Death Comes to the Village (6 page)

Lucy didn’t argue the point. The whole village seemed intent on hero-worshiping Major Kurland, and wouldn’t hear a word against him. Only she, Foley, and Bookman seemed to know what it was really like to tend the oh-so-ungallant major.

“Has he made any progress at all?” Sophia fed her dog a crumb of cake.

“It is hard to tell. He certainly isn’t walking by himself yet.” After seeing the depths of the major’s despair, she felt guilty even saying that. “But I’m sure he’ll come about.”

Sophia rang for some more tea, and Lucy guided the conversation back to more mundane matters such as the weather and the new piece of embroidery the very talented Mrs. Hathaway was working on for the church altar. She succeeded so well that when the butler appeared with the tea tray, and loudly cleared his throat, she almost jumped.

“I understand that Miss Harrington wishes to speak to a member of my staff, ma’am.”

Mrs. Hathaway looked inquiringly at Lucy. “Do you?”

“Oh yes! I hadn’t quite gotten around to mentioning it. One of our servants has gone missing. I understand that she was a friend of your parlor maid, Susan O’Brien. I was hoping to ask whether she had any news about Mary.”

“How very strange,” commented Mrs. Hathaway. “Did your servant not leave a message or a forwarding address?”

“No, she just disappeared, apparently without a word to anyone.”

Mrs. Hathaway looked at her butler. “Then, of course Miss Harrington must speak to Susan. Make sure she is in the kitchen when my guest is ready to depart.”

“As you wish, ma’am.” The butler bowed and departed, leaving Sophia to pour the tea at her mother’s direction.

Lucy accepted a cup and then looked up at Mrs. Hathaway. “Are you sure you don’t mind me talking to Susan?”

“Of course not, my dear. I’m sure you are worried about what has happened to your Mary.” Mrs. Hathaway sipped her tea. “Don’t worry about Spencer. Sometimes I think he believes he is head of this family rather than Mr. Hathaway.”

“He’s never really liked me,” Lucy replied. “I think he believes my whole family are too socially inferior to be invited here.”

“Scarcely that,” Sophia chimed in. “In fact, Spencer sometimes reminds me that your father is the son of an earl, and that your mother was related to a viscount. He believes I should strive to behave more like you.”

“Me?” Lucy smothered a laugh by drinking her tea.

“You are very well behaved, Lucy, and a credit to your family,” Mrs. Hathaway said. “I only wish your mother was here to see how well you have turned out. She would be so proud of how you have taken her place and brought up her children as if they were your own.”

Lucy’s smile died. “Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to take her place, but I had no choice. I wish . . .” She stopped speaking and busied herself with choosing a slice of cake from the nearest tray.

Sophia squeezed her hand. “Mother and I think you are a saint to carry such a burden. Those twins would have sent most parents straight to a madhouse!”

“They are old enough to go away to school in the autumn, can you believe that?”

“That will leave you with more time on your hands to look about you and decide what you want to do next.” Mrs. Hathaway hesitated. “Has your father made any suggestions as to your debut into society?”

“My debut?” Lucy put down her cup. “I think he believes I am far too old to hanker after such a thing.”

Sophia and her mother exchanged a cryptic glance. “And if you weren’t?”

“Weren’t what?”

“Averse to a Season in London.” Sophia studied her closely. “I have decided it is time for me to enter Society again. It is five years since Charlie’s death at Badajoz. He always told me that if anything happened to him, I should marry again.” She drew in a sharp breath. “You might think me callous, but I yearn for all those things Charlie’s death has denied me—a husband, children, a home of my own. I’ll never love anyone the way I loved him, but I hope I can find a man who will care and respect me for myself.”

Lucy stared at Sophia, who steadfastly held her gaze. Her friend had married her dashing cavalryman when she was barely seventeen, but had never regretted it. His death during the siege of Badajoz had shaken her to the core. Lucy had wondered if Sophia would ever fully recover from it. It seemed that she had, although her prosaic approach to looking for a new husband sounded rather cold-blooded to Lucy. But who was she to criticize? In her more desperate moments, she had considered marrying anyone who offered for her, regardless of his age, social standing, or financial stability.

“If I do go to London, I’d like to take you with me as my companion. Your father can hardly object to that. We can look for a husband together.” She leaned forward and took Lucy’s hand. “What do you think?”

Lucy stared at Sophia as a thousand new possibilities flooded through her brain. “I would like it above all things.”

Sophia sat back. “I’m so glad you said that. Mother will come and chaperone us, so it will all be perfectly respectable.”

“I’ll have to speak to my father about it. When do you plan to leave?”

Mrs. Hathaway laughed. “There is no need for haste. We probably won’t be ready to go until much later in the year, or even next spring. Sophia might even change her mind.”

“I will not,” her daughter interjected. “I wanted to ask you whether you would accompany me, so that you would have something to look forward to when the boys go away to school. I know that you will miss them dreadfully.”

“I will miss the little scamps. But the prospect of a Season in London will certainly help reconcile me to their loss. Thank you so much for the invitation. I am quite undone.”

Sophia grinned at her. “I would rather face the gorgons of London society with you by my side than with any other woman. I’m delighted you want to come with me.”

The clock struck the half hour, and Lucy rose to her feet and hugged Sophia hard. “I hate to leave you, but I must speak to Susan, and then go to the village to see if anyone else has news about Mary.”

She sped down the stairs, her heart lighter than she could ever have imagined. A Season in London! After the boys were safely ensconced at school, how could her father possibly deny her that? It took her all her efforts to control her exuberance and face the Hathaways’ butler with a serene expression.

“Miss Harrington?” He opened the door into his sitting room and followed her inside. “This is Susan O’Brien.”

A small redheaded girl with freckles bobbed Lucy an awkward curtsy.

Lucy took a seat and gestured for the girl to sit opposite her. After a wary glance at the butler, Susan sat down.

“Did you know that Mary Smith planned to leave my employment?”

“Mary said a lot of things. I didn’t think she’d ever do any of them. She was a mite excitable, if you know what I mean.”

“So she did mention she planned to leave?”

Susan glanced down at her folded hands. “She wanted to go to London, I know that for sure.”

“And did she go?”

Susan steadfastly refused to look up. “I suppose she must have if she isn’t here.”

“But she didn’t tell you her plans?”

“She’s hardly been around the last few weeks.” Susan sniffed. “Taken up with someone new, no doubt. She was like that, always chasing something she couldn’t have.”

“Would you describe her as restless, then?”

“I suppose so. She always wanted a better life, but who could blame her?”

“But how did she define a better life?” Lucy sat forward. “A better job, a man to marry her?”

Susan briefly looked up. Lucy plainly saw the resentment in her gaze, but whether it was for her question, or for the position Mary’s disappearance had placed her in, Lucy couldn’t tell.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say, Miss Harrington.”

“Let me make myself plain. Do you think Mary might have left the village to secure another position, or to get married?”

“Knowing Mary, it could’ve been either of those things. She wasn’t without ambition, or plenty of suitors, Miss Harrington, even if they weren’t always hers to have.”

Lucy studied the parlor maid for a long moment. “Did you have a falling-out? You almost sound glad that she has gone.”

Susan’s expression darkened. “I didn’t do anything to her, miss. She’s the one who liked to have everyone’s attention on her, not me.”

“Thank you, Susan.”

Lucy glanced across at Spencer to indicate that she had no more questions for the girl, and he opened the door to usher Susan out.

“That will be all, Susan. If you think of anything that might help, come and see me and I’ll make sure the information gets back to Miss Harrington.”

“Thank you, sir.” Susan curtsied and made her way through the door, which Spencer closed behind him.

“I’m not quite sure what has got into the girl lately, Miss Harrington. She’s been rather surly.”

“Perhaps she and Mary quarreled over something, and now she feels badly about it.”

Spencer sat down heavily in his chair. “That might be the way of it. Female servants are much harder to deal with than men. There is always something going on, be it about tall tales or talk of marriage.”

“I know.” Lucy joined in his sigh. “What I can’t decide is whether Susan is annoyed because she doesn’t know what Mary planned, or if she is lying for her. I got the distinct impression that the news of her friend’s disappearance came as a shock.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her, Miss Harrington. She might be prepared to divulge more to me than to you.”

Lucy rose and retied the ribbons on her bonnet. “Thank you, Spencer. I appreciate it. Now I must be off to the village. I have several commissions to fulfill there.”

She walked slowly down the elm tree–lined drive, her thoughts full of the missing girl. If Mary had left to get married, why hadn’t she simply informed Lucy of her decision, been paid her outstanding wages, and been sent on her way with a smile? It didn’t make sense. The most obvious answer was that the girl had found a better position and not bothered to tell her former employer. But was it more complicated than that? If Mary had a new beau, had she wanted to leave the village with some funds behind her and been seen escaping by Major Kurland?

Lucy considered that as she approached the village high street. It seemed the most obvious answer to both the problems. In such a small village, it was unlikely that two such significant events would be unrelated. She suspected Susan knew more than she’d said, but she could only hope the girl would confide in the butler. Had Mary stolen her young man? If Mary had such an accomplice, who was he, and wouldn’t he also be missing? That might be worth inquiring about, too.

The door to the general store, which was housed in a low timber-framed building, was open, and Lucy decided to start there. Two spinster sisters ran the small shop, which provided basic necessities for the villagers, including foodstuffs, household goods, and linens.

Miss Amelia Potter nodded as Lucy entered the shop. She was a plump, elderly woman with soft, faded features and gray hair braided into a coronet on top of her head. She wore an old-fashioned gown of brown muslin covered with a large linen apron.

“Good afternoon, Miss Harrington. Back again so soon? What may I assist you with today?”

Lucy put her basket on the counter. “I need some black wool to darn the twins’ stockings, and six more buttons for their shirts.”

Miss Amelia tittered discreetly behind her lace-mittened hand. “Those boys of yours are such a trial with their clothing.”

“Indeed, they are.” Lucy waited while Miss Amelia found a skein of black wool. “Soon we will have to outfit them for school. I’m quite dreading that.”

“I’m sure you are, Miss Harrington. I’ve heard it is quite a task for one child, let alone for two.”

“My father says he will take them to his tailor in London for most of their garments, but that still leaves a lot for me to do.”

“I’m sure it does, my dear.” Miss Amelia carefully counted out six identical buttons from the jar and put them into a twist of paper along with the skein of black darning wool.

“And how fares your sister?” Lucy asked. “Is she still unable to sleep?”

“Alas, Mildred is still waking at the most ungodly of hours.” Miss Amelia shook her head, making the cap atop her hair tremble. “And as she is afraid of the dark, she has a terrible tendency to wake me up and tell me what she thinks she has seen.”

Miss Mildred sounded remarkably like Major Kurland, but Lucy didn’t share that interesting thought. She stowed the buttons and wool in her basket and handed over a coin. “What sort of things disturb her?”

“Cats fighting, dark shapes flitting around the village, raised voices . . .” Miss Amelia deposited the coin in a drawer. “In truth, I know far more about what goes on in this village when Christian folks should be in their beds than I ever wished to.”

“Was Miss Mildred awake the night before last?” Lucy put away her purse. “I only ask because I was up myself, and thought I heard a disturbance in the village.”

“Mildred heard something, too. She said there were several people out and about who
should not have been there at all
.”

“Oh my. Did she say who she saw?”

Miss Amelia lowered her voice. “Some young girls who should know better, and several
men
.”

Lucy tried to look disapproving. “Together?”

“Mildred didn’t say, and I don’t like to encourage her. Sometimes she expects me to go out and reprimand the miscreants.” Miss Amelia shivered delicately. “I cannot bring myself to do that. What would people think?” She picked up the jar of buttons and answered her own question. “I know what they’d think, that my sister and I were a pair of old gossips who had nothing better to do with our time than make up stories about our neighbors.”

Lucy nodded sympathetically. “Can you not give your sister a sleeping draught?”