“They don’t appear to work on her delicate constitution.” Miss Amelia put the jar back on the shelf. “Dr. Baker says he has nothing else that she can try. I cannot afford to send her to London for treatment, the cost would be prohibitive.” She looked around the small shop. “We make enough to be comfortable, but not for the extravagancies of life, and since I had to let young Joseph go . . .”
“Whatever happened?” Lucy, who had picked up her basket, put it down again. “I thought he was proving most satisfactory.”
Another customer came into the shop, and Miss Amelia lowered her voice even more. “I thought so, too, but—certain things have gone missing from the store—small things, but they all add up. When I questioned Joseph, he grew very sullen with me, and insisted I was blaming him because of his family history. But he does come from a troubled background, Miss Harrington, we both know that, don’t we?”
There was a hint of self-righteous censure in Miss Amelia’s remark that made Lucy bite back a sharp reply. It was true that Joseph’s family were well known in the village for their casual attitude to work and generally sly natures. But she’d thought better of Joseph, which was why she had prevailed upon Miss Amelia to take him on as an errand boy and general dogsbody.
“Has he returned home? I’ll go and speak to him as soon as I am able.” Lucy picked up her basket.
“I won’t take him back, Miss Harrington.”
Lucy did her best imitation of her father. “Surely everyone deserves a second chance?”
Miss Amelia’s expression took on a stubborn turn. “Not in this shop.”
“Then who will do your deliveries for you?”
“I’ll do them myself until I can find someone satisfactory.”
“Would you like me to help?”
“No, thank you, Miss Harrington. I think you’ve done enough.”
Lucy forced a smile. “Then I’ll be off. Thank you for your assistance, and my good wishes to your sister.”
She shut the door with rather more force than necessary, aware that Miss Amelia’s attitude toward the unfortunate Joseph was unlikely to change, and that she was probably correct that the boy had been stealing things. She doubted Major Kurland had any knowledge of young Joe, who had been born while he was away, but maybe he knew of his father, Ben? He was a large, powerfully built man who had been a boxer in his youth. If there had been any kind of disturbance in the village, it was highly likely that Ben Cobbins had been part of it.
Lucy continued along the street. Despite her disappointment about Joseph, she had found out some information about who had been out that night that might interest the major. There had definitely been some unusual activity. Perhaps Mary had been one of the girls out and about in the village.
A waft of cinnamon-flavored warm air flowed around her, and she found herself being waved down by an agitated-looking Mrs. Weeks from the open door of the bakery.
“Miss Harrington!”
“What is it, Mrs. Weeks?”
Mrs. Weeks clasped one large floury hand to her bosom. “It’s my Daisy.”
“Has she found a new situation?”
“No, Miss Harrington—she’s up and run away to London!”
Chapter 5
L
ucy thrust her cloak and gloves at Foley, picked up her skirts, and hurried up the shallow stairs toward Major Kurland’s bedroom. She knocked on the door and barely waited for his peremptory command to enter. The major was sitting up in bed reading a newspaper, a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles perched on his aristocratic nose.
“Are those my spectacles?” Lucy asked, her attention momentarily diverted.
“I don’t know, are they?” Major Kurland studied her over the top of the frames. “I found them by my bed the other morning, and assumed that Bookman or Foley had acquired them for me.” He whipped them off his nose. “Do you want them back?”
“Not if they are helping you. I have another pair at home because I am constantly misplacing the dratted things.”
“I don’t wish to inconvenience you. I’ll ask Bookman to arrange for a pair to be made for me.”
Lucy walked over to the side of the bed and observed the major more carefully. He looked rested, the dark shadows under his eyes less visible. “Please keep them until your own pair is ready for you.”
“Thank you, Miss Harrington. I will, although I still find reading a strain on my eyes.”
“Would you like me to read to you, sir?” She drew up a chair and sat beside the bed. She indicated the pile of letters on the nightstand. “You appear to have some outstanding correspondence.”
“I’m aware of that. I haven’t even attempted to open most of it yet.” He grimaced. “It’s even harder to read handwriting than print.”
“Don’t you have a secretary to attend to such matters for you?”
“I’ve never needed one before.”
“Perhaps you should advertise for one.”
“Indeed.” He stared down at her, one eyebrow raised until she felt herself blush.
“I apologize. My brother often describes me as a ‘managing’ female. Your lack of a secretary is obviously no concern of mine.”
“Obviously.” He put the newspaper down. “How are your brothers? I don’t suppose either of them needs a job, do they?”
Lucy focused her gaze on the major’s capable-looking hands. “Anthony is studying for Cambridge, and Tom . . .” She swallowed hard. “Tom died at Waterloo.”
Silence greeted her stark words, and she looked up to see a stricken expression cross Major Kurland’s face. His hand slowly clenched into a fist.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“You were so ill when you returned that my father ordered us not to mention it.”
“And now I have blundered and made you remember him.”
She lifted her gaze to meet his. “I always remember him. I pray for his soul every day.”
“I am sorry for your loss. Tom was my friend.” He exhaled. “And from all accounts, he was an excellent officer.”
“Thank you. My father was very cast down by Tom’s death. Now all his hopes are focused on Anthony, who doesn’t find such attention easy to deal with.”
“I know the feeling, Miss Harrington.”
“But you were always the oldest son and heir.”
“But after Matthew’s death, my parents only had me. I felt that responsibility quite heavily.”
Lucy allowed the silence to fall between them again as they both considered their lost siblings. The major was the first to speak.
“Did you bring me news?”
Lucy was quite willing to be distracted. “According to Miss Amelia and her sister, there
have
been some nocturnal activities in the village.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
“I’ll have to speak directly to Miss Mildred to find out. Her sister was rather vague.”
“Spinsters are the devil. What did she say?”
“That various young men and women, who
ought not to be out at all,
are running amok through the village streets.”
“And what does that have to do with potential thievery?”
“According to Miss Mildred, there was just such a disturbance on the night you heard something, too. It does indicate that there is more going on in this place than I ever realized.”
“What else?” the major demanded.
“Miss Amelia did say there had been some petty thefts from her store, but she is quite convinced her errand boy, Joseph Cobbins, is responsible for those.”
“I know the Cobbins family. She’s probably right.”
Lucy raised her chin. “I’m not sure I agree. Joe is not like the rest of his family at all. In fact, I—”
The major cut across her again. “The person I saw was an adult, not a scrawny child like Joseph.”
“You
saw
someone? Doing what?”
“Carrying some kind of load past the church.”
“You didn’t mention that before.”
He rubbed a hand over his scalp where his black hair was just starting to curl again at the nape of his neck. “I didn’t want to appear unhinged. Bookman and Foley are already worried about me. Insisting I saw strangers traipsing across my property in the dead of night would certainly not aid my claims to sanity and reason. They’d think I’d been at the laudanum again.”
Remembering his staff’s concerns on the previous day, Lucy privately agreed. “I wonder if you saw Joe’s father, Ben?”
“It’s possible. The Cobbins family has always been shiftless. It wouldn’t surprise me if Ben was encouraging his son to steal from his employers.”
“Poor Joe is no longer employed. I intend to speak to him as soon as I can.”
He frowned. “Be careful. I don’t want you tangling with Ben Cobbins.”
“I don’t think he’d hurt me.”
“You have no idea what he might do if he felt you threatened his livelihood. Keep away from him.”
“Now who is being managing? I am quite capable of looking after myself.”
His skeptical expression signified his disbelief, but to her relief he didn’t say anything more. “What else has happened in the village?”
“After I spoke to Miss Amelia, I was hailed by Mrs. Weeks from the bakery.”
“And?”
“Her daughter, Daisy, has run off!”
“How old is she?”
“Eighteen, I believe.”
“Let me guess, she’s run off to London to seek her fortune on the stage. Is she pretty?”
“Not particularly. I gather her ambitions are more practical. She dreams of becoming a lady’s maid.”
He snorted. “She’s more likely to end up on her back.”
“It’s highly likely, Major, but according to her mother, she is both a resourceful and a stubborn girl. I’ve no doubt she’ll contrive to steer clear of the brothel keepers.”
He stared at her for so long that she began to fidget. “What’s wrong?”
“In some ways, you are quite remarkable, Miss Harrington.”
“What do you mean?”
He gave her one of his rare smiles, and she was amazed at how it changed his face. “I should be apologizing for my crudeness.”
“You only spoke the truth. Most girls who venture into the city do end up on their backs.”
“But most young ladies of your standing do not know about it.”
“You forget I’m the daughter of a clergyman. We see far more than most women of our class.”
“So it seems.”
“Is it possible you saw Daisy leaving the village? The quickest route from the village to the main road where the mail coaches run is past the church.”
“No, it wasn’t a girl.”
Lucy sat back. “Could it possibly have been more than one person?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because one of our maids has disappeared, as well.” She quickly recounted the basic elements of Mary’s disappearance. “I was wondering whether the two girls left together, or whether they were accompanied by at least one man.”
“Why?”
“Because Susan O’Brien, who is a parlor maid for the Hathaways, indicated that Mary had taken up with a new friend and neglected her. If Mary was planning to leave the village with Daisy Weeks, her head would’ve been full of those plans, and she would not have had time for her old friend.”
“I suppose that is possible, although it didn’t look like two girls.”
“How can you be sure? It was dark and you were quite far away.”
“The moon was very bright. That’s why I got up in the first place, to close the damned curtains.” He shifted against his pillows. “Why do you think there might have been a man involved?”
“Because Mary was interested in some man who helped build the new stable block for our house. Anna and I wondered if perhaps she had eloped with him.”
“And taken Daisy along with her to play propriety? It seems unlikely.”
Lucy sighed. “I know. I just can’t work it out. If Mary decided to go to London with Daisy, why didn’t she wait until quarter day to receive her wages, and hand in her notice? It makes more sense that she left with a man. Mayhap you only saw him because she was hiding under his cloak.”
Major Kurland stared out of the window as if he was reconstructing the events in his head. “That might be it.”
“Then what should we do?”
“There are several avenues to explore. Firstly, you need to talk to Miss Mildred Potter about exactly whom she saw ‘cavorting’ in the village the other night. Then you need to speak with Joseph. Or if you wish it, bring him here and we can question him together. He might respond better to me.”
Lucy held up her hand. “Wait. If you are going to start issuing orders, I really need to write them down. Do you have ink and paper here?”
“In the desk.”
She went over to the dainty escritoire that stood against the far wall and pulled out the chair. The major was looking more animated than she had ever seen him and, despite his peremptory tone, she was loath to interrupt his flow of enthusiasm. She opened the inkwell and dipped her pen in it.
“Speak to Miss Mildred. Bring Joseph here to question him about the thefts.” She wrote these down and turned to him, pen poised above the paper. “Anything else?”
“Yes, check and see if anyone else in the village has lost any property.”
“Why do I need to do that?”
“Because we need to ascertain the scope of the problem. Is there a gang stealing from the village, is it a single person such as Joe Cobbins or your maid, or a band of roaming ex-soldiers terrorizing my tenants?”
“That last one seems rather extreme.”
“In these troubled times it could be any of those things. Foley was worried enough to mention our lack of security here at the manor to me last night.”
“What does he expect you to do, take up the drawbridge and pour boiling oil over the walls?”
A flash of amusement lightened the major’s drawn face. “I believe he’d like to do just that, but if he doesn’t feel safe in a place where he has lived all his life, neither do I.”
Lucy studied the list. “It might be simpler than you think. Over the last few months, Daisy and Mary could’ve stolen a few trinkets to finance their journey to London. The man you saw might have been hired to drive them to the city and was merely carrying their baggage to his cart.”
The major just looked at her. “You are a strange combination of the practical and the romantic, Miss Harrington.”
“I’m just considering all the scenarios, sir.”
He tapped his finger against his chin. “I’ll speak to Foley about the servants here and whether we’ve suffered any thefts.”
Lucy wrote everything down and then blew carefully on the ink to speed the drying process. “Do you want to see the list?”
“Yes, please.” He held out his hand and she walked over to him.
She waited while he read, his brow furrowed. “That will do for now. Come and see me tomorrow and bring young Cobbins with you.”
Lucy took back the sheet of paper and fought an inclination to salute. “I will if I have time, Major.” She hoped her discouraging tone indicated that she wasn’t one of his lower-ranked soldiers or his servant to be ordered around.
“Naturally, Miss Harrington. I wouldn’t dream of inconveniencing you.”
She put the note in her basket and made her escape, torn between her delight at seeing her patient so enlivened, and her annoyance with his high-handed manner. While he had nothing to do all day except lie around in bed and issue orders,
she
had a house to run. Unfortunately, she now had the task of returning home and negotiating with Mrs. Fielding about dinner, a daily task that continued to terrify her.
In the hallway she met Bookman carrying a pile of laundered nightshirts toward the major’s room.
“Miss Harrington. How did you find the major today?”
“He seemed a little brighter.”
Bookman smiled. “He slept better last night.”
He was a good-looking man of about thirty with brown hair, hazel eyes, and a pleasant, respectful demeanor. He’d grown up on the Kurland estate, so Lucy knew him almost as well as Major Kurland. He’d gone away to war with the major as his batman and was now employed as his valet. Gossip said that it was Bookman who discovered the unconscious major on the battlefield of Waterloo, dragged him clear of his fallen horse, and saved his life.
“Did you have the opportunity to ask Dr. Baker about allowing the major to sit up in a chair by his window?”
“I haven’t seen the good doctor yet today, but I will be sure to mention it to him.” Bookman glanced at the bedroom door. “He needs something to keep his spirits up.”
It was on the tip of Lucy’s tongue to tell Bookman about her inquiries, but she managed to curb the impulse and nodded instead. If Major Kurland wished to discuss the matter with his valet, it was his business. She lived in fear of becoming known as a terrible spinsterish gossip.
“Thank you, Mr. Bookman. Let’s hope Dr. Baker agrees with you.”
Robert glanced up from his newspaper as Bookman came into the room with a pile of folded linen.
“Are you ready for your luncheon, Major?”
Robert took off his borrowed spectacles. “I believe I am.”