Generations of Kurlands had added to the manor house, some more successfully than others. It now resembled something of a hodgepodge with stairs that led to nowhere, large windows where once had been arrow slits, and a beautiful park laid out by Capability Brown.
Lucy knocked on the old oak door and frowned fiercely at the worn Kurland family crest carved into the panel. She should have more sympathy with Major Kurland. He had survived Waterloo, even if her brother hadn't.
Foley, the butler, opened the door for her and smiled. “Good afternoon, Miss Harrington. Have you come to visit the major? He's tucked up in bed again.”
“Then I won't disturb him,” Lucy said rapidly. “Perhaps you might like to give him these newspapers when he wakes up.”
“Oh no, miss. He's awake and I'm certain he'll want to see you.” He lowered his voice. “The doctor called, and the major's been grumpy as a bear and complaining about a lack of decent company all morning.”
Lucy tried to hang back, but Foley somehow had a firm grip on her elbow and was maneuvering her up the stairs. For such a slight man, he was difficult to stop. She readjusted her basket and stripped off her gloves. It was an opportunity to show Christian charity, and she should embrace it.
Foley knocked on the major's bedroom door and opened it wide. “Miss Harrington to see you, sir. I'll bring up some tea.”