Death Comes to the School

by Catherine Lloyd

  “It is hardly gossip.” Sophia squeezed her fingers. “You know she is jealous of our friendship and simply wished to display her superior knowledge of your condition.” She hesitated. “I still wish you’d written to me.”

  “I wasn’t well enough to write. I had to stay in bed for almost a week—much to my displeasure. Sir Robert threatened to tie me to the bed if I didn’t do what Dr. Fletcher suggested, but I had little disinclination to disobey him when I was as weak as a kitten.” Lucy tried to smile. “It was the second time I miscarried in a year.”

  “Oh, Lucy.” Sophia handed Lucy her handkerchief.

  “There are not enough words in the world to express my sympathy.”

  “Dr. Fletcher says I must regain my strength, but there is so much to do, and—”

  “You will allow me and others to help you,” Sophia said firmly. “Anna has already confided in me that she is worried you are attempting too much, what with the ball and the village party and—”

  “I prefer to be busy. If I sit around simply sewing endless seams, I feel a lot worse.”

  “But you will allow us to aid you.” Sophia held Lucy’s gaze. “I refuse to take no for an answer, my dear friend, so accustom yourself to the notion immediately.”

  Lucy smiled for the first time in ages. “Thank you. I will try. As long as you don’t overtire yourself.”

  “I am feeling remarkably well now that I’ve gotten over the first few months of biliousness. In truth, I have energy to spare, and I’m more than happy to deal with whichever of your neighbors proves the most annoying.” Sophia paused. “I cannot say I took to the Greenwell sisters. I’ve already heard the eldest daughter has set her cap at Nicholas Jenkins.”

  “I believe she has, but as she cannot hold a candle to Anna, I doubt she will succeed.” Lucy sighed. “That is, if I can persuade Anna to listen to Nicholas. She seems determined to remain at the rectory with my father.”

  “Your father does make it very difficult for his daughters to leave, doesn’t he?”

  “He needs a wife,” Lucy said. “Perhaps when we consider whom to invite to the ball, we should research some likely candidates.”

  “What an excellent idea,” Sophia responded. “Then Anna will be free to leave the rectory, and the twins will have a new mother to fuss over them.”

  Lucy rose to her feet. Simply being in Sophia’s company was having a remarkable effect on her spirits. “Let’s go down to my study and start on that list immediately.”

  * * *

  “Robert, did you interview Miss Broomfield when she applied for the vacancy at our school?”

  “Miss Broomfield?” Robert looked up from the book he was reading, stuck his finger in the page, and attended to his wife. “What about her?” They were sitting in his study after an excellent dinner. After his inconsiderate display at breakfast, he was determined to pay Lucy the attention she deserved. “Your father interviewed her. I was rather preoccupied with other matters at the time.”

  In truth, in the summer, he’d been more worried about Lucy, who had miscarried in the third month of her pregnancy and had been recovering in bed. He had been in the heart of many a battle and had seen sights that would make most men quail, but his wife’s quiet suffering was somehow far worse. Attending to the vacancy at the school was a minor issue he had left to his father-in-law.

  Despite their earlier altercation at the rectory, Lucy was in better spirits, which he attributed to the happy influence of Sophia Stanford. But she was still rather quiet. Sometimes he almost yearned for Lucy to resume her managing ways, but provoking her into a fight was an uncertain game to play when particular subjects needed to be avoided.

  “I went to speak to Miss Broomfield about the children appearing at one of the Christmas services.” His wife continued, “She displayed a complete lack of understanding as to the character of the children in her care.”

  “In what way?”

  “She considers them lazy and indifferent students. She scoffed when I attempted to point out that most of her charges work for a living, as well as attend school.”

  “Miss Broomfield scoffed at you?” Robert raised an eyebrow. “Brave woman.”

  “She obviously considers me to be one of those patrons who have no idea how a school should be run.”

  “More fool her. Did you attempt to educate her about that matter?”

  “I tried, but she was impervious to my suggestions. The only reason she acquiesced to my demands that she teach the music to the children was that I threatened to express my displeasure to you and my father.” She put down her sewing. “I even offered to teach the carols to the children myself, but even that idea offended her.”

  Robert frowned. “For once, I am in agreement with Miss Broomfield. You are not well enough to spend your days in that drafty schoolroom, surrounded by children with perpetually runny noses.”

  She raised her chin, a flash of her old determination glinting in her brown eyes. “I thought you wanted me to take up some new interests?”

  “I pay that woman a large salary to teach at our school, and I do not expect my wife to be doing the teaching for her.” Robert hesitated. “There are many other matters around the estate where you could better use your skills.”

  “Better than the welfare of the local children?”

  “Yes, and far healthier options for you at this moment in time.”

  “But Miss Broomfield is incompetent! In fact, Robert, you should terminate her employment and look for a replacement over the holiday season.”

  “Because she disagreed with you about something? That is not like you, my dear. Perhaps we should wait until after Christmas. I will certainly speak to Miss Broomfield then and decide whether she is competent enough to complete her task.”

  “She is not.” Lucy’s eyes flashed.

  “You are being remarkably judgmental.”

  “Only because there was something so . . . cold about her.”

  “What do you mean?” Robert frowned. Over the course of their relationship, he had learned to take note of her feelings.

  “I suspect she is one of those women who became a schoolteacher for all the wrong reasons. Do you have her references to hand?”

  “I believe Dermot has them somewhere, but—”

  “Then I will ask him to find them for me. I’ll wager my father did not check them before he hired her.”

  “We were left in a bit of a quandary when Miss Brent suddenly decided to get married and leave her post. In the middle of a school year, you can hardly expect to get the pick of the crop of good teachers,” Robert objected.

  Lucy sat forward. “We spent many hours discussing the kind of school we wished to endow, and even more finding the perfect teacher to run it. I cannot understand why such things were ignored when you hired Miss Broomfield.”

  Robert set his jaw. “I appreciate your concerns, my dear, and I intend to speak to Miss Broomfield at the earliest opportunity. In the meantime, you will refrain from involving yourself in the matter until you are feeling better.” He raised his eyebrows. “Are we quite clear on that?”

  “As you wish.” Lucy clasped her hands in her lap and looked down at them.

  After three years of marriage and many years of knowing his companion, Robert wasn’t fooled by her wifely submission. “I’ll have your word on the matter, if you please.”

  “That I won’t go and teach the children?”

  “That you will not involve yourself in the daily running of the school at all.”

  She sighed. “In truth, I haven’t the energy to deal with a dozen children every day.”

  “Then why are you insisting that we hold this damn ball and villagers’ party?” Robert demanded.

  “Because I need something to do. If you prohibit me from everything, I swear I will die of boredom and waste away.” She reached out a hand to him. “Anna and Sophia have offered to help with all the arrangements, and Mr. Greenwell wishes to speak to you about organizing the act
ivities for the villagers’ dance. I will hardly be attempting everything on my own.”

  Robert hesitated, and she squeezed his fingers. “Please, Robert. Do not deny me this.”

  “I will not do so, but I will be speaking to Anna and to Sophia to make certain that they are truly helping you and not allowing themselves to be bullied into letting you do everything in your own fashion.”

  “Hardly bullying, Robert!”

  “Managing them, then. You are very good at that.”

  “Someone has to be, and you can hardly want to assume responsibility for all those tasks yourself,” Lucy countered.

  “As I’ve already mentioned, I’d rather not have a ball in the first place,” Robert muttered as he kissed his wife’s fingers. “But if you will refrain from taking over the schoolroom, I am prepared to admit the entire county into my home and endure their presence just for one evening a year.”

  Lucy smiled at him. “I knew you would come around to my way of thinking.”

  “After three years of marriage, my love, you have me as well tamed as a lapdog.”

  “Hardly that, sir. A surly mongrel perhaps?”

  He met her smile with one of his own. It was good to see her smiling again, even if it was at his expense. And if he could persuade her not to meddle in the schoolroom, he was more than willing to compromise on a ball that benefited the entire county, rich and poor alike.

  Chapter 3

  Lucy sorted through the pile of letters Foley had offered her, wondering if there would be another unfranked letter full of insinuations and insults, but there was nothing unusual, and there hadn’t been for almost a week. But on the previous day she had spoken to two families in the village who had also received unpleasant letters, and she had reluctantly decided to mention the matter to Robert at the first opportunity.

  For once, she was alone at the breakfast table. Robert had muttered something about visiting the stables, which was most unlike him, and had left rather quickly.

  Foley cleared his throat. “Would you like some more tea, my lady?”

  “Yes, please, and maybe some fresh toast?”

  “That would be my pleasure, my lady.” His smile beamed out. “Cook’s marmalade is remarkably good this year, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed.”

  A voice sounded in the hall. “Are you there, Lady Kurland?”

  The door opened to reveal an unexpected visitor.

  “Good morning, Grace,” Lucy said. “And how are you today?”

  “I am very well.” Grace Turner smiled at her and Foley. “I was out walking and decided to cut across the park, to see how you are faring.”

  “I’ll set a new place, my lady,” Foley murmured before pulling out the chair next to Lucy’s and leaving the room.

  Grace Turner sat down with a thump. Her dark hair was coming free from her untidy bun, and her cheeks were flushed pink with the combination of exercise and cold. Her boots had tracked mud all over the carpet, but Lucy didn’t care.

  “I found some mushrooms behind the lower wall. I hope you don’t mind that I helped myself.”

  “You are more than welcome to them.” Lucy searched her guest’s face for any hint of animosity and found none. Grace was nothing if not transparent and had proved her honesty to Lucy in the past. If she still harbored a grievance, as the anonymous letter had stated, surely she would have aired it by now.

  “Are you going to use the mushrooms in one of your noxious concoctions?”

  “No. They will go in the pot with my stew.” Grace placed her bulging bag on the carpet. “I did bring you some more elixir to drink.”

  Lucy shuddered. “It tastes horrible.”

  “And it will do you the world of good.”

  “If you say so.” Lucy observed with distrust the small glass bottle Grace placed on the table. Foley brought in more tea and toast, and Lucy shared it with Grace.

  “Your blood is too thin. You need to strengthen it,” Grace reminded her. “Then you won’t feel so tired.”

  “That would be nice, especially at this time of year, when one is required to participate in so many festive events.”

  “Like what?” Grace frowned.

  “Church services, visiting our neighbors, and organizing the ball, for a start.”

  “I’m not considered a lady, so I don’t have to do any of those things,” Grace smirked. “What would happen if you refused to do anything?”

  “I would be setting a bad example.” Lucy considered that outlandish idea for all of one second and dismissed it. “I could not do it. I am the lady of the manor, and Sir Robert relies on me to help manage his tenants and staff. I would not want to let him down.”

  “Ha! Sir Robert would be the first one to do away with such nonsense,” Grace insisted. “He is the most unconventional member of the landed gentry I have ever met.”

  “True,” Lucy acknowledged. “It comes from his mother’s industrial lineage. He does have some rather peculiar ideas about society and how a nation should be run, but he also has a very strong sense of duty.”

  “I know that to my cost.” Grace patted Lucy’s hand. “At least promise me you will take the tonic. And if there is anything you wish to ask me about how and when it is best to conceive another child, then—”

  “I will certainly do that.” Lucy rushed to interrupt her companion before the conversation became far too personal. “There is something I wanted to ask you. Have you heard of anyone in the village receiving anonymous letters?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Mrs. Jenkins received one earlier this week concerning her grandson’s lack of moral character.”

  “Which is ridiculous. Who wastes valuable paper on sending an elderly lady such a horrible thing?” Grace scoffed.

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” Lucy said slowly. “Paper is expensive.”

  “I must go.” Grace stood and finished off her tea in one long swallow. “Oh, I almost forgot. Jon Hopewell has collie puppies. He was asking if Sir Robert might like one.”

  “What an excellent idea,” Lucy said. “I’ll drive out and see him later today. It might be the perfect yuletide gift for my husband. He is always lamenting his lack of dogs.”

  Grace left after reminding Lucy to take the tonic twice a day. Lucy dutifully poured herself a draft. It smelled like rusting nails and cabbage. She swallowed it down very fast, followed by copious amounts of tea. In truth, unlike Dr. Fletcher’s potions, it did seem to help. She hadn’t asked Grace what was in it, deciding it was probably better not to know.

  The door opened again and, assuming it was Foley, Lucy barely bothered to look up.

  “Oh good. You’re still here.”

  She swung around to see Robert in the doorway. “Goodness, you startled me!”

  “I apologize.” Robert pushed the door wide open. “I do hope you appreciate your early Christmas present. I just picked it up from the inn.”

  “I’m hardly an ‘it,’ my dear Robert.” The voice came from the hallway. “You make me sound like a forgotten parcel!”

  Lucy rose from her chair in one swift motion and hurried toward Robert’s aunt Rose, who was beaming fondly at her. She still wore her traveling cloak, bonnet, and thick pelisse.

  “Lucy, my dear girl. It is so good to see you again. Robert tells me you haven’t been well.”

  “That is correct. I—” Lucy swallowed hard and fought the rush of tears. A second later, she was drawn into a fierce embrace as aunt Rose patted her hair and murmured soothingly in her ear.

  “It’s all right, my dear. I’m here to help now.”

  Eventually, Lucy managed to look up at Robert, who was leaning against the wall, smiling at them both.

  “Thank you for inviting your aunt to our home. I hadn’t realized how much I missed her until this moment.”

  Robert shrugged. “I am delighted that you approve of my sudden decision. Aunt Rose intends to make an extended stay with us while her children behave appallingly in London.”
/>   “Robert . . . ,” Lucy scolded, but Rose chuckled.

  “He is quite correct. Between my two daughters, who believe they are too high and mighty to associate with their own mother, and my only son, who is intent on gambling away his inheritance, I am quite disgusted with them. I would much rather spend my Christmas here with people who appreciate me.”

  “We certainly do appreciate you.” Lucy linked arms with aunt Rose and walked her out into the hallway. “I suspect Foley has already had our new housekeeper air your room and make it habitable, so I will take you up.”

  As they climbed the stairs, Lucy leaned down to whisper in Rose’s ear. “If you aren’t too tired this afternoon, perhaps you might enjoy a trip to one of our outlying farms? I’m trying to procure a puppy for Robert.”

  “I’m sure that after a short nap I’ll be fully restored,” Rose said. “And I’d love to join you on your secret expedition.”

  * * *

  “I think that’s enough for today, Dermot.” Robert signed the last letter his land agent had placed in front of him, and put his pen back in the inkpot. “We have made a lot of progress this year, and the accounts are looking very healthy. I’m considering giving everyone who works on the estate an increased bonus on Boxing Day.”

  “That would certainly be appreciated, sir.” Dermot Fletcher carefully blotted the letter and added it to the pile on his side of the desk. “And the estate can certainly bear the cost.”

  “I’ll take another look at the books tomorrow and determine exactly what the percentage increase will be.” Robert leaned back in his chair and stretched out his cramped fingers. “I do hope you intend to share the Christmas festivities with us at the hall as usual, Dermot.”

  His land agent grinned. “Seeing as I’m helping you organize them, Sir Robert, I’ll definitely be on hand, and probably underfoot. You and Lady Kurland will be sick of the sight of me.”

  “I doubt that.” Robert looked out of the window. The rain had stopped, and it was already getting dark. “Did you locate Miss Broomfield’s references for me?”

  “Yes, sir, I did.” Dermot hesitated. “I apologize for not scrutinizing them more thoroughly, but at the time when I queried her appointment, Mr. Harrington assured me that her reputation was above reproach.”