Robert was heartily glad when the gig drew up in front of his home. If there was anything he needed right now, it was a conversation with his eminently sensible wife.
Chapter 5
“Sir Robert?”
Lucy looked up as Foley came into the breakfast parlor, his expression anxious. After she had discussed everything with Robert the previous evening, Lucy’s sleep had been disturbed by violent dreams that had kept her awake half the night.
“What is it?” Robert lowered his paper.
“Giles Durley is here and wishes to speak to you urgently.”
Robert dropped his newspaper onto the table. “I’ll come at once.”
Lucy rose, too, and Robert looked back at her. “You don’t need to disturb yourself, my dear.”
She raised her chin. “I am coming with you.”
He didn’t bother to object again but set off at a fast pace, leaving her rushing along behind him. The Durley family were farmers on the side of the Kurland estate that sloped down toward the river, and had been there for several generations.
“Sir Robert, Lady Kurland.” The famer took of his hat and bowed to them both.
“Good morning, Mr. Durley. What do you need to see me about?” Robert asked.
Giles grimaced. “We were working on the new drainage ditches, sir, like you told us to do, and we found a body at the bottom of one of them.”
Lucy pressed her fingers to her lips while Robert instinctively stepped in front of her as if to shield her from the horrible news.
“Do you think it might be Polly Carter, our missing nursemaid?”
“Yes, sir. Me and the missus met the lass the last time we were in Kurland St. Mary.” Giles cleared his throat. “We covered her up all decent like, and I have her in the back of my cart.”
“Thank you.” Robert nodded. “Perhaps you might take her body down to Dr. Fletcher’s house in the village, where she can be properly laid out.”
“If you wish, sir.” Giles put his hat back on. “The poor lady. May she rest in peace.”
“Amen,” Lucy whispered as Giles bowed and left them in the study. She turned to Robert and struggled to clear her throat. “We should go to Dr. Fletcher’s.”
“I will go.” He held up his hand. “Please don’t argue with me.”
“I am not going to argue with you. I am going to fetch my cloak!” Lucy responded and whisked herself away before he could say another word.
* * *
Robert didn’t say anything as Lucy climbed into the gig with him, her expression resolute. He’d learned over the years that his wife was almost as stubborn as he was, and that he must choose his battles wisely. She might look frail, but she was never one to shirk her responsibilities, and he respected that, even though it sometimes made him worry.
Before he left, he told Foley to keep an eye on James, who was now recuperating in his room, and not to let anyone in to visit with him. As Foley had guessed what had happened to Polly, he was quick to act on Robert’s orders and sent Michael upstairs to sit outside James’s door.
Robert didn’t bother to make conversation as he drove the gig down the drive of Kurland Hall and along the country road to Kurland St. Mary village. There weren’t many people out at this time of day, but those who saw the gig raised their hats or curtsied as they progressed past the farm cottages, the small collection of shops, and onward toward the duck pond, where the village school sat opposite Dr. Fletcher’s house.
The children were out playing in the schoolyard, watched over by the new teacher and one of her assistants. Robert acknowledged the schoolmistress’s wave as he circled the pond and came to a halt outside the doctor’s house. Unwilling to encounter Penelope, Patrick’s acerbic wife, he assisted Lucy down from the gig and entered the house from the side door where his friend welcomed his patients.
The room Patrick used to concoct his medicines and perform surgical tasks was beyond his study, and Robert headed toward that door.
Patrick glanced up as Robert appeared, looked past him, and raised an eyebrow.
“Lady Kurland? Perhaps you might go and speak to Penelope. She is remarkably upset by this matter and could do with the benefit of your sound advice and calm counsel.”
“It seems as if you are both determined to keep me away from the body,” Lucy said. “I will go and speak to Penelope, but do not expect me to remain with her for the rest of our visit!”
Robert came in and closed the door; the smell of cleaning fluids and other unpleasant substances weaved around his nose, making him close his mouth tightly. There was a body laid out on the large marble slab Patrick had somehow obtained from a butcher’s shop and used for his examinations.
“It’s definitely Polly Carter,” Patrick said.
“Do you have any idea how she died?” Robert asked.
“She was strangled. That much is obvious already.” Patrick lightly touched Polly’s waxen cheek. “See the mottled purple of her skin and the bruising around her throat?”
Robert leaned in to observe more closely. In death, Polly looked like a beautiful, sculptured angel.
“She obviously tried to fight off her attacker.” Patrick gestured at her hands. “She’s even broken some of her nails, and there’s blood as if she scratched his face . . .” He paused. “She’s even got a handful of the bastard’s hair clutched in her fingers.”
Robert’s gaze traveled down from Polly’s damaged throat to the disarray of her clothing. One of her boots was missing, and her dress was muddied and torn at the hem.
“Was she raped?” he asked abruptly.
Patrick didn’t flinch at the brutally direct question. They’d worked together during the worst military campaigns in France and Spain. This wasn’t the first dead woman they had seen or had to deal with in their official capacities.
“I don’t know yet.” Patrick straightened up. “I’ll need to remove all her clothing and take a closer look at everything.”
“Are you quite certain that the injuries couldn’t have been caused by her simply losing her way and falling into the drainage ditch?” Robert asked.
“Unless she had her hands around her throat and was attempting to strangle herself when she fell, then no,” Patrick said dryly. “I assume she attempted to fight off an attacker who ended her existence.”
“I wish this hadn’t happened right now,” Robert muttered. “Lucy will insist on getting to the bottom of it, and I’d much rather she stayed home, put her feet up, and looked forward in peaceful anticipation to the birth of our second child.”
Patrick chuckled. “If that is what you truly wish, then I believe you married the wrong woman. With all due respect, if Lady Kurland chooses to involve herself in this matter, no one is going to stop her.”
Robert took a seat at Patrick’s desk. “As I suspect you are correct, I intend to stay here and watch you work before I venture forth to issue a full report to my wife.”
* * *
“Well, I won’t say I didn’t tell you so.” Penelope poured Lucy a cup of tea and then sat back in her chair.
“Tell me what?” Lucy wasn’t in the mood to be helpful, while Penelope was oozing smugness.
“That it was a mistake to hire Polly Carter.”
“You told me that she would run off with Robert,” Lucy pointed out. “As far as I can tell, she didn’t run off anywhere and has probably been murdered.”
“Lucy, when you employ a girl like that—”
“Like what?” Lucy asked. “Polly was extremely hardworking and well-liked by all the staff up at the hall.”
Penelope waved away her reply. “She was far too beautiful, and you know it. Girls like that always bring trouble on themselves.”
“I hardly think that her being beautiful means that she deserved to be murdered,” Lucy said stubbornly. “You are quite beautiful, and no one has murdered you, yet.”
Penelope sat bolt upright. “Because I understand that being beautiful is a burden, and that I have to be very careful not to be over-
familiar with any man.”
“Polly was not over-familiar, and even if she was, it doesn’t mean that she deserved to be killed.” Lucy put her cup down with such force that the saucer rattled.
Penelope tutted. “Please don’t get angry, Lucy. It is bad for the baby.”
“I am not angry, I am simply—”
“Attempting to defend the indefensible,” Penelope spoke over her. “Perhaps Polly did something that enraged her attacker? Mayhap she had more than one lover, and was playing the odds, and got caught?”
“And maybe she was just walking down to the village on her afternoon off and was attacked by a crazed madman for no reason whatsoever!” Lucy realized her voice was rising with every word, and that she was now shouting, and was, in fact, quite angry after all.
She shot to her feet, almost knocking her cup over. “I am going to speak to Dr. Fletcher. Please excuse me.”
Penelope stood, too, her hand outstretched. “Lucy, please don’t do that, Patrick said—”
Lucy marched toward the door, Penelope at her heels, and went into Dr. Fletcher’s empty office. Robert appeared at the interior door and blocked her view of whatever Dr. Fletcher was doing to the body on the marble slab.
“Perhaps you might wait until Dr. Fletcher has finished his examination, my dear.”
Lucy glared at him. “I would prefer to see Polly now.”
He came toward her, and his fingers closed gently on her elbow. “And I would prefer it if you waited. You are obviously upset.”
“I am upset because Penelope has been regaling me for the past quarter of an hour with her opinions of how Polly should’ve been more careful.”
“That’s not what I said at all, Lucy!” Penelope exclaimed. “I merely suggested that she might have inadvertently caused what happened.”
“Which is what my wife just said.” Robert motioned for Penelope to step back from the doorway. “Will you allow me to come into the parlor and explain what Dr. Fletcher has discovered so that he may get on with his work?”
“If you must.” Lucy was aware that she sounded grudging, but she wasn’t prepared to moderate her tone.
“I will go and see if Francis is enjoying his midday meal.” Penelope excused herself after one last reproachful glance at Lucy and stomped up the stairs, her head held high.
Robert drew Lucy into the parlor and closed the door behind them.
“You were rather rude to Penelope.”
“She was being insufferable,” Lucy replied. “She immediately assumed that poor Polly had done something to deserve to be murdered!”
Robert leaned up against the door and regarded her carefully. “One cannot completely discount the notion that Polly’s death was not a random act of violence, though.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I’m saying that it is unlikely there was a murderer roaming the Kurland lands who luckily came across Polly and killed her.”
His calming tone steadied her, but she was still not willing to give up the fight. “Then you do think she caused her own death.”
“No!” He frowned at her. “Stop jumping to ridiculous conclusions, and look at the facts. We know that Polly was attracting a lot of attention from men. We also know that she was afraid of one of those men.”
Lucy nodded. “Bert Speers.”
“Exactly. And James was attacked yesterday, which is another strange coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”
“I suppose you do have a point.” Lucy moved restlessly around the room. “But Penelope—”
“Often says things that are insensitive and rude.” Robert interrupted her. “And thus her opinion, in this case, can be discounted.”
Lucy went over to Robert, who immediately wrapped his arms around her.
“I’m sorry.”
He kissed the top of her head. “For getting annoyed with Penelope? It’s hardly the first time you’ve done that.”
“I’m . . . a little emotional at the moment,” Lucy confided, her cheek settled comfortably against the dark blue of Robert’s waistcoat.
“I can’t say I’ve noticed,” he said dryly.
Lucy placed the palm of her hand on his chest and burrowed even closer. “When my mother was pregnant with the twins, one of our maids was let go because she was with child.”
He stilled. “I don’t understand what—”
“Anna and I were upset because we’d liked her very much. Cook said she had deserved her fate, and that it wouldn’t have been right to have a fallen woman in a good Christian household with innocent girls around.” Lucy slowly raised her head to look at Robert. “But how could that be true when it was my father who had sinned with her?”
“Lucy, my dear love . . .” Robert cupped her cheek. “I had no idea.” He gently kissed her nose. “Did your father know the child was his?”
“I assume so, seeing as he sent money to her family every year for the child’s upkeep.” Lucy took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry. I have no idea why I felt the need tell you that particular family secret.”
“Probably because you are with child, and because you are worried about Polly.”
“Precisely.” She found a smile somewhere, glad for his prosaic answer, and tried to appear reasonable. “Now, what were you going to tell me about Polly?”
Robert’s brow creased. “Are you sure you want to know what Patrick told me, or would you prefer not to hear the details?”
“I’d like to know. Polly is—I mean, was—one of our servants.”
“She was strangled,” Robert said flatly. “She obviously attempted to fight off her attacker, but whoever it was prevailed.”
“My goodness,” Lucy whispered.
Robert took her hand and led her to sit by the fire. “One thing I learned from my days in the cavalry, investigating such matters, was to look at my men’s faces to see if anyone had been scratched or hit.” He grimaced. “It narrowed the field of suspects considerably and often proved a good indicator of the culprit or culprits.”
Lucy shuddered. “Did James have a scratched face?”
Robert shifted in his seat. “Yes, but he had been fighting with Bert Speers and was left in a bramble patch on his parents’ farm.”
“Do we know where Bert Speers is?”
“Presumably, still at the Queen’s Head. After we leave here, I’ll go down and speak to Mr. Jarvis.”
“Poor Polly,” Lucy murmured. “I need to return to Kurland Hall and let Agnes and the rest of the staff know what has happened.”
“We’ll go as soon as Dr. Fletcher has finished his examination,” Robert promised. “I really would prefer it if you let me deal with this. I promise I will tell you everything he says.”
“As you wish.” Lucy realized she was far too tired to argue with him. The thought of seeing Polly’s dead body made her uncharacteristically nervous.
“Thank you.” Robert reached over to squeeze her fingers and gestured at the tea tray. “Do you think Penelope would mind if I helped myself to some tea? It’s rather too early to start on the brandy.”
* * *
When Patrick came to find him, Robert followed him back into his surgery where Polly’s body was now decently covered with a sheet.
“As far as I can tell, she wasn’t raped,” Patrick said. “But she did receive several blows to her body that resulted in bruising and cuts.”
“With a weapon?” Robert asked.
Patrick grimaced. “No, just someone’s fists.” He went to wash his hands. “Poor girl didn’t stand a chance.”
“I assume you can keep the body here until we find out what Polly’s family wants to do with it?”
“Yes, of course. Our cellar is very cold.” Patrick gestured at a box on his desk. “Do you wish to take her clothing?”
“I suppose I should.” With some reluctance, Robert picked up the box. “I know that my wife will wish to keep everything for Polly’s family.”
“Do you have any idea who might have done t
his, Major?” Patrick asked, instinctively reverting to Robert’s old cavalry rank.
“Seeing as every man in Kurland St. Mary thought Polly was the most beautiful woman they’d ever seen, the list of suspects is quite wide,” Robert commented. “But I have a few ideas.”
Patrick dried his hands and opened the door into his study. “I saw her with James, your footman, a few times in the village.”
“Indeed.” Robert wasn’t going to be drawn on the possibilities quite yet.
“I also heard that James was knocked out the other day.”
Robert paused to look back at his friend. “Who told you that?”
Patrick shrugged. “Just the usual village gossip. Remember, I go in and out of people’s homes every day. They tell me some very interesting tales.”
“I’d appreciate it if you kept your suspicions to yourself.”
Patrick had the gall to laugh. “As if that would make a difference in a small place like this, where everyone knows everyone else’s business. Something as sensational as a murder will only encourage more gossip.”
“Unfortunately, due to our past experiences in this matter, I know that all too well.” Robert sighed. “Thank you for your help.”
Patrick offered him a mock salute. “You’re most welcome, Major.”
Robert went across to the parlor and discovered that Penelope had brought her son down from the nursery. He had nothing against the boy, who had the sweet nature of his father. He also had no interest in amusing any child but his own.
Lucy had already risen and was coming toward him, her expression expectant.
“Do we need to leave, my dear?”
“Yes, if we are to speak to Mr. Jarvis at the Queen’s Head and alert our staff to this dreadful occurrence.” He bowed to Penelope, who was feeding her son a biscuit from her plate. “A pleasure to see you, Mrs. Fletcher. Thank you for the tea.”
“You are most welcome, Sir Robert.” Penelope’s glance slid toward Lucy, and she lowered her voice. “One can only hope that your wife will recover her temper soon.”
“My wife is entitled to her own opinions,” Robert said. “And she is more than capable of speaking for herself.” He offered Lucy his arm. “Shall we go, my lady?”
Death Comes to the Nursery Page 6
