Death Comes to Kurland Hall (4 page)

All thoughts of offering her stilted congratulations to Mrs. Chingford fled Lucy's mind. “You are quite mistaken, ma'am. Major Kurland has already
asked
me to marry him, and I declined.” She managed an airy smile. “As the niece of an earl, I'm not sure Major Kurland is good enough for
me.
”

“It appears that you consider no one good enough for you.” Mrs. Chingford lowered her voice. “But I'll give you fair warning, Miss Harrington. When I am mistress of the rectory, both you and that obnoxious cook will have to relinquish all notions of being in charge.”

“I can't wait.” Lucy curtsied. “In truth, I am very willing to leave the rectory, but I wish you joy in removing Mrs. Fielding. She considers my father her sole property. I must go and help Sophia change, Mrs. Chingford. Such a pleasure conversing with you.”

She walked away, her gaze fixed on the hallway, and almost growled when someone stepped into her path.

“Miss Harrington? Are you feeling quite well?” Major Kurland asked.

Lucy took a deep, shuddering breath. “No, I am not ‘quite well,' Major. I am contemplating murder.”

He drew her to one side of the salon, his gaze questioning. “Whatever has happened to upset you?”

“Mrs. Chingford . . .”

“Ah, you are angry because she is to marry your father? But have you thought of the benefits to yourself? If she takes him in hand, and I believe she is a very managing woman, your time will be your own.”

“And I'll have to go and live with my uncle and aunt in London, because she is determined to push me out.”

“Surely not, Miss Harrington.” He hesitated. “I know that she can sometimes seem a little insensitive, but—”

“
Insensitive
? She uses words like weapons and doesn't care how many people she hurts or maligns, because she believes in being honest.”

“I cannot criticize her for choosing to be honest. It is something of a fault of mine, too.”

“You are different. You don't intentionally mean to hurt with your words.”

His smile was rueful. “Sometimes I do, and sometimes I hear myself speak and then regret every syllable I've uttered. You have cause to know that all too well.”

She held his gaze for far too long and then had to look away. “I must go to Sophia.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Yes. Andrew is awaiting her reappearance with great impatience.”

Lucy picked up the skirts of her blue silk gown and went up the main staircase to the bedchamber where Sophie was changing out of her wedding dress and into something more suitable for travel. Fixing a smile firmly on her face, Lucy went over to Sophia and embraced her.

“You look beautiful. Mr. Stanford is a lucky man.”

Sophia kissed her. “No, I am the lucky one. And just think, if we hadn't gone to London and become involved with the Broughtons, none of this would've happened.”

“I suppose you did get to know Mr. Stanford rather well while I was investigating with the major.”

“I did indeed, and I liked him immediately.” Sophia turned to the chair and dislodged her dog from her pelisse. “Hunter is going to stay here with Andrew's children until we return. They already love him and have promised to take him for walks and to play with him.”

“That is very kind of them. They also seem more than willing to accept you as their mother.”

Sophia sighed. “I know. Isn't it
wonderful
? I cannot wait until we are all under one roof and can begin our family life together.” She stepped back to stare into Lucy's eyes. “And if Mrs. Chingford becomes unbearable, you know that my home is always open to you. I have already told Andrew this, and he quite agrees.”

Lucy smiled at her best friend. It must be pleasant to have men falling over themselves to do one's bidding. It was a trick that she had never mastered but that Sophia and Anna excelled at. Sophia put on her pelisse, and Lucy handed her the new bonnet that went with it.

“Thank you.” Sophia looked around. “Now, where did I put my wedding posy? I wanted to deliver it right into your hands.”

“You cannot do that, Sophia. Think of all the disappointment! Perhaps you should aim it squarely at Mrs. Chingford's head.”

Sophia shuddered. “That horrible woman. She upset Melissa Stanford again today. She was quite incandescent with rage. Not content with suggesting that Andrew was somehow responsible for his wife's death, she insinuated that Melissa's betrothed was a well-known cheat at cards. Surely your father will see the error of his ways and will not go through with such a ridiculous marriage.”

“I can only hope so, but he is remarkably stubborn when he makes his mind up about something,” Lucy said gloomily and then re-collected herself. She would not spoil Sophia's wedding day. “Have you seen Miss Chingford or her sister? I don't think they are any happier at the news than I am.”

“I haven't seen them since we finished our meal. I do hope they are all right. Dorothea seemed very upset about the news. One would've thought that their mother would have mentioned the matter to them before the announcement.”

“Maybe Mrs. Chingford wasn't aware that my father intended to propose so publicly.”

There was a knock on the door, and Foley, the major's butler, came in and bowed.

“Mrs. Stanford? Mr. Stanford was asking after you, ma'am.” Foley lowered his voice. “In fact, he's fretting himself to the bone and pacing the hall below just like a lovesick bridegroom ought to be doing.”

Sophia laughed and tied the ribbons on her bonnet. “Then we should certainly go down and put him out of his misery.”

Lucy followed her out onto the landing, and a cheer went up from the assembled wedding party below. When Mr. Stanford caught sight of his bride, his whole face lit up and he held out his hand and bowed.

Sophia went gracefully down the stairs to a roar of approval. She paused on the bottom step to throw her bouquet, and there was delighted applause when Anna caught it. From her vantage point at the top of the stairs, Lucy noticed that Nicholas Jenkins was right behind Anna and that he was smiling down at her. It seemed he still hadn't given up his hopes of marrying her sister, despite Anna's popularity in London.

Lucy also noticed Miss Chingford and Dorothea in an intense conversation with their mother that did not look very cordial. But Mrs. Chingford was amicable only to men and those who she thought could aid her. Everyone else, even poor widowed Mrs. Fairfax, was fair game.

Major Kurland was smiling at his friend and then looked up, caught her eye, and winked. She didn't think she'd ever seen him being so relaxed and charming before. She almost preferred it when he scowled. Andrew's children, a boy and a girl, stood close to the major. The boy now held Hunter's leash in a firm grip as the dog whined and panted after its mistress.

Within moments, the happy couple had gone in a flurry of good-byes and flower petals, leaving the wedding party to partake of the supper Foley and his staff were laying out in the dining room. There was musical entertainment, and some thoughts that the younger members of the wedding party might want to dance had dictated the removal of the carpet in the long gallery.

As she came down the stairs, Lucy mentally checked off exactly what still needed to be done and realized there was nothing. If he thought to turn his hand to it, Mr. Fairfax would make the major an excellent secretary, as well as a land agent. She wasn't really needed here at the manor anymore, what with Major Kurland's resurgence and Mr. Fairfax's efficiency.

It would have to be London, then. If her father did marry Mrs. Chingford, she would have to move out of the rectory. Her hand lingered on the smoothness of the wooden stair rail. If she'd ignored her feelings and accepted Major Kurland's marriage proposal for what it was, she would now be mistress of Kurland Hall.... She almost regretted her decision at this moment, when all around her seemed to be heading for matrimony without having to think about it at all.

Mayhap she was too fussy, just as Mrs. Chingford had suggested.

The sound of instruments tuning up in the gallery caught her attention, and she turned toward the throng of wedding guests making their way through the hall. A flash of yellow in the gallery above her made her look up to see Dorothea Chingford peering down at the assembled guests. As if she realized Lucy had seen her, she ran off again toward the bedchambers.

Lucy cast one more glance down at the dancing and then went after Dorothea. Even though the bride and groom had departed, she didn't want any more scenes to disrupt the celebration. Following the sound of footsteps and banging doors, Lucy found herself in the oldest part of the house, which was a warren of smaller rooms, too many staircases, and ancient oak beams reportedly reused from the demolition of King Henry VIII's navy, which would certainly account for their bowed shapes. It was hard to see in the narrow passageways, and Lucy almost lost her way and banged her head on a low beam at least twice.

Suddenly there was a screech and a series of loud thumps. Lucy picked up her skirts and ran toward the sound. By the time she arrived, there was no sign of anyone. She hesitated by the servants' staircase and then looked down to see a crumpled heap of . . . something at the bottom. Had Dorothea fallen in her haste to get away from Lucy? Holding her breath, Lucy crept down the stairs and knelt beside the recumbent form.

Halting footsteps sounded behind her, and she went still.

“Miss Harrington? Whatever are you doing?”

She lifted her head to see Major Kurland coming toward her.

“Thank goodness it's you, Major. There's been a terrible accident. I think Mrs. Chingford is dead!”

Chapter 4

R
obert took his time kneeling beside Miss Harrington and attempted a nonjudgmental tone.

“Did you mean to kill her?”

“Good Lord, Major Kurland, I didn't
kill
her. I just found her like this. I think she fell down the stairs,” Miss Harrington said impatiently as she touched Mrs. Chingford's throat. “She doesn't appear to be breathing.”

“I just wondered if perhaps you had been in an argument and had accidentally pushed her. You know how these things happen in moments of passion.”

She fixed him with her hardest stare. “Major Kurland, I did not kill her. Why on earth would I do that?”

“Because she was about to become your stepmother?”

“I would hardly resort to murder.” She snorted. “And there are plenty of other people at this wedding who would be delighted to see the end of this woman. In fact, I—” She paused. “I was attempting to catch up with Dorothea Chingford. That's why I ended up at the top of this staircase.”

“And I saw someone disappearing into the servants' hallways and came to direct them back to the wedding party.”

“Was it a man or a woman?”

Robert frowned. “I believe it was a woman, but it might have been a man wearing a cloak.” He studied the still figure. In repose, Mrs. Chingford looked remarkably like her daughter Penelope. “Are you quite sure she is dead?”

“As certain as I can be. Is our new doctor attending the wedding?”

“Yes, he is, and as he's an old army colleague of mine, I can count on his discretion. Shall I go and find him?” Robert tried to stand and had to use the stairs for support. “Will you stay with her?”

“Of course I will. There is one thing. . . .”

“What?”

She indicated the position of the body. “If she did trip and fall, she managed to crawl a few feet away from the stairs before she actually died.”

Robert grabbed his cane. “It's not unusual for a body to keep moving after death. It seems to take a moment for the conscious self to realize it is no more. I've seen soldiers continue a charge with half their heads blown off and . . .” He recollected himself and bowed. “I'll go and fetch Dr. Fletcher.”

While the major went to find the doctor, Lucy sat on the dusty wooden floorboards beside Mrs. Chingford. It was strange to see her so still and silent. She had always been in motion, like a rather annoying wasp. Lucy glanced up the steep stairwell, but all was quiet. Beams of light from the diamond-paned windows above sent bars of brightness down the wooden stairs. It would be all too easy to catch one's foot in the hem of one's gown and fall. Perhaps it had truly been an accident and Mrs. Chingford had turned to speak to her younger daughter and had missed her footing.

The sound of approaching male voices had Lucy looking back toward the main hall. Major Kurland was talking quietly to the man behind him, who nodded as he walked. He'd also brought more light.

“Ah, Miss Harrington. Not the most pleasant of places to find you, but be that as it may.”

“Dr. Fletcher.” Lucy waited until he set the lantern on the stairs and crouched beside the body. “I think Mrs. Chingford fell down the stairs.”

“I should imagine she did.” His gentle fingers moved over Mrs. Chingford's still form, then lingered at her throat.

“Did she break her neck?” Major Kurland asked.

Dr. Fletcher frowned and leaned closer. “Her neck is definitely broken.”

Lucy peered through the uncertain light. “It also seems to be bruised.”

“Yes. That could happen because of the way she fell. I won't be able to tell exactly
what
is broken until I get a closer look at her.” The doctor gazed up at Major Kurland. “Do you think the family would object if we had her transported to my house? There isn't a morgue nearby, and my practice is the quietest place in the village, seeing as no one trusts me to administer to their ills yet.”

Major Kurland nodded. “That's an excellent idea. Could you organize the removal of the body without the rest of my guests knowing what is going on?”

“Certainly, if you get Foley to help me.”

Lucy closed the dead woman's eyes. “I'll find Miss Chingford and Dorothea and tell them what has happened.”

Dr. Fletcher stood and brushed down his buckskin breeches. He had a lilting Irish accent that was very soothing. Lucy imagined that unlike the brusque Dr. Baker, he would be comforting to have at one's bedside. “That would be most kind of you, Miss Harrington. I can lay out the body properly and arrange for them to see their mother whenever they are ready.”

As Lucy attempted to make the body look decent before it stiffened, she noticed something caught between Mrs. Chingford's fingers. Lucy eased the chain free and found a gold locket strung on it that was badly dented. She took another glance at the dead woman's throat. Mrs. Chingford was wearing jewelry of far greater value than the simple locket. She'd never seen the rather vain Mrs. Chingford wear such a plain trinket.

“May I help you, Miss Harrington?” Major Kurland had returned from seeing Dr. Fletcher out and offered her his hand. After slipping the locket into her pocket, she accepted his help to rise and stood, smoothing down her now dusty silk skirts.

“Thank you.”

“Bring Miss Chingford and her sister into my study. That will give you some privacy when you break the bad news.” He paused. “Perhaps I should be the one to tell your father?”

“Yes, please,” Lucy said fervently. “I'd quite forgotten about him.”

“Then I shall willingly relieve you of that burden.” He shook his head. “This is a shockingly bad thing to happen at a wedding.”

Lucy hesitated. “Do you think it would be better to wait until the party is over to inform everyone else?”

He walked with her toward the hall door. “You might think me a coward, but I'd rather not have to stand up in front of everyone and tell them such bad news. By the time we have informed the Chingfords and your father of this tragedy, I suspect the evening will be nearly over, anyway.”

“I agree.” She almost smiled. “And in a village as small as this, everyone will know by morning, anyway.”

They emerged into the brightly lit hall, and Lucy blinked at the sudden infusion of light and noise. It was strange how even when one life ended, the world still went on.

“Thank you for your help, Major.” Lucy firmly disengaged her arm from her companion's. “I'll go and find Miss Chingford and bring her and her sister to your study.”

“And I will seek out your father.” He squeezed her fingers. “Good luck, Miss Harrington.”

 

Several hours later, after dealing with Miss Chingford's uncomprehending fury and Dorothea's hysterics, Lucy almost wished she had chosen to tell her father and had left Major Kurland to deal with the sisters. According to the major, her father had taken the news remarkably well and had retired to his study with a bottle of brandy. Lucy closed the Chingfords' bedroom door and went slowly down the stairs.

She and Major Kurland had accompanied the sisters to Dr. Fletcher's to see their mother's body and had eventually persuaded them to come back to the rectory. She had given them all her handkerchiefs and eventually dosed them both with laudanum to help them sleep. Straightening her shoulders, she stepped into the small back parlor, where she'd left Anna entertaining Major Kurland.

He stood when she entered, his gaze fixed on her face. “Is everything all right?”

She sank down gratefully on the couch. “They are both sleeping. Dorothea hasn't stopped crying long enough to form a sentence, and Miss Chingford is simply angry and asking me a thousand questions I cannot answer.” Lucy sighed and pushed a stray pin back into place in her hair. “At least Sophia and Mr. Stanford were able to get away before their whole wedding was ruined.”

“I'll write to Andrew and tell him what has occurred, but I'll make sure he understands that we are more than capable of dealing with it.” Major Kurland sat down again. “I don't want him to feel as if he has to rush back here. But I also don't want him to read about this in a newspaper and be taken by surprise.”

“Lucy, you look exhausted. Let me go and fetch you a cup of tea.” Anna leapt to her feet. “Would you like some tea, Major?”

“As the rector has taken all the brandy, I suppose tea will have to do.” He hesitated and made as if to rise. “Unless you wish to be alone, Miss Harrington? I'm sure Foley can take care of my needs if I go back to the manor.”

Lucy waved him back to his seat. “No, please stay. I wanted to ask your opinion on this matter.”

“My opinion?” Major Kurland sat back as Anna whisked herself out of the door in a swirl of petticoats.

“Does it not seem very
convenient
to you that Mrs. Chingford fell down the stairs?” Lucy asked.

“In what way?”

“Don't you remember your history? Robert Dudley was desperate to marry Queen Elizabeth the First, but he couldn't, because he was already married.”

“And what exactly does this have to do with Mrs. Chingford?”

“Amy Dudley, Robert's wife, was mysteriously found dead at the bottom of a flight of stairs at their country home while he was busy cavorting with the queen in London. Opinion at the time was divided between those who thought Dudley had ordered his wife's death in order to free himself to marry the queen, and those who believed Dudley's enemies had done it to discredit him, because how could a queen marry a man under the suspicion of murdering his own wife?”

“But the queen didn't marry him.”

“Exactly.”

“I fail to see your point.”

Lucy sighed. “Mrs. Chingford liked to stir up trouble. One has to wonder whether someone decided she had gone too far and took the opportunity to get rid of her.”

“Following your interesting logic, one would assume that the only people who would want to stop the marriage and murder Mrs. Chingford would be you, your sister, or the Chingford ladies.”

“Well, it wasn't me or Anna or my father. But you do have a point. I wonder if Dorothea met her mother at the top of the stairs and had an argument with her. It might explain her current state of hysteria.”

“Or Mrs. Chingford simply caught her heel in her gown and fell.”

“Her gown wasn't damaged at the hem. I checked. If she'd caught her heel in it that badly, there should have been some ripped fabric.” Lucy sat forward and stared at the major's skeptical face. “It just doesn't seem quite right to me.”

“And yet you have no proof that anyone was even in the vicinity when the accident occurred.”

“It is true that I was close enough to
hear
her fall and yet saw no one when I arrived at the stairwell, but that doesn't mean she was alone.” She took the locket and chain out of her pocket and held it up. “She had this clutched in her hand.”

He leaned forward to take it from her. “Perhaps it came off her neck when she fell.”

“She was wearing a rather nice set of rubies to match her gown. I doubt she would've worn a cheap item such as this unless it held some sentimental value to her.”

“She didn't strike me as a sentimental woman.” Major Kurland attempted to open the locket, but it was badly dented. He handed it back to her. “So you suspect she tore this off her assailant's throat as she tumbled down the stairs?”

“It's possible.”

“It also means we're probably looking for a woman.”

“Men do wear lockets sometimes, Major.”

“But they are usually secreted beneath a man's shirt, not hanging out for all the world to see.”

“True.” Lucy frowned and slid the locket back into her pocket. “If the locket did come from around someone's throat, that person might have a red mark from the force of its removal.” She smothered a yawn just as Anna reappeared with the tea tray, and she quickly changed the subject.

After a couple of sips of tea, Major Kurland stood and bowed to Lucy and Anna.

“I must go home and attend to my remaining guests. Thank you for your hospitality, Miss Harrington, Miss Anna.”

Lucy met his gaze. “Are you planning on visiting Dr. Fletcher tomorrow?”

“I had thought of it.”

“Then perhaps you could take me up in your carriage when you pass our door.”

“If you wish.” He studied her intently. “You look tired. I won't call for you until at least noon.”

“Thank you.”

He took hold of her hand “Please don't worry yourself into a state about this. It might just be an unfortunate accident.”

“I do hope you are right. I assure you, Major, that I don't
wish
to spend my time chasing murderers.”

“Neither do I, although we seem to have an uncanny knack of attracting them.” He kissed her fingers and bowed. “Good night, Miss Harrington. Sleep well.”

Deep in thought, after sending Anna up to bed, Lucy took the tea tray back to the kitchen. To her surprise, Mrs. Fielding sat at the long pine table, helping herself to one of the cut-glass decanters that usually resided on the dining room table.

“Miss Harrington?” The cook smiled at her. “You should share a glass of port with me.”

“And why is that, Mrs. Fielding?”

“Because Mrs. Chingford is dead. I was helping up at the manor, and I heard the news.” A satisfied smirk crossed the cook's face. “She won't get her hands on my kitchen or the rector now, will she?”

“I suppose not.” Lucy paused. Judging from the two bright red spots on Mrs. Fielding's cheeks, this wasn't the first glass of port she had consumed. “You were at Kurland Hall?”