Lucy stirred her tea with such unnecessary vigor that half the liquid trickled down onto the tablecloth.
“Miss Harrington?”
She looked up to find Edward staring at her. “Yes?”
“I’m sure the rector is concerned about Mary. He just has a lot on his mind at the moment.”
“I understand that—what with that new horse to be broken, and the hunting season approaching.”
The moment she said the words out loud, Lucy regretted them. Being angry with her own father was not new, but sharing that resentment with his curate was reprehensible. She forced a smile.
“I’m sorry, Edward. I am worried about Mary, and my father is right. I do feel responsible for her sudden departure. I had no idea she was so unhappy here.”
Edward poured himself another cup of tea and took the last four slices of toast. He was perpetually hungry, and could always be relied upon to finish even the most unappetizing meals that emerged from the rectory kitchen. Despite his prodigious appetite, he was as thin as a rail, his pale complexion mottled with pimples and his hair a dull mouse brown.
“She did seem rather disengaged from her duties recently—as if her mind were elsewhere. She left your brother Anthony’s garments in my room on several occasions recently, and I had to ask her to remove them.”
Lucy handed him the dish of plum preserves, and he spread them lavishly on his toast. “You are the second person who has told me that she was distracted. I must confess I barely noticed her at all. She always performed her duties perfectly when she was with me.”
“Naturally, you are the mistress of the house.” He crunched his way through another piece of toast, sending crumbs all over the tablecloth. He gulped down some tea. “She was in awe of you—as we all are.”
“I’m only the temporary mistress. One day, I hope to be in charge of my own establishment.” Lucy longed for that day, but still couldn’t quite see how to accomplish it. It wasn’t as if she went out in society much and could look for a husband. Sometimes she wondered if her indolent father expected her to dedicate her whole life to him. Sometimes she awoke in the night from a horrible dream of being suffocated and was quite certain of it.
Edward smiled at her, a splodge of purple jam dangling from his top lip. “You will make some man very happy one day.” He swallowed hard. “Very happy indeed.”
Lucy avoided his beseeching gaze and started to gather up the breakfast dishes. Thank goodness Anthony was not present to hear Edward’s remarks. He would be winking at her, clutching his chest, and making lovesick eyes. It was common knowledge that the curate would like to make Lucy his wife, but that didn’t mean she had to encourage it.
“Well, please let me know when you intend to visit the other parishes. I would like to make sure that everyone knows Mary has disappeared.” She paused while stacking the plates. “Do you know if anyone was courting her?”
“I don’t, Miss Harrington. She did have a habit of loitering around the new stable block while it was being built, so perhaps she had a young man who worked there.”
“That’s an excellent point, Edward. I can find out the names of the men who worked on the construction from my father’s bills. I intend to go into the village and ask if anyone there has any notion of what might have become of her.”
It also meant she could carry out Major Kurland’s commission and find out if there had been any recent robberies or disturbances. She would call at the houses of the local gentry and see if they had taken on any new staff. Poaching another family’s servants was generally frowned upon. But as her father often pointed out, some of the new families in the area had money, but not the necessary breeding, and might think nothing of offering a trained servant a higher wage to entice her away.
Lucy rang the bell for the breakfast room to be cleared, and Edward hurriedly finished his repast. He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin and stood up.
“I’ll wish you good afternoon, Miss Harrington. I will let you know as soon as I plan to visit the smaller parishes.”
“Thank you, Edward.”
Lucy nodded and continued to stack the plates. She wasn’t sure why she found his regard so objectionable. He would be the most obvious person for her to marry. Her father had even hinted at the suitability of such a match. Such a marriage would only enhance his comfort, and bind both her and Edward to the yoke of carrying out the duties of the parish for the rest of their lives.
Betty came into the parlor with an empty tray and started piling the crockery onto it. “Any news about Mary, Miss Harrington?”
“I’m afraid not, Betty.” Lucy picked up a knife that had fallen to the floor. “I’m going into the village now. Mayhap I can discover more there.”
She hurried to put on her bonnet and cloak before anyone else in the household needed to speak to her, and escaped into the fine spring sunshine. She’d wasted several minutes looking for her best gloves until she remembered their bloodied state and several more trying to relocate her old pair. Her first call would be on the Hathaway household, where her friend Sophia resided with her parents and two brothers. If Mary had been a friend of one of the maids, it was a good place to start. As she walked along the narrow lane, Lucy wondered if either of the Hathaway brothers would be at home. She always enjoyed conversing with Rupert Hathaway, the younger of the two. Since he’d started to practice law in London, he came home very irregularly. In truth, she’d always hoped he’d develop stronger feelings for her, but he had never broached the subject, and it was unbecoming for a lady to ask about such a delicate matter.
She sighed and kicked a dried-up cowpat from her path. If only she might be allowed to visit London and persuade one of her father’s sisters or cousins to let her stay for the Season. But every time she suggested it, he put her off, insisting he needed her at home. And he had needed her; there was no doubt about that. But with everything about to change at the rectory with the twins and Anthony’s departure, surely she would have her chance to escape her domestic duties now?
The main gates to Hathaway House were closed, but Lucy knew the way through the smaller, less obvious pedestrian gate behind the lodge. To her delight, the bluebells in the ancient wood incorporated within the park were in bloom. She extended her walk to pass through the middle of them, inhaling the peppery scent and marveling at the waxen nature of the tiny bell-shaped petals. As children, they’d rolled down the hill through the bluebells until the nursemaids grew tired of trying to get the stains out of their clothing and complained to their parents.
Reluctant to disturb such perfection, and determined to bring her sketchbook on her next visit to capture the view, Lucy picked just one and tucked it in her buttonhole before heading for the kitchen door of the large stone-built house. The distracted cook and youngest scullery maid were busy at the range, their backs turned toward her. Lucy inhaled the smell of roasting beef and immediately felt hungry.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Lucas, and how are you today?”
“Very well, Miss Harrington.” The cook poked her young assistant with her spoon. “Curtsy to the lady and say good afternoon, Maggie.”
Maggie’s thin face flushed red, and she mumbled something inaudible before bobbing a curtsy.
Lucy smiled at them both. “Do you have a moment to speak with me, Mrs. Lucas?”
“Of course, miss.” Mrs. Lucas pushed the scullery maid in the direction of the pans. “Keep an eye on these pots for a minute.”
Lucy waited until the cook joined her by the table. “Mary Smith from my kitchen has gone missing. I wondered if you had heard anything about where she went, or why?”
Mrs. Lucas wiped her hands on her apron. “Gone, has she? Taken another job, or run off?”
“At this point, I don’t know.” Lucy studied the cook’s kind face. “I didn’t think she was unhappy with her lot, but obviously one could be wrong.”
“From what I’ve heard, you treat your servants very fairly, miss. Your Mary was quite friendly with our junior p
arlor maid, Susan O’Brien. Would you like to speak to her?”
“If that would be possible, Mrs. Lucas. Obviously, I’ll ask Mrs. Hathaway’s permission when I go up to see her.”
“And I’ll check with Mr. Spencer, the butler. He might prefer to be present at any interview you hold with a member of staff.”
“Naturally.” Lucy nodded and turned toward the stairs that led up to the main floor of the house. “I’ll go up and see Mrs. Hathaway immediately.”
She ascended the uncarpeted stairs and pushed open the door that led through into the hallway of Hathaway House. It was strange how as a rector’s daughter she had equal access to all classes of society. She was just as at home in a kitchen as she was in a drawing room. She supposed she should thank her father for that at least. The austerity of the servants’ quarters gave way to a large airy hall with paneled walls, marble floors, and an elaborately plastered ceiling. The Hathaways considered themselves the second highest family in the village—after the Kurlands—and conducted themselves accordingly. They had always been very kind to Lucy, and she was a welcome and valued visitor.
Lucy found her way to the back of the house, where Mrs. Hathaway had a bright and sunny informal sitting room, and knocked on the door. After being told to enter, she went in and was rewarded by a smiling welcome from both the ladies present. She often wondered how it might have been if her own mother had lived and hoped they would’ve been as close as Sophia and her mother.
“Lucy!” Sophia leapt to her feet and ran to hug her friend. She was dressed simply in a soft green muslin dress with a single flounce, her blond hair braided around the crown of her head rather than curled. “How nice to see you. Mama and I were just speaking about Major Kurland. I’m quite certain you have all the latest gossip about him.”
She kissed Sophia’s cheek and sat beside her on the sofa. “Good day, Mrs. Hathaway. Are you feeling better?”
Sophia’s mother smiled in reply. “I am, thank you. I suspect I was just tired from the journey back from London. A few days in my own home have restored my spirits and my health quite wonderfully.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Lucy patted Sophia’s Cavalier King Charles puppy on the head. “Did you find both your sons in good health?”
“Indeed, Perry is rattling around in a manner that makes my husband threaten to cut off his allowance, and Rupert is advancing steadily in his career.”
“Neither of them made the journey back with you?”
“Unfortunately not, but I expect them both at Easter. You will all have to come to dinner and catch up on all the news from Town.”
“That would be lovely.”
Sophia elbowed her in the side. “Are you deliberately ignoring my question about the dashing major, or are you simply displaying your superior manners?”
“I have nothing of interest to tell you about Major Kurland. He is still bedridden and remarkably argumentative.”
“In my experience, men never make good patients,” Mrs. Hathaway said comfortably. “They either behave like children, or imagine they are the only mortal in the entire world to ever be so sick, or near death.” She set a stitch in her embroidery. “Mind you, I’m not surprised Major Kurland is a difficult patient. After his distinguished career in the military, it must be hard for him to be idle.”
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.
Death Comes to the Village Page 5
