Deadly Inheritance (10 page)

‘You need something to put that up on.’ Mrs Comfort leaped up, brought over a cushioned stool and gently arranged Ursula’s foot on it.

‘You must have known her best, Mrs Comfort. What was she like?’ Ursula wanted to be able to convert the horrible bundle she had found in the river into a living, breathing girl. Only then could she exorcise the awfulness of her discovery.

‘She was a delight.’ Mrs Comfort sounded in no doubt about this. ‘She loved Harry, was kind to me, and never skimped on her duties. If anything went wrong, she turned it into a joke. I remember when Harry trod on his favourite toy and broke it. In an instant she had the place turned into Florence Nightingale’s hospital, with Lord Harry as the doctor. She left him arranging his toys as if they were in bed, went and found John – he’s so good with his hands – and brought him up with a hammer and nails. Then there had to be an operation and Polly made John be the surgeon. Lord Harry had such a time of it!’ Again the nanny had to wipe tears from her eyes.

Ursula said nothing.

After a moment Mrs Comfort added, ‘There was some as thought she was too forward, but she was only young. Trouble was, the maids was jealous of her looks and the footmen were after her.’

‘Did any of them catch her?’

Mrs Comfort gave an uneasy laugh. ‘She kept things close to her chest. I’d ask her sometimes, in a joking way, you understand, which of the footmen she fancied and she’d look up, bright as a sparrow, and say, “Oh, Nanny, none of them is worthy of me.” But I’d see the way she’d look at one or another of them sometimes and wonder.’ There was silence for a moment then she said in a sad, small voice, ‘Such life she had; I can’t believe it’s been snuffed out just like that. What happened? Did she slip and fall? If you move off the path near that slope, it can be right dangerous, especially if it’s wet.’

‘Had it been raining the day she set off?’

The woman took several minutes to think. ‘Can’t say, but probably. Awful lot of rain we’ve had this spring. But it’s brought on the flowers a treat. Did you like the bluebells this morning, Miss Grandison?’

‘They were wonderful. Mrs Comfort, would Polly have taken her box for any other reason than to carry her possessions?’

‘Now there you have a point, Miss. Polly did use to take it if she was to get something in the village that needed carrying. She’d bring me back toilet waters sometimes, or stockings if I needed them. And then there was books from the circulating library. I offered her a proper basket but if the weather was fine she liked her box. It had pretty paper round it, see? And she did look a picture carrying it. It had a wide ribbon for a handle that went over her arm.’

Suddenly Mrs Comfort rose. ‘Oh, my goodness, I’m letting my tongue run away with me; her ladyship asked would I collect Lord Harry early today.’

Ursula immediately stood up and apologised for taking up so much of the nanny’s time.

‘Now don’t you move, Miss Grandison. You finish your tea in comfort. I’ll be back with Lord Harry in a moment; he’ll like to see you.’

Sure enough, it could not have been above ten minutes before the nanny and her charge returned to the nursery. The boy did not seem at all downhearted at having his tea time cut short.

‘And Uncle Charles says he will come and make battle with me tomorrow,’ he was saying excitedly as they entered. Then he saw Ursula. ‘Perhaps, Miss Grandison, you will come and watch,’ he said, very politely. Then he saw her bandaged ankle and the crutches. ‘We can pretend that you have been wounded in action.’

A very pertinent description of her plight! Ursula thanked him and watched the woman and the boy for a moment; Harry almost dancing with energy and chattering away to the person he saw most of in his life.

* * *

Much later, Ursula wrote a letter to Mr Seldon detailing what had happened that day, starting with the discovery she had made in the morning. Then she continued:

At present there is nothing to suggest that the girl’s death was anything but an accident. However, I think you will agree that there are several oddities surrounding it that may well turn out to be more sinister.

The discovery seems to have changed the atmosphere here. The servants appear on edge. Twice this evening at dinner a plate was dropped. Benson, the butler, reproved the offender, most unobtrusively, as was to be expected, but his attitude to my mind lacked fire. To be sure, to lose a member of what is more or less a family must be most upsetting. At first it was thought the girl had left, though no one has produced a reason why; now it turns out that she is almost certainly dead.

As far as identification of the corpse is concerned, a post-mortem has apparently been arranged and the fact that the girl broke an arm shortly after her arrival at Mountstanton should provide certainty whether or not it is poor Polly. I hope it is not, but fear that it will prove so.

The Earl, the Countess and the Dowager Countess are all very anxious to avoid any sort of publicity. The Earl has asked the coroner to call tomorrow morning and apparently will ask him if the inquest can be held, I believe the phrase he used was, ‘in camera’. If it is open to the public there will certainly be members of the press there. Colonel Charles Stanhope has suggested that that might be an advantage since publicity would almost certainly produce any contacts the girl had, but he was over-ruled. He also suggested that the Earl should ride over to see the coroner, rather than ask him to come here, but the Earl insisted that the full weight and power of the Mountstanton name and position could only be brought to bear in the house itself. I think, sir, that you would consider the property’s state would mitigate against this but it seems in England things work differently.

As for Colonel Stanhope, it appears that Belle has been chosen by his family to be his partner in life. I have to say that neither he nor Belle seem to feel this is something either of them desires.

Ursula put down her pen for a moment and remembered the scene she had found in the drawing room before dinner. After changing, she had negotiated the broad stairs, using the crutches with extreme caution, then moved more easily along to the drawing room where the family were gathered for dinner.

It appeared that the Earl’s appearance there was his first of the day amongst his family and he had only just heard of the morning’s news. He and his mother were anxious to pick over every aspect of the incident; Helen, however, was more interested in pairing off Belle with the Colonel, it seemed without success. Belle insisted on flirting with Mr Warburton and the Colonel was far too involved with his brother and mother to pay Belle any attention.

He had, however, almost immediately noticed Ursula’s entrance and came straight over to her. ‘The wounded soldier,’ he said quietly. ‘I trust the ankle is not too painful?’

She shook her head. ‘I have to thank you, sir, for all your thoughtfulness. Including arranging for these,’ she managed a slight wave of a crutch as he escorted her to a comfortable chair. ‘Who needed them originally?’

‘Why, I did. When I was sixteen I fell off my horse jumping a high fence. So I know how damnably, forgive me, how uncomfortable it is to lose power in one of one’s legs.’

He saw her settled, surveyed her with interest, then grinned, ‘Miss Grandison, I have to say you have transformed yourself.’

‘Colonel,’ protested Mr Warburton, ‘is that any way to speak to a lady? Though I have to say that Miss Grandison does indeed present a picture of feminine beauty.’

‘Ursula always looks pretty,’ said Belle, insinuating herself into the circle.

‘Please, Charles,’ said the Earl. ‘Can we continue with how we are to handle this sorry event?’

Much to Ursula’s relief, attention switched from her and she was free to play the part of onlooker. If it hadn’t been for the seriousness of the subject under discussion, she would have enjoyed a high comedy of manners. She did, though, allow herself to be pleased that the maid, Sarah, had appeared before dinner, insisting on dressing her hair more elaborately than Ursula usually managed, and helping her into her grey silk gown.

‘I will not,’ announced the Dowager Countess with emphasis, ‘allow the pig-swill of the gutter press to pollute Mountstanton.’

‘Pigs do not live in the gutter, Mama,’ said the Colonel, straight faced.

‘Charles, I thought army life would have removed that vein of levity. I am disappointed.’ The Dowager stared glacially at her younger son.

‘Once the press get a hint of the story, they will dig and dig,’ said the Earl, looking furious. ‘What they don’t find they will make up.’

‘Such as, for instance,’ said the Colonel, ‘why a Mountstanton servant can go missing and no one wonders why?’

‘She left,’ said Helen coldly. ‘She said she was leaving and she left. There is no mystery about it, merely sheer inconsideration.’

‘At Mountstanton,’ said the Dowager, ‘we have a reputation for looking after our servants.’

‘Mama!’ the Earl sounded exasperated. ‘Let us keep to the point. You will be the first to agree that the Mountstanton name matters. We cannot allow those press rats to throw it to the wolves.’

‘As a mixed metaphor, that is a triumph,’ said the Colonel. ‘No,’ he held up his hands in surrender, ‘I will be serious. Look,’ his tone became cool and reasonable. ‘I know how intrusive the press can be but if, once they are alerted to the story, we try to cover up matters, they will write a far worse account than if we issue a plain statement of the facts.’

‘What are the facts?’ asked Helen.

Silence fell.

‘We shall have to wait for the result of the post-mortem examination for positive identification,’ said the Earl, uncertainly.

Ursula stared at him. Did he have a faint hope that the body was not that of Polly Brown? If it was not hers, whose could it be?

‘Why, we have driven Belle and William into the conservatory,’ said Helen in a tone that signalled this conversation was at an end. ‘Charles, do go and bring them back amongst us.’

* * *

In her bedroom, Ursula continued her letter:

I am not sure why the Earl and Countess appear to favour a match between Belle and the Colonel, who to my eye seem wildly unsuited.

Ursula paused and looked at her last sentence. After a moment, she gave a little nod and continued:

As I have mentioned before, William Warburton’s charms seem to have made a deep impression on Belle. The Colonel paid her no attention before dinner but during the meal studied her with close, though unobtrusive, attention. It could be that he is making up his mind as to her suitability for the position of his bride. Whether Belle would succumb to a determined wooing, remains to be seen. I will keep you informed.

Ursula signed her letter, folded it and addressed the envelope. Benson would organise its despatch.

Then she wondered if allowing the butler to know how frequently she was sending letters to his mistress’s father was a good idea. At the moment, however, with the immobility brought by her sprained ankle, what alternative did she have?

She suddenly felt very tired. Balancing her travelling writing desk on her knee while working in the poor candlelight of her room had been exhausting and her ankle was now throbbing badly.

She tried to keep movement to a minimum as she put away her writing impedimenta and got ready for bed. Today had been a marathon. What would tomorrow be like?

Ursula blew out her candle and, not for the first time, longed for the electric light of the Seldon mansion. Were all English aristocratic houses living in the past? She wondered if she could request an oil lamp. Over everything, though, there loomed the big question she needed to find an answer to: what was Helen doing with her dowry?

The following morning Ursula, using her crutches with increasing skill, managed to negotiate the stairs and the corridor along to the breakfast room; a much smaller and even shabbier version of the stately dining room.

Belle came in some twenty minutes later. She was dressed in a dark green riding habit, her blonde hair pulled back into a tight knot at the nape of her neck. She stopped in the doorway and surveyed the room.

‘Ursula, I didn’t expect to see you. Aren’t you tired after yesterday? Shouldn’t you be staying in bed?’ She sounded almost resentful that this was not the case.

Ursula helped herself to another piece of toast and more of the dark, thick marmalade. The Mountstanton preserves were outstanding.

‘I slept well last night,’ she lied. ‘The idea of staying in bed and wondering exactly what had happened to that poor girl was not attractive. Much better to be up and about.’

‘Oh, you are always so positive!’ Belle sat herself at the table. There were just three places laid. The arrangement suggested that earlier there had been more. Belle eyed the still unoccupied place.

‘Is that Helen’s?’

Ursula shrugged. ‘I have no idea.’

As was customary, staff were not in attendance in the breakfast room. Silver dishes, equipped with domed lids and laden with cooked items were kept warm by little paraffin heaters gently flaming beneath them. Breakfasters helped themselves to their contents. There were rolls in a covered basket and fresh coffee had been produced soon after Ursula came into the room, with an inquiry as to whether there was anything else she wanted.

She had thanked the girl and said everything was perfect.

Belle fidgeted on her seat for a few minutes, then got up and inspected the contents of the silver dishes.

The serving girl entered with another pot of coffee and placed it on the table.

‘Will there be anything else, Miss Seldon?

Belle replaced the last silver lid. ‘What I should really like would be dollar pancakes.’

‘Dollar pancakes, miss?’

‘You know, those little pancakes, with maple syrup, oh, and streaky bacon, thin and crisp, not like those soggy slices in there.’ She gestured to one of the serving dishes.

Ursula held back the comment that rose to her lips.

‘And the Countess, my sister, has she had her breakfast?’

‘Her ladyship is having it in bed this morning, miss. I’ll tell Chef about the pancakes. Is there anything else you would like?’