Death Comes to the Village (3 page)

“Then I won’t disturb him,” Lucy said rapidly. “Perhaps you might like to give him these newspapers when he wakes up.”

“Oh no, miss. He’s awake and I’m certain he’ll want to see you.” He lowered his voice. “The doctor called, and the major’s been grumpy as a bear and complaining about a lack of decent company all morning.”

Lucy tried to hang back, but Foley somehow had a firm grip on her elbow and was maneuvering her up the stairs. For such a slight man, he was difficult to stop. She readjusted her basket and stripped off her gloves. It was an opportunity to show Christian charity, and she should embrace it.

Foley knocked on the major’s bedroom door and opened it wide. “Miss Harrington to see you, sir. I’ll bring up some tea.”

“
G
ood morning, Major Kurland, and how are you feeling today?”

Lucy fixed on a bright smile and advanced into the major’s large bedroom. The curtains were half-drawn against the weak sunlight, but she could see just well enough not to bump into any of the rather forbidding oak furniture. Major Kurland was sitting up in his four-poster bed against a mound of pillows. Even from the doorway, Lucy couldn’t help but notice his pallor and the lines of pain bracketing his mouth.

“Well enough, Miss Harrington.”

Lucy hesitated. “I can come back tomorrow, if it would be more convenient.”

“I doubt anything is going to improve by tomorrow, so you might as well come in.”

“But I don’t wish to impose.”

“Miss Harrington, if I didn’t wish to see you, I would have ordered Foley to deny you admittance at the front door.”

“You
wanted
to see me?”

“You are a voice of bright reason amongst all the doomsayers.” His words held a hint of impatience she had come to recognize all too well.

“I am?”

“Indeed. Your optimistic view of life never fails to entertain me.”

Lucy raised her chin. Perhaps it was time to assert herself with the acerbic major. “If you intend to make fun of me, sir, I’ll leave you in peace.” She waited, her hand clenched on her basket as he continued to look out of the window.

“I’m not making fun of you. I’ve had an appalling morning being pulled around by Dr. Baker, and I’m in the mood for a little distraction.”

Beneath his polite tone she sensed something defeated. Did he truly need her company? An all-too-familiar sense of guilt stirred in her chest. Her father would expect her to give the poor man the benefit of the doubt and stay to comfort him.

She brought out the folded newspapers from her basket and came up alongside the bed. “Father thought you might enjoy having the London papers.”

He finally turned to face her and flinched away from the papers she brandished at him as if he were a rabid dog about to attack. Heat blossomed in her cheeks, and she stuffed the papers back in the basket.

“What happened? Your face is bruised.”

He made a dismissive gesture. “I fell.”

Without thinking, Lucy put down her basket and perched on the side of his bed to examine him more closely. “What on earth were you doing?”

He scowled at her. “Nothing that might concern you, Miss Harrington. You are neither my nursemaid nor my mother.”

“Thank goodness,” Lucy said under her breath.

“I beg your pardon?”

Unfortunately, his hearing was sharper than she had anticipated. She met his dark blue gaze without flinching. “You are an exceedingly difficult patient, Major, and I am sincerely glad that I no longer have the care of you.”

His eyebrows drew together. “And I suspect I owe you another apology.” He cleared his throat. “I am a little belligerent this morning. I overreached myself last night. Dr. Baker says I have set my recovery back by several weeks.”

The bleakness of his tone conveyed far more than Lucy guessed he intended to reveal and impulsively she patted his hand.

“Dr. Baker is rather a pessimist, Major. I’m sure you’ll recover far more quickly than he predicts.” He didn’t answer her, his attention seemingly fixed on the sight of her ungloved hand on his. “In fact, I should probably leave you to read the papers, and come back when you are feeling more the thing.”

“Don’t go.” To her consternation he wrapped his long fingers around her wrist. “Despite what you might think, I have come to appreciate your visits, Miss Harrington.”

“Indeed?” Lucy didn’t try to pull away. Even in his currently weakened state, she reckoned Major Kurland was far stronger than she was, and she had no intention of getting into an undignified wrangle with him. “I am only doing my Christian duty, sir.”

“Your Christian duty,” he repeated. “Where is your esteemed father today?”

“I am not quite sure.”
Was it wrong to lie about the doings of a rector even if he was her father?
“I expect he is tending to his flock in some capacity.”

“Strange, because my valet told me there is a horse auction in Saffron Walden today and that the rector was set on attending it.”

Lucy looked prim. “It is not my place to question the actions of my father, sir. I am here because he asked me to visit you.”

“And you are a dutiful daughter.”

“Obviously.”

“Or else you would not have come.”

Silence stretched between them. Eventually, Lucy raised her eyes to meet his, a challenge in hers. “You said that you appreciate my calling on you. If that is truly the case, then I am glad to be of service.”

His mouth quirked up at the corner, surprising her. “I think that is why I have come to enjoy your visits so much. Despite the meekness of your words, I suspect you would quite like to ring a peal over my head. You are the only person who doesn’t treat me like an invalid who has lost his mind along with his ability to walk.”

It seemed that whatever had happened the night before had made the major resolve to be frank with her. Lucy decided the least she could do was be truthful back. It was also something of a relief.

“I truly feel sorry for your injuries, sir, but I don’t believe it gives you the right to behave like a sulky bear to those around you.”

He released her hand and leaned back against the pillows, his cropped black hair stark against the white linen. “I feel as if a brigade of horses is trampling through my head, my leg is throbbing like the devil, and I ache all over from my fall. A fall that was my own stupid fault as I thought I knew better than my physician. I think I have a perfect right to be ungracious.”

“With yourself, perhaps, but not with those who are trying to help you. That smacks of self-pity.”

This was the most unorthodox conversation she had ever had in her life. Whatever had happened to Major Kurland on the previous night had obviously brought him to this point and surely she was honor bound to listen to him? She was sitting, unchaperoned, on a gentleman’s bed while he unburdened himself of his feelings. Feelings she, as an unmarried woman, should not be party to, and that she had never guessed were concealed beneath the major’s tough exterior. But he’d said he valued her presence—that she was the only person who didn’t fuss around him.

His abrupt movement brought her back to her surroundings. “I am aware that I am not at my best, Miss Harrington, which is why I admit very few people into my presence.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “But as we are acquaintances of long standing, I will endeavor to present at least a veneer of politeness, just for you.”

Lucy smiled at him and slid off the bed to fetch a chair. “Then I will stay for a while. It is laundry day at the rectory. In truth I have no wish to get back there too soon.”

“Thank you, Miss Harrington.” He shifted on his pillows as if trying to find a position that didn’t pain him. “Is your family well?”

“Yes, Major, very well. I am attempting to civilize the twins before they leave for school in the autumn.”

“They are old enough to go to school?”

“Indeed.” Lucy summoned a smile.

“I remember my mother writing to tell me about their birth, and your mother’s death. That must have been a difficult time for your father.”

“I believe it was.”

“He was lucky that you were there to support him, and take over the household so competently.”

“It was my duty, sir.”

“Ah, that word again.” His fingers gathered up the sheet into a crumpled ball. “We all have our duties, don’t we?”

“I suppose we do.” Lucy tried to think of something else to talk about. Sometimes her family’s demands felt suffocating, but she didn’t think Major Kurland would want to know about that. He’d answered the call of duty for his king and country and been wounded as a result. Her pathetic complaints about being the daughter who had to stay at home were nothing in comparison.

“And how is your cousin, Paul, sir?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I have no idea.”

“He hasn’t even written to inquire about your health?”

“The last time I saw Paul, Miss Harrington, he asked me for a substantial loan for a new business venture. I refused to give him a penny. He hasn’t spoken to me since.”

“Oh.” From the forbidding set of the major’s mouth, Lucy knew he would not speak of his wayward cousin again. “Would you like to read the paper, or shall we play chess?”

“I don’t have the concentration to play chess, and I can’t read without getting a headache. Mayhap you could read to me instead?”

Lucy reached down to take the newspapers out of her basket and was interrupted by a knock at the door and the appearance of Foley with a tea tray.

“Here you are, Miss Harrington.”

“Thank you, Foley.” Lucy smiled at the butler, who placed the tray on a small table at her elbow.

Foley withdrew and Lucy looked over at Major Kurland. “May I pour you some tea?”

“Is there coffee instead?”

Lucy inspected the silver tray and shook her head. “No, just the tea and some toasted muffins. Are you hungry?”

“No, thank you. I’ll just have the tea.”

Lucy could tell that he was just being polite, but at least he was trying. She poured him a cup of the fragrant brew and walked with it over to the bed.

“Do you need help sitting up?”

“No, I can manage.”

He struggled to push himself more upright, and Lucy fought down an urge to help him. She had no desire to be shouted at. Men were so ridiculous about their pride sometimes. She blew on the tea and held out the cup and saucer.

“Should I . . .”

He snatched it from her, and the china wobbled dangerously, the teacup rattling like a frail barque on the ocean. Even as she reached for the cup, she knew it was too late as hot tea cascaded down over the major’s hand and onto the bedclothes.

“Devil take it!”

She ignored his appalling language and attempted to retrieve the cup and saucer and mop up the tea. He clutched his hand to his chest, the tea staining the whiteness of his nightshirt. Carefully, Lucy took his clenched fist, unfolded his fingers, and examined them.

“I don’t think you’re badly hurt. Let me get you a cloth to clean yourself.”

She went to his nightstand where a jug of water and a bowl stood ready. She poured some cold water in the bowl and brought it back to the bed with a soft drying cloth. Major Kurland didn’t speak as she reclaimed his hand and placed it in the bowl of water on top of the wet cloth. Bending over the bowl, she studied his fingers.

“Do they still hurt?”

“There is no need for you to fuss over me.”

She drew his hand and the cloth out of the water, wrapping his now cold fingers in the wet cloth and gently squeezing.

He hissed a curse and startled her. She looked straight up into his blue eyes.

“Are you all right, Major?”

“What do you think? I can’t even drink a cup of tea without help. What kind of a man have I become?”

“You are not well, sir. In a few weeks, you will be much stronger.”

“It’s been months, Miss Harrington, and I can still barely stand.”

Lucy picked up the basin of water and returned it to its place. She poured another cup of tea and brought it over to the bed.

Major Kurland made a sign of distaste. “I don’t want any more damned tea.”

“Then I’ll drink it.”

Lucy sipped at the hot beverage and waited until Major Kurland sank back against his pillows, his scalded hand clasped to his chest. He closed his eyes and a shudder ran through him. Lucy suspected he was about to apologize to her again. It disturbed her to see her most difficult patient at his lowest ebb, and it made it hard not to feel sorry for him. But from what she knew of him, trying to sympathize about his current condition would only rouse his ire.

“You wished to see me this morning. Was there something in particular that you needed?” Lucy put her cup and saucer down on the tray.

He slowly raised his gaze to meet hers and exhaled.

“I was wondering if there was any disruption in the village last night.”

“What kind of disruption?”

“Theft of any kind?”

Lucy frowned. “Not that I know of. I was in the village earlier, and no one mentioned anything to me. Why do you ask?”

He smoothed out the tea-stained bedsheets. “I didn’t sleep very well. I thought I heard some kind of commotion.” He glanced over at the bay windows. “My windows face toward the church and the village.”

“Is that why you got out of bed?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” he demanded. “I merely asked if you were aware of any disturbance.”

Despite being glad that he seemed to be his old irascible self, she couldn’t help but bristle at his tone.

“And I said that I wasn’t.” She glared right back at him. “Do you wish me to inquire further?”

“I wish that I could get out of this damned bed and inquire myself, but that is impossible.”

“I know that you are scarcely at your best, Major, but perhaps you might refrain from using such language in front of a lady. It is the fourth time you have cursed this morning.”

He inclined his head a stiff inch. “Then I apologize. I didn’t realize you were keeping score.”

Goaded by the lack of true remorse in his clipped reply, Lucy carried on. “I know I’m the rector’s daughter and you’ve known me for years, but I
am
still a lady.”

His slight smile was unexpected and set her on guard. “I do tend to forget that, Miss Harrington. Not many young unmarried ladies of my acquaintance would be lounging on my bed in the middle of the day without instantly expecting a marriage proposal.”