When she reached the drawing room, she spotted Josephine pouring tea and coffee and made a point of speaking to her before returning to face the barrage of disapproval on the opposite couch. It was comforting to have Rose and Sophia sitting on either side of her. Mrs. Jenkins had already fallen asleep by the fire.
Mrs. Greenwell drew herself up, visibly flustered. “As I was just saying to Margaret, Lady Kurland, and I am sure that you will confirm my instincts, such political outbursts from ladies are not generally the norm at the dinner table.”
“I quite agree.” Lucy sipped her tea. “I do apologize if I offended you.”
“Then perhaps you might choose to enlighten us as to why you felt the need to express such an opinion in the first place?”
“Why should I not? Surely, my opinion is as valid as any man’s.” Margaret Greenwell tittered behind her fan, and Lucy continued. “Both my father and my husband were present at the table, and neither of them chose to censor me.”
“But do you not think it unbecoming in a woman to parrot the views of a man when she clearly does not have the knowledge to understand the nuances of such information for herself?” Mrs. Greenwell persisted.
“Why should Lady Kurland not understand anything?” Sophia said sweetly. “She is remarkably intelligent, you know.”
“So I have heard.” Mrs. Greenwell was far from mollified. “Lady Kurland is something of an ‘original.’ But surely you must agree with me, my dear Mrs. Stanford, as a fellow mother, that such outpourings are not the kind of talk one wishes to hear in one’s own unmarried daughters.”
“Why ever not?” Sophia asked.
“Because men do not generally choose to marry bluestockings or radicals.”
“More fool them.” Sophia smiled. “I can assure you that there are gentlemen out there who do want to marry intelligent women. I am proof of that, as surely is Lady Kurland. Neither of our husbands feels the need to stifle our opinions.”
“Then perhaps you should feel privileged that your husbands allow you such independence of thought.” Mrs. Greenwell’s smile was thin. “I shall continue to teach my daughters that obedience to their parents and to their future husbands is paramount to their success in life.”
Sophia winked at Lucy as Mrs. Greenwell walked over to ring the servants’ bell, and whispered, “I suspect I will not be invited back again.”
“How nice for you. I will have to endure her and her daughters for years to come,” Lucy complained under her breath. “I must remember to thank my husband for the privilege of being allowed a single thought of my own.”
Sophia concealed a chuckle as Margaret glared at her. “I’m fairly certain Sir Robert would appreciate that immensely.”
On the way back to Kurland Hall, the Stanfords went with the rector, and Rose rejoined Robert and Lucy in the carriage. After a happy day out riding, Mr. Coleman had already taken the children home to Sophia’s mother. It was bitterly cold, and bright moonlight streamed down from the ink-black sky, illuminating the barren fields and trees lining the road from Lower Kurland.
Robert was secretly very fond of Andrew’s two children and had enjoyed the opportunity to spend some time with them. Alex had become an accomplished horseman, and his little sister, who had once been as scared of horses as Robert, was coming along nicely, as well.
During his career in the cavalry, he’d never really thought much about children. His focus had been on surviving the next battle rather than on what went on at home. He couldn’t deny that the thought of his feckless cousin Paul inheriting the Kurland estate and his title filled him with dread. The estate would be gambled away and dismantled within a year, and his tenants would be scattered. He would never admit it to Lucy, but she knew him well enough to understand it would be a bitter pill to swallow.
She sighed and leaned in closer, her head coming to rest on his shoulder as her eyes closed. Her familiar lavender scent surrounded him as he eased an arm around her shoulders and anchored her against his side. The only time he had ever come close to hitting his father-in-law was when he’d suggested that Robert should not concern himself about the consequences to his wife’s health of another pregnancy, seeing as a man could “always marry again.”
But he didn’t want to marry again. He wanted this wife—this obstinate, redoubtable, intelligent treasure of a woman.
Sometimes life came down to making a choice. He’d learned that on the battlefields of France, and in this instance, he’d rather keep Lucy than some imaginary child. He bent to drop a kiss on her unsuspecting head and caught Aunt Rose’s approving gaze.
He shrugged. “I have learned to appreciate the moments when she sleeps.”
Rose’s warm chuckle, and the elbow in his ribs from his obviously not quite asleep wife, made him smile and feel very hopeful for the future.
Chapter 10
“I have this for you from Father.” Anna held out a piece of paper. “It is the name and direction of the professor in Cambridge who recommended Miss Broomfield for the teaching post.”
“Please thank Father for the information, although I suspect you found it for him.” Lucy took the paper. “I will write to this professor directly.”
They were seated in her sitting room, finishing off the last of the invitations and dividing them into batches for the stable boys to deliver. Dermot had informed her that the invites to the village party had also gone out, and that everyone was very excited at the prospect of an afternoon’s entertainment.
“Did Dermot mention where he intended to purchase all the toys and games for the village children’s gifts?” Anna asked.
“I assumed he would go to Hertford. Why?”
Anna pointed at the address she had just given Lucy. “I wonder if we could go to Cambridge instead? It should be manageable in a day, even in this weather.”
“That is an excellent idea.” Lucy pondered the notion. “I’m sure Robert would understand the necessity of my supervising Dermot’s choices and expenditure.”
“I’m sure he’d be very suspicious, but as long as I went with you, how could he possibly complain?”
Lucy counted the ways but kept her counsel. “I will write to this professor immediately. If he seems inclined to be helpful, then I will consider your plan to go to Cambridge.”
“It would also be nice to do some Christmas shopping in a proper town,” Anna said wistfully. “Have you any gifts to purchase yourself?”
“I don’t have anything for Aunt Rose, as she was an unexpected addition to our household, but I have everything else well in hand.”
“Of course you do. You are one of the most organized people I know.” Anna placed the last letter on the pile. “I am looking forward to seeing the twins. I wonder if they have grown again.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me.” Lucy smiled fondly at the thought of her rambunctious twin brothers. “Despite all my earlier worries, school does seem to agree with them. I suspect they will spend most of their visit in our stables, bothering Mr. Coleman, but at least he will keep them within the boundaries of civility.”
“At least they have each other at school.” Anna sighed and set down her pen. “That must be comforting.”
Lucy considered her sister’s downcast face. “Is there anything wrong, Anna?”
“Father received a horrible letter,” Anna said in a rush. “It was written on a scrap of paper that somehow got mixed up with George’s mail. George gave it to me this morning.”
“So you have no idea when it was actually delivered?”
“No.”
“What did it say?”
Anna gulped down a breath. “That Father was a heartless sinner who would burn in hell for his wickedness.”
“Did you show it to him?” Lucy asked.
“No. I didn’t want to upset him. I thought it best to bring the matter to you.” Anna pressed a hand to her heart. “When Mrs. Jenkins received a similar letter, you promised that Robert would investigate the matter.”
�
�Robert is investigating, but we are still no closer to discovering who the culprit is,” Lucy said carefully. “We did wonder if it was Miss Broomfield.”
Anna blinked hard. “The teacher? But she’s dead.”
“Which is why I asked you when the letter arrived.” Lucy opened her desk and drew out the other three letters. “So far we have these.” She passed them to Anna. “There is a similar theme.”
“They are certainly all horrible.” Anna passed them back, as if she didn’t want them in her possession. “Why would anyone be so . . . spiteful?” She raised her beautiful eyes to Lucy’s. “Should I show the letter to Father and tell him about the others?”
“There is no need for you to do that, Anna. When Robert discovers who wrote them, he will naturally inform our father.”
“Thank you.” Anna took a deep breath. “I hate it when people I love are hurt by such unnecessary things. Father has been very kind to me since I returned from London unwed. He does not deserve to be treated so harshly.”
Lucy bit back her first response and tried to be diplomatic. “In truth, Anna, you deserve his thanks for taking on the responsibilities of the rectory when you should be setting up your own home and nursery.”
“I am more than willing to stay at home.” Anna hesitated and then spoke in a rush. “I know you think I should marry Nicholas, but I am afraid of the responsibilities of marriage and all it entails.”
Lucy took Anna’s trembling hand in her own. She had never seen her sunny-natured sister so upset before. “Which particular part of marriage?”
“The wedded part of it . . . the idea of constantly having children, of . . . dying, like our mother did. I remember that day, Lucy. I remember the sickly coppery smell of death, of her screaming and begging God to ease her pain. I remember our father galloping away on his horse, leaving us to deal with everything. . . .”
“I . . . didn’t realize you had been so deeply affected by what happened,” Lucy said hesitantly. “You were so young. But you must know that childbirth doesn’t always end like that.”
“I have attended plenty of births since I returned home, and I cannot say that I have learned to enjoy the experience or have changed my opinion,” Anna said firmly. “Look at you, Lucy. You almost bled to death last time you attempted to provide Robert with an heir, and I’ll wager you are more than willing to try again.”
“I hardly bled to death,” Lucy remonstrated. “I will not lie and tell you the experience was pleasant. The thought of having Robert’s child makes what I suffered worthwhile.”
Anna shuddered. “I do not understand how you can be so brave.”
“Hardly brave,” Lucy pointed out. “Women have been giving birth since Adam and Eve. And if you have found . . . contentment in a relationship with a particular man, the thought of having his child somehow makes sense of the dangers. Mayhap you simply haven’t met the right person yet.”
“There was a man . . . a gentleman in London . . . whom I thought I might come to care for.” Anna looked past Lucy and out of the window.
“Is this the naval officer Aunt Jane mentioned in her letters?” Lucy asked.
“Yes. Captain Harry Akers.”
“Then perhaps we should consider returning to London next year for the Season so that you can meet this man again.”
“He rarely comes back to England these days.” Anna sighed. “And in truth, I don’t think he would wish to see me. I told him not to attempt to contact me ever again.”
Lucy stiffened. “Did he behave in an inappropriate manner to you?”
“No. He simply kissed me.”
“And you don’t consider that ungentlemanly?”
“Not when he asked for permission and I gave it.” Anna’s faint smile died.
“Did he attempt to force you in some way?”
“Not at all. He was the perfect gentleman.”
Lucy tried to gather her thoughts. “Some kisses can seem . . . rather intimate at first, but—”
Anna waved away her words. “I know that.”
“Then what happened to make you send him away with a flea in his ear?”
“I liked his kiss. That’s what scared me, Lucy.” Anna gulped down some air. “It made me think that I might be persuaded by my own desires into a relationship that would only end up exactly where I feared, with me pregnant and afraid.”
Lucy stared at her sister. What on earth could she say to assuage Anna’s very real fears? She had seen many women die during childbirth and couldn’t deny the risks.
“If you did ever become pregnant, you know that Dr. Fletcher and Grace would do everything in their power to make sure you survived the experience.”
“I know.” Anna found a smile. “Mayhap you are right, Lucy, and I have not met the right man yet. Surely, there must be a gentleman who already has enough children and would be content with a friend and companion.”
“If you wish to look after a man like that, you might as well stay in the rectory,” Lucy said tartly. “You deserve more.”
“And a man, especially one of our class, deserves an heir,” Anna snapped back, her color visibly heightened. “You, of all people, should know that.”
“Yes, indeed.” Lucy busied herself with her pens and paper. “Did you bring the letter Father received with you?”
Anna rose from her seat and went over to the settee where she’d placed her reticule. “I have it here.” She brought the note back to Lucy and reached for her hand. “I am sorry. That was cruel. I did not mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t.” Lucy patted her sister’s hand. “And I was a little blunt with you, so I probably deserved it. Have you considered telling any gentleman who you might be interested in marrying how you feel about not having children?”
“I doubt such a conversation would go well.” Anna sat back down with a thump. “But I will keep your suggestion in mind. It would certainly scare off some of my suitors, which would not be a bad thing. Sometimes I wonder whether I should become a teacher or a governess like Miss Broomfield and simply fade into the background.”
“I doubt you could fade away. All the ladies would be jealous of your beauty, and the sons would consider you fair game.”
“I suppose that is true,” Anna said. “Then maybe a teacher rather than a governess.”
“Miss Broomfield didn’t seem to enjoy the experience very much. I would hate to see that happening to you.”
“I wonder why she was so bitter,” Anna mused. “Did she lose the love of her life, was she ruined, or was she running away from something?”
“You read too many gothic novels,” Lucy grumbled. “Maybe she just wanted to be a teacher to gain independence from her family.”
“Women of our class are neither encouraged nor allowed to be independent. Lucy, you know that. And Miss Broomfield did have a very upper-class diction and a distinctly commanding air about her.”
“She did, didn’t she?” Lucy said, slowly remembering the lavish set of diamond and ruby jewelry. “Perhaps she was escaping from something, after all. . . .”
“Have you finished sorting through Miss Broomfield’s possessions?” Anna pointed at the pile of boxes on the table. “I can stay for another hour or so if you need help. Father is taking Mrs. Armitage on a tour of the three churches today, and I don’t expect them back until late this afternoon.”
“I would appreciate some help.” Lucy abandoned her desk and joined Anna at the table. “There is one large box that I haven’t opened yet, because there is no key, but I also found this.” She held up the crucifix.
“How very popish.”
“There is something tied to the back of it. It was concealed against the wall.” Lucy patiently picked at the twine wrapped around the base until she was able to unfold the paper and reveal a key beneath it. She held it up to Anna, who was busy dragging the heavy strongbox to the edge of the table. “I was right. It is a key.”
“Then let’s hope it fits.” Anna stood back as Lucy inserted
the key into the lock.
“It’s too small.” Lucy tried again, with no success. “I will have to ask Foley if he can help us. He is something of an expert on locks.”
As if he had known he was required, Foley chose that moment to arrive with the tea tray and a selection of cakes the cook wanted “Miss Anna to try.”
After Lucy explained the problem, he approached the box and studied it, his head to one side, like a bird’s.
“With your permission, my lady?” Foley drew a key ring out of his pocket that positively bristled with keys of all shapes and sizes. “One of these might work. If it does not, we’ll require the assistance of James, our first footman. His father was a locksmith, and young James learned the rudiments of the trade.”
“And if James can’t help, there’s always Joseph Cobbins from the stables,” Lucy murmured to her sister. “His ne’erdo-well father was an expert at breaking and entering.”
None of Foley’s keys worked, so Lucy rang the bell for James and waited patiently as Anna poured them both some tea. She couldn’t help but wonder what was in the box, and what the key she had found was for. Knowing Miss Broomfield’s habit of concealment made her think she must have missed something when she searched the school before.
She had arranged for Josephine and Rebecca to open the school on the following day to rehearse the carols with the younger children. While she was supervising the session, she would have time to reexamine the teacher’s quarters and see if she had missed anything. The key wasn’t very large, but the fact that Miss Broomfield had deliberately concealed it made it seem important.
Unless it was for another box, a box concealed in the one James had just managed to open with a combination of one of Foley’s keys and a hoof pick....
“Thank you so much, James.” Lucy smiled at the footman.
“You’re welcome, my lady.” He stepped back and nodded at Foley. “I’ll be going back to the kitchen now to help with setting up dinner.”
“Thank you again.” Lucy waited until Foley followed James out of the door before cautiously opening the lid of the box.
Death Comes to the School Page 14
