Free Death Comes to Kurland Hall by Catherine Lloyd

Charlotte and I can look inside, please?”
    Charlotte’s fingers tightened painfully around his neck, and he smiled at her. “Don’t worry. There is nothing to be afraid of.” He said the words as much for himself as for her.
    Arthur opened the door, and they both peered in.
    â€œOh . . . ,” Charlotte breathed. “It’s a mother and her baby .”
    â€œA foal that was born last night,” Robert said softly. “Isn’t he beautiful?”
    â€œCan I pet him?” She almost wiggled out of his arms in her efforts to get closer.
    â€œNot yet. We can come back tomorrow if you like.”
    She grabbed his ears and kissed his forehead. “Yes, please!” She touched her nose to his and stared deeply into his eyes. “You aren’t scared of him, are you?”
    â€œNo, I am not.”
    â€œNeither am I.”
    They smiled at each other, in complete accord. She slid down his body, put her hand in his, and skipped back out into the paddock. While he walked, Robert took a moment to wonder how Miss Harrington was faring at the rectory and if she had had any success in identifying the owner of the locket. He had spent a surreptitious and uncomfortable few moments at the breakfast table, scanning his female guests’ décolletages for signs of redness, and had seen nothing.
    He’d also spoken to Mrs. Green, who had been very forthright in her opinion that Mrs. Chingford was better off dead and hadn’t cared who heard her say it. She hadn’t gone quite so far as to say she wished she’d done the deed herself, but she had come quite close. Either she was a master manipulator or she hadn’t been anywhere near Mrs. Chingford when the event happened.
    â€œMajor Kurland?”
    He looked up to find Mrs. Fairfax standing beside the carriage that had just been brought back into the stable yard with fresh horses.
    â€œGood morning, ma’am. Are you taking the air? Splendid.”
    Thomas bowed. “I’m taking Mrs. Fairfax down to the rectory to express her condolences to the Chingfords. I promise I won’t be long.”
    Robert patted his pocket. “Take your time. I wish to go over our plans for the stable expansion. I’ll have my thoughts ready when you return.”
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    Lucy continued walking through the village, mentally cataloguing the wedding guests and their interactions with Mrs. Chingford. She would have to speak to Miss Stanford, Mrs. Green, and Dorothea. She almost hoped one of them would break down and confess all but considered it unlikely. In truth, if everyone assumed Mrs. Chingford had died from a tragic fall, there was no need to say anything. Perhaps it was a case of letting sleeping dogs lie....
    But what if the person who owned the locket realized it was missing?
    She entered the rectory and dealt with a couple of unimportant domestic issues in the kitchen before climbing up the stairs to Mrs. Chingford’s bedchamber. After ascertaining that neither of the Chingford sisters was up and about, she opened the door and closed it quietly behind her. A waft of stale perfume rose to greet her as she tiptoed across the carpet.
    The room had been untouched since the morning of the wedding and was a veritable mess of abandoned clothing, beauty aids, and the other feminine jumble. Lucy stripped the sheets from the bed and bundled them up by the door for washing. She picked up and carefully folded all Mrs. Chingford’s discarded clothing, searching the pockets before putting each garment in a pile on the bed.
    The large trunk was open, its contents spilling out onto the floor. Lucy knelt and checked what else was in there before replacing the assortment of footwear at the bottom and adding the folded clothes. She finally turned her attention to the dressing table, gathering the powders, creams, and lip tints into a large enameled box. Mrs. Chingford’s jewelry case was nowhere in sight. Lucy could only assume