Death Comes to Kurland Hall (20 page)

“Mrs. Chingford knew Mrs. Fairfax, as well?”

“I believe she did.”

“Did you know her?”

“I knew of her. Mrs. Chingford said that she thought Mrs. Fairfax was the daughter of her old nurse and that she had risen far above her social station.”

“And bearing in mind Mrs. Chingford's propensity for gossip and blackmail, what did she intend to do about that information?” Robert asked.

“I have no idea.” Paul shrugged. “You have to remember that Mrs. Chingford was dead when I arrived in Kurland St. Mary.”

“But she wrote to you.”

“Occasionally.”

“And you came close to marrying her, by all accounts.” Robert caught his cousin's gaze. “Which is possibly why you stole into her bedchamber at the rectory and went through her correspondence.”

“Who told you that?”

“That is irrelevant. What matters is what you wanted to find and destroy.”

“There was nothing specific, Robert. I was just being careful.”

“And what about when you sent Miss Stanford to search Mrs. Fairfax's room at my house? Were you writing to Mrs. Fairfax, too?”

“From what Mrs. Chingford told me, Mrs. Fairfax could barely read and write. I doubt I would've enjoyed corresponding with her.”

Robert frowned. “I've seen her handwriting. It was completely legible.”

“Then Mrs. Chingford was just being unkind. Why does it matter, anyway?” Paul sat forward. “I did not correspond with Mrs. Fairfax, and I don't know what Miss Stanford was looking for.”

“I don't believe you.”

Paul's mouth set in an obstinate line. “I have nothing further to say to you about this matter.”

Robert leaned on his cane and started to rise. “Then I have nothing further to say to you. Good evening, Paul.”

“Wait. You can't just walk out without giving me my money!”

“I can if you insist on lying to me. I was quite clear. If you won't answer my questions, I won't help you.”

“Then sit down again,” Paul snapped. “And I'll tell you the little I know.”

The food at Fairfax Park was adequate, and the service rather slow. The house itself lacked the neatness Lucy would have expected and bore the hallmark of an establishment that had been neglected either by a mistress who didn't care or a staff who didn't obey their orders. She had yet to determine which it was, but had scheduled an interview with the butler after dinner to discuss the matter in depth.

She'd also been taken up to the nursery to meet Robin Fairfax, who proved to be a delightful boy of around seven or eight. Mr. Fairfax had mentioned that Mrs. Fairfax had been reluctant to send her son away to school, but that he meant to rectify that. Despite missing her own twin brothers, she had to agree that sending the boy to school was for the best. As an only child, he would benefit from the company of other boys of his class.

To her surprise, after taking her down to the butler's pantry, Mr. Fairfax excused himself and returned to the drawing room to entertain the other ladies. Lucy wasn't sure whether to be pleased with his trust in her abilities or worried at the responsibility and what it might imply.

Simmons sat her down in a comfortable chair beside the fire and poured her a cup of tea from an old brown china teapot that rested on the tiled hearth. A clock ticked on the mantelpiece, and the green curtains were drawn against the slight chill of the night.

“It is pleasant to have Mr. Fairfax back at the house, Miss Harrington. He was sorely missed.”

“I'm fairly certain that he didn't want to return under such difficult circumstances, but I'm sure he will do his best to keep the estate together for his half brother.” Lucy sipped her strong black tea and repressed a shudder. “Mr. Fairfax is considering employing a housekeeper. Do you have anyone on the current staff who might qualify for that position?”

“Alas, no, Miss Harrington. Mrs. Fairfax liked to handle such matters herself.” He hesitated. “I don't wish to speak ill of the dead, but I fear she felt somewhat
intimidated
about having a housekeeper.”

“I understand that she came from a slightly different social class,” Lucy said diplomatically. “Perhaps she wasn't used to dealing with servants.”

Mr. Simmons relaxed his stance. “That is correct, miss. She didn't have the right ‘way' of speaking to those of a lower social order. As a result of this, despite my best efforts, some of the staff didn't take her orders very seriously.”

Which explained the slightly unkempt appearance of the house.

“Even the nursery staff found her difficult. She liked to have access to her son at all times, which, I understand, disrupted his routine and made things very trying for his nurse.”

“I seem to remember Mrs. Fairfax mentioning to me that she found it hard to find a nurse she liked. Did she have difficulty retaining staff?”

“Oh yes, miss, she did.”

“How long has the current nurse been employed?”

“Mrs. Williams has been with us for almost a year now. She came after . . .” Mr. Simmons hesitated. “Another lady.”

“Would that have been Mrs. Madge Summers?” Lucy inquired. “She was also nurse to an acquaintance of mine's youngest child. I seem to recall my friend mentioning to Mrs. Fairfax that they had shared the same nurse before Mrs. Summers retired.”

“There was a Mrs. Madge Summers employed here, miss.”

Lucy waited a moment, but from the set of Mr. Simmons's face, she suspected he wouldn't say anything more at this point. It was a pity, but at least she'd established a connection between Fairfax Park and Madge Summers.

“Perhaps you would consider drawing up a list of tasks a housekeeper would be required to perform at Fairfax Park and sharing it with me, Mr. Simmons. I will also speak to Mrs. Williams about her needs and position, as it seems young Robin might be going away to school.”

Simmons leaned forward. “If I might be so bold as to say I think it will be for the best. After the young master left and Mr. Fairfax died, Mr. Robin became subject to rather too much maternal influence in my opinion.”

Lucy nodded but didn't comment as she finished her tea. “Did Mrs. Fairfax keep her own account books? Mr. Fairfax asked me to have a look at them to gain some sense of the monthly expenditure for the house.”

“She did, Miss Harrington. They would be in the yellow parlor at the rear of the house, where she kept her desk and her sewing basket.”

“Then perhaps you might show me that room before you take me up to see Mrs. Williams.”

Simmons stood and took the cup from Lucy. “A pleasure, Miss Harrington. It is something of a relief for the staff to find out that Mr. Fairfax intends to stay and manage the estate. We were all rather worried that he would never return.”

“I believe he considers it his duty, Mr. Simmons,” Lucy said tactfully as he opened the door for her. “Despite everything, loyalty to one's family should come first, don't you agree?”

“I do, Miss Harrington. I said the very same thing to Mr. Fairfax before dinner.” He led her through the green baize door into the main house and down another corridor. “The yellow parlor is here, beside the servants' stairs. This particular set leads straight up to the nursery, which is why I think Mrs. Fairfax liked to sit here.”

After glancing into the room, Lucy nodded. “Perhaps we can go straight upstairs and save ourselves a walk.”

Simmons glanced doubtfully at her. “If you don't mind using the back stairs, Miss Harrington.”

In answer, Lucy picked up her skirts and started climbing. It was two floors up to the nursery level, but she managed it perfectly well, unlike Simmons, who was panting for breath. The nursery, as she had discovered earlier, was a well-planned and airy space, with big warm fires and large windows that let in a lot of light.

Mrs. Williams sat beside the fire, darning, and went to stand as Lucy approached her.

“Miss Harrington. Did you wish to see Robin? He is asleep.”

Lucy smiled as Simmons withdrew. “I would not want to disturb him. I wished to speak to you.”

“Then come and sit down by the fire, miss. Mr. Fairfax said I was to offer you every assistance.” She glanced up at Lucy. “He is a fine young man.”

“He is indeed.” Lucy sat down and smoothed out her skirts. “Mr. Simmons was telling me that you have been employed here for a year or so.”

“That's correct. Robin is a nice little boy when he's left alone.”

“I understand that Mrs. Fairfax was rather an involved mother.”

“She was . . . difficult, miss. She loved her son very much, but sometimes . . .”

“She spoiled him?” Lucy nodded. “Having met Mrs. Fairfax, I gained the impression that the livelihood of her only child was of primary importance to her. Such mothers are to be commended for their devotion to their offspring but, I should imagine, make establishing a schedule for a child quite difficult.”

“Exactly, Miss Harrington. She wasn't
familiar
with the way a young gentleman should be brought up. She thought it cruel.”

“I suppose that's why she struggled to keep a nurse for the boy. Is that why your predecessor left?”

Mrs. Williams bit her lip. “I can't say for certain, Miss Harrington, as I wasn't here at the time, but I got the impression that Mrs. Summers's reasons for leaving were more of a personal nature.”

“I did hear that Mrs. Summers was a relative of Mrs. Fairfax. Perhaps that's why they fell out,” Lucy confided. “However good one's intentions, it can be difficult to employ a member of one's own family.”

“I heard there were big ructions, miss, with Mrs. Fairfax shouting at Mrs. Summers and sending her away the same day.” Mrs. Williams shook her head. “Not the sort of environment for the boy to thrive in at all.”

“I agree.” Lucy paused. “Do you know if Mrs. Fairfax ever saw Mrs. Summers again?”

“I don't know, miss. She did say she might be visiting family after her trip to London, but she didn't mention exactly who it might be. She rarely spoke of her family. I don't think anyone was supposed to know that Mrs. Summers was related to her. Of course, when they fell out, the whole staff knew. Her husband was already dead at that point, and she'd gotten rid of young Mr. Fairfax, so I suppose she thought she could bring Mrs. Summers in without anyone being the wiser.”

Lucy shook her head. “What a shame. But at least you have restored order to the nursery and to the boy's life.”

“And now it seems as if he might be sent away to school.” Mrs. Williams sighed. “I know it is for the best, but I will have to consider moving on.” Her glance fell to Lucy's waistline. “Unless there will be a new family to raise here soon?”

“You'll have to ask Mr. Fairfax about that.” Lucy stood and smiled down at the nurse. “Thank you for speaking to me.”

“It was a pleasure, Miss Harrington.”

Lucy left the nursery and tried to remember the route back to her bedchamber. She had learned a lot and wished Major Kurland was present to help her make sense of it all. His blunt good sense and ability to cut through to the heart of the matter would be most helpful. It appeared that Mrs. Fairfax, crippled by her own social anxiety, hadn't enjoyed being mistress of Fairfax Park very much at all. She'd obviously loved her son. The thought of him growing up without his mother made Lucy very angry.

The idea of Mrs. Fairfax accidentally pushing Mrs. Chingford down the stairs for daring to expose her common roots did have a strange logic to it. But even though everyone agreed she was highly emotional, would she really have killed herself and left her son alone? Lucy was no longer sure of that. Perhaps it had been an accident, after all. But Mrs. Fairfax had left a note confessing to a crime....

Lucy found her bedchamber door and went inside. The fire had been banked for the night, and her candles were lit. Her nightgown lay on the quilt, facing the warmth of the fire. There was no sign of Penelope, and the light under the connecting door had been extinguished. Lucy decided to put herself to bed. There was much to think about and a whole new day to attempt to understand whether poor Mrs. Fairfax had died accidentally, by her own hand, or had been murdered.

And plenty of time for Lucy to find out if Mr. Fairfax had any ulterior motive for bringing her to Fairfax Park.

 

Robert arrived back at Kurland Hall and went straight into his library. He lit the candles closest to his desk and searched for the piece of parchment he had retrieved from behind the headboard in Mrs. Fairfax's bedchamber. He put on his spectacles and studied it anew. Was it possible that
Mrs. Fairfax
had written the verses, and not her young son? And even if she had, why was it bothering him? It was hardly Mrs. Fairfax's fault if she hadn't been to school.