Death Comes to the Village Page 15

  “And I’m glad you told me.” As Susan turned back to the kitchen, Lucy remembered something. “I meant to ask, have there been any unexplained small thefts in the house?”

  “What, you mean like money?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Susan paused. “Well, there have been a lot of little things going missing recently, like Mrs. Hathaway’s embroidery scissors and her silver thimble. Mr. Spencer thinks someone has light fingers, but Cook and I think it’s the fairies. Why do you ask?” Susan’s expression lightened. “Do you think Mary was stealing things?”

  “Not necessarily. Major Kurland up at the manor mentioned they’d had some petty thefts, and I was wondering about the other big houses.” Lucy hitched her basket higher up her arm. “Thank you for talking to me, Susan, I appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome, miss.” Susan bobbed a curtsy and headed back to the kitchen, leaving Lucy to walk out into the sunshine.

  Should she wait for William Bowden to contact her, or borrow the gig and drive out to the address Isaiah Bridges had provided her with? It was tempting to confront William in case he decided to ignore her, or worse still run away. If Mary wanted to marry William, a man known at the rectory as a respectable individual, why hadn’t she simply asked for permission? No one would have prevented the match. In fact, they would have welcomed it for her.

  Lucy let herself through the gate and out onto the main thoroughfare. Had Mary kept it a secret because she feared Susan’s reaction? It was highly likely. Lucy reckoned Susan would make a formidable enemy. A wood pigeon flew close by her bonnet, wings fluttering, and Lucy ducked. Ever since her unpleasant encounter with Ben Cobbins, she’d felt vulnerable walking by herself and she hated that. She averted her face against the bite of the chill wind, and trudged onward, avoiding the turn to the village and heading straight for Kurland Hall.

  As she approached the old manor house, she turned to the side and followed the path up to the back door. The hem of her petticoats and her boots were covered in mud. Foley would never forgive her if she walked clods of earth all over the major’s newly polished wooden floors. She used the boot scraper, wiped her feet vigorously on the mat, and entered the kitchen, which seemed to have acquired several new servants. She paused by the door to review the unusual swirl of activity. Foley came toward her, his expression flustered.

  “Miss Harrington. Did you come to see the major? He’s in the front parlor. I was just about to take up his tea.”

  Lucy took off her bonnet. “He’s come downstairs? That’s excellent news. If you don’t mind, Foley, I’ll go up to him.”

  “Yes, miss, but—”

  Lucy was already moving toward the stone passageway that connected the medieval kitchen to the slightly more modern part of the house, which Major Kurland’s grandfather had renovated in the Jacobean style. As she walked, she rubbed her hands together for warmth and contemplated a cup of hot tea. She wasn’t sure if the major would be pleased to hear of her progress with the matter of Mary’s disappearance, or disappointed that there was a reasonable solution. After all, Mary was hardly his concern. Like most men, he seemed inclined to enjoy the vicarious thrills of violence and murder and would prefer there to have been foul play. He’d probably be far more interested in her news of the thefts in the Hathaway household.

  “Good morning, Major Kurland. I’m so pleased to hear that you have managed to come downstairs. I—” She stopped talking as she took in the other people clustered around the fireplace. “Oh, I do apologize. I didn’t realize you had visitors.”

  Major Kurland waved her closer. “There’s no need to apologize, Miss Harrington. You are most welcome. May I present you to my aunt Rose, that is, Mrs. Armitage, and her companion, Miss Chingford?”

  His aunt came forward to take Lucy’s hand. “I remember you, my dear. You live at the rectory, don’t you?”

  “That’s correct, ma’am.” Lucy shook Mrs. Armitage’s hand. She was quite short and pleasantly plump. Her hair was the same black as her nephew’s and her eyes just as blue. Her accent was from the industrial north and not fashionable at all, but decidedly warm and welcoming. “I keep house for my father and siblings.”

  “Oh, aye, that’s right. My sister wrote and told me about what happened to your poor mother. Do you miss her very much?”

  “Every day.” Lucy managed a smile, and Mrs. Armitage patted her hand.

  “You poor love.” She turned to the woman who sat ramrod-straight in the chair opposite the major’s. “May I make you known to Miss Chingford? She kept me company on my journey here from London.”

  Lucy curtsied and received a glacial nod in return. Miss Chingford might have accompanied Mrs. Armitage on her journey, but she was no paid companion. Her clothes were of the latest fashion ripped straight from the pages of La Belle Assemble, and created from the finest, most delicate of fabrics. She was also blond and quite beautiful in a cold way that made her seem somewhat less than approachable.

  Foley appeared with the tea tray, and Lucy took the seat next to Miss Chingford that Mrs. Armitage had vacated.

  “When did you arrive, Miss Chingford?”

  “Yesterday evening.”

  “How long did the journey take from London?”

  “Far too long.”

  Lucy tried again. “I ask, because I am hoping to go up to London myself next year. Is it as wonderful as everyone says?”

  “You’ve never been to London?” Miss Chingford swiveled to look at Lucy more closely. “I suppose there is no point if you are already beyond marriageable age.” She smoothed her silk skirts. “I must confess to feeling a little long in the tooth myself these days and I’ve just turned twenty.”

  “Then you are of an age with my sister, Anna. I believe my father means to bring her to Town next year to make her come-out.”

  “At twenty?” Miss Chingford tittered. “She will be quite ancient.”

  “But she is very beautiful. I’m sure she’ll enjoy the experience.” Lucy looked up at Foley, who hovered at her elbow with the tea tray. “Will you join me in a cup of tea, Miss Chingford?”

  “Thank you. At least the tea will warm me up. The chimneys in this place smoke abominably, and it is always cold.”

  “That is one of the disadvantages of any ancient building, I suppose. My father completely rebuilt the rectory a few years ago, and it is far more suited to our needs, but sadly lacking in character.” Lucy noticed that Major Kurland was staring at her intently. Did he expect her to abandon Miss Chingford and rush over to talk to him? She resolutely turned her shoulder on him and concentrated on the discontented face of the beauty sitting beside her.

  “This is not how I pictured Kurland Hall at all,” Miss Chingford said. “I expected something far larger.”

  “I seem to recall that there are sixteen bedrooms and three wings. That scarcely seems small to me.”

  “But you’ve never been anywhere, have you?” Miss Chingford sipped at her tea and then put down the cup with a shudder. “I’ve been to far nicer country houses than Kurland Hall.”

  It was on the tip of Lucy’s tongue to ask why Miss Chingford had bothered to come to this one if all she intended to do was complain about it, but she continued to smile. Years of training as a rector’s daughter had inured her to the vagaries of humankind, and given her the skills of a foreign diplomat. “How long do you intend to stay?”

  “Until Mrs. Armitage wishes to leave, I suppose.” Miss Chingford sighed. “There are many decisions to be made as to the future, and as it is, I have no idea when Major Kurland will be well enough to participate in them.” She regarded the major. “He doesn’t even look like the same man out of uniform.”

  “You met him before his accident, then?”

  “Yes. I’m a friend of Lady Henrietta Northam, Mrs. Armitage’s daughter. She introduced us at her wedding almost three years ago.”

  “When you were first out?”

  “Yes.” Miss Chingford continued to stare at Major Ku
rland as he talked to his aunt. “He looks so much older now, and much less dashing and heroic.”

  “He’s been very badly injured. In time, he will return to full health.”

  “I suppose so.” Miss Chingford bit down on her lip, her doubtful gaze on his covered legs.

  Lucy felt an unexpected flare of anger on the major’s behalf. “Major Kurland is exceptionally brave. Not many men survive after being left for dead on a battlefield. Did you know he was mentioned in dispatches for his exemplary conduct at Waterloo?”

  “Miss Harrington?” The major’s peremptory tone echoed across the parlor.

  She raised her chin, the light of battle in her brown eyes. “What is it, Major?”

  “May I have a moment of your time?”

  “Of course, sir.” She nodded at Miss Chingford. “It was a pleasure to meet you. If you are staying for a while, I will bring my sister Anna to make your acquaintance.”

  Her companion didn’t reply. Lucy was left with the distinct feeling that Miss Chingford was decidedly lukewarm about the prospect of meeting anyone else from the Harrington family. She walked across to Major Kurland and took the seat next to him while Mrs. Armitage engaged Miss Chingford in conversation. He wore his green silk banyan over a white shirt and brown breeches that had been split up one side to accommodate the splint on his left leg.

  “Good morning, sir. It seems that your aunt’s arrival date was even more precipitous than we imagined from her letter.”

  “I think it is more to the point that it took me a long while to read it, and most of it was indecipherable.” Major Kurland put down his cup. “Have you seen any more of Ben Cobbins?”

  “No, I haven’t, thank goodness. Why do you ask?”

  “Because you looked a little down in the mouth when you came in. That is not like you.”

  Lucy glanced quickly up at the major, met his unexpectedly concerned gaze, and looked away. “It’s nothing in particular, sir, and nothing to do with the Cobbins family. I do have other news for you, though.”

  He shifted in his seat. “I’ve been meaning to say something to you about that. I regret involving you in this matter, Miss Harrington. I’m wondering whether I saw anything after all. Perhaps I was dreaming.” He ran a hand through his short black hair. “But I was so certain. . . .”

  “That’s an interesting notion, sir, but whether or not you saw a man doesn’t change the fact that two girls have gone missing from our village, and there has been a succession of petty thefts.”

  “A succession?”

  “The Hathaways have experienced some losses, as well. I went there this morning to speak to Susan O’Brien about Mary. I also took the opportunity to ask her if there had been any thefts in the household.”

  “What did she have to tell you about Mary?”

  Lucy raised her eyebrows. “I thought you just said you’d given up on that, sir.”

  “There’s no need to be so cutting. I’m willing to be convinced otherwise. What did she say?”

  Lucy fought down the urge to debate the inconsistency of the male mind. “That Mary, despite having more than one man buzzing around her, stole Susan’s beau, William Bowden. If that is the case, it might explain why Mary left her employment so quietly. She probably feared Susan’s wrath and had been avoiding her.”

  “William Bowden is the carpenter who worked on your stables?”

  “That’s correct, although he is actually a farmer who lives with his family a few miles out of Lower Kurland. I’ve written to him for information. If Mary is with him, I’m sure I’ll find out.”

  “Well, that is progress of some sort at least.” He picked up his cup and finished his tea in one gulp. “Now if only we could find out who is thieving.”

  “We still need to establish if anything else has gone missing since Mary and Daisy left.”

  “Agreed. I told Foley to start on an inventory of the west wing where the thefts here occurred so that we would know if anything else is stolen.”

  “That was an excellent thought.” Lucy smiled her approval. “Whoever it is must have entry into all levels of society. I can’t imagine Ben Cobbins being allowed into the Hathaways’ sitting room to steal a thimble. I haven’t noticed any losses from the rectory, but I will check with my father.”

  “I wonder why nothing has been taken from the rectory?”

  “Probably because we have nothing worth stealing.” Lucy pushed her worries for Anthony to the back of her mind. What thief would foul his own nest? “Although I suppose the twins might have decided to fulfill everyone’s dire predictions by starting their disreputable careers early.”

  “I can just see those two daredevils running amok in the village, can’t you?”

  Lucy noticed Miss Chingford was glaring at her and hastily suppressed a smile. “Perhaps I should check their secret hiding places when I get home.” Lucy rose. “I should be on my way. It was such a pleasure to see your aunt again.” She didn’t mention Miss Chingford. Her hope that the major might elaborate on his guest’s reasons for visiting was dashed when he merely nodded.

  “Miss Harrington is leaving, Aunt Rose.”

  Mrs. Armitage came over to Lucy and took her hand. “It was so nice to see you again, my dear. Please remember me to your father.”

  “I will, ma’am.” Lucy curtsied and walked with Mrs. Armitage out into the hall. “I am so glad to see the major on the mend. Your arrival here can only hasten his continued improvement.”

  “I understand from Foley that you had a lot to do with his recovery, Miss Harrington. I thank you for that.” Mrs. Armitage hesitated. “Robert is not the easiest of men at the best of times. I doubt he made a very pleasant invalid.”

  “He was in a great deal of pain, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Armitage squeezed her arm. “And you are a saint. You must be a great asset to your father.” She paused and looked up at Lucy. “Do you think Robert will regain the use of his legs?”

  “I hope so, ma’am, although I doubt he will recover all his abilities.”

  “I thought as much, but as long as he can walk and ride a horse, he will be able to take his place in society. I believe that is important to him.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be able to do that, although I suspect his leg will cause him discomfort for the rest of his life.”

  Mrs. Armitage shook her head. “Thank you for setting my mind to rest. Miss Chingford is rather worried that Robert will remain an invalid.”

  Lucy paused at the door that led to the kitchen. “With all due respect, ma’am. What does the major’s recovery have to do with Miss Chingford?”

  “Why, didn’t he tell you, my dear?” Mrs. Armitage smiled. “How typical. Miss Chingford is his intended wife.”

  Robert eyed Miss Chingford as she continued to sip her tea. Aunt Rose had accompanied Miss Harrington out of the parlor. He imagined they were now having an animated discussion about his character, and his progress, or lack of it, as his aunt was determined to help him get better. It was a good opportunity for him to talk to the woman who had agreed to marry him.

  “Miss Chingford, could you possibly pour me another cup of tea?” He held up his empty cup and tried to look helpless.

  “Of course, Major.” She took the cup, filled it to the brim, and then set it down beside him. “Can you reach it from there?”

  “Yes, thank you.” He patted the seat next to him. “Would you sit by me? It is difficult to converse with someone who is halfway across the room without shouting.”

  “If you wish.” She sat down and contemplated her folded hands in her lap.

  “It was kind of you to accompany my aunt here.” She didn’t answer or look at him. “Miss Chingford?”

  “Why are you and Miss Harrington on such familiar terms?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  She finally raised her head. “I know that she is quite old, and obviously destined to be a spinster, but her manner toward you was quite proprietary.”

  “Miss Harring
ton is the eldest daughter of our rector. She helped care for me when I was gravely ill. I owe her an enormous debt.”

  “She nursed you? Surely that is an occupation only suited to the lower classes?”

  “She had little choice in the matter as the nurse we originally hired was a drunkard. If it hadn’t been for her and Bookman, I probably would have died. Your dislike is unwarranted and unfair.”

  “I didn’t say I disliked her. She is obviously a country bumpkin quite beneath my notice. Did you see her muddied petticoats and outmoded gown? Imagine, she confessed she has never even been to London!”

  “Perhaps one shouldn’t judge on appearances.” Robert concentrated on keeping his tone even. “She is far better connected than I am. Her uncle is an earl, and her deceased mother was the cousin of a viscount. Her family is well respected in this county and in Town. Perhaps you might care to reconsider your opinion.”

  Miss Chingford’s lip trembled. “You are unkind, sir.”

  “I am merely pointing out that—”

  She rose to her feet and paced in front of the fireplace, her yellow silk skirts rustling as she walked. “I should not even be speaking to you without your aunt’s presence.”

  “I thought you considered us engaged? Aren’t we allowed a little more latitude?” He glanced down at his legs. “With my current lack of mobility, I’m hardly likely to ravish you.”

  She gasped and backed away from him. “You are obviously unwell and not aware of the scandalous nature of your remarks.”

  Robert set his teeth. “In truth, I’m trying extremely hard to be polite.” The door opened and his aunt came in. “Ah, there you are, Aunt Rose. Perhaps you can convince Miss Chingford that I have no designs on her virtue at this precise moment.”

  With a gasp, Miss Chingford turned and ran out of the room. Robert made no attempt to call her back.

  “What on earth did you say to the poor girl to make her flee?”

  “She insulted Miss Harrington. I corrected her false impression, and she took offense at my tone.”

  Aunt Rose sat next to him. “Robert, you must control your temper. It isn’t fair to lash out at an innocent like Miss Chingford.”