Death Comes to Kurland Hall (22 page)

“Did Mrs. Fairfax not check his work?”

“I doubt she would've been able to. Her understanding of accounting and her level of literacy were rather limited.” His smile was brief. “My father didn't marry her for her intelligence. She probably had no idea that she was being fleeced.”

“But you think you can fix the problems?”

“I have no choice, do I? The only good thing is that the estate has years to recover before it needs to provide Robin with a good income.”

“And what of yourself?” Lucy asked. “Forgive me if I sound mercenary, but I assume you intend to pay yourself a salary for all the work you will face.”

“I will certainly have to pay myself something.” His smile was distracted. “Although, as I intend to live in the house while my half brother grows up, my expenditure will be minimal.”

Lucy stood and curtsied. “I will leave you to your books, then, sir. Mrs. Green is suggesting we return to Kurland St. Mary two days after the funeral. Will that be sufficient time for the horses to have recovered?”

“Two days?” He frowned. “I had hoped to enjoy your company for far longer than that. With all this work, I've hardly had a chance to speak to you.”

“I quite understand why you have been preoccupied, and I'm sure the other ladies do, as well. Remember, we came to support your reintroduction to the household, not for our own pleasure.”

He came around the desk to her side, his expression rueful. “And I had hoped to combine business
with
pleasure.” He took Lucy's hand and kissed it. “Please consider staying longer, Miss Harrington. I would be most grateful if you would.”

“I'll have to speak to Mrs. Green. I cannot stay without a chaperone. I suspect her decision to return to Kurland Hall rests on whether Major Kurland has succeeded in removing Mr. Reading from the inn.”

“Ah, Mr. Reading. I can't say I liked the man. Perhaps you can persuade Mrs. Green to stay here until she receives a letter from the major.” He escorted her to the door and opened it. “Then she wouldn't have to risk taking Miss Stanford back into a dangerous situation.”

“I'll certainly suggest that to Mrs. Green.” Lucy paused at the door. “By the way, is somebody in the house unwell? I saw one of the footmen carrying a tray of food down to the kitchen.”

“Not that I know of, Miss Harrington.” Mr. Fairfax paused. “Perhaps someone merely decided not to dine downstairs.” He smiled. “Now, if I had a housekeeper, I would probably know the answer to your question.”

“It is of no matter,” Lucy assured him. “Good night, Mr. Fairfax.”

He bowed. “Good night, Miss Harrington.”

Lucy let him return to work and went back to the drawing room, where she'd left her embroidery frame. As far as she was aware, the only person who had missed dinner that evening had been Mr. Fairfax himself. She supposed it could've been a member of staff who was either indisposed or was an elderly retainer still given a home. But no one had mentioned such a person. As she walked across the main hall, she spoke to the footman stationed there.

“Joseph, are any of the staff sick?”

“Not that I know of, miss.”

“I thought I heard that someone was bedridden. Having some skills as a nurse, I wondered if I might be of some assistance.”

He shook his head. “That's very kind of you, miss, but everyone is hale and hearty below stairs, thank the Lord.” He crossed himself, and Lucy fought the urge to follow suit.

She continued on into the drawing room, where Penelope sat reading a book. As usual, she was probably worrying about nothing, but what if the servants were concealing something or someone from Mr. Fairfax? She had no idea why they might be doing that, but it did seem strange that no one seemed to know who needed a tray sent up to their room.

A yawn shook through her, and she decided to go to bed. In the morning she could always inquire again about the anomaly and would probably find it was nothing more than a figment of her own imagination. She'd also avoided Mr. Fairfax asking her to marry him. His preoccupation with his work gave her some valuable time to think about what she wanted. But if the staff were concealing something. . . would she want to make such a place her home?

Chapter 20

W
ith the permission of Mr. Fairfax, Lucy spent the day before the funeral with Simmons, the butler, making a thorough investigation of both the servants' quarters in the attics and in the basement. There was no sign of any sick servants or concealed pensioners. Some of the attic space was no longer in use due to the reduction in the need for staff, so Lucy could not claim to have seen the entire house.

She did note another tray of food, which was untouched, on the table in the kitchen as she passed through, but she didn't comment on it. She had a suspicion that interest in the matter might be unwelcome. If the staff were concealing someone from Mr. Fairfax, it would be much better for Lucy to tell him her suspicions and let him deal with it than for her, an outsider, to meddle.

“Miss Harrington?”

She turned from her perusal of the silverware in the drawers to find one of the parlor maids behind her.

“There is a visitor! Mrs. Green asked me to tell you to come
immediately
.”

Lucy followed the parlor maid up the stairs to the main floor and proceeded as quickly as she could to the drawing room, where she could already hear raised voices. Had Mr. Reading defied Major Kurland and come to find Miss Stanford?

“Have you informed Mr. Fairfax?” she asked the parlor maid. “If not, go and find him immediately and bring him here.”

“Yes, Miss Harrington.”

The maid sped off, and Lucy braced herself before she walked into the room, and stopped short.

“Major
Kurland
?”

He looked past Mrs. Green's shoulder and gave her a short nod. “Miss Harrington.”

“Why are you here?”

“To tell me that he has ruined my life!”

Lucy spun around to where Miss Stanford was sitting on the couch, a letter clutched in her hand. She was crying.

Major Kurland bowed. “I merely delivered a letter to Miss Stanford from her ex-betrothed, informing her that he has urgent business abroad and cannot expect her to wait for his return.”

“You made him write it!” Miss Stanford gulped out the words between sobs.

“I certainly didn't stop him from leaving, Miss Stanford, but he wrote the note without any help from me.”

Miss Stanford shot to her feet and cast a glance of great loathing in Major Kurland's direction. “You have ruined my life.” With that, she ran for the door, her sobs echoing down the corridor as she disappeared.

“Well, that went about as well as I expected,” Major Kurland muttered. “The bringer of bad news is rarely welcome.”

Lucy moved toward him. “What did you have to do to make Mr. Reading leave?”

He held her gaze for a long moment before answering. “I gave him money. What do you expect?”

“It must have been quite a substantial sum in order to compensate him for the loss of Miss Stanford's fortune.”

He shrugged. “There were other factors that mitigated the amount I was willing to offer him. He was quite willing to compromise once I'd spelled out those unfortunate consequences to him.”

“Then I suppose we should congratulate you.”

“Hardly.” He looked at Mrs. Green. “Do you think I might sit down, ma'am? My leg is bothering me.”

“Of course, Major. I do apologize for keeping you standing for so long. Would you like some tea? I'm sure Mr. Fairfax will be delighted to see you. Do you intend to stay for the funeral?”

“If Mr. Fairfax will have me.” Major Kurland tentatively settled himself in one of the chairs, wincing as he bent his left knee. “I certainly don't want to turn around and return home today.”

As she went by him to ring the bell, Mrs. Green pressed a hand to his shoulder. “I'm certain Mr. Fairfax will be as pleased as I am to hear that my niece is safe from that scoundrel. Begging your pardon, sir, seeing as he is your cousin, but she is well rid of him. What my sister was
thinking
allowing him to court her daughter, I have no idea.”

Lucy sat down, as well, her gaze locked on Major Kurland, who looked tired and in considerable pain. Despite their recent differences, she couldn't deny that his presence added a certain something to her day.

Eventually, he turned to her. “Miss Harrington. Are you well?”

“I am very well, sir.”

“Do you have any exciting news to share about your future?”

She frowned at him. “That is none of your business, but no, I haven't.”

“Good.” He leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “I wish to talk to you alone. Can you arrange that?”

Before she could reply, Penelope and Mr. Fairfax came into the room, and the whole conversation repeated itself as Major Kurland explained his errand and gratefully accepted Mr. Fairfax's hospitality for a night or so.

Lucy stood and curtsied to Mr. Fairfax. “Perhaps seeing as your staff are so busy with preparations for the funeral, I could take Major Kurland to the guest suite next to Mrs. Green's?”

“That would be most kind of you, Miss Harrington.” Mr. Fairfax shook Major Kurland's hand. “Dinner is at six. Please join us if you aren't too tired.”

Lucy led the way down the corridor and toward the main staircase. She had to slow her steps considerably as the major was struggling to walk even with his cane.

“Did you bring Silas with you?” she asked as they slowly climbed the stairs.

“No. I came alone. There was no time.”

“Just with a groom?”

He glared down at her. “What does it matter?”

“There is no need to snap at me. I merely wondered if you needed someone to help unpack your bags.”

“I came alone.”

Lucy stopped to stare into his face. “You drove
yourself
?”

A muscle flicked in his cheek. “I had no choice. Everyone was sick.”

“Then you must be rather tired.” There was so much she wanted to say to him, but none of it could be acknowledged, let alone shared. “I'll make sure that Simmons, the butler, sends someone up to attend to you.”

She paused before his bedroom door. There was no one around, and she wouldn't be missed for a while.

“Here is your bedchamber, Major.”

“Thank you.”

She followed him into the room and leaned against the door as he limped over to the fireplace and turned to face her.

“I didn't come just to deliver Mr. Reading's letter.” Her heart gave a curious bump as he stared intently at her. “I know I have given you no reason to hear a word I have to say, but would you please listen?”

She nodded, her hands fisted at her sides, as he took something out of his coat pocket.

“Things don't add up,” he said abruptly. “I have a locket that I believe belongs to Mrs. Fairfax but that she refused to claim, I have Bible verses written in an atrocious hand, and Paul spinning stories that I can't quite discount, even though he is a liar and a thief.”

“I thought you told me to stop meddling and leave things alone?”

His dark blue gaze held hers. “I was a fool to do so.”

“And now you expect me to forget your autocratic behavior and simply continue on as if nothing had happened?”

“Yes.” He grimaced. “I mean, yes, please. I would greatly appreciate your company and your insight.”

With a deep breath, Lucy left the door and went to sit by the fire. “Tell me everything.”

He handed her the open locket, and she studied the portrait of the dark-haired baby. “It certainly does look like Robin Fairfax.” She peered more intently at the opposite side. “There are initials engraved here. Something E.F., which would correspond to at least two of the boys' given names.” She looked up. “Then why didn't Mrs. Fairfax claim the locket?”

“Presumably, because she knew where it had ended up. If she'd admitted it was hers, we would have realized right away that she'd at least been involved in a physical struggle with Mrs. Chingford that had led to her falling down the stairs.”

“I thought you lost the locket. How did you find it again?”

“Dorothea Chingford gave it back to me.”

“And what did she have to say about the matter?”

“That she had taken it in case it was needed as evidence of a crime.”

Lucy sat back. “So she did see something. Did she elaborate?”

“No, she just insisted that I return the locket to its rightful owner. She ran away before I could question her any further.”

“She must have seen Mrs. Fairfax push her mother. There is no other explanation for it. But why wouldn't she tell me?” Lucy sighed. “She seemed afraid.”

“That's what I thought. I'm not sure why, when Mrs. Fairfax was already dead and could hardly extract vengeance on her.” Major Kurland took back the locket. “I thought Miss Stanford was looking for this when I encountered her in Mrs. Fairfax's old room at the manor.”

“Miss Stanford?” Lucy frowned. “I did wonder if she was attempting to help Mr. Reading, but I couldn't understand why he would be so interested in Mrs. Fairfax's death.”

“Because he was closely involved with Mrs. Chingford, and he already knew she had poor Mrs. Fairfax in her sights for a spot of blackmail. At first he simply wanted to make sure that Mrs. Chingford hadn't left any incriminating evidence about him after her death.
Then
he decided it might be interesting to pursue Mrs. Chingford's claims about Mrs. Fairfax himself. He heard about the locket from Miss Stanford and thought it might be a valuable tool.”

Lucy shook her head. “What an unpleasant individual your cousin is. I am fairly certain that Mrs. Fairfax was Madge Summers's daughter. Both Mrs. Chingford and Mrs. Fairfax employed Madge as a nurse. I suspect Mrs. Fairfax would've been eager to suppress any whispers about her lack of class. Did Mr. Reading ask Miss Stanford to search for evidence against him in Mrs. Fairfax's room after her death? What an unpleasant gentleman!”

“He did, and he is no gentleman. He insisted that Miss Stanford was more than willing to help him clear his name and that he hadn't actually embarked on his blackmailing of Mrs. Fairfax before she killed herself.” Major Kurland gave a short laugh. “As if that somehow made his behavior more palatable to me.”

“At least you managed to detach him from Miss Stanford.”

“Not that she thanks me for it.”

“She will when she comes to her senses and meets a true gentleman.” Lucy glanced at the clock and rose to her feet. “I cannot stay here with you for much longer without my absence being noted. You said you came to Fairfax Park to deliver Miss Stanford's letter and for other purposes.”

“Yes. I'm worried about Thomas.”

“About
Mr. Fairfax
?”

“Paul told me Mrs. Chingford had found out that Mrs. Fairfax was married before and that her husband never returned from the war.”

Lucy waited by her chair as Major Kurland stared expectantly at her. “And?”

“She suspected he might still be alive, and that he might even have fathered Mrs. Fairfax's child.”

“Good Lord,” Lucy breathed. “And you
believed
him?”

“I read Mrs. Fairfax's family Bible. She had a name crossed out very heavily in her entry and then
Fairfax
added in a different shade of ink.”

The sound of whistling outside in the corridor made Lucy turn and move quickly toward the door.

“Wait!” Major Kurland limped after her. “Take this. I found it in Mrs. Fairfax's room. I assumed the verses were written by the child, but now I am not so sure.”

“What do you want me to do with them?” Lucy whispered frantically.

“Compare them to Mrs. Fairfax's handwriting. Tell me what they mean.”

Lucy stuffed the paper in the pocket of her gown and opened the door, talking back over her shoulder. “Good afternoon, Major Kurland. I'm sure someone will be up to help you unpack momentarily.”

“Thank you, Miss Harrington. It was most kind of you to show me the way to my room.”

Lucy swung around, smiled as if she had just noticed Joseph, and opened the door wide enough for him to get by her as she escaped. “Here is Joseph now, Major. I'm certain he will soon set things to rights.”

She escaped down the stairs to the yellow parlor and collapsed on the couch. Was it possible that Mrs. Fairfax's death had not ended the tangle of lies and deceit that had bedeviled her life? And if Major Kurland was correct and Robin wasn't a Fairfax, what on earth were they going to do about it?

 

After dinner, Robert managed to persuade Miss Harrington to walk with him on the terrace while Miss Chingford played cards with Mrs. Green. Thomas had excused himself, pleading an excess of work, and Miss Stanford hadn't come down to dinner, which was hardly surprising. Robert couldn't say he felt guilty about separating his cousin from Miss Stanford, but he didn't like to see her hurt.

He looked down at Miss Harrington, who was wearing a very becoming gown in blue and had arranged her hair high on her head, leaving her long neck and shoulders bare to his gaze. It was a pleasure to see her again, and not as yet affianced to another man.

“I doubt you meekly sat on your hands when I ordered you to stop investigating the matter, Miss Harrington, so what else did you find out?”

“That Madge Summers didn't die in the house fire but was rescued by her neighbors and then spirited away in a coach to no one knows where.”

Robert paused to look down into her fine eyes. “Spirited away? You mean she was kidnapped?”