Death Comes to the Fair

by Catherine Lloyd

  Chapter 13

  “So all is not lost even if we can’t find the original documentation here at Kurland Hall,” Dermot said.

  “Why is that?” Robert sat down in his chair and considered his land agent, who was looking remarkably more cheerful than he had earlier.

  “Because of the despotic nature of kings, land transfers are taken very seriously in this country, and there will have to be an official record of the transaction stamped, approved, and probably taxed by the County of Hertfordshire.”

  “And where might that information be held?”

  “In the county town of Hertford, Sir Robert. They hold all the records there at the Shire Hall.” Dermot passed a letter across to Robert. “I have drafted a letter that we can send them in regards to this matter.”

  Robert read it through. “This seems perfectly in order. Do you want me to sign it as well?”

  “If are you willing to do so, sir. Having your signature on it as well as mine should help speed up their response.”

  Robert scrawled his name and new title on the bottom of the page. “Anything else?”

  “Yes, I’ve contacted the Kurland solicitors in Bishop’s Stortford to see if they hold any information about the land transfer, and whom they sent payment to in Cambridge.”

  “You have been very efficient.”

  Dermot made a face. “I placed you in an embarrassing situation yesterday, which was most unprofessional of me.”

  “I was hardly embarrassed.” Robert sanded his signature and blotted it. “Mr. Thurrock would hardly have started accusing my family of anything if he hadn’t felt quite certain that he would win.”

  “If you deem the matter as urgent, sir, I could travel to Bishop’s Stortford and on to Hertford to speak to the individuals concerned myself.”

  Robert handed the letter back to Dermot. “There is no need. Mr. Thurrock will just have to wait for his answers.”

  “And what if his claim is true?” Dermot looked up. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, sir, but is there even a possibility that the deed remained unsigned or unpaid for?”

  “There is always a possibility, but my father was an exemplary businessman and I doubt he would have overlooked something like this.” Robert shrugged. “But I could be wrong. If the land was appropriated illegally we will deal with the consequences of that in court, or however Mr. Thurrock wishes.”

  “Will he take money for the land? The estate can afford it.”

  Robert sighed. “He strikes me as the disagreeable kind of individual who will drag the issue through the courts, and make as much noise as possible. If he thinks that he’ll extort more than a penny from me than the land is worth, or that I care to settle on him, he will be in for a shock.”

  “I doubt he thinks you will be an easy adversary, Sir Robert,” Dermot murmured. “He has met you.” He rose to his feet. “I’ll get this letter sent out immediately.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Oh, and, sir”—Dermot looked over his shoulder—“I left the original letters between the Kurland twins on your desk in case you care to study them.”

  Robert groaned. “I doubt I’ll be able to decipher them, but I’ll certainly take a look.”

  His land agent left, and he carefully opened the first letter. Just to be as irritating as possible his ancestor had decided to reuse the parchment and write crossways as well, but there had been a war going on at the time, and he doubted such luxuries had been freely available. He sighed and tried to focus on the incredibly small and spidery handwriting.

  “Major Kurland?”

  He looked up and blinked as Foley came into view, his expression concerned.

  “What is it?”

  “I apologize for disturbing you, sir, but I did knock.”

  Robert sat back and threw his spectacles down on the desk. How long had he been staring at the letter? The suggestion of a headache was already forming at the back of his eyes, and the knowledge he’d gained had hardly been worth the while reading.

  “There’s a note from Miss Harrington for you, sir.” Foley placed it tenderly on the side of the desk. “Do you want me to wait and see if there is a reply?”

  “No, I’ll come and find you if I need anything, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, sir.” Foley paused at the door. “Any news on the wed—”

  “No,” Robert cut Foley off.

  And that was another thing. With all the drama surrounding Ezekiel’s death and Nathaniel’s pursuit of the Thurrock lands, the wedding had again been put off. He was rather surprised that he hadn’t heard anything from the rector and his interfering aristocratic family about the delay yet. But then his betrothed had remained remarkably quiet on that front as well.

  After retrieving his spectacles, he unfolded the sealed note and read it through before cursing loudly and fluently enough to bring Foley running back to his side.

  “Is Miss Harrington all right, sir?”

  “She’s perfectly fine until I wring her neck!”

  Foley swallowed nervously. “You don’t mean that, Major, do you?”

  “It depends.” Robert glared at his hapless butler. “I will be dining at the rectory. Please tell Mrs. Bloomfield and Cook.”

  “Immediately, sir.”

  Foley bowed and departed, leaving Robert to reread his betrothed’s carefully worded letter. At least this time she’d had the sense to consult him about her ridiculous plan, and seemed to assume he’d want to follow along. A reluctant smile curved his lips. And he would follow along because he knew damned well that she was brave enough to carry on without him if he didn’t.

  * * *

  By the time Betty called them down for dinner, Lucy had taken possession of the stolen book, and had made some headway reading the letters although nothing of significance had yet occurred. It was quite surprising that even during a civil war the twins’ primary concern had been the gathering of their crops, their cattle, and payment of taxes. Everyday things that the war would eventually disrupt or destroy as troops marched over the countryside demanding rations for their soldiers, which were given willingly, or unwillingly, depending on which side a family supported.

  Neither of the twins struck Lucy as being ardent converts to their causes. They’d simply decided in their forthright Kurland way to double the chances of ensuring their estate survived. As the conflict worsened, and it had been particularly bad in Hertfordshire, their allegiances and alliances might have changed quite profoundly.

  “Lucy? Are you coming down?”

  She looked up as Penelope came into her bedchamber. Penelope was attired in an old blue muslin gown that had made Lucy look like a drab but was somehow transformed into something special when her friend put it on.

  “You look very fine tonight.”

  “Thank you.” Penelope touched her upswept blond locks. “Dr. Fletcher is coming to dinner. I am quite nervous.”

  “Does he intend to speak to my father?”

  “I don’t think so. This is more of a way of showing the rector that Dr. Fletcher would make me an unexceptional husband.”

  “So we must attempt to bring him to my father’s notice, and make sure he can talk about subjects he is comfortable with.”

  “Exactly. I can rely on you, can’t I?”

  “Yes.” Lucy smiled at her erstwhile enemy and linked arms with her. Beneath Penelope’s brittle beauty was a definite snap of nervousness. “Shall we go down?”

  They found Dorothea, the curate, and her father gathered together in the drawing room making pleasant conversation and joined them.

  “Is Mr. Thurrock dining with us, Father?”

  “I believe he said he was going out.”

  Lucy drew the curtains. “I did try to suggest to him that walking in the dark was not an activity I would suggest in the countryside, but he seemed determined to ignore my advice.”

  “I said the same thing to him, my dear.” Her father handed her a glass of ratafia. “He thanked me kindl
y, and went out anyway. Silly fool.”

  Betty appeared at the doorway and cleared her throat.

  “Major Sir Robert Kurland and Dr. Fletcher are here, sir. Shall I tell them you’re just about to sit down and eat?”

  “Not at all, Betty, I was expecting Dr. Fletcher. Lay one more place, and invite them both in!” He glanced down at Lucy. “I’ve been meaning to talk to the good major about your upcoming wedding anyway. I had a most interesting letter from your aunt today. She says you are ignoring her.”

  “I—”

  Lucy was saved from answering as her father surged forward to greet his guests, and offer them both a drink while poor Betty trotted off to inform Mrs. Fielding that there would be one more to dine. Lucy tried to think about the upcoming meal, and hoped the rack of lamb and side of beef would suffice to feed the two men.

  Major Kurland came over to her, cane in hand, and bowed.

  “Miss Harrington.”

  “Major. I did not expect to see you.”

  “So I gathered.” He moved closer and lowered his voice. “If you insist on going out into the night, I will accompany you.”

  “I thought you might,” she said demurely. “I believe Mr. Thurrock is going to attempt to find the buried treasure in the old priory tonight. He intimated to me that he had received information from the Turner sisters as to the exact whereabouts of the treasure and a rough map of the priory.”

  “Did he?” Major Kurland’s expression became formidable. “Then he is trespassing on my land, and I am legally entitled to prevent that happening.” He bowed. “In fact, Miss Harrington, I don’t need your assistance at all. I can take Pethridge with me from the Home Farm, and deal with the matter myself.”

  Having expected just such a reply, Lucy spoke again. “That isn’t the only thing that is going on in Kurland St. Anne tonight. I have received information that the Turner sisters are planning to be out after dark as well.”

  “With Mr. Thurrock?”

  “I’m not sure. He seemed to think they were busy doing something else, but I suspect they will be tracking his movements very closely, don’t you?”

  “Dinner is served,” Betty said in a loud voice from the door.

  Lucy took the major’s proffered arm and walked into the more formal dining room, where her father was already pulling out a chair for Dorothea Chingford. Dr. Fletcher came in with Penelope and sat to her right, leaving Lucy and Major Kurland to face them across the table.

  Lucy pressed her fingers against her companion’s sleeve. “Penelope wants Dr. Fletcher to make a good impression on my father this evening. Perhaps you might support her in that?”

  “I’d be delighted to.” Major Kurland placed her napkin on her lap and smiled down at her. “The sooner we resolve everyone else’s pressing issues, the sooner we can be married.”

  “Ah, yes, that.” Lucy smoothed her fingers over her linen napkin.

  “Good Lord, don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind again,” Major Kurland muttered.

  “Not at all. I just need to speak to my father about the . . . arrangements.”

  “What arrangements? From what I understand we are at a complete standstill.”

  “That’s because I haven’t answered my aunt Jane’s last two letters telling me to come and stay at her London house.”

  “Well, you can hardly leave the village now when everything is so complicated—although at least I would know you were safe.”

  “I don’t want to go,” Lucy confessed.

  “Then don’t.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Yes, it is. Just stand your ground.”

  Lucy glowered up at him. “You have no idea what it is like to be a woman, do you?”

  “No, and thank God for that.” He filled her wineglass and then his own. “Are you going to sample this excellent lamb?”

  She took a small piece from the platter he offered her, and then an equally small amount of potatoes.

  He glanced at her plate. “You need to eat more. No wonder you’re out of sorts.”

  “I am perfectly fine, sir,” she snapped.

  He raised an eyebrow and continued to load his plate with food.

  “I am merely trying to make sure that there is enough food for all our unexpected guests!”

  “You mean me, I suppose, seeing as Dr. Fletcher was expected.”

  “I would never be rude enough to suggest such a thing.” Lucy looked across the table and caught Dr. Fletcher’s amused expression. “Are you busy with patients at the moment, Doctor?”

  “I am always busy, Miss Harrington, but I must confess to enjoying my work.”

  Lucy raised her voice. “Did you know that Dr. Fletcher has taken over almost all of Dr. Baker’s business now, Father?”

  “That is good to hear. Every community needs a good and reliable doctor.” Her father fixed his gaze on Dr. Fletcher. “And where did you go to college, young man?”

  “Edinburgh, sir, and then into the army, which is where I met Major Kurland.”

  “And saved my life.” Major Kurland joined the conversation. “If Patrick hadn’t been close after my horse fell on me I would have definitely lost my leg and probably not survived the amputation.”

  “Then we have much to be grateful to you for, Dr. Fletcher.”

  Lucy smiled approvingly at Major Kurland and started to eat her dinner.

  * * *

  “So, Major, I understand that my daughter is refusing to go to London to stay with her aunt and deal with her wedding plans. Do you know anything about her change of heart?”

  Robert looked up from his contemplation of the fire at the rector’s unexpectedly frank question. The three men had retired to his study to drink port while the ladies had gone into the drawing room.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said do you have any idea why Lucy is reluctant to go to London?”

  “I believe she wishes to be here until Ezekiel Thurrock’s funeral. After that one must assume she will be making plans to visit London,” Robert said cautiously.

  “You don’t think she’s having second thoughts about the whole business, do you?”

  “I hope not, sir. She certainly hasn’t indicated any such thing to me.”

  The rector leaned forward in his seat. “I’m glad to hear it, because I’ve heard several reports about you and my daughter roaming the countryside unchaperoned.”

  Robert swallowed hard. “Hardly unchaperoned, sir. My groom or Miss Harrington’s maid is usually present, and we are on Kurland land.”

  “Hmmph.”

  The rector didn’t sound convinced as he turned his attention to Dr. Fletcher.

  “And what about you, sir? One has to assume that your sudden interest in gaining a better acquaintance with me has something to do with a female under my roof, and as my eldest daughter is taken, and my younger one ensconced in London . . .”

  Patrick glanced over at Robert and then stood up.

  “I must confess to an interest in gaining your permission to court Miss Penelope Chingford.”

  “Penelope, eh? Fine-looking woman.” The rector’s gaze slid to Robert. “And what do you have to say about that, Major?”

  “I offer Dr. Fletcher my full support, sir. He will make her an excellent husband.”

  The rector sipped his port. “She has very little money, Dr. Fletcher.”

  “I’m aware of that, sir.”

  “And a sister to support.”

  “I am more than willing to take both of the Chingford ladies into my house and provide for them to the best of my ability.”

  Robert cleared his throat. “Perhaps I might leave you gentlemen to discuss this issue in private? I’ll return to the drawing room, and entertain the ladies.”

  Satisfied that things were progressing nicely for his friend, Robert finished his port, bowed, and walked back down the corridor to find Miss Harrington and her companions.

  It was easy to forget sometimes that beneath his
selfish exterior, the rector was a remarkably intelligent and astute man who missed very little of what was going on around him, even if he was usually too indolent to act upon it. He must warn Miss Harrington that they were the subjects of gossip, and must try to avoid it in future, or else the rector would be insisting on a special license, and an immediate marriage.

  Robert stopped walking. Or maybe he shouldn’t say anything to Miss Harrington, and let fate follow its natural path.

  Miss Chingford jumped to her feet as he entered the room. There was no sign of Dorothea.

  “Where is Dr. Fletcher?”

  Robert bowed. “He is speaking privately to the rector, Miss Chingford. I should imagine he’ll be along in a moment.”

  He caught Miss Harrington’s eye and took the seat next to her murmuring, “All is well. I believe Dr. Fletcher is making a good case for himself.”

  Miss Harrington let out her breath. “Thank goodness for that. I must confess that Penelope has been remarkably difficult to live with these past few weeks.”

  “Which is another reason why I am devoutly glad that I did not marry her.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Have you put any thought into how we are to manage things later tonight?”

  “I’ll have to take the gig. I can’t walk more than a mile or so. We could drive down to St. Anne church, and walk across the fields from there.”

  “I’ll come down to the end of the drive and meet you at the entrance to Kurland Hall. At what time?”

  “Midnight?”

  “If everyone has gone to bed.”

  Robert frowned. “Are you sure about this? I don’t wish to court trouble.”

  “I believe you’ve already done that by expressing a desire to marry me.” She hesitated. “I am hardly likely to prove a conventional wife.”

  “But I’m not exactly a dyed-in-the-wool baronet either, am I? My politics would shock most of my peers.” He took her hand. “We are perfectly matched.”

  Behind them Miss Chingford snorted rather loudly. “Indeed.”

  Miss Harrington raised her chin. “If you are feeling argumentative, Penelope, please don’t start on me or Major Kurland. We are engaged. He is perfectly at liberty to hold my hand.”