase after Miss Stanford, Andrew will have my head, but if I let him stay at the inn, I have to put up with his incessant demands. Get the gig ready. I'll go down and see him after I've eaten.”

Robert shoveled down his dinner in a most ungentlemanly way, which would have shocked Foley, and drank half the bottle of wine. As he pulled out his handkerchief to wipe his face, the locket fell out of his pocket, and he stared at it in exasperation.

He put on his spectacles, drew his new pocketknife and investigated the minute crack between the two gold surfaces. He then eased the tip of the knife inward until the locket was forced apart. Inside was a portrait of a dark-haired baby and an inscribed date. Squinting at the lettering, Robert could only assume that the baby was Mrs. Fairfax's son. But why hadn't she claimed the locket that first morning, when he'd asked who it belonged to? Had she feared being incriminated in Mrs. Chingford's death?

Robert considered the locket. Was this what Miss Stanford had been searching for? If it was, why had she wanted it, or had she simply been ordered to find it by Paul, who, despite his physical absence from the wedding, seemed rather too involved in the matter for Robert's liking? His cousin had a genius for creating trouble and, by all accounts, had known Mrs. Chingford rather well.

“Damnation,” Robert muttered as he pocketed the locket. “I'm going to have to talk to him.”

The gig was already waiting for him at the door, so he set off in the gathering darkness to the inn. There was no sign of Paul in the crowded bar. The landlady, who assured him that his cousin was in his room, directed Robert up the stairs.

Robert knocked hard on the door with the head of his cane, and eventually Paul answered. He had taken off his coat and had his shirtsleeves rolled up. His smile widened as he invited Robert in.

“Cousin, how good of you to call. Perhaps you could prevail on the landlady to bring us a decent bottle of brandy. She refuses to give me any unless I pay for it directly.”

“I'm not surprised.” Robert took a seat by the fire. “I've already ordered a bottle.”

Paul sat opposite him, his relaxed posture at odds with the wariness of his gaze. “Thank you. I assume you got my note.”

“I'm not going to allow you to follow Miss Stanford to Fairfax Park. She is quite safe there.”

“Safe from me, you mean. For God's sake, Robert, I would've thought you'd be pleased if I went out and found myself an heiress.”

“Not this one.”

“Then what do you expect me to do? Starve?”

“How about earning your own living?”

“I'm a
gentleman
. Do you expect me to engage in trade?”

“Why not? That's how my grandfather made his fortune. It's the only reason I can still afford to run Kurland Hall.”

“Then appoint me as your steward. Let me take over Mr. Fairfax's duties.”

Robert sighed. “I don't trust you not to ruin me.” There was a knock at the door, and Paul got up to retrieve the bottle of brandy and two glasses.

When they'd both taken a shot of brandy, Robert looked up at his cousin. “I want you to leave Kurland St. Mary.”

“And, as I keep telling you, I have nowhere else to go and no money.”

Robert poured them both another measure of brandy. “What if I made it worth your while to leave?”

“It depends. If I can't marry Miss Stanford and claim her dowry, I will need to be compensated very heavily.”

“You are not going to marry Miss Stanford.”

“Then give me an incentive to leave.”

Robert looked down into his glass and gently swirled the remaining brandy around. “What was your connection with Mrs. Chingford?”

“What's that got to do with our present negotiation?”

“Your ability to answer some questions honestly might lead me to offer you more favorable terms.”

Paul refilled his brandy glass and sat back. “I met Mrs. Chingford before I left for India, and kept up a correspondence with her for many years.”

“I understand that she was a voracious letter writer.”

“She also lacked the funds to sustain her lifestyle and had turned to . . . other less reputable revenue streams to remain solvent.”

“Such as?”

“Selling information to the scandal sheets. Deliberately starting gossip and innuendo within the
ton
to see what dirt she could stir up, thus fueling more gossip for the papers.” He shrugged. “Genteel blackmail.”

“A match made in heaven, then.”

“We did share some common goals, but there is no need to sneer. We both needed money.”

Robert thought back about all the information he and Miss Harrington had gathered between them before he'd put an abrupt end to their investigation.