Death Comes to Kurland Hall Page 13

  “Did you ask Silas what he did with it?”

  “He swears he left it on my dressing table.” He groaned. “I slept like the dead that night. God, I hate the thought of someone standing over me while I slept. Anyone could’ve come into my bedchamber and taken the locket.”

  “Even Mrs. Fairfax.” Lucy shook her head. “Did you ever get the locket open?”

  “No. Yet another thing I failed to do,” he growled. “I am a most incompetent accomplice, Miss Harrington.”

  “Then finding the right Madge becomes even more important. I will accompany you to meet the two candidates.”

  “All we can hope is that we have the devil’s own luck and one of them is the right woman.” He rose to his feet. “Are you ready to leave right now?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “I can’t come with you unchaperoned, Major, and I haven’t even seen Dorothea yet.”

  He frowned at her. “Then go and see her, and I’ll find a maid to accompany us. I will meet you in the stables in a quarter of an hour.”

  “Major Kurland, do you have a moment?”

  Robert looked up from his contemplation of the state of the paddock fencing to find Coleman, his head coachman, standing in front of him.

  “What is it, Coleman?”

  “Begging your pardon, sir, but I thought you should know that we’ve retrieved the wreck of the carriage and that the horses are both doing well.”

  “Thank you.” A vision of how close Miss Harrington had been to the out-of-control lead horse flashed through his head. “Will it be possible to save the carriage?”

  “I don’t think so, Major, and as to that . . .” Coleman paused. “I went over the wreckage quite thoroughly me self to be sure that I hadn’t made a mistake while I was driving you, sir.”

  “And?”

  “Something weren’t right. Someone had tampered with the wheels on the right side of the coach. One of them sheered clean off, which has never happened before in my tenure at this stables, sir. We keep your horses and carriages in perfect order.”

  “Yes, you do.” Robert saw Miss Harrington coming down the path toward the stable yard, one of the maids at her heels. “Who knows about this?”

  “Only me and young Crawford, sir, and he can keep his mouth shut.” Coleman hesitated. “I did wonder if someone at the Saffron Walden inn meddled with the carriage while we were all eating our dinner, sir. It’s the only time the carriage was left unattended.”

  “Can you keep this to yourself, Coleman? I don’t want to worry my guests or the rest of the staff.”

  “Aye, Major. And I’ll set a lad to sit up for a few nights to make sure nothing funny is going on around here. You can’t be too careful.” The gig appeared, driven by Reg, and Coleman looked it up and down. “Nothing to worry about with this one, sir. I checked it over myself this morning.”

  “Thank you. I wouldn’t want Miss Harrington to take another spill.”

  Coleman chuckled. “She’s a right brave young lady, isn’t she? Came to help with the horses without a moment’s thought for her own safety.”

  “Yes, she’s definitely impulsive.” He eyed his companion as she arrived at his side, her cheeks flushed with color. “Sometimes I wish she was a little more careful.”

  “Are you ready, Major Kurland?” Miss Harrington turned to smile at his coachman. “And how are you, Mr. Coleman? Has your daughter recovered from the mumps yet?”

  “She’s doing much better, miss. Thanks for asking.” He touched his hat and stepped back. “Mr. Fairfax was inquiring about your whereabouts earlier, Major. He said that if I saw you to tell you he had business in Kurland St. Anne’s and would be back by nightfall.”

  “He did mention it to me yesterday. I’m glad that he was feeling well enough to go.”

  “He seemed fine, sir—apart from that shiner he got in the accident yesterday.” Coleman shook his head. “You’d better be getting along before the rain comes back, Major. You don’t want Miss Harrington getting soaked now, do you?”

  Robert helped Miss Harrington up into the gig and followed her up. Coleman seated the maid beside Reg, and they were ready to leave.

  “If it rains, I have my umbrella, Major,” Miss Harrington said as she retied the ribbons of her very practical bonnet. “We will not get wet. How far away is the first Madge’s house?”

  Less than two hours later they arrived at the village of Great Dunmow, where Robert paused at the Saracens Head to ask for directions to Goose Green Cottage. It seemed as if the address in question was very close, so Robert elected to leave the gig with Reg at the inn and test his leg by walking the rest of the way.

  With the maid following along behind, he offered Miss Harrington his arm and walked slowly across the market square and out onto a smaller less traveled road. It felt good to stretch his legs. The cottage stood within a large thriving garden and was red bricked and thatched. A line of washing blew in the breeze, and from within the house came the sound of barking as they approached.

  Robert unlatched the front gate and ushered Miss Harrington into the garden.

  “I assume you still have your umbrella,” he murmured as two dogs tore down the path to greet them. “Let’s hope these beasts are friendly.”

  A woman appeared in the doorway and waved at them. “Don’t worry about the dogs. They won’t hurt you.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Miss Harrington called out. “Are you Mrs. Madge Troughton?”

  “Aye, and who might you be?”

  “I’m Miss Harrington, from the rectory at Kurland St. Mary, and this is Major Sir Robert Kurland. May we come in for a moment? We have some news to share with you.”

  Mrs. Troughton twisted her hands in her apron. “Oh yes, miss. Come in, come in.” She stepped back and opened the first door on the right. “Sit yourselves down, and I’ll make some tea.”

  “That would be most kind of you, Mrs. Troughton.” Miss Harrington smiled.

  Robert sighed as he took the chair opposite Miss Harrington. “Why do we have to drink tea? Why can’t we just ask our questions and leave?”

  Miss Harrington smoothed down her skirts. “Because we are being polite, Major Kurland, and we wish to engage her goodwill. Behaving like reasonable members of society will help her to trust us.”

  Robert said nothing more but waited meekly for his hostess to return with three strong cups of tea and a plate of biscuits. He was unwise enough to take one and almost cracked a tooth. While he surreptitiously left the rest of the biscuit on the side of his plate, he listened to Miss Harrington exchanging innumerable pleasantries. After a few minutes he caught her eye and gestured to the clock.

  “Mrs. Troughton, we came to deliver some sad news to you,” Miss Harrington said gently. “A mutual acquaintance of ours, a Mrs. Maria Chingford, is dead. I did write to you with this news, but as we were in the area today, we thought it best to contact you directly in case you wished to attend the funeral in Kurland St. Mary.”

  “Mrs. Chingford?”

  “Yes. She was visiting Kurland St. Mary for a wedding with two of her daughters when she suffered an unfortunate accident and fell down the stairs.”

  Mrs. Troughton sat down abruptly. “She’s dead?”

  “Yes. I’m so sorry.”

  “Good riddance,” Mrs. Troughton snapped. “She was a terrible employer. She cast me off without a reference after she found out that Mr. Chingford had spoken well of me.” She snorted. “As if I would’ve allowed that old man any liberties.”

  “In what capacity did you work for her?” Robert asked.

  “I was her dresser, her lady’s maid, and she treated me like dirt.” Mrs. Troughton folded her arms across her chest. “When my husband came courting, I was more than willing to leave that house for good.”

  “You weren’t involved in the nursery, then?” Miss Harrington said.

  “No, but I did meet her daughters. In truth, I felt sorry for them.”

  “Please excuse the question, but if you parted o
n bad terms, may I ask why you continued to correspond with Mrs. Chingford?” Robert intervened again.

  Mrs. Troughton sighed. “Because my cousin Rachel still worked for her. It was the only way Mrs. Chingford would allow me to write to her.”

  Robert frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “Mrs. Chingford insisted on reading all our letters before she passed them on, so I addressed them to her, and she gave them to Rachel.”

  Miss Harrington leaned forward to pat one of the dogs on the head. “Then our errand was probably unnecessary, and I apologize for disturbing you. I doubt you would wish to attend Mrs. Chingford’s funeral in person.”

  “That’s all right, miss. I’d rather know.” Mrs. Troughton hesitated. “What will happen to the household now that both the master and mistress have gone?”

  “I believe Miss Chingford and her sisters will be going to live with relatives and the house will be closed up,” Miss Harrington said.

  “Then my cousin will have to look for a new position.”

  “Unless a Chingford family member takes on the house and decides to retain the staff.”

  “It’s unlikely, miss. At least Rachel knows that she always has a home here. I wonder what everyone else will do with themselves.”

  “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

  “We 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 m
e—”

  “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.