Murder at Morrington Hall. Clara McKenna
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like a lantern in the dark, highlighted a horse inside the lead wagon as it turned toward the stables. The horse’s silky coat was the color of night, and its intelligent eyes stared back at him.
Just you wait, you beauty. Then we’ll see what you can do.
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Kendrick,” Papa said. “May I introduce my wife, Lady Atherly?”
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Miss Kendrick said. She curtsied deeply again.
Alice stifled a giggle.
Lyndy didn’t mind the American’s awkwardness. There’s nothing wrong with a woman who is eager to please.
“My husband is not sir, but Lord Atherly. You shall address me as Lady Atherly or my lady,” Mother said. “And you will not curtsy to me like that again.”
“No, ma’am. I mean, of course not, Lady Atherly.” Instead of the expected flush on the cheeks, the tips of Miss Kendrick’s ears blossomed bright red.
“You can curtsy like that to me,” Lyndy said, smirking. Miss Kendrick feigned a partial smile and decided, correctly, to ignore his jest.
“As your father so astutely assumed, I am Edwin Searlwyn, Viscount Lyndhurst, but everyone calls me Lyndy.”
“Yes, well . . . pleased to meet you, Lord Lyndhurst, sir.” Mother flashed another scowl in Miss Kendrick’s direction. The look of dismay on the young woman’s face was disarming. She genuinely seemed to be trying her best.
“Ignore Mother. I think you’re charming.”
Miss Kendrick frowned, not the reaction Lyndy was expecting. Didn’t all women love flattery? He flashed her his smile. Though he was never one to overuse this gesture, women, be they ladies or maids, adored it when he bestowed it on them. Only Mother seemed immune, and Miss Stella Kendrick. Her frown deepened.
“Should you be . . . ? Isn’t this your . . . ?” She stole a glance at his sister, and he realized his omission at once.
“May I introduce my sister, Lady Alice Searlwyn?” Lyndy said, hoping to see Miss Kendrick’s smile again, big, unabashed, and sincere. He didn’t know women ever smiled like that.
Miss Kendrick tilted her head. “But I thought . . . ? Please excuse me. I’m sorry,” Miss Kendrick stammered. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Searlwyn.”
What had Miss Kendrick thought? Something had surprised her about Alice. But what? Lyndy looked at Alice, who shrugged her shoulders, naturally wondering the same thing.
“And I you, Miss Kendrick. You can call me Lady Alice,” his sister said, without the displeasure in Mother’s tone.
“Shall we go in?” Mother said.
Mother didn’t wait for an answer. With Mr. Kendrick on her heels, Mother turned her back on everyone and started for the house. Papa and Alice followed. Lyndy hung back, hoping to slip off to the stables.
“Wait,” Miss Kendrick called, drawing everyone’s attention back to her. “Daddy forgot to introduce Great-Aunt Rachel.” Miss Kendrick held the hand of the old crone who Mother had impossibly hoped was Miss Kendrick. The lady had yet to utter a word.
“Welcome to Morrington Hall, Mrs. . . . ?” Papa said with his utmost sincerity.
“It’s just miss, Your Lordship, sir. Miss Rachel Luckett,” the woman said as she hobbled up toward the front steps. “Pleased to meet y’all.”
“My mother’s sister,” Mr. Kendrick said. “I don’t understand why you insisted I bring a chaperone.”
“Pity I did not also insist you bring manners,” Mother muttered.
“Where did you say the vicar was?” Kendrick said, ignoring Mother’s retort.
“He’ll join us for tea at half past four,” Papa said.
Kendrick grunted his acknowledgment.
“We have already had our luncheon, but Mrs. Cole can arrange to have something brought up if you haven’t eaten and can’t wait for tea,” Mother said.
“Good,” Mr. Kendrick said. “We missed our lunch.”
By the look of him, the vulgar American could miss a month of meals and not be worse for wear. By her grimace, Mother believed so too.
“Yes, sir, I could definitely put a nose bag on,” Miss Rachel Luckett, the chaperone, said.
“Yes, well . . . ,” Papa said. How did one respond to that?
“We’ve arranged for you all to stay at Pilley Manor, the dower house on the other side of the estate. Fulton will send your servants on ahead, and you and the ladies can settle in there after tea.”
“There’s no need for that, Atherly. We’ll stay here,” Kendrick said. “Unless, of course, you don’t have the room?” He laughed at his joke.
“But it would be highly . . . irregular for Miss Kendrick to stay here,” Mother said.
“But there’s nothing regular about our visit, now is there?” Kendrick said, winking. Mother couldn’t contradict him. He was right about that. “Don’t worry. Aunt Rachel knows her job. Besides, we didn’t bring any servants.”
“But we don’t . . . ,” Mother began. “We couldn’t possibly . . .”
How could Mother tell Mr. Kendrick we didn’t have enough staff to care for us, let alone them? She couldn’t.
“You are most welcome to stay with us, Mr. Kendrick,” Papa said.
Mother jutted her nose in the air, turned on her heel, and led the way into the house.
* * *
Before Lyndy crossed the threshold, he had planned his escape. Orson, was it? Sounded like a horse to be reckoned with.
Lyndy had taken the new thoroughbred stallion across Beaulieu Heath in his mind before he realized Miss Kendrick wasn’t behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and stood transfixed at the scene beyond. Miss Kendrick chatted with the servants in the driveway, introducing herself to them one by one. Lyndy could see Fulton’s jowls droop as the butler hid his disapproval. The maids giggled and shifted their feet nervously at Miss Kendrick’s ignorance of protocol. Millie, one of the housemaids, unsure how to respond, bowed her head. Her cap, which was not fastened securely enough, slipped to the ground. It landed upside down in the gravel. With a flick of her hand, Mrs. Nelson, Morrington’s housekeeper, motioned for Millie to retrieve it. But Millie, the housekeeper, and the entire line of servants froze as Miss Kendrick bent over and picked it up. She brushed the white cap against her hip and handed it back to Millie.
Good thing Mother didn’t see that. She would not have approved.
Oh, but this American is a pretty thing to look at, especially bent over. Miss Kendrick had shed the duster coat, revealing a slender frame with a small waist but a less ample bust and narrower hips than he’d hoped for. Lyndy shrugged. One can’t have everything.
As Fulton dismissed the servants, and Mrs. Nelson scolded the housemaids for their tittering, Lyndy stepped into the shadow of the deep doorway. Miss Kendrick, unaware of his prying eyes, unpinned her hat and tossed it into the backseat of the Daimler. Windblown and crushed by her hat for hours, tendrils fell from the silky light brown hair piled on top of her head. Tucking them behind her ear, Miss Kendrick strode away from the house.
“The Sporting Times arrived for you, my lord,” a footman said, standing respectfully several feet behind Lyndy in the entrance hall. Lyndy took the pink-papered racing newspaper, still warm from the iron, and absentmindedly tucked it under his arm.
Now where is she off to?
CHAPTER 3
Stella strolled to the stables, struck again by the