Death Comes to Kurland Hall (13 page)

“Did Mrs. Chingford retain a nurse for her younger daughter—the one who is currently at school?”

“No. Madge Summers left about the same time that I did.”

“Another Madge?” Miss Harrington smiled. “That must have been confusing.”

“Oh, no, miss. We kept to our own parts of the house and barely saw each other.”

“Did she take up another position as a nurse, or did she leave for good?”

“I'm not sure, miss. She didn't say.”

“A good nurse is always in demand.” Miss Harrington finally rose to her feet, and Robert followed suit. “Thank you so much for the tea, Mrs. Troughton, and apologies for disturbing your day.”

“It's no bother, Miss Harrington, sir.” Mrs. Troughton bobbed a curtsy. “I'll write to Rachel today and hope she will come for a long stay.”

“Well, I'm glad some good came of our visit.” Miss Harrington smiled. “Good-bye, Mrs. Troughton.”

“Bye, miss.” She opened the front door and stood back to let them both go past her. “Bye, sir.”

Robert waited until they were well clear of the cottage before he voiced his thoughts. “We didn't learn much, did we?”

“Well, she certainly wasn't the Madge we were looking for, but she did confirm that the
other
Madge was Mrs. Chingford's nurse. We now know which of the remaining two candidates is the woman we need to speak to.”

“I suppose that is true—although this Madge did have something of a grudge against Mrs. Chingford. If she found out from Rachel that her former much-disliked employer was going to be in Kurland St. Mary, would she take a trip over there to maybe cause some mischief?”

“And you say I make ridiculous suggestions.” Miss Harrington looked up at him. “That is a rather far-fetched theory, isn't it, Major?”

“I suppose it is,” he sighed as the village came into view. “Does Madge Summers live near here, or are we out of luck?”

Miss Harrington consulted her list and turned to him with an optimistic smile. “She lives in Thaxted, which is only another hour from here.”

“Then let us make haste and visit her before the light disappears, and we are forced to drive back in the dark, and I have to explain myself again to your father.”

 

By the time they reached Thaxted, the clouds had gathered overhead and the sun had disappeared, making Lucy glad that she had worn her stoutest boots and thickest coat. As they approached the Swan coaching inn, they met the breeze head-on and she began to cough.

“Either the chimneys of the inn need sweeping or there has been a fire somewhere,” Major Kurland observed. He swallowed hard. Having listened to many of his nightmares involving the horrors of war, Lucy wondered exactly what he was remembering.

Major Kurland instructed Reg to pull into the stable yard of the Swan and then slowly alighted to help Lucy and the maid down. A stable boy came out to hold the horses, and the major called out to him.

“What's on fire?”

“A house down the street, sir,” the boy answered. “But there's nothing to worry about. The fire is out.”

“Thank God for that,” Major Kurland said. “Can you tell me where Field Lane is please?”

“It's just behind the inn, sir. Go out of the front door and turn left and then turn left again at the corner.”

“Thank you. Are you ready, Miss Harrington, or do you need to . . . use the facilities of the inn?”

“Maybe before we leave.” She gestured at Alice, the maid, who was shivering. “Alice should stay here with Reg.”

“All right then. I doubt we'll bump into anyone we know who might wonder what we are doing out together, unchaperoned.”

“It certainly is unlikely, sir.” She put her hand on his sleeve, and they walked through the inn to the front door and out the other side. “Madge Summers lives in the eighth house.”

As they walked along the muddy street, the smoke grew thicker and Lucy pressed her handkerchief to her mouth.

“Good Lord.” Major Kurland stopped, and they both surveyed the smoking remnants of Number Eight Field Lane. “There's nothing left of it.”

Chapter 12

“W
e can't leave,” Lucy protested as Major Kurland took her arm in a firm grip and started to march her back along the lane.

“We have no choice. The house is burned to the ground. There is no one there to talk to. If I was a suspicious man, I would say that someone didn't want us to visit Madge Summers.”

“All the more reason why we should stay and question her neighbors. Just because the house is destroyed doesn't mean that she is dead. She might have taken shelter and . . .”

He stopped and faced her. “Miss Harrington, I am not going to allow you to question the whole village.”

“I don't believe I was seeking your permission, sir.”

“If you were my wife, I wouldn't even have to ask. I'd
assume
you would do as you were told.”

“Well, thank goodness we aren't married.”

They were glaring at each other now, oblivious to the people moving around them.

“You refused my offer of marriage purely because you didn't want to obey me?”

“That wasn't the only reason, and you didn't really want to marry me. You should be glad that I didn't say yes, because even if we
were
married, I would still be defying you about this!”

“Indeed.” He raised one chilling eyebrow.

“Yes, because you are wrong. If we don't act now, we might never find out whether Madge survived.”

For a long moment they glared at each other. “As you wish. We will go and inquire as to Madge's current whereabouts from her immediate neighbors, and then if she isn't here, we will leave. Agreed?”

“I suppose so.”

“Good.” He did another about-face and walked back to the house next to the burning ruin. He rapped on the door with his cane until an elderly man came to answer his call.

“Yes, sir?”

“The woman who lived in the house next door. Where is she?” Major Kurland demanded.

The old man's gaze slid away from Major Kurland to the smoldering ruins. “Who's asking?”

“I'm Major Robert Kurland. I'm looking for Madge Summers.”

“I don't know anything, sir. I wasn't here when the fire started.”

“Do you even know if the woman is alive?” Major Kurland said.

“Try Mr. and Mrs. Collins at number seven, sir. They might know.” The man closed the door firmly in Major Kurland's face.

He turned back to Lucy, and she had to bite her tongue as he stomped down the path and headed for the house on the other side of the burned-out shell.

“Would you let me—”

“I'll handle this, Miss Harrington.”

“But—”

He marched up the path and knocked on the blue painted door. Lucy saw the curtains in the front parlor twitch, but no one answered the major's imperious summons.

Major Kurland knocked again. “Perhaps there isn't anyone there.”

“I think there is. Maybe they are too scared to answer the door because you are banging on it so loudly,” Lucy suggested.

He turned slowly to stare at her and then stepped back. “You try, then.”

“Thank you.” Lucy moved past him and knocked more gently. Eventually, a small child, who stared at them as if they were ghosts, opened the door.

“Is your mother home, dear?” Lucy inquired gently.

The little girl shook her head.

“Your father, then?”

This resulted in another shake.

Lucy crouched down so that her face was on level with the child's. “Will you be in trouble for opening the door? We won't tell anyone.” She produced a lump of barley sugar from her pocket and held it out. “Did you see the fire today?”

A nod this time, and a hesitant hand reached toward the proffered sweet.

“Was the lady who lived in the house all right?”

“Yes.”

Lucy handed over the barley sugar. “Do you know where she went?”

“No.”

“Are you quite sure?”

A nod this time as the child sucked vigorously on the sweet.

Behind her, Lucy sensed Major Kurland moving restlessly about. After rising to her feet, she turned to him. “As you can see, she doesn't know much. I think we'll have to come back and speak to her parents.”

“And I think we should return to the inn, regroup, and decide what to do after we return to Kurland St. Mary.”

There was an implacable note in his voice, which she recognized all too well from her previous dealings with him.

“If you insist.”

“I do, Miss Harrington. Has it occurred to you that the person who set fire to the house could still be here in Thaxted? If this tragedy is connected to the deaths in Kurland St. Mary, then our appearance here could cause further complications and even endanger our lives.”

“Then we should definitely return home. We can talk on the way.” Lucy smiled at the little girl. “Close the door now, and don't let anyone else in, will you?”

She solemnly shook her head and shut the door.

Lucy walked back to the Swan in silence, aware that her clothes now held the stink of the water-drenched wood from the fire. When she reached home, she would have to wash the smell of the smoke out of her hair, as well. What if Major Kurland was right and someone from Kurland St. Mary had seen them in Thaxted? Were they now both in danger?

They found Reg and Alice at the inn, enjoying a bowl of soup and a mug of ale, and joined them. While Reg went off to get the horses harnessed to the gig and Alice visited the necessary again, Lucy finished her soup.

“I wish I'd brought the closed carriage,” Major Kurland muttered. “From the look of the sky, it's going to be devilishly cold on the way back.”

“Your closed carriage was damaged the other night.”

“That's correct.” Major Kurland lowered his voice. “Coleman thinks it was tampered with.”

Lucy choked on a crust of bread. “I beg your pardon?”

“It wasn't an accident.” The major's voice was grim. “Now, who in God's name would do that? We could've all been killed.”

“Maybe it was an attempt to silence Mrs. Fairfax.”

“Which failed or frightened her badly enough to make her take her own life?”

“I can't think of any other reason . . . unless . . .” She hesitated. “Mr. Reading was staying in Saffron Walden.”

“Who is Mr. Reading?”

“Miss Stanford's betrothed. Apparently, she wrote and asked him to come down to Kurland St. Mary for the funeral. He came to pay his respects to Miss Chingford at the rectory, and things didn't go very well. Miss Chingford claimed that he once offered marriage to her mother but changed his mind when he realized she wasn't very wealthy.”

“He sounds like a cad.”

“I believe he is.” Lucy took a deep breath. “I don't think he came to Kurland St. Mary to support Miss Stanford, but to make sure he hadn't left any incriminating evidence in his correspondence with Mrs. Chingford.”

“You sound remarkably informed about a gentleman you met only for a few minutes in the rectory parlor.”

“He came back when everyone was out searching for Dorothea. I found him in Mrs. Chingford's bedchamber, going through her letters.”

Silence followed her admission, and she kept her gaze on her bowl of soup for as long as she could manage it.

“And I assume you confronted him.” The major sounded far too calm for her liking.

“I didn't really have a choice.”

“Of course you didn't. No
sensible
woman would decide to run and get help.”

She winced. “Once he lowered his pistol, I didn't feel as if he would—”

“He had his
pistol
aimed at you?”

“Only until he realized who I was, and then he was most apologetic and quite charming in his way.”

More silence. This time she risked a glance upward and encountered a furious blue gaze.

“You have no idea how much I yearn to pick you out of that seat, Miss Harrington, and shake you until your teeth rattle.” The major's tone was almost conversational, but not reassuring at all.

“I know what you are thinking, Major,” Lucy said hastily. “But I wasn't expecting him to be there and was caught somewhat by surprise. What I was trying to say was that maybe Mr. Reading had something to do with the carriage accident, because he was in Saffron Walden that day.” When he didn't answer her, she carried on speaking. “Is it possible that Miss Stanford has more to do with this matter than we realized? Maybe she asked Mr. Reading to help her cover up
her
crime. Remember, she was defending the reputations of her brother
and
her betrothed. She could have pushed Mrs. Chingford down the stairs and made sure Mrs. Fairfax didn't survive.”

Major Kurland slowly rose to his feet. “We need to get back. I'll meet you in the stable yard.”

Lucy stared after him, her thoughts in confusion as he limped out of the room and disappeared, leaving her alone. She took a deep breath and realized she was shaking. His lack of reaction to her confession was surprising. She'd expected him to rip up at her and tell her she was stupid, not walk away as if she didn't exist....

She retied the ribbons on her bonnet and started after him. He would be trapped in the gig with her for at least two hours even on the more direct route home. There was plenty of time for him to chastise her in a more private setting than the inn provided. Then she would be able to defend herself, he would see reason, and everything would be all right again.

At least she hoped it would.

 

Robert stared straight ahead as the gig moved swiftly down the country road toward Kurland St. Mary. It was dark now, but he could see the distant lights of the village and the manor house outlined against the purple-tinged sky. He loved his home, but even the sight of its unpretentious beauty couldn't calm his temper tonight.

“Major Kurland . . .”

He set his jaw and realized it actually hurt from restraining himself from shouting at Miss Harrington.

“I know you are angry with me, but please consider the situation from my point of view.”

He wrapped his gloved hand around his cane and squeezed hard. Part of him still wanted to reach across the carriage, grab Miss Harrington by the shoulders, and shake her. Even though that picture gave him some satisfaction, he suspected that after he'd shaken her, he would have to gather her into his arms and hold her, beg her not to be so stupid, to not put herself in danger, to allow him . . .

“Major
Kurland
.”

He cleared his throat and shouted at Reg. “Let Miss Harrington out at the rectory, will you?”

“Yes, sir.”

The gig slowed and took the turn into the drive of the rectory, which circled around to the front of the house. Robert got out and walked around the carriage to help Miss Harrington descend.

When she reached the ground, her gloved hand tightened on his arm and she didn't move away. “I'd much rather you shouted at me than ignored me. How are we going to continue our investigations if we are at odds?”

He finally met her gaze. “We are not going to investigate anything together ever again.”

Hurt and shock flashed across her hazel eyes. “Why not?”

“Because . . .”
Because I cannot bear for you to be hurt or threatened. I cannot bear to see how brave you are, when I cringe in fear like a coward.
“This investigation is over.”

“But it isn't. We—”

“We are not going to do anything,” Robert said fiercely. “As far as the world is concerned, Mrs. Chingford fell down the stairs, and Mrs. Fairfax accidentally took too much laudanum after suffering a head injury.”

Miss Harrington raised her chin and stared him right in the eye. “You have no authority over me.” Her voice was shaking as hard as his hand was gripping her arm. “If you don't choose to be involved, then that is up to you. I cannot—”

“You damn well can.” He caught her wrist. “If you think I will allow you to place yourself in danger, then you are sadly mistaken. I will tell your father what you are doing and will ask for his help in keeping you at home.”

“In my rightful place?” She shook free of his hand. “I never realized how much alike you and my father were until this moment. How
dare
you treat me like some kind of chattel!” She turned on her heel and walked away from him, then entered the rectory slamming the door behind her.

Robert winced at the sound and let out his breath. Better she thought him an arrogant male than an overanxious one who cared too much for her well being. He turned back to the waiting gig and hauled himself up into his seat.

“Let's go home, Reg.”

Reg turned and gave him a sympathetic look. “Yes, sir.”

 

At Kurland Hall all was quiet. Miss Stanford and Mrs. Green had retired early for the night, and Dr. Fletcher had called to see Dorothea and had left a message with Foley that her condition remained the same. Robert took himself into his study, sat behind the desk, and stared out over the gardens toward the village church. He still stank of smoke from the fire in Thaxted and wasn't sure if he had the energy required to go upstairs and order a bath.

A light tap on the door made him raise his head and look up to see Thomas coming in with an unknown gentleman. Robert forced his tired body to rise, gripping the desk to stop himself from swaying with weariness.

“Major Kurland, I apologize for disturbing you so late in the evening.” Thomas bowed. “Mr. Tompkins has very little time to spare from his duties and wishes to travel back to London on the morrow.”