Death Comes to Kurland Hall (14 page)

Thomas wore unrelieved black and had shadows under his eyes. He looked as if he hadn't slept for days.

“Good evening, Mr. Tompkins.” Robert bowed. “I assume you are the solicitor who represents Mrs. Fairfax and her estate.”

“Indeed, Major Kurland, I am.” Mr. Tompkins bowed. “Mrs. Fairfax actually came to see me before she continued her journey to Kurland St. Mary. To say that I was surprised that she had died is something of an understatement.”

“It was a shock to us all, Mr. Tompkins.” Robert sat down, as did the other men. “My physician suspects that Mrs. Fairfax sustained a blow to the head after a carriage accident that caused her considerable pain and resulted in her taking too much laudanum.”

“So I understand.” Mr. Tompkins began taking documents out of his bag. “After receiving Mr. Fairfax's letter, I collected together all the information I could find about the estate and Mrs. Fairfax's new will.”

“She made a new will?”

“Yes. I had been urging her to do so since her husband's demise. It is somewhat fortuitous that she heeded my request and set her affairs in order before her untimely death. It will make things so much easier for her heir.”

“Indeed.” Robert pressed two fingers to his brow, where his head had started to throb. “With Mr. Fairfax's agreement, might I inquire as to the provisions of the new will?”

“Certainly, Major. I have it right here. The part that concerns Mr. Fairfax most directly is this.” He cleared his throat, unrolled the document, and began to read. “In the event of my death, I appoint Mr. Thomas Edward Fairfax as guardian to my son Robin Edward Fairfax and give him control of the Fairfax estate until Robin reaches his majority.” He looked over the top of his spectacles at Thomas and Robert. “In the previous will, guardianship was left to the partners at Tompkins, Bailey, and Dibbs.”

“Did she mention why she made this change?” Robert asked, as Thomas appeared incapable of speech. “I understood that relations between her and her husband's son were never very cordial.”

“Perhaps she decided that a blood relative, no matter how . . . indirect, would be more involved in her son's future and would manage the estate in a more sensitive manner. Not that we wouldn't have done our utmost to provide young Robin with the best advice possible, but we aren't his family.”

“I understand, Mr. Tompkins.” Robert held out his hand. “Do you have a copy of the will? I'm sure Mr. Fairfax will want to read it through at his leisure. He can then write to you with his concerns and questions.”

“I do have a copy, sir.” Mr. Tompkins placed the document on Robert's desk. “I am more than willing to answer any questions that Mr. Fairfax might have in the future weeks, as he takes on his new responsibilities.”

“What time do you intend to leave in the morning?”

“Quite early, Major. I've never been one to lie abed when there is so much to be done.” Mr. Tompkins stood up. “Thank you for your hospitality. Your butler has allocated me a bedchamber, and I have dined very well.”

Robert stood, too, and shook the solicitor's hand. “Thank you for coming out of your way to see Mr. Fairfax.”

“It was a pleasure, sir. I do hope Mr. Fairfax intends to keep the estate business with us.”

“Yes, of course.” Thomas jumped as if someone had poked him. “Thank you for everything, Mr. Tompkins.”

Robert rang the bell, and Foley appeared with such alacrity that Robert guessed he had been loitering outside the door.

“Ah, Foley, please take Mr. Tompkins up to his room and make sure he is woken in a timely manner in the morning.”

“Yes, Major Kurland.” Foley bowed. “If you would like to come this way, sir?”

Thomas remained standing, his gaze unfocused, as Robert resumed his seat. He swung around, his fists clenched at his sides. “I . . . can't believe she did that. I thought—” He paused and then resumed speaking. “I was convinced she would bar me from the estate and from ever contacting my brother again.” He took an agitated turn around the room. “Why didn't she
tell
me? She came here, and she said nothing, except that she wanted me back to run the estate as an employee.”

“Perhaps she didn't think you needed to know about her will, because she wasn't anticipating dying.”

“Oh, God, I suppose that's true. She probably hoped it would never happen, but still.” He swallowed hard. “I feel so unworthy. She forced a wedge between me and my father and made me feel unwelcome in my own home, and yet she did this.” A tear slid down his cheek, and he hastily rubbed it away. “If only I'd known, I would've tried so much harder, treated her offer to return with more respect. . .”

“Hindsight is a wonderful thing, Thomas,” Robert said gently. “You did your best. And in the end, she realized that her son would be safe with you, and there is no finer compliment than that, is there?”

Thomas nodded and cleared his throat. “Thank you, Major Kurland.”

“Go to bed. If it is all right with you, I will read through the will before I retire. I need something stultifying to peruse before I can sleep.”

“Of course, sir. I will see you in the morning. There are a few other matters of business that I need to discuss with you before I—”

“Leave for Fairfax Park?” Robert inclined his head. “I understand that you must go, but I admit that I will miss your competence.”

“And I will miss everyone here,” Thomas replied. “Good night, sir.”

“Good night, Thomas.”

Robert stared unseeingly at the will. At this rate he would soon be alone again in his house, with just Foley to minister to his needs. Thomas was leaving for better things, and Miss Harrington . . . After his earlier dictatorial behavior she would probably never speak to him again. But he had to keep her safe. He had a sense that if they kept on poking their noses into such matters, sooner or later one of them would regret it. Miss Harrington had almost died once due to his inability to help her, and he was never going to allow that to happen again.

With a sigh, he put on this spectacles and concentrated his attention on the will.

 

“Are you all right, Miss Harrington? Lucy?”

Lucy looked up with a start to find Penelope watching her from the top of the stairs. She blinked rapidly to clear the sudden and unexpected descent of tears.

“I appear to have something in my eye,” Lucy said as she searched for her handkerchief, only to have Penelope offer her one. “Thank you.”

She walked across the landing to her bedchamber, and Penelope followed her in.

“How is Dorothea?” Lucy asked as she discreetly mopped her face. “Did you return to see her this afternoon?”

“She is still asleep, and I was told not to wake her. Dr. Fletcher seems to think she will make a complete recovery.” Penelope leaned against the door, her gaze fixed on Lucy. “Where did you and Major Kurland go?”

“The major just brought me home.”

“That's not an answer.” Penelope crossed her arms. “You appeared to be arguing.”

Lucy took off her bonnet and mud-splattered pelisse. “As you have mentioned more than once, we seem destined to argue all the time.”

“About what?”

“Everything.” Lucy summoned a smile. “I have to get changed before dinner. Would you mind sending Betty up to help me?”

“I've never seen you cry before.”

“I am not crying. We went past a burning building, and I got smoke in my eyes.”

Lucy bent to unbutton her boots. “I do wish you would stop asking me all these ridiculous questions and go away.”

“If I don't ask them, who will? It's not as if either of us has a mother to look out for us, and your father is far too immersed in the running of his stables to notice much.”

“Unless it affects his comfort or is drawn to his attention,” Lucy muttered. How could Major Kurland threaten her like that? She'd thought they were friends....

There was a knock on the door, and Betty appeared with a jug of hot water. “There you are, miss.” She made a face as she picked up Lucy's discarded pelisse. “I'll take this away and sponge off the mud.” She pressed her nose to the cloth. “It smells of smoke.”

Lucy handed over her bonnet, as well. “Do you think I have time for a bath?”

“Cook won't like me using the stove to boil water right before dinner, miss, but I'll do my best.”

“Thank you, Betty.” Lucy glanced pointedly at Penelope, who had remained by the door. “I'm sure you don't wish to stay and watch me bathe.”

Her companion shuddered. “No thank you.” She still lingered, though, one hand on the door frame. “May I say something?”

“It appears that you are intent on saying it, anyway, so why not go ahead?”

“Major Kurland . . .”

Lucy turned her back on Penelope and pretended to warm her hands at the fire. “What about him?”

“Don't let him bully you.”

“I don't intend to.” Lucy took a deep breath. “In truth, I don't intend to have anything more to do with him ever again.”

Chapter 13

“S
o, 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 sighed. “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?”

“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.”