“I believe you have mentioned that before.”
“Your flights of fancy continue to amaze and befuddle me.”
She risked a smile. “Thank you.”
“All right,” he said abruptly. “Let’s agree that whatever you had in your hand has gone, and that whoever saw you in that room thought you had found something of importance.”
“Agreed.”
“Can you remember anything about what you found?”
Lucy considered. “It felt like a packet of letters or something similar.”
“Maybe letters that Miss Broomfield had written and had not yet sent out?”
“Possibly. I didn’t find any evidence of her letter writing in her desk or her private apartments.”
“Then why would your would-be assailant want those letters?”
“That’s an excellent question.” Lucy looked approvingly at her husband. “Why indeed? What if she did have an accomplice? Maybe someone who delivered the letters for her and didn’t want to be found out?”
“But by all accounts, Miss Broomfield hadn’t made any friends in the village.”
Lucy frowned. “That’s true. Rebecca said that Miss Broomfield sometimes asked the children to deliver notes for her, but she couldn’t recollect anyone traveling up to the hall or out to Mrs. Jenkins.”
“We can certainly ask the children individually, but I doubt any of them are likely to have tried to murder you. We know all their families.”
“What if it was one of the men who attended the evening class?”
“From what I’ve heard, I doubt she would’ve condescended to speak to any of them, let alone treat them as an accomplice.”
“Then what is going on?”
“That, I cannot tell you.” Robert rose from his seat.
“May I suggest you take some of that cordial Grace prepared and put yourself to bed?”
Lucy concealed a yawn behind her hand. “I am quite fatigued.”
He came over to kiss her on the forehead. “Sleep well.” “I will.” She offered him a smile. “I have the ladies of my planning committee coming here tomorrow, so I promise I will not stir from the house all day.”
“Good.” He turned to the door. “Knowing where you are does help maintain my sanity.”
“The twins will be here, as well.”
“I know.” His smile was resigned. “I’m expecting them at the crack of dawn. Luckily, Dermot is willing to take them out with him on estate business, which will occupy them for most of the day.” He headed for the door. “Good night, my dear.”
“Robert . . . is your leg really troubling you?”
He looked over his shoulder at her. “What does that have to do with anything we have just discussed?”
Lucy spoke in a rush. “It’s just that I hate to see you in pain, and I think you are concealing something from me because you believe I’m too frail to deal with the issue, which I am not, I can assure you.”
He returned to sit on the side of the bed and cupped her chin, his thumb grazing the corner of her mouth. “It’s true that I don’t want to worry you, but I don’t know what’s wrong with my damned leg. I’m praying that whatever it is will settle down once this bad weather is over.”
She searched his face. “Then will you promise to tell me if things do not improve?”
“I suspect that will be blatantly obvious,” he said dryly. “If my temper is any indicator of my state of health, you’ll know what to expect, and you won’t allow me to get away with behaving like a bear for too long.”
“I will certainly hold you accountable.” She smiled into his dark blue eyes.
“I’d expect nothing less.”
* * *
The next morning, Lucy returned to her sitting room after breakfast and wrote a note to Andrew Stanford about Mr. Clapper before turning to the morning post. Buried in the pile of acceptances to the ball that she’d laid to one side, she found another letter. After breaking the seal, she unfolded the single sheet and put her spectacles on to read the small cramped script.
My Dear Lady Kurland,
As to the matter of Miss Broomfield and her tenure at my school, I regret to learn of her demise, but I cannot say I regret dismissing her. She proved to be a very strange individual indeed, with her insistence on the less “respectable” aspects of the Bible and her conviction that most of her students were destined for Hell. A conviction she felt necessary to convey to them at every opportunity, leading to some distress amongst our younger, more vulnerable girls.
One can only hope that she did not behave in the same manner during her time at your school. I fear, because of your correspondence, that perhaps she did. She did not ask for a reference when she left the school, perhaps guessing that I would have nothing good to say about her.
The final straw was when one of our older girls informed me that Miss Broomfield had threatened to write to her parents and tell them of her “immoral” ways. This was simply because the poor girl received a set of earrings from an old but unmarried male friend, which she foolishly wore to dinner one evening. Miss Broomfield relented only when the girl offered her a very nice emerald ring in exchange for her silence.
Since Miss Broomfield left, more students have come forward with tales of her spite and bitterness toward those more fortunate than herself. I can only wish that God will have mercy on her soul. Her version of our blessed Savior would perhaps mean she would not embrace such mercy, but rather would enjoy the eternal fires of Hell she wished so often upon others.
If you need a new teacher for your school, Lady Kurland, I have two very promising young ladies who would be ready and willing to start in the new year. Both of them are a credit to our school and would be a credit to yours.
Yours sincerely,
Agatha Pemberton
Headmistress, Pengaron School, Cornwall
Lucy put the letter down and stared into space.
Not only had Miss Broomfield terrorized her students with her religious leanings, but she’d also attempted to blackmail one of them.... And it wasn’t as if she had needed money. Her treasure trove of jewelry gave lie to that. Unless all the jewelry had been stolen from others? Was it possible that one of Miss Broomfield’s letters had also threatened to blackmail someone in Kurland St. Mary?
But whom?
A knock at the door made her jump. She turned to see Dermot Fletcher smiling at her.
“Good morning, Dermot.” Lucy beckoned him in.
“Good morning, Lady Kurland. I have received a letter from the jewelers in London to whom I sent details of that diamond and ruby necklace you found.” He held it out to her. “They have a record of making the set for a family named Hillcott that lives in the county of Norfolk.”
Lucy took the proffered letter and read it through. “I wonder if that is where Miss Broomfield’s family resides.”
“Do you wish me to write to the jewelers and ask for the full address?” Dermot frowned. “I’m not sure if they will be willing to share such private information.”
“If you mention that we are seeking the surviving members of the deceased’s family, they might be more willing to open their books. Make sure the letter comes from Sir Robert, in his capacity as justice of the peace. That should do the trick.” Lucy handed him back the letter. “How are your plans for the Christmas party coming along?”
“Very well, my lady. Miss Anna Harrington has been most helpful in identifying the needs of each family and the number of children who will require some kind of gift.”
“I’m glad that she was able to assist you.” Lucy couldn’t help but notice the admiration shining from Dermot’s green eyes as he mentioned her sister. “I understand that you are about to take my twin brothers out for the day. I am most grateful for your forbearance.”
“I enjoy their company. They are spirited but are still willing to listen to reason—occasionally.”
Lucy smiled. “Thank you again, and do not hesitate to treat them as if they were yo
ur own.”
“You are most welcome, my lady.” He turned to leave and then paused. “I forgot to mention that I saw Mr. and Mrs. Stanford’s carriage coming up the drive. They will probably be with you shortly.”
Lucy rose and smoothed her skirts. “Then I will accompany you out to the entrance hall and greet our guests.”
She found Sophia just taking off her cloak and bonnet, and Andrew relinquishing his hat and gloves into Foley’s tender care.
“Ah, Lady Kurland,” Andrew called out. “Just the person I was hoping to see.”
Lucy led the way into the drawing room, where there was already a roaring fire, and waited until her guests were seated.
“We thought we’d come early, before you became engulfed in the plans for the ball,” Sophia said. “I showed Andrew your note about the solicitor in Cheapside.”
“And do you know whether it might be possible to locate Mr. Clapper?” Lucy addressed her question to her friend’s husband.
“It is definitely possible. I’ll write a note to my clerk and ask him to search the man out. It shouldn’t take him that long, and seeing as I am away, there is very little else for him to do. Do you wish to send your Mr. Clapper a letter enclosed in mine?”
“That would certainly speed up the process of discovery.” Lucy nodded. “I will do so immediately.”
* * *
After an enjoyable lunch, for which they were joined by Rose, Robert, and Dermot, the men went off to discuss business, leaving the ladies to await the arrival of Mrs. Jenkins, the Greenwells, and the party from the rectory, including Penelope and Dorothea, who had no carriage of their own.
It took quite a while for everyone to settle down, enjoy a comfortable gossip, and partake of a selection of refreshments. Mrs. Greenwell was at her most gracious and spent a lot of time speaking to Mrs. Jenkins and asking pointed questions about Nicholas and his whereabouts.
After matters concerning the ball were settled to her satisfaction, Lucy went to order another pot of coffee and came back into the drawing room to the sound of Margaret Greenwell holding court. There was no sign of Mrs. Greenwell or Mrs. Jenkins, who she suspected had gone to the retiring room.
“Well, Miss Harrington? Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
Anna’s cheeks were flushed, but knowing her sister, Lucy decided to stay where she was and let her defend herself.
“As I have no idea of what you are referring to, Miss Greenwell, perhaps you would be so good as to enlighten me.”
“My mother received a letter yesterday suggesting she should investigate my conduct!”
“And what on earth does that have to do with me?” Anna sounded more amused than worried.
“You know very well what it has to do with you,” Margaret huffed. “I am sick and tired of elderly spinsters who have had their chance to marry criticizing those of us who haven’t yet achieved that state. It was bad enough when Miss Broomfield had the nerve to suggest I should dress more appropriately, and now this.”
Lucy took a step forward. “Miss Broomfield criticized you?”
“Indeed, she did. I met her when she came to interview Josephine for the position at the school, and I immediately disliked her judgmental ways. In truth, I told Josephine not to take the job, but she has always been something of a doormat and willingly agreed to allow that woman to order her around. Not that she fared any better. I believe she and that Rebecca Hall both received anonymous letters criticizing them, as well.”
“Are you suggesting that my sister wrote all those letters?” Lucy asked.
“She and Miss Broomfield probably. They had much in common.” Margaret looked down her nose at Anna, who was now visibly trembling. “Miss Harrington is probably afraid that she will lose her last suitor to me.”
Anna rose slowly to her feet. “If a gentleman cannot remain faithful to a lady and can so easily be led astray, I wouldn’t want him, anyway.”
“You always appear so ‘saintly,’ Miss Anna, but I know the truth about you,” Margaret sneered. “I heard the gossip about why you really returned from London without a husband.”
“That is quite enough, Miss Greenwell.” Lucy stepped in between her sister and Margaret. “If your mother was here, I am sure she would be mortified by your disgraceful display of manners. How dare you come into my house and speak in such disparaging terms to my sister?”
“It’s all right, Lucy.” Anna touched her sleeve. “Miss Greenwell is entitled to her opinion. The fact that she is quite wrong about everything says far more about her character than it does about mine, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I most certainly would.” Lucy held Margaret’s gaze for a moment longer, until the girl dropped her eyes. “Jealousy and envy are never becoming, Miss Greenwell, and have a tendency to embitter the offender, affecting their looks, disposition, and ability to snare a husband.”
“Whatever is going on?” Mrs. Greenwell’s voice came from behind Lucy at the door. “Margaret?”
Lucy turned to her guest. “Perhaps it might be better if you took your eldest daughter home, Mrs. Greenwell. She will not be welcome in this house until she is willing to apologize to my sister.”
“Margaret? Whatever have you done?” Mrs. Greenwell asked.
“What about the ball?” the quieter, younger Greenwell daughter whined to her sister.
Margaret’s defiance crumbled as she glanced at her mother’s shocked expression and then back to Lucy. “I . . . apologize for my remarks, Lady Kurland. I was upset about this attempt to stain my character and misspoke.”
“Apologize to Anna, not me,” Lucy said. “If she is willing to forgive you, I will overlook your behavior. It is the season of forgiveness.”
Margaret turned with some reluctance toward Anna, who raised a pointed eyebrow and managed not only to smile but also to look composed as Margaret stumbled through another apology.
“My dear Lady Kurland.” Mrs. Greenwell’s flustered voice rose as she rushed over to Lucy. “I do apologize for Margaret’s behavior. She was deeply upset when I received that anonymous letter, and I fear her emotions overcame her.”
“The letter wasn’t signed?”
“No, and it was delivered by hand. Mr. Greenwell gave it to me yesterday, and I must say that it did overset my spirits for quite a while.”
“As anything like that would.” Lucy tried for a sympathetic tone. “Is it true that Josephine also received a letter?”
“Did Margaret say so? She would probably know better than I would. She and Josephine are quite close in age.” Mrs. Greenwell lowered her voice. “Please forgive her, my lady. If she is unable to attend the ball or any other event hosted by you and Sir Robert, her reputation will suffer terribly.”
Lucy had a few pointed remarks about that but, in the spirit of the season, chose not to utter them. Anna was right. If Nicholas did realize he preferred Margaret, it might be a good thing for everyone.
“If Anna is satisfied with her apology, then I will accept her decision.”
“Thank you, Lady Kurland.” Mrs. Greenwell clutched at her hand. “It is hard enough to be buried in the countryside with two daughters of marriageable age without offending the only decent society around us.”
“Then perhaps you might speak to your daughter about how she chooses to present herself in that society.” Lucy couldn’t quite forgo the opportunity to make a point.
“Do not worry on that score. I intend to.” Mrs. Greenwell cast her eldest daughter a sharp look. “I do hope you and Sir Robert will grace us with your presence at the hunt breakfast on Friday.”
“I believe we will be attending.”
Robert had no intention of riding to hounds. He considered the sport barbaric. But as the local magistrate, the largest landowner, and a ranking member of the gentry, he was honor bound to attend and at least acknowledge his neighbors.
“Then we look forward to seeing you.” Mrs. Greenwell bobbed a quick curtsy and gathered up her daughters. “Good day, Lady
Kurland, and thank you for your forbearance.”
“Forbearance, my foot!” Penelope said loudly enough for the retreating Greenwell ladies to hear in the hallway as they left. “What an extremely rude young woman. I would never have been allowed to speak so forcefully in my day.”
Lucy returned to her seat by the fire and looked over at her friend. “My, what a short memory you have, Penelope.”
“I might pride myself on being forthright, Lucy, but I am never rude.”
“Miss Greenwell was very rude,” Sophia said, reluctantly agreeing with Penelope. “In truth, her annoyance and desire to deflect blame on Anna seemed rather out of proportion to the supposed insult she had suffered.”
“Unless the note had some truth in it,” Lucy said slowly. “Has Nicholas made any mention of Margaret annoying or accosting him in private, Mrs. Jenkins?”
“Not that I know of,” Mrs. Jenkins said. “I haven’t seen her climbing out of one of my windows in the middle of the night, either.”
Lucy smiled. “Then I wonder what upset her.”
“Perhaps she is just one of those females who allows her jealousy to dictate her actions. We’ve all met such women.” Sophia shrugged. “Anna is far more beautiful than Margaret will ever be, and much admired.”
Lucy glanced over at her sister, who was blushing. “She is indeed.”
“Well, I must be on my way.” Mrs. Jenkins levered herself out of her chair and placed her teacup on the table beside her. “I think under your able direction, Lucy, the ball will be wonderful, and the villagers’ party even better.”
“I sincerely hope so, and I could never have managed this by myself.” Lucy went to take the old lady’s hand. “Thank you for coming and for your wise and practical counsel.”
Penelope came over and smiled at Lucy. “We will take Mrs. Jenkins home in the rectory carriage with us.”
“Thank you.” Mrs. Jenkins said.
Lucy didn’t point out that Penelope didn’t actually live at the rectory or own the carriage. She’d had quite enough disagreeableness for one day.
Once Lucy had spoken to Anna and reassured herself that her sister was unaffected by Miss Greenwell’s behavior, she waved them all off and walked arm in arm down to Robert’s study with Sophia at her side. For once, she was quite keen for her friend to leave so that she could talk to Robert about the extraordinary behavior of Miss Margaret Greenwell.
Death Comes to the School Page 17
