Death Comes to Kurland Hall

by Catherine Lloyd

  “Miss Harrington?” Major Kurland murmured. “Are you quite well?”

  As she turned to answer, several things happened at once, and she was thrown toward him while the carriage appeared to lurch and tip and finally fall onto one side. For the second time in her life, Lucy found herself in physical contact with Major Kurland. He’d wrapped his arms around her and protected her from the fall. Her face was buried in the curve of his neck, and she breathed in his particular comforting scent.

  “Are you all right, Miss Harrington?”

  His voice was close to her ear. She struggled to right herself until he stopped her.

  “Wait. Your skirts are tangled with my legs.”

  He sounded far too calm for her liking. Outside she could hear shouting and the sounds of distressed horses. The major’s back was now against the door of the carriage, and she was sprawled most inelegantly on top of him. Where were Mr. Fairfax and his companion?

  “What happened?” she managed to ask.

  “I’m not sure. The carriage is on its side. We are currently underneath all the parcels and Mr. Fairfax, who is attempting to open the door.”

  She tried to see past the wicker basket and caught sight of a booted foot wedged against the seat and the drab black of the widow’s pelisse dangling over her head.

  “I have it open now, sir. I’ll get Mrs. Fairfax out and come back for you.” Mr. Fairfax sounded almost as calm as the major.

  Lucy tried to adjust her position, but there was nowhere for her to move. The major’s breath hissed out as her knee connected with something.

  “Good Lord, Miss Harrington. Be careful.”

  Having brothers, she blushed scarlet as she realized exactly what she had done. “I was just trying to move away from your wounded leg.”

  “Then stop it.” He spoke through his teeth. “Thomas will be back in a moment, and he will get us both out of here.”

  “I’ve got you, Miss Harrington.” A pair of strong hands locked around her waist, and she was manhandled upward and out into the fresh air.

  “ ”Thank you,” she gasped to the coachman, who had aided her escape. “Be very careful with the major. Watch his left leg.”

  “I will, Miss Harrington. Don’t you worry.”

  Lucy sank down onto the grass verge on the side of the road. There was no sign of the other carriage, which had been ahead of them. Mr. Fairfax was kneeling by the widow, patting her hand and calling her name. The carriage was indeed on its side, and the horses were still attached to it and fighting the tangled reins.

  She staggered to her feet and went toward the lead horse.

  “Don’t go anywhere near that animal, Miss Harrington!”

  Major Kurland’s shout came from just behind her. He was now standing next to his coachman, his face a mask of pain, his intense gaze fixed on the out-of-control horse.

  “Someone has to calm them down, or they will injure themselves.” Lucy held out her hand and took another step toward the horse, who snapped his teeth at her. His eyes were rolling back in his head, and flecks of foam were gathering on his muzzle. “It’s all right. Let me help you.”

  “Devil take it, woman! Wait for the coachman!”

  “He is attending to the other horse.” She tried to keep her tone reasonable, even as the horse kicked out at her.

  “Oh, God . . . ,” she heard Major Kurland mutter, and then he was limping toward her, his gaze fixed on the horse. “Let me do this.”

  “But—”

  “Get out of the way.” He glared down at her. “I cannot stand back like a coward and watch you being trampled to death.”

  “I won’t—”

  He shouldered past her and in one quick motion had his hand locked on the horse’s bridle, turned its head away from the other panicked horse, and whispered in its ear.

  “I’ll cut the traces, sir, if you can just hold Jupiter still,” the coachman called out.

  “I can do that.”

  The horse calmed down as Major Kurland continued to talk to it, his voice soft, his hands running over the horse, checking for injuries and reassuring the beast at the same time.

  “I’ve got him, sir.” The coachman took hold of the horse and attached a lead rein. “I’ll walk them to make sure they aren’t badly injured, and then I’ll tie them up under that tree.”

  “Thank you, Coleman.”

  Major Kurland let go of the horse with a final pat and then turned away. His face was ashen, and he stumbled to the side of the road.

  “Major Kurland—”

  “Not now, Miss Harrington.”

  Before she could even frame a reply, he doubled over, turned to the ditch, that ran alongside the road and was violently sick.

  Lucy walked away to give him some privacy. She could only imagine what confronting a terrified, rearing horse had done to him. But he hadn’t faltered. He’d conquered his fears to protect the horse from further injury. And to keep her safe . . . Perhaps that was a little far-fetched, but he’d certainly not wanted her to be in danger.

  She glanced over at Mrs. Fairfax, who was now sitting up and being supported by Mr. Fairfax.

  “Is everything all right, Miss Harrington?” he called out to her. “I apologize for not being more helpful, but . . .” He looked down at the widow, who was clinging to him like bindweed.

  “All is well, Mr. Fairfax.”

  She turned back toward where she’d left the major, and then had to sit down, as her legs were shaking so badly. She wrapped her arms around her knees in a most unladylike manner as her teeth started to chatter. For some reason, she suddenly had an inexplicable desire to weep.

  Coleman, the coachman, came over to her. “Major Kurland said to tell you to sit tight. I’m going to ride to the next village and get some help. It’s not far. We’ll have you home before midnight.”

  “Is he all right?” Lucy asked.

  “The major?” Coleman smiled. “He’s feeling a lot better now that he’s cast up his accounts.”

  She met his gaze, realizing that he knew more about Major Kurland’s aversion to horses than perhaps his employer suspected.

  “He’ll be fine, miss.” He winked at her. “And back on a horse soon, I should think.”

  “I hope so.”

  She waited for a few more minutes, until the wave of dizziness passed and she felt more the thing, and then marched back toward the wreck of the carriage.

  “Miss Harrington, what are you doing?”

  Major Kurland sat on the ground, his back against the tree where the horses were tethered, his legs stretched out in front of him. She knew from the set of his jaw that he was in considerable pain.

  “I’m just going to retrieve our belongings from the carriage, sir. There is no need for you to get up.”

  His mouth twisted up at one corner. “I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.” He hesitated. “Be careful.”

  “I will, Major.”

  She had managed to retrieve his walking stick and most of her parcels before Coleman arrived back with another carriage. Mr. Fairfax carried Mrs. Fairfax into the carriage. Lucy went next, determined not to fuss Major Kurland, who needed Coleman’s help to ascend. She also succeeded in not lecturing him about what he should do to ease his leg when he got home, which, considering the state of her nerves, was extremely forbearing of her.

  Nobody spoke for the remainder of the journey, and for once Lucy was glad for the silence and reluctant to fill it. When they reached the rectory, she stepped down and went inside with a thankful heart, to be met with a chorus of questions about the lateness of her arrival.

  By the time she had reassured them that no one had been injured, she was so tired she could barely climb the stairs to her bedchamber. As she undressed, she noticed the beginnings of a myriad of bruises and lacerations on her skin. If Major Kurland hadn’t held on to her, she suspected she would look much worse. She could only hope that his leg hadn’t been damaged when she’d collapsed on top of him. . . . She was certai
nly no featherweight. It was her last coherent thought as sleep finally claimed her.

  Chapter 9

  “Major Kurland!”

  Robert opened one eye and then closed it again. It was far too early for him to get out of bed—if he could get out. The pain in his left leg had been excruciating the evening before, and he’d almost given in to Foley’s urging to take some laudanum. He had substituted three large glasses of brandy and now had a headache to accompany the nagging pain in his thigh.

  “Major Kurland!”

  “What the devil is it?” he demanded, aware that Silas and Foley were both beside his bed and that sunlight streamed in through the opened curtains. He managed to sit up and glare properly at them. “What in God’s name demands my attention at this hour of the morning?”

  Foley wrung his hands together. “It’s Mrs. Fairfax, sir.” He hesitated. “She’s dead.”

  “What?”

  “Ruth took her in some morning tea and discovered her lying fully dressed on top of the bedcovers. Cold and dead, sir. Dead!”

  Robert forced himself to get out of bed, his breath hitching as his feet hit the wooden floorboards. Silas helped him into his banyan and offered him his cane.

  “Who else knows about this?”

  “Ruth came straight to me, Major, and I told her to remain in the butler’s pantry until I returned.” Foley proffered a key. “I also locked Mrs. Fairfax’s door.”

  “Good work, Foley.” Robert looked at Silas. “I’ll have to get fully dressed. I can’t be seen going into a widow’s bedchamber in my nightshirt and banyan.”

  “Yes, sir.” Silas was already turning toward his clothes chest. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

  Within a quarter of an hour, Robert was limping down the corridor toward Mrs. Fairfax’s bedroom. All was quiet within the house, and he was grateful that no one would either witness his shambling gait or wonder where he was going. He let himself into the bedchamber and leaned back against the door to catch his breath and survey the room. As Foley had reported, Mrs. Fairfax was fully dressed, her black veil drawn down over her face, her hands twisted together on her chest. Robert was reminded of one of the medieval effigies on his ancestors’ tombs in Kurland St. Mary Church.

  Holding his cane firmly in one hand, he took three halting steps to the side of the bed and looked more closely. He’d seen more than his fair share of dead bodies in his military career, and he sensed no life left in Mrs. Fairfax. She looked as if she was sleeping. Reaching out a gentle finger, he raised her veil and touched her cheek. She was quite cold, and her body was already rigid.

  By the side of the bed was a large black bottle. Robert picked it up and sniffed the contents, recoiling from the sickly scent of laudanum. He was just about to put the bottle down when he noticed there was a folded sheet of paper propped up against a worn copy of the Bible. It was addressed to Thomas.

  With unsteady fingers, he picked up the letter before uttering a quiet oath. He needed to speak to Thomas and the occupants of the rectory immediately. He left the room and returned to his bedchamber, where Foley and Silas awaited him.

  “Do you know where Mr. Fairfax is, Foley?”

  “He breakfasted early, and I believe he said he intended to look in on the home farm before going down to the rectory to see how Miss Harrington was faring after the accident.”

  “How long ago did he leave?”

  “About two hours ago, sir.”

  Robert nodded. “Silas, I want you to go down to the rectory and fetch Mr. Fairfax for me.”

  “What shall I tell him, sir?”

  “That I need him to return immediately.” Robert hesitated. “If Miss Harrington is available, ask her to accompany Mr. Fairfax.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Foley, I want you to send someone to fetch Dr. Fletcher.”

  “Not Dr. Baker, sir?”

  “No. I don’t want the whole village knowing what’s going on.” Robert sat down on the side of the bed, as his left knee threatened to give out. “I’ll be in my study.”

  Foley paused on his way to the door. “Do you want me to get James to give you a hand down the stairs, Major?”

  Robert sighed. “Yes, devil take it. Send him up.”

  Lucy followed Mr. Fairfax in through the kitchen door, up the stairs, and into the corridor that ran to the front of Kurland Hall. He was walking rather quickly, and it was hard to keep up with him. She couldn’t blame him for his haste. Major Kurland’s abrupt summons had surprised them both and necessitated the borrowing of her father’s gig to get them back to Kurland Hall with all speed.

  “I hope Major Kurland is all right,” Mr. Fairfax murmured as he finally paused to open a door for her. “He did take rather a beating in the coach yesterday.”

  Aware that she was the one who had landed squarely on top of the major, Lucy quashed a horrible feeling of guilt.

  She opted for a positive tone. “If Major Kurland is well enough to issue orders, he’s probably not in any real danger. It is when he stops complaining that one really has to worry.”

  Mr. Fairfax had the beginnings of a black eye where, he’d explained, Mrs. Fairfax had inadvertently kicked him as she climbed out of the carriage. Lucy was bruised and battered and could hardly bear to think how much worse Major Kurland must be feeling.

  They reached the main hall just as Foley admitted Dr. Fletcher, who paused to take off his hat and bow to Lucy.

  “Good morning, Miss Harrington, Mr. Fairfax. What bee has gotten into the major’s head now?”

  Lucy lowered her voice. “He was in considerable pain after the carriage accident yesterday. In truth, the fact that he has called you here is significant in itself. He hates dealing with physicians, but he is obviously in need of your help.”

  “I know exactly how stubborn he is.” Dr. Fletcher smiled. “You should have seen him in battle. I’ll take it as a compliment that he called for me.”

  They followed Mr. Fairfax and Foley to Major Kurland’s study and went in to find their host sitting behind his desk. He looked rather grim, and Lucy took an involuntary step back, bumping against Mr. Fairfax. The major didn’t rise to greet her, but for once she didn’t feel inclined to comment on his lack of manners.

  “Good morning, Miss Harrington, Dr. Fletcher.” Major Kurland inclined his head. “Thomas, I have some bad news for you.”

  Mr. Fairfax’s face paled. “Is it my half brother? Don’t tell me he is ill. Should I arrange to get Mrs. Fairfax home or—”

  “It isn’t your half brother.” Major Kurland spoke gently, but in a firm, no-nonsense manner, which Lucy couldn’t help but admire. “It’s Mrs. Fairfax. I’m sorry to tell you that she is dead.”

  If it was possible, Mr. Fairfax went even whiter. “How . . . how can this be? She wasn’t badly hurt yesterday! True, she swooned, but—”

  “I don’t think the carriage accident was a factor in her death, although Dr. Fletcher might have an opinion on the effect a blow to the head can have on a person.”

  “Did someone break in and murder her?” Mr. Fairfax came toward Major Kurland. “What in God’s name happened?”

  Major Kurland sighed. “There was an empty bottle of laudanum by her bedside and this note.” Lucy pressed a hand to her mouth as the major drew out a letter and handed it to Mr. Fairfax. “It is addressed to you. I haven’t read it.”

  Mr. Fairfax took the letter and broke the wax seal.

  “To whom it may concern. I confess to pushing Mrs. Chingford down the stairs. It was an accident. I swear it. Please forgive me and pray for my soul. I commend my son into Mr. Thomas Fairfax’s care. Emily Fairfax.”

  Silence fell over the study as Mr. Fairfax shook his head, as if unwilling or unable to believe what he had just read.

  “Is this Mrs. Fairfax’s handwriting?” Major Kurland asked.

  “Yes.” Mr. Fairfax swallowed hard. “I didn’t like her very much, but I never wished for this to happen.” He crumpled the letter in his hand, and it fel
l to the floor.

  “None of us thought you did.” Major Kurland heaved himself to his feet. “I’d appreciate it if you could accompany us upstairs to view the body, Dr. Fletcher.”

  “You should stay here.” Dr. Fletcher ran a critical eye over Major Kurland. “You are obviously in pain.”

  “And yet I am still coming with you. I have the only key.” Major Kurland gestured at the door. “Shall we?”

  Lucy took a moment to pick up the discarded letter. She smoothed it between her fingers, then read the confession silently to herself before folding up the paper and putting it in her pocket. She went up the stairs and allowed Mr. Fairfax and Dr. Fletcher to precede her into Mrs. Fairfax’s bedchamber, where the widow lay in state on the bed. It took Major Kurland quite a while to join them. James, who steered him into a chair and then went to stand outside in the hallway, accompanied him.

  Lucy took a slow circuit of the room, noting where everything was, and checked the interconnecting door that led into a former dressing room, which was locked. Mrs. Fairfax’s possessions were neatly laid out, as if she had been about to pack them away. Had she considered leaving Kurland Hall, and had she eventually decided to kill herself instead? Lucy approached the bed and stared down at the pale features of the widow.

  Dr. Fletcher sighed as he straightened up. “It looks like laudanum poisoning to me. She has a bump on her head, which might have given her such a bad headache that she mistook the dosage she needed, or forgot that she had imbibed the laudanum and took more.” He turned to Mr. Fairfax, who was standing beside him, his expression grief-stricken. “I’m sorry, Mr. Fairfax. The only good thing is that she was probably unaware of what she’d done, and died peacefully in her sleep.”

  “But she left that note,” Mr. Fairfax said hesitantly. “She made it sound as if she did this deliberately.”

  “I cannot speak as to that, but if she was dazed from the carriage accident, she might even have been confused enough to confess to something she didn’t do.”

  Major Kurland spoke up from his position by the door. “Mr. Fairfax, would you prefer it if we kept the note between ourselves? This confession doesn’t change the fact that two women have died, and from what Dr. Fletcher is suggesting, it might have been made in error.”