Death Comes to Kurland Hall by Catherine Lloyd

again.”
    â€œI know she was disappointed when you weren’t present when we visited. She wanted to offer you her condolences in person, Miss Dorothea.” He paused. “Are you feeling quite well? You are very pale.”
    Dorothea turned to Lucy. “Mrs. Fairfax came here? Why didn’t you tell me?”
    Lucy moved between Dorothea and Mr. Fairfax. “I believe you were asleep at the time. Your sister did speak to Mrs. Fairfax on your family’s behalf.”
    â€œYes. That’s correct,” Mr. Fairfax agreed.
    â€œMrs. Fairfax should leave Kurland St. Mary.”
    There was a rising note of hysteria in Dorothea’s voice, which made Lucy cup her elbow. “Please don’t distress yourself. I’m sure Mrs. Fairfax will be returning home right after your mother’s funeral.”
    Dorothea wrenched her arm free. “She should leave now!” Turning, she ran back up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door.
    Lucy winced. “I do beg your pardon, Mr. Fairfax. Dorothea has been behaving rather strangely since her mother’s death.”
    â€œIt is of no matter. She is very young and is obviously distraught by what has happened.”
    â€œThat is very forgiving of you, sir.”
    He offered her his arm, and they set off down the drive together. It was a dreary gray day, but at least there was no rain, which was a blessing.
    â€œHow is Miss Penelope Chingford this morning?” Mr. Fairfax asked.
    â€œShe is busy sorting through her mother’s possessions and deciding who to invite to the funeral. Mrs. Chingford had a wide circle of acquaintances.” Lucy gave him a sideways glance. “In fact, Mr. Fairfax, we wondered if Mrs. Fairfax could tell us the name of their mutual friend so that we could inform her of the funeral.”
    â€œMutual friend?” Mr. Fairfax continued to walk, his expression puzzled. “I wasn’t aware that my father’s wife and Mrs. Chingford knew each other well enough to have a mutual acquaintance.”
    â€œThere was some suggestion of them sharing a nursemaid.”
    â€œI suppose it’s possible, but I can’t say Mrs. Fairfax mentioned anything specifically to me.”
    They turned out of the rectory drive and headed for the gate leading to Kurland Hall.
    â€œOne thing I did notice . . .” He stopped speaking and turned to Lucy. “It probably isn’t worth mentioning now that the poor lady has died, but if you remember after the wedding, when I escorted Mrs. Fairfax upstairs . . .”
    â€œYes?” Lucy said encouragingly.
    â€œWell, Mrs. Fairfax was extremely angry about something Mrs. Chingford had said to her.” He sighed. “I don’t know exactly what it was, but I’ve never seen her in such a rage.”
    â€œI find it hard to imagine Mrs. Fairfax becoming agitated, but Mrs. Chingford did seem to have that effect on the mildest mannered of people.”
    â€œYes. She attempted to sympathize with me about my bastard state,” Mr. Fairfax said dryly. “And how difficult it must be for me to be a social pariah.”
    â€œOh dear,” Lucy murmured. “I dread to think what she said to Major Kurland.”
    â€œI was close enough to hear the end of that exchange. She commiserated with him for being a reclusive cripple whom no woman in her right mind would ever choose to marry.”
    â€œDid he give her a terrible set down?”
    â€œNo. He smiled and changed the subject.”
    Lucy shook her head as they approached one of the side doors to the hall.
    â€œDo you know why Major Kurland doesn’t ride, Miss Harrington?”
    Lucy paused to look up into Mr. Fairfax’s face. “You should probably ask him that question.”
    â€œYou are right. I should. I did wonder if his injuries meant that he could never ride again.” He hesitated. “It’s just that I’ve noticed he doesn’t like to go anywhere