Death Comes to Kurland Hall

by Catherine Lloyd

  Chapter 13

  “So, Mr. Fairfax, when do you intend to return to your father’s estate?” Lucy asked as she handed the land agent a cup of tea. He’d ventured down from the manor house in the rain to inform the ladies that Dorothea still had the remains of a fever and was too weak for visitors. Dr. Fletcher had also promised to call later and give them a full report on his patient’s condition.

  “I’m intending to leave in the week after Mrs. Chingford’s funeral. I haven’t yet settled on a day. It depends when I finish my work for Major Kurland.” Mr. Fairfax hesitated. “If I might be so bold, Miss Harrington, but have you and the major fallen out? I haven’t seen you at the manor all week, and my employer is extremely short-tempered.”

  Lucy sat back in her seat. They were alone in the parlor of the rectory. “Perhaps the major’s leg is bothering him. I have noticed that he becomes less easy to deal with when he is in pain.”

  “Maybe that’s the case, but I suspect there is more to it than that.” Mr. Fairfax held her gaze. “Has he offended you in some way?”

  “When has he not?” Lucy said and winced. “I do apologize. My petty squabbles with Major Kurland are not worthy of public discussion.”

  “You forget, I work closely with the major, and I know he can be difficult at times. Without meaning to cause you embarrassment, Miss Harrington, I truly believe that he misses your company.”

  “I doubt that,” Lucy said tartly. “He has made it very clear that I am not worthy of sharing his confidences and should stay at home and mind my father’s family.”

  “Then he is a fool. I have yet to meet another woman with your strength of character and intelligence, Miss Harrington.” He sat forward. “In truth, if it wasn’t for the fact that most people consider you and the major as destined to wed, I would have made my admiration for you much clearer.”

  Lucy belatedly remembered what Penelope had said about Mr. Fairfax being interested in her. “You have been misinformed. There is nothing between Major Kurland and myself. We are just old friends who still tend to behave like children.”

  “Nevertheless, Major Kurland does have a rather proprietary attitude in regard to you.”

  “Which is more due to his arrogance than any acquiescence on my part.”

  “That is well worth knowing.” Mr. Fairfax smiled at her. “May I have some more tea?”

  Lucy refilled his cup. “Do you intend to hold a funeral service for Mrs. Fairfax when you return home?”

  His smile disappeared. “There is a chapel attached to Fairfax Park, where we can hold a ceremony, and there is also a burial ground for the family. I have written to the local vicar to apprise him of the situation and to ask him to preside over the service.” He sighed. “I cannot believe she is dead. I just wish there was something I could’ve done to save her.”

  “It is not your fault, Mr. Fairfax. The carriage accident obviously affected her far more than we realized.”

  “But . . .” He lowered his voice. “Do you really think she pushed Mrs. Chingford down the stairs?”

  Lucy shrugged. “I cannot understand why she would wish to do such a thing. I know that Mrs. Chingford was insisting they had shared a nurse for their children, but that hardly seems a reason to become angry enough to deliberately push someone down the stairs.”

  “I agree.” He paused. “I wish she’d confided in me, but I suspect I wasn’t the most patient of companions. And to be fair, we didn’t know each other very well. There were years of mistrust between us. Just getting her to admit that she wanted me to come back and run the estate took several days of persuasion.”

  “She struck me as a rather timid woman.”

  “She was.” He sighed. “I suppose we will never know exactly what happened, will we?”

  “I suppose not.”

  He put down his cup. “I hope you don’t mind me speaking to you about these matters, Miss Harrington, but you are the only person, apart from Major Kurland, who knows the full circumstances of her death.”

  “And I promise you that I will never reveal that information to another soul.”

  “I appreciate that. My half brother will have a difficult enough life bereft of his parents without his mother being branded a murderer.”

  “But he will have you to guide him. How could he not be successful?”

  Mr. Fairfax took her hand and squeezed it hard. “Thank you, Miss Harrington. Your confidence in my abilities means a lot to me.”

  Betty knocked on the door, making Lucy pull her hand out of Thomas’s warm grip. “Miss Stanford and Mr. Reading to see you, Miss Harrington.”

  Mr. Fairfax stood up. “I’d better go.”

  “Would you mind waiting a few minutes more, Mr. Fairfax? I’d appreciate your opinion of Mr. Reading.”

  “Of course, Miss Harrington.”

  He remained standing as the engaged couple came in, and introduced himself to Mr. Reading, who was all smiles today. Lucy couldn’t quite believe Mr. Reading had the audacity to enter the rectory again. His gaze met hers with an insolent challenge, which made her bristle.

  She realized Mr. Fairfax was speaking. “Have we met before, Mr. Reading? You look quite familiar.”

  “I’ve spent most of my adult life in India and in London, Mr. Fairfax. Is it possible that we met in Town?”

  “I doubt it, sir. I have spent very little time there myself, and I’m certain we don’t move in quite the same circles.”

  Miss Stanford accepted a cup of tea from Lucy, and Mr. Reading took the seat beside her. After a glance at Lucy, Mr. Fairfax bowed.

  “I do apologize, Miss Harrington, but I have to get back to my duties at the manor. Dr. Fletcher will come down at six to discuss Miss Dorothea’s condition and continuing care.”

  “The poor girl,” Miss Stanford murmured. “She has had quite a high fever.”

  “What on earth was she doing in the stables of Kurland Hall?” Mr. Reading asked as he crossed one elegant booted leg over the other.

  “We’re not sure, sir,” Mr. Fairfax said. “She has been in great distress since her mother died.”

  “Perhaps there is a good reason for that,” Mr. Reading said.

  “What do you mean?” Lucy said.

  He shrugged. “A young girl, a tyrannical mother . . . Maybe her emotional state is due to guilt.”

  “Are you suggesting Dorothea had something to do with her mother’s fall?” Lucy asked.

  “It’s possible.”

  Lucy raised an eyebrow in her best imitation of Major Kurland. “I don’t believe you were present at the wedding, Mr. Reading. One wonders how you came to believe you alone have the solution to what was surely a terrible accident.”

  He smiled. “I agree that I was not present, but Miss Stanford told me what occurred.”

  “I did not suggest that Dorothea was involved in her mother’s unfortunate fall, Mr. Reading,” Miss Stanford said hurriedly. “I merely said that I saw her in the same corridor as Mrs. Chingford just before the accident occurred.”

  “And if you saw Dorothea, Miss Stanford, then you yourself were within sight of Mrs. Chingford just before she fell,” Lucy said. “Perhaps Dorothea saw you and drew her own conclusions.” She rose from her seat. “I will just see Mr. Fairfax on his way. I’ll return in a moment.”

  Mr. Fairfax followed Lucy to the front door, his expression distracted. He turned to look down at her.

  “Do you think it possible that Dorothea saw Mrs. Fairfax with Mrs. Chingford?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure. It seems strange that Miss Stanford makes no mention of meeting Mrs. Fairfax on the landing herself. Perhaps both of them mistook Mrs. Fairfax for the other.”

  “That seems unlikely. Mrs. Fairfax was the only woman dressed completely in black at the wedding.”

  “It was rather dark up there,” Lucy admitted. “But I agree that it seems unlikely. Perhaps Mrs. Fairfax really didn’t push Mrs. Chingford down the stairs, after all. . . .”

  Mr. Fairfax sighe
d. “I hope you are right, for her son’s sake. I am sorry that I have to leave, but as I mentioned earlier, Major Kurland is in a rather demanding mood today.”

  “It was kind of you to stay and meet Mr. Reading.”

  “I can’t say I like the man, and I’m still fairly certain that I’ve seen him before. I just can’t place where.”

  “If you remember, do let me know. I don’t care for him myself.”

  Mr. Fairfax took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Thank you for everything, Miss Harrington. You are an excellent confidante. I will miss your calm good sense when I leave for Fairfax Park.”

  “I will miss you, too, sir. You have brought order to Kurland Hall and, more importantly, have managed Major Kurland.”

  “A difficult task, as you well know.” He winked before releasing her hand. “Good morning, Miss Harrington.”

  Lucy retraced her steps to the parlor, slowing as she approached the door and heard raised voices.

  “Are you quite certain you saw Dorothea Chingford?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what if Miss Harrington is correct, and Dorothea saw you and believes you had something to do with her mother’s death? What happens when she recovers from her illness and blurts out all her suspicions to our remarkably nosy hostess? Your impulsive behavior has put me in a very difficult position, Melissa. A very difficult position indeed.”

  “But, Paul, my dear—”

  Lucy tiptoed back toward the kitchen and opened the door, surprising Betty, who was just bringing a fresh pot of tea.

  “Take it through, Betty. I’ll be there in a moment.” Lucy remained by the kitchen door and considered everything she had heard that morning. Major Kurland might have decreed that their investigation into the mysterious deaths was over, but she was of a different mind. If he didn’t wish to help her, she would solve the matter for her own satisfaction.

  When Dr. Fletcher called, she would ask him if it would be possible to move Dorothea down to the rectory, where she could be nursed by her sister and herself. With Miss Stanford still a guest at the manor house, the opportunity to attempt to silence the young girl might prove too tempting. . . . Lucy frowned. Was it possible that Mr. Reading knew exactly what Miss Stanford had done, and had come down to salvage his marriage prospects?

  One might assume that if Miss Stanford had confessed her crime, that as a gentleman, he would immediately wish to distance himself from her. But perhaps his social standing couldn’t survive the loss of a well-dowered fiancée from a prominent family. Perhaps he preferred to help Miss Stanford and buy her silence for life. He was no gentleman. Lucy already had proof of that.

  Betty returned without the teapot and studied Lucy curiously. “Are you all right, miss?”

  “Betty, does your cousin Alf still work as an ostler at the Queen’s Head?”

  “Yes, he does, miss. Do you want to speak to him?”

  “Not right at this moment. Has anyone alerted Miss Chingford to the appearance of visitors?”

  “If you like, once I’ve taken the seedcake and Madeira in, I’ll go and inquire if she wishes to come down.”

  “Thank you, Betty. You really are a treasure.”

  Lucy returned to the parlor and resumed her seat by the fire. Miss Stanford still looked rather upset, but Mr. Reading was charm personified. Not that Lucy allowed herself to be charmed in the slightest.

  “The lady who recently died was a Mrs. Fairfax, you said, Miss Harrington? Is she being buried in Kurland St. Mary, as well?” Mr. Reading asked.

  “No. She will be taken back to her home in Cheshire and buried there in the Fairfax family plot.” Lucy studied him carefully. “Were you acquainted with Mrs. Fairfax, sir?”

  “I might have been.” He shrugged. “It is quite a common name.”

  Miss Stanford hurriedly started speaking. “I don’t think you knew this Mrs. Fairfax, Paul. She told me that even when her husband was alive, she rarely visited London. He preferred the comforts of his own home and was quite set in his ways.”

  “That’s what happens when you marry a man old enough to be your father.” Lucy started and turned her head as Penelope spoke from the doorway. “One has to wonder how she managed to persuade a gentleman to marry her, when it was obvious that she wasn’t quite a lady.”

  Lucy turned to Penelope. “On what basis do you make that rather judgmental assumption, Miss Chingford?”

  Penelope took the seat next to Lucy. “I spoke to her on several occasions. She hardly uttered a word, because she was terrified of sounding common.” She turned to Miss Stanford. “You talked to her. What did you think?”

  “I . . . I hardly remember.”

  Penelope raised an eyebrow. “How very diplomatic of you. Mrs. Fairfax told me that she was hoping to persuade Mr. Fairfax to return to the estate and run it for her. Is he going to leave Kurland St. Mary, Miss Harrington?”

  “I believe so.” Lucy sighed. “He can hardly do anything less.”

  Penelope snorted. “If I was him, I’d let that family go and hang. They hardly deserve his help.”

  “That’s a decision Mr. Fairfax will have to make for himself,” Lucy said. “He seems the sort of man who would honor his commitments to his family.”

  “Unlike some other families,” Mr. Reading muttered.

  “Did your family cast you off, Mr. Reading?” Penelope asked sweetly. “One cannot imagine why.”

  Lucy shot her companion a fierce look. “Does your family have a residence in this area, sir? You did mention that you once lived in Kurland St. Mary.”

  “Not in the village itself, Miss Harrington.” Mr. Reading rose and offered his arm to assist Miss Stanford. “We really must be going. I have to walk Miss Stanford back to the gates of Kurland Hall and then return to the inn to write some letters.”

  Lucy turned to Miss Stanford, who was looking miserable. “If you wish to stay and keep me and Miss Chingford company, you would be most welcome.”

  Miss Stanford glanced quickly up at her smiling companion and then back at Lucy. “I’d better be going. I, too, have letters to write.”

  “Then I will not detain you.” Lucy curtsied and summoned Betty to show the couple out. She remembered that Mr. Reading had read through most of Mrs. Chingford’s correspondence. Had he, too, found references to Mrs. Fairfax? The first letter she had found had been about Miss Stanford and Mrs. Fairfax.

  “What is it, Lucy?”

  She turned to see Penelope observing her closely. “I’m just wondering why Miss Stanford chose to become engaged to such an unpleasant man.”

  “He isn’t usually so disagreeable. In truth, he can be both charming and charismatic when it suits him. At the moment he doesn’t need anything from us, and he has Miss Stanford completely under his thumb, so he doesn’t have to be charming. I find him far more intriguing this way.”

  “I don’t.” Lucy repressed a shiver. “I wonder why he was interested in Mrs. Fairfax?”

  “Because he’s rather like my mother. He collects useful information and sells it or blackmails people for personal gain. I believe that’s how they met. They both tried to blackmail the same person. A marriage between them would’ve been a disaster.”

  “Or a roaring success, where they stole and cajoled money out of thousands of people and then retired gracefully to their mansion in Italy.” Lucy looked over at Penelope. “I think your mother had a lucky escape.”

  “I’m not so sure. If she’d managed to marry Mr. Reading, she probably wouldn’t have died.” Penelope sighed. “I also suspect he would be quite capable of killing her if she tried to double-cross him.”

  “Was she?”

  “Threatening him? I should imagine so. No woman likes to be publicly replaced by a younger, wealthier woman.” Penelope grimaced. “She liked to hurt those who didn’t treat her with the proper respect.”

  “By releasing unfavorable information about them to the scandal sheets or to the ton?”

  “Exactly. Some of the peo
ple deserved what she said about them. The majority did not.” Penelope paused. “If my mother’s death wasn’t an accident, Mr. Reading is the first person I would suspect of murder.”

  “He wasn’t at the wedding.”

  “But his little puppet, Miss Stanford, was.”

  Lucy held her finger to her lips, jumped up to close the parlor door, and returned to her spot. “What are you suggesting?”

  “Just before she died, my mother told me that she had found a way to discredit Mr. Reading.”

  “How?”

  “She said it had something to do with Major Kurland.”

  Lucy stared at her companion as her thoughts rushed around her head. “Major Kurland? This is all terribly confusing. Mrs. Fairfax arrives to speak to her husband’s illegitimate son during the Stanford wedding, and Mr. Reading, who wasn’t invited but who is acquaintance with Miss Stanford, Mrs. Chingford, Mrs. Fairfax, and Kurland St. Mary, turns up soon afterward. Do you think he came here to protect his betrothed or his own interests?”

  “Well, Miss Stanford’s interests are his. If he marries her, he will gain complete control of her fortune, which, I am told, is considerable.”

  “Then perhaps he hoped Miss Stanford would speak to your mother on his behalf and soften her heart.”

  “Or perhaps he told Miss Stanford to push her down the stairs.”

  Lucy met Penelope’s gaze. Neither of them spoke. “You . . . don’t think your mother’s death was an accident?”

  “There is no need to sound so surprised. I’m sure you’ve wondered exactly the same thing. It is all so convenient for him, isn’t it? My family is ruined. My sisters and I lose our chance to make a good marriage and are thrown on the mercy of our richer relatives, and Miss Stanford has to offer herself irrevocably to Mr. Reading in return for him covering up her crime.”

  “You believe Miss Stanford pushed your mother down the stairs?”

  “It’s possible.” Penelope’s expression was grave. “Don’t you agree?”

  “But why haven’t you said anything before now?”