Death Comes to Kurland Hall

by Catherine Lloyd

  “I believe most of the work and the excitement will be generated by our womenfolk, Major Kurland, which leaves us men with more time to hunt and fish. All you and Mr. Stanford have to do is remember to turn up at the church at the correct time.” The rector chuckled at his own joke and held the door open for Robert to depart. “Good afternoon, Major.”

  As Robert climbed back up into the gig and Reg set off toward Kurland Hall, it finally started to rain. He glanced up at the leaden sky and grimaced. His land-draining schemes were only drawings at the moment, which meant that if the rain kept up all month, his lower pasturelands would be flooded again.

  When he reached his home, he went straight to his study and asked Foley to send Thomas Fairfax in to him immediately. The rain made his damaged left leg ache abominably, so he stayed on his feet and close to the fire while he waited.

  “You wished to see me, Major?”

  He turned to greet his land agent. “Ah, Thomas, we’ll have to move the cattle out of—”

  “I’ve already sent down the order to the home farm, sir.” Thomas smiled. “I knew you would be worried about the state of the ground.”

  “Thank you.” Robert limped over to his desk and sat down.

  “Major . . .” Thomas hesitated and removed a folded piece of parchment from his coat pocket. “I hate to bother you with such a personal matter, but I received a letter today from my father’s wife.”

  “Your stepmother?”

  “I’m illegitimate, sir, so we are not formally related. I do know her quite well, as she occasionally consulted me about estate matters before my father died.”

  Robert grimaced. “Has Mrs. Fairfax changed her mind? Has she realized what a jewel she allowed to slip through her fingers? I suppose she wants you to return and manage her son’s future and her widow’s estate. I do hope not. I’d hate to lose you when we’ve just got started on our plans for this place.”

  Thomas glanced down at the open letter. “I’m not quite sure what she wants, Major. She says that she will be traveling down from London to see me.”

  “Then please tell her that she is welcome to stay here at the manor.”

  Thomas frowned. “Are you sure, sir? Her visit might coincide with Mrs. Giffin and Mr. Stanford’s wedding.”

  “All the more reason for her to come, then. I’ll be too busy offering my support to Mr. Stanford to do much with the estate, which will give you time to sort out your personal affairs.”

  “That is very kind of you, sir.” Thomas folded up the letter and hesitated. “Are you sure we can accommodate her?” He picked up the guest list from Robert’s desk and studied it. “If Mrs. Fairfax does stay here, we will need to alter the sleeping arrangements for one of the other guests. Did the rector offer any further accommodation?”

  “He did, so there is no danger of anyone having to sleep in the stables,” Robert said. The clock chimed twice, and he glanced outside the window. “Mr. Stanford will be back soon, and his children are set to arrive this afternoon. Perhaps we should finish our work before that happens?”

  “Yes, indeed, Major. Speaking of the stables, I was hoping to discuss the current management of them with you. . . .”

  Chapter 2

  “Ah, Lucy, there you are.”

  “Good afternoon, Father.” Lucy entered the hallway of the rectory and went to remove her bonnet and cloak.

  “We have visitors in the drawing room.” He beckoned imperiously to her. “Mr. Thomas Fairfax accompanied them.”

  “They must be the wedding guests we were told to expect.”

  Lucy smoothed down her skirts and followed her father into the drawing room. An unknown man bowed to her, but she hardly saw him, because sitting together on the couch were Miss Penelope Chingford, her mother, and one of her younger sisters.

  Her father smiled. “Mrs. Chingford and her daughters will be staying with us during the wedding festivities. I believe you made their acquaintance in London, Lucy.” He gave Mrs. Chingford a small bow. “I, of course, knew this lady when she was Miss Flood and a beautiful young debutante.”

  “Oh, Mr. Harrington, you quite put me to blush!” cried Mrs. Chingford as she patted her cheek and fluttered her eyelashes. “I am surprised you remember me at all.”

  “How could I forget such grace and charm?”

  Lucy managed to keep her smile in place as she studied Miss Chingford, who looked just as unimpressed with her parent’s antics as Lucy was. She turned her attention to the young man who stood slightly to the rear of the couch and was observing the ponderous gallantries of her father and Mrs. Chingford’s flustered replies with what looked like concealed amusement. He had brown hair and hazel eyes and an unremarkable face. His clothing was well made yet fashionably restrained, as befitting his status as a land agent.

  “Mr. Fairfax?”

  He stepped forward to take her hand. “Miss Harrington. It is a pleasure to meet you at last. I believe you were instrumental in bringing me to Major Kurland’s attention.”

  “I wouldn’t quite say that, Mr. Fairfax, although I did pass your excellent references along to the major for his consideration.”

  “Well, I thank you. I am enjoying working here very much.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Not many men can stand up to Major Kurland’s rather forceful personality.”

  He smiled then, which made her revise her opinion of his attractiveness. “The major says it is rather like dealing with you, which he assures me is a huge compliment.”

  She smiled back and heard a sharp cough to her right, which she attempted to ignore.

  “Miss Harrington!”

  With some reluctance, Lucy turned away from Mr. Fairfax and faced Miss Chingford. She looked remarkably pretty in a mauve pelisse and matching feathered bonnet.

  “Miss Chingford, I wasn’t aware that your slight acquaintance with Mrs. Giffin qualified you to be invited to her wedding.”

  “I hardly know Mrs. Giffin. My mother is distantly related to Mr. Stanford.” Miss Chingford lowered her voice. “We were supposed to be staying at Kurland Hall.”

  “I’m sure we can make you and your family very comfortable here. The bedrooms at Kurland Hall tend to be very drafty.”

  “I am well aware of that. Unlike you, I have stayed there.”

  Lucy gave her a sweet smile. “I do apologize. I had forgotten that when you were betrothed to Major Kurland, you once viewed Kurland Hall as your future home.” She paused. “Perhaps Major Kurland thought it would pain you to reside under his roof again.”

  “He has no such regard for my feelings.” Miss Chingford snorted. “It was my mother who offered to move down here. She said she had always wanted to renew her acquaintance with your father.”

  They both turned to look at their respective parents, who were happily reminiscing about their first meeting at a London ball. The younger Miss Chingford stifled a yawn and looked longingly at the door as the rector leaned over to whisper in her mother’s ear.

  “Perhaps you and Dorothea would like to see your room? We have put you next door to your mother,” Lucy said loudly.

  Her father waved at her to proceed, keeping Mrs. Chingford chatting as Lucy thanked Mr. Fairfax for bringing the Chingfords down from the manor house. He departed soon afterward, and she led the two ladies up the stairs.

  “We shall dine at six. If you need anything, please ring the bell.” Lucy drew the curtains wide to let the sunlight illuminate the guest bedroom. “Your boxes have already been brought up, so I shall leave you to settle in.”

  “Thank you.” Miss Chingford surveyed the charming guest room as though she’d been escorted to a cell in a debtors’ prison. “I’m sure we will be . . . very comfortable in here.”

  Lucy headed for the door. “I’ll send Betty up right away to help you unpack.”

  She escaped down the stairs and went into the kitchen, where Betty and Cook were sharing a pot of tea at the table. With a sigh, she sat down and helped herself, as well.

&nb
sp; “Our guests have arrived. Betty, will you go up and help them unpack? And, Mrs. Fielding, we will have three extra for dinner tonight.”

  “The rector already informed me of that, Miss Harrington.” The glum reply wasn’t a surprise. Mrs. Fielding rarely liked anything Lucy said to her, preferring instead to receive her orders directly from the rector before she was willing to even consider carrying them out.

  Lucy took another fortifying gulp of the strong tea. “I’ll go and see if Mrs. Chingford is ready to be taken up to her room. My father is in danger of monopolizing her attention.”

  “Is he now?”

  There was an ominous note in the cook’s voice, which Lucy couldn’t help but secretly revel in.

  “Yes. Apparently, they are old friends. He seems very taken with her.”

  Mrs. Fielding snorted and turned her attention to the stove, banging the pots and pans around. If Mrs. Chingford wasn’t careful, she might find herself being poisoned by the jealous cook, who considered the rector her personal property. The thought of poison reminded Lucy of her recent sojourn in London, and she shuddered. She returned to the drawing room, where her father most uncharacteristically lingered with Mrs. Chingford.

  “Your daughters are both settled in, Mrs. Chingford, and George awaits you in your study, Father. He says you are meant to be reviewing the Sunday sermon with him.”

  Her father sighed and then bent to kiss Mrs. Chingford’s hand in a most dashing way. “Duty calls. I look forward to seeing you at the dinner table this evening, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Chingford positively bridled. “I look forward to it, sir.”

  Lucy waited until her father disappeared into his study to consult with his new curate, and then turned back to Mrs. Chingford, whose smile had vanished. She was still a handsome woman with a classic profile her daughter had inherited. She had risen from her chair and appeared to be studying the china on the mantelpiece.

  “Is this a portrait of your late mother, Miss Harrington?”

  “Indeed it is.” Lucy paused to admire her mother’s serene smile. “It was painted just before she had the twins.”

  Mrs. Chingford angled her head to one side and clicked her tongue. “She looks frail. I’m not surprised she didn’t survive the birth.”

  “My mother was never an invalid, Mrs. Chingford. Her death was quite unexpected.” Lucy tried to sound calm.

  “How old are the twins now?”

  “Eight. They are at school.”

  “Where they should be.” Mrs. Chingford gave a mock shudder. “I am so glad I had girls. They are far more biddable.”

  “I’m sure they are. Would you like me to take you up to your bedchamber?” Lucy started walking simply to get Mrs. Chingford away from the portrait. “The twins were certainly boisterous at times, but—”

  “You brought them up?”

  “Naturally.” Lucy continued to climb the stairs and spoke over her shoulder. “As the eldest daughter of the family, my father expected me to do my duty. And it was no hardship. They are quite delightful.” Which wasn’t true, but something in Mrs. Chingford’s tone was beginning to annoy Lucy.

  She opened the door into the best bedchamber and waited as Mrs. Chingford moved past her, fingering the curtains and the bed hangings and then studying the embroidered cushions that lined the daybed set by the window.

  “This is a handsome room.”

  “It was my mother’s.” Lucy curtsied. “Now I will leave you in peace to unpack. I’ll send Alice up to help you.”

  Mrs. Chingford swung around to face Lucy. “There’s no need to sound so defensive whenever I ask you a question, my dear.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “No one is suggesting that you haven’t done a fine job taking care of your siblings and your father for all these years.”

  “As far as I am concerned, no one has ever suggested any such thing.” Lucy raised an eyebrow. “Is there something in particular you wish to say to me, Mrs. Chingford?”

  “Whatever do you mean?” Mrs. Chingford opened her blue eyes wide, and her voice became caressing. “One must hope that you won’t turn into one of those elderly spinsters who sees her widowed father as her property. That is always so sad, isn’t it?”

  “Trust me, ma’am, if my father wishes to find a new wife, I would be delighted to relinquish all my responsibilities to her.” Lucy paused. “But with all due respect, he loved my mother so much that he has never looked at another woman since.” She curtsied again. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Chingford.”

  She made her way down the stairs, wondering what it was about the woman that made her hackles rise. How was she supposed to deal with someone who asked the most outrageous questions with a smile on her face? She could only pray her father wouldn’t be taken in by the sweetness for too long before he discovered the sour underneath. But then men often seemed incapable of seeing much at all....

  “And, as I said to my dear friend, the rector . . .”

  Lucy slipped out of her chair and walked the length of the picture gallery to the other end, where she hoped Mrs. Chingford’s voice would be fainter. They’d come to the manor to pay a call on the major and the other wedding guests. Mrs. Chingford hadn’t stopped talking for at least a quarter of an hour. From the expressions on some of the other ladies’ faces, Lucy reckoned she wasn’t the only one who found Mrs. Chingford’s rather pointed conversation objectionable.

  After two days of enduring Mrs. Chingford at the rectory and watching her father bloom and preen with all the attention lavished on him, Lucy was glad to be out of the house. Unfortunately, she’d had to bring the Chingfords with her. She stared down at the formal knot garden Major Kurland was having restored behind the Tudor wing of the manor. The orderly clipped hedges and symmetrical patterns soothed her a little.

  “Are you avoiding Mrs. Chingford?” A voice at her elbow made her jump. “She really is insufferable, isn’t she?”

  Lucy turned to look at the indignant face of one of Mr. Stanford’s aunts.

  “I hardly know her, Mrs. Green.”

  Her companion snorted. “It’s like picking up a hedgehog. Hundreds of tiny spines just waiting to pierce your skin, and while you’re distracted, one long barb is left quivering in your heart.” Mrs. Green lowered her voice. “That’s why she’s rusticating at this wedding. She’s offended far too many of society’s notables during her relentless drive to marry off her wretched daughters.” The glance she shot at Mrs. Chingford was pure venom. “I’ve also heard rumors that she is in debt and on the lookout for a new husband.”

  Lucy immediately thought of her father and then relaxed. He had an easy competence from his father’s estate, but since his brother had a son, he was no longer the heir to the earldom. In Mrs. Chingford’s eyes, he was probably a nonentity.

  As if echoing her thoughts, Mrs. Green poked her with her fan. “You’d better watch that handsome father of yours, my girl. He seems quite smitten.”

  “Smitten with whom?” Major Kurland appeared at Lucy’s side and bowed to both ladies. He was still using his walking cane, his black hair was disheveled, and his cheeks were slightly reddened from the wind. “I apologize for not being here when you arrived, Miss Harrington. I was down at the home farm.”

  Mrs. Green curtsied. “I’ll leave Miss Harrington to explain. I’ve had just about enough of listening to Maria Chingford holding court!”

  Major Kurland frowned down at Lucy as Mrs. Green stalked out of the room. “Whatever is wrong with her? She was positively bristling with indignation.”

  “She doesn’t like Mrs. Chingford, and she told me to warn my father off.”

  “She believes Mrs. Chingford has set her cap at the rector?”

  Lucy shrugged. “She might be right.”

  “That’s excellent news.” His expression relaxed. “If she takes your father off your hands, you’ll be free.”

  “And homeless. I couldn’t abide sharing a house with her and Miss Chingford for more than two weeks.”


  He grimaced and scratched the back of his neck. “I apologize for that. I wasn’t intending for the Chingfords to descend on you, but somehow it was all arranged without my knowledge. Thomas didn’t know about my previous connection with Miss Chingford.”

  “It’s all right. Miss Chingford said her mother was rather keen to stay at the rectory so that she could renew her acquaintance with my father.”

  Major Kurland turned slightly away from the group settled around Mrs. Chingford. “You don’t like her very much, do you?”

  “She isn’t very nice.” Lucy wished she could say more, but her feelings about Mrs. Chingford were too complicated to put in words. “She . . . twists everything you say and uses it against you.”

  “I hadn’t noticed myself.”

  “That’s because she values your good opinion and would hesitate to offend you.”

  “And perhaps sees you as a rival for your father’s affections?” Major Kurland patted her hand and placed it on his sleeve. “Mayhap she is jealous of you?”

  “I suppose that could be it, but—” Lucy stopped speaking as the major drew her toward the group clustered around the fire. Voices were raised, and there appeared to be some kind of argument in progress between a sweetly smiling Mrs. Chingford and Mr. Stanford’s sister.

  “That is untrue, Mrs. Chingford.” Miss Stanford rose to her feet. “Such gossip should not be repeated—especially now, when my brother is about to marry again.”

  “ I do beg your pardon, my dear.” Mrs. Chingford fluttered her fan. “I didn’t realize that my silly little remark would upset you.” She glanced over at Sophia, who was frowning. “And to you, Mrs. Giffin, I do apologize. I assumed Mr. Stanford would have mentioned the rumors surrounding his wife’s premature death.”

  Major Kurland cleared his throat. “I’m sure everyone will forgive you, Mrs. Chingford. Now, perhaps you might like to take advantage of the sunshine and enjoy a tour of my new garden?”

  As the other ladies rose like a flock of birds to accept the major’s invitation, Lucy disengaged herself from Major Kurland and went over to where Sophia remained sitting by the fire, her gloved hands clasped tightly in her lap. Lucy sat next to her and lowered her voice.