Death Comes to the Village (A Kurland St. Mary Mystery) - Softcover

Lloyd, Catherine

Softcover

ISBN 10: 075828733X ISBN 13: 9780758287335

Publisher: Kensington, 2013

Synopsis

A wounded soldier and a rector's daughter discover strange goings-on in the sleepy village of Kurland St. Mary in Catherine Lloyd's charming Regency-set mystery debut.

Major Robert Kurland has returned to the quiet vistas of his village home to recuperate from the horrors of Waterloo. However injured his body may be, his mind is as active as ever. Too active, perhaps. When he glimpses a shadowy figure from his bedroom window struggling with a heavy load, the tranquil façade of the village begins to loom sinister. . .

Unable to forget the incident, Robert confides in his childhood friend, Miss Lucy Harrington. As the dutiful daughter of the widowed rector, following up on the major's suspicions offers a welcome diversion--but soon presents real danger. Someone is intent on stopping their investigation. And in a place where no one locks their doors, a series of thefts and the disappearance of two young serving girls demands explanation. . .

As Robert grapples with his difficult recovery, he and Lucy try to unearth the dark truth lurking within the village shadows, and stop a killer waiting to strike again. . .

About this title

About the Author

Catherine Lloyd was born just outside London, England, into a large family of dreamers, artists, and history lovers. She completed her education with a master’s degree in history at the University College of Wales, Aberystwyth, and uses the skills she gained there to research and write her historical mysteries. Catherine currently lives in Hawaii with her husband and four children. Her website is located at www.catherine-lloyd.com.

Reviews

Miss Lucy Harrington runs the busy house of her rector father and many siblings while still finding time to solve a crime in this delightful Regency mystery. She visits with Major Robert Kurland, wounded at Waterloo and confined to his home, who believes he saw someone carrying something heavy outside one night. Then a maid goes missing at the rectory, several households and shops experience thefts, and Lucy and the major begin to connect the dots. Both are busy with personal issues in their homes, but they talk to enough staff and gentry to see a pattern of criminal activity in the neighborhood. Although one of the sleuths is barely mobile and the other is constrained by her gender, the unlikely pair persevere, forming an engaging partnership and promising much for the series. Lloyd combines a satisfying mystery with plenty of wit and character development. --Amy Alessio

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Death Comes to the Village

By Catherine Lloyd

KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

Copyright © 2013 Catherine Lloyd
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-7582-8733-5

CHAPTER 1

February 1816Kurland St. Mary, England

"Damnation!"

Major Robert Kurland jerked awake from his uneasyhalf-sleep to the hoot of a barn owl and glared outinto the darkness, his breathing uneven, his mouth dry.

When he was able to walk, he was going to take a gunout to the woods and slaughter every nocturnal creaturethat had disturbed his sleep for the past few months. Selfish,perhaps, but when sleep was as precious to him aswater to a dying man, completely justified.

He levered himself upright against his pillows, aware ofa fresh pain pounding in his head and the now familiardragging ache of his broken leg. Foolishly, he'd instructedhis valet to leave the curtains open, and now the entirelandscape beyond his windows was bathed in moonlight.His gaze turned to the black bottle of laudanum and glassof water on his nightstand. He could dose himself, slideback down into the warmth of his bed, and sink intooblivion....

It was tempting. But despite his doctor's advice, Robertwas reluctant to take too much of the opiate. Its siren calldulled his senses and made him forgetful and quite unlikehimself. Resolutely, he turned his attention to the problemat hand. He would never get back to sleep unless he closedthe curtains. The old clock on the mantelpiece wheezedand struck twice. If he rang the bell, Bookman wouldcome, but it seemed wrong to disturb the other man's rest.He would simply have to manage for himself.

Robert drew back the covers and studied his bandagedand splinted left leg. If he'd been a horse, they would haveshot him, rather than painstakingly trying to reset his shatteredbones. Sometimes during the last hellish months, hewondered if that would've been for the best. Even after allthis time, his leg was still pretty damn useless. He used hisupper body strength to pivot and placed both his feet onthe floor. Even such a small effort made him sweat andcurse like the lowest class of soldier he'd commanded.

He grabbed hold of the dresser next to his bed and liftedhimself upright, carefully placing the majority of his weightover his right side. It wasn't that far to the windows, andthere were plenty of objects he could use to support himselfalong the way. Part of him was revolted by the spectacle hemade, dragging his wounded body around. The rest of himrefused to give up. If he stayed in bed, he was afraid hewould eventually lose the will to rise again.

He staggered from the dresser to the wing chair by thefireside and sat long enough to regain his breath and determination.In the distance, the squat tower of the Normanchurch that divided his property from the village properstood stark against the night sky. There was a path fromthe side of Kurland Hall that led directly to the church andthe boxed pew his family had occupied for Sunday worshipfor generations. Not that he believed in God anymore, butappearances had to be maintained.

When he recovered, he would certainly take his seat inhis appointed place at the front of the church. He'dlearned the value of setting a good example, first from hisfather and then from the army.

If he recovered ...

Robert set his teeth and stood up again, his attentionfixed on the large bay windows. Three more lurching stepsbrought him up against a small desk that creaked ratherominously when he rested his weight against it. His chestwas heaving as if he'd run a race, and his heart pounded soloudly he could hear it over the ticking of the clock. Ashadow flickered over the full moon, and Robert saw thesoaring outline of one of the owls.

He transferred his gaze to the heavy silk embroideredcurtains. If he leaned forward, could he at least draw oneof them closed? He reached out his hand, overbalanced,and had to rock back on his heels, sending an excruciatingstab of pain up his left leg. The desk swayed along withhim on its equally spindly legs. He propped himself upagainst the wall to regroup. Sweat ran down his face andhis vision blurred.

He focused on the reassuring bulk of the church untilhis breathing steadied. He could do this. He had to dothis. The ability to close his own damned curtains was asymbol of all his frustrations over the past few months.There was another chair close to the center of the two windows.If he could just reach that, he would achieve hisaim. He stumbled forward and clutched at the back of thedainty chair, half-bent over it. As he straightened, his attentionwas caught by another shadow flitting across thepark below.

He frowned. Not flitting. Whatever was out there wasmoving rather slowly, as if overburdened. Robert squintedand realized he wasn't looking at an animal, but at a personcarrying something heavy, either in his arms, or overhis shoulder. The unknown being continued toward thechurch, his shadow thrown up against the old flint wallinto gigantic proportions.

"What the devil is going on?" Robert wondered aloud,as he craned his neck to get a better look. The chair tippedand he fell, his hands grabbing uselessly for purchase. Likea wounded animal, he turned, so that his right side hit thefloor first and absorbed the sudden impact that made himwant to puke up his guts. He came to rest on his back staringup at the white stucco ceiling. Considering the noisehe'd made, he expected half his household to come tearinginto his bedroom.

All remained quiet apart from the derisive hooting ofthe owls.

Robert wanted to laugh. He'd reached his goal, but hestill hadn't managed to draw the curtains, and he was destinedfor an incredibly uncomfortable night on the floor.So much for the gallant major. He threw his forearm overhis eyes and pressed hard. He hadn't cried since he wasseven and been sent away to boarding school. Dignity bedamned. He'd crawl back to bed.

"Now, don't forget to visit Major Kurland today,Lucy."

Lucy Harrington glanced at her father as he sat serenelydrinking tea and eating boiled ham at the head of thetable. Breakfast at the rectory was always a noisy affair,and this fine spring morning was no exception. Anna andAnthony were arguing about the weather, and the twinswere throwing crusts of bread at each other. Sunlightgleamed through the bow windows, glancing off the silvercoffeepot and the blond hair of the rector's two youngestchildren. Not that anything could make the twins look angelic.Before she could frame an appropriate answer, shecoaxed the dripping honey-covered spoon from youngMichael's fierce grip and endeavored to wipe his stickyface.

"Did you hear me, Lucy?"

"Yes, Papa, I did." She patted her youngest brother onthe head, and poured him some more milk. "Are you notable to attend the major yourself?"

He frowned at her over the top of his spectacles. "I haveto go to the horse fair at Saffron Walden. I need a newhunter."

Of course, her father's passion for horseflesh would alwaystrump his other duties. Lucy nodded at the twins,and they hurriedly got down from the table and disappearedthrough the door. Moments later, Lucy heard theirnurse calling them and the clatter of two sets of bootsstealing down the back stairs. She supposed she should goand find the boys before they escaped into the woods, buther father gazed at her as though he expected an answer.

"I don't think Major Kurland enjoys my company, Papa."She placed her knife on her plate. "He much prefers to conversewith you."

"Nonsense, my dear." The rector rose to his feet andsurveyed the ruins of the breakfast table. "It is your dutyto succor the sick and the poor, regardless of your ownselfish desires."

Lucy raised her chin. "It is wash day. Who will supervisethe staff if I am off visiting the sick?"

"You will contrive, Lucy. You always do." The rectorfolded his newspaper and laid it on the linen tablecloth. "Ihave the latest London papers in my study. Perhaps youmight take them to Major Kurland and amuse him byreading the court scandal. It cannot be easy for a man ofaction such as our esteemed major to be laid up."

"I'm sure it isn't, Papa, but—"

The rector pushed in his chair. "I will be back for dinner,my dear. Please tell Cook that I cannot stomach anymore mutton."

"I'll take out a line and fish for our dinner if you like,"Anthony cut in with a wink at Lucy.

The rector paused to look down his long, aristocraticnose at his son. "You, sir, will be studying with Mr. Galtonfor your entrance exams for Cambridge."

"Not all day. I'll find time to fish. That is, if Lucy doesn'tmake me do the laundry."

Lucy smiled at her brother. "I wouldn't dare take youaway from your studies."

Anthony grinned and returned his attention to his plate.Like most young men, his appetite was inexhaustible andquite indifferent to the ebb and flow of emotion aroundthe rectory table.

"Well, whatever you put in front of me tonight, it hadbetter not be mutton." The rector placed his spectacles inhis waistcoat pocket. "I'll take Harris with me. You don'tneed him, do you?"

"No, Papa." Lucy started gathering up the dishes thetwins had abandoned. "And I'll make sure Cook understandsabout your requirements for dinner."

Her father paused to kiss the top of her head before departingfor the stables. His loud, cheerful voice boomedthrough the hallways, calling for Harris to bring his horsearound. Lucy rested her chin on her hand and stared downat the crumbled remains of her toast and marmalade.

"It's all right, sis. I'll find time to go and fish whateverFather says."

She looked up at Anthony. "I'd appreciate it if you did.Unfortunately, unless you catch a whale, the rest of us willstill be eating mutton. Cook has a whole side to get ridof."

Anthony groaned. "Can't you give that to the poor? I'msure Major Kurland would love a bowl of mutton stew."

"He'd probably throw it at my head." Lucy put the lidon the butter dish. "A more ill-tempered man I have nevermet."

"But Lucy!" exclaimed her sister Anna. "He was woundedfighting for his king and country at Waterloo. You can hardlyexpect him to be pleasant."

"He was pleasant enough when I first visited him withFather. It is only since I've taken up the burden of visitinghim alone that he appears to think he owes me no courtesywhatsoever."

Anna reached across to squeeze Lucy's hand. At twenty,she was the acknowledged beauty of the family and onlyfive years younger than Lucy. Her temperament was sunnyand obliging and, unlike Lucy, she always saw the good ineveryone. She was fair like the twins, whereas Lucy andher brother favored their dark-haired father.

"He can't help being difficult. Have you tried to cheerhim up?"

"Of course I haven't. I sit there and sob into my handkerchiefand bemoan his wounds."

"There is no need to be flippant." Anna glanced acrossat Anthony. "I just wondered if perhaps you were a little'sharp' with him."

"As I am with my family?" Lucy raised her eyebrows."Anna, if you want to visit the man in my stead, please, bemy guest."

A delicate flush blossomed on Anna's cheeks. "Oh no,I'm sure he wouldn't want to see me."

"Fancy yourself lady of the manor, do you, Anna?" Anthonynudged his sister. "Even when you were a little girl,you always idolized Major Kurland."

Lucy sat back to survey her blushing sister. "That's true.I'd forgotten. You used to follow him around like anacolyte."

Anna sipped at her tea and kept her gaze demurelydowncast. "Despite the great disparity in our ages, he wasalways very kind to me."

Lucy finished her toast. "Then perhaps you should go.I'll wager he won't snap at you for trying to make conversation."

"So that she can swoon over him?" Anthony snorted."He's fifteen years older than her."

"So? Father was fifteen years older than Mother. It'squite common for a husband to be older than a wife."

"And yet she died before him because she had too manychildren." Anna's smile disappeared. "She was simplyworn out with it."

Lucy reached for Anna's hand. "That might be true, butas Father will no doubt remind you, that is a woman's lotin life."

Anna snatched her hand free. "That doesn't make it anybetter, though, does it?"

Lucy could only agree. The loss of their mother inchildbed almost seven years ago had devastated their familyand left nineteen-year-old Lucy in charge of two squallinginfants. As her mother became a distant memory, Lucysometimes felt as if the twins were her children. They certainlytreated her as their mother. She would be devastatedwhen they were sent away to school in the autumn.

Lucy rose to her feet. There was no point sitting aroundmoping. She'd learned long ago that achieved nothing."Anna, if you don't wish to visit Major Kurland, you willhave to supervise Betty and Mary while they do the laundry."

She tried not to look hopeful. Perhaps that would makeAnna change her mind and take on her least favorite obligationof the day. To her disappointment, her sister merelynodded.

"Of course, I'll help. Shall I ring for Betty to clear thetable?"

"No, I'll do it myself." Lucy glanced out the window atthe bright sky. "Betty is already stripping the beds, and Idon't want to disturb her. Best to start on the washing beforethis fine weather disappears."

"I'll help, too," Anthony offered. "Mr. Galton won't behere for another hour."

"But aren't you supposed to be aiding Edward in thechurch?"

Anthony's charming smile flashed out, reminding Lucyof her father. "Oh, Edward will manage. He doesn't likemy assistance anyway. He worries that Father might giveme his job." He snorted. "As if I would want to be a poorcurate in a village like this."

"Hush, Anthony," Lucy admonished her brother. "Edwardcan hardly help his circumstances, can he? And if itweren't for him, Father couldn't avoid all the more onerousduties of being the rector of several small parishes."

"He likes the income, though, doesn't he?" Anthonyfinished his tea in one gulp.

"That's none of our business," Lucy said severely. "Despitehis private income, Papa also has a large family toprovide for. How do you think he pays for your tutor?"

Anthony's mouth settled into a sulky line. "He paysmore for his horses than he does for my education, and hebarely pays his curate a pittance."

The curate, Edward Calthrope, was a worthy man ofabout Lucy's age who lived with them at the rectory. Heperformed all the mundane tasks associated with the parishof Kurland St. Mary and the adjoining parishes of LowerKurland and Kurland St. Anne that the rector was supposedto spiritually mentor, but preferred to avoid. Lucy wasn'tquite sure of Edward's background as he rarely spoke abouthis family. How he had found his way to Kurland wassomething of a mystery.

"You should go and help Edward," Lucy admonishedher brother. "He works far too hard."

"And I don't?" Anthony yawned, stretched out his legs,and looked down at his top boots. "I am cramming forCambridge, you know."

Lucy picked up the nearest pile of plates and headed forthe door. "And I have to visit Major Kurland. As Papasaid, we all have to do things we'd rather not." She studiedher brother. "You might not be so tired if you slept atnight. I heard you creeping up the stairs at dawn thismorning."

"Spying on me, Lucy? I didn't think it of you."

"Not spying, I was just getting up." She paused, but Anthonymade no effort to explain where he'd been, and whyshould he? As a young man he was perfectly entitled todisappear when it suited him.

Anthony picked up his cup and plate. "All right, mydearest sister. I'm off to the church to scrape off candlewax and reset the mousetraps."

"Thank you." Lucy paused to smile at him. Despite hisexasperating male habits, he was a remarkably goodbrother. She'd be losing him, too, if he passed his examinationsand went up to Cambridge. That wasn't as worryingas the thought of losing the twins, but it still meant that herfamily was moving forward with their lives while she ...

"Oh Miss Lucy!"

She turned to find the twins' nurse running down themain staircase of the house, her cap askew and her skirtsheld up to her knees.

"What is it, Jane?"

"Them two young heathens have run off, again! Whateveram I to do with them?"

"Let them be for the moment. They'll have to stop runningwild soon enough."

Jane mopped her brow with the corner of her apron."That's true enough, miss, although how they will get onat school, I cannot imagine."

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Death Comes to the Village by Catherine Lloyd. Copyright © 2013 Catherine Lloyd. Excerpted by permission of KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Edition details

• Publisher: Kensington
• Publication date: 2013
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 075828733X
• ISBN 13: 9780758287335
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 288