Deadly Inheritance (22 page)

‘Here’s the coroner,’ he murmured as a small, stocky man in a well-cut tweed suit threaded his way through the spectators and up to the top table.

He placed a thin file of papers before him and sat down. His air of competence calmed the atmosphere and almost silenced the spectators. A sharp look at the last of the gossipers over his pince-nez brought them into line.

‘Good morning everyone. I am Geoffrey Matthews, general practitioner and the coroner. On my left are the jurors. It will be their task to decide how the deceased met her death: was it an accident, was there another person or persons involved, or did she take her own life? On my right are the witnesses who will be asked to give evidence to this enquiry. I ask that you allow them to speak without interruption. The only person allowed to question them is myself. If members of the jury have a query, please address it to the clerk.’ Dr Matthews indicated a thin, insignificant-looking man wearing steel-framed spectacles, seated at the side of the table.

Then the coroner invited the jury to accompany him over to the ice house behind the Lion and Lamb to view the body and then to go to the location where Polly’s body had been found. ‘There is a cart ready to take us,’ he said.

Ursula had not expected this; nor, it seemed, had many of the spectators.

‘I do not envy them,’ said Dr Mason as the jury filed out. ‘After the autopsy I did what I could with poor Polly’s body but it is not a pretty sight. How about a pint, Colonel? They’ll take at least an hour.’

But the Colonel was already attracting the attention of a barman. ‘I’d be grateful for a tray of coffee,’ he said. ‘Will you join us, Miss Ranner?’

Spectators were crowding the bar and tankards of beer appeared. The noise level rose. When the coffee arrived, Mr Benson poured the cups and Ursula took hers gratefully. She realised that the interruption in the proceedings was giving her time to come to terms with her ordeal. Despite the similarities – the sawdust, the informality of the spectators, the availability of alcohol – she could see that this inquest was to be nothing like that other one when interruptions and shouting had threatened the proceedings. Part of her, though, was back in California, unable to take in the fact that Jack’s life, so full of energy and his own extraordinary mixture of aggression and charm, had come to an end.

Suddenly a tall, burly man dressed in riding clothes and holding a whip in a threatening manner appeared. ‘Where is he?’ he shouted. ‘Let me through. I have to get through.’ He looked distraught. His riding bowler sat askew on his head and he kept beating one thigh with his whip.

‘Where is he?’ he snarled, approaching the Mountstanton party. ‘Where’s his lordship?’

‘He’s not here, Gray,’ said the Colonel. ‘What do you want with him?’

The man stared through red-rimmed eyes. ‘So, you’re back, are you?’

A strong smell of whisky reached Ursula.

‘I expect you’ve only just heard what happened, Mr Gray,’ Mr Benson said, placing a hand on the man’s arm. ‘Must have been a shock. You being away, you wouldn’t have known.’

With a mighty howl of rage the big man brought down his whip on the table. ‘Dead and I knew nothing! Nothing!’

‘We can’t talk in here. Come outside and I’ll tell you everything we know,’ Benson said, exchanging glances with the Colonel, who gave him a nod of approval.

‘Who is that?’ Ursula asked as the butler led the man outside.

‘Our agent, Adam Gray.’

‘Agent?’

‘He looks after the Mountstanton estate.’

‘Mr Gray was in the north on estate matters,’ said Mrs Parsons, her voice unsteady. ‘He returned last night,’ interrupted Miss Ranner. ‘I met him this morning in the village shop. Mr Partridge said how sad Polly’s death was and told him what had happened. You never saw anyone so struck. Then he erupted. No other way to describe it. Roared, just like he did here. Ran out of the shop and headed for the police house.’

‘He must have known Polly well,’ said Ursula. The man had seemed in agony. To learn such a terrible thing in such a casual way must have been unbearable. She wondered why no one had mentioned the possibility of a liaison before.

She saw Mrs Comfort look at Mrs Parsons and shake her head. ‘Never knew nothing about it,’ she said. ‘He wouldn’t have had nothing to do with Polly. He’s married! And he’s too old.’

Neither seemed good enough reasons to Ursula why the agent should not have been besotted over the nursery maid. Then she wondered if life had made her too cynical about male intentions towards women.

‘Would there have been opportunities for meeting?’ she asked, still struck with the agent’s display of naked emotion.

‘Polly and Harry went out every day,’ the Colonel said, following the discussion with keen interest. ‘Sometimes they’d ride, Harry on his pony and Polly on a bicycle. Gray is always moving around the estate, dealing with tenants, the home farm and other matters. At the very least they would have been on nodding terms.’

Mrs Comfort shook her head. ‘Can’t have been more than that, that’s what I say.’

Mrs Parsons said nothing.

‘What about Mrs Gray in all this?’ Ursula asked. She had imagined that life in England would be straightforward and ordered. Instead, it seemed there was a cesspit at Mountstanton that was giving off a most unpleasant smell.

‘Oh, my dear,’ said Miss Ranner, ‘Deirdre Gray has been in an invalid carriage for ten years. How well named she is; “Deirdre of the Sorrows” could not be more apposite. Adam Gray has been something of a saint. He has nurtured and cared for her ever since the accident.’

‘With the help of his sister,’ broke in Mrs Parsons. ‘If anyone deserves the name of saint it is Adele Gray. The devotion she shows Deirdre is an example to us all.’

Ursula felt the Colonel’s hand on her shoulder.

‘Miss Grandison, I need to consult you; would you accompany me outside?’

Filled with curiosity, Ursula nodded and reached for her crutches.

The rain had stopped and outside crowds of spectators had spread themselves in happily gossiping groups.

‘Wait!’ called Ursula as the Colonel strode ahead faster than she could follow.

He came back. ‘Miss Grandison, I am so sorry. I did not realise.’

She smiled. ‘You imagine everyone is as athletic as one of your soldiers.’

He grinned as he guided her carefully outside and round a corner into a quiet space. He leant against the inn’s wall. ‘How does this latest development strike you?’

Ursula leant on her crutches. ‘How on earth can I judge? I’d never heard of Mr Gray until he arrived here like some avenging angel. No one in your brother’s household has mentioned the possibility of Polly having had a liaison with him. So what am I to think?’

He looked pleased. ‘Exactly! Adam Gray has been a part of Mountstanton for a long time, as was his father before him. If he and Polly had been involved in a passionate affair, everyone would have known.’

‘Yet the man is distraught. Her death has come as a very great shock.’

‘That is why I wanted to talk to you. I am a plain and simple soldier, unused to emotional involvements. I need a woman’s advice.’

‘Colonel, you have tried that simple soldier tack with me before and it will not wash.’

He touched her shoulder. ‘Now you are angry with me. I apologise. Perhaps I should just have said that I wanted your view as to whether a man such as Adam Gray could be attractive to a young, pretty and vivacious girl such as Polly.’

The brief contact was healing in a way Ursula did not want to analyse. Instead she said tartly, ‘No one can say what attracts one person to another. I have seen pretty women bowled over by men that many would not have thought worth looking at. It is as though nature has implanted certain magnets in us which respond without any logic to similar magnets within others.’ She smiled, pleased with her analogy. ‘Contrariwise, there are members of the opposite sex who seem highly desirable in every way but who lack that inbuilt magnet that matches ours. We may tell ourselves the person is right for us in every way but know in our heart of hearts that the relationship will always lack real passion.’

He looked at her with a peculiar intensity, started to say something, then looked down at his boots. Then he began again and Ursula knew he had decided against revealing something of himself.

‘Miss Grandison, what a wise woman you are.’ He gave her a brilliant but impersonal smile. ‘I wonder if Benson has managed to find out what lies behind the man’s outburst; and if Gray intends giving evidence to the inquest. But what evidence could he give?’

‘He might know of someone Polly had been involved with. Someone he was jealous of. Perhaps someone who had supplanted him in her affections.’

‘Supplanted in her affections? My dear Miss Grandison, have you been reading penny dreadfuls?’

It seemed that moment of connection between them when he had been tempted to say something beyond the humdrum had been despatched beyond recall.

‘If he does know anything that could throw some light on Polly’s death, I’d back your Mr Benson to sober him up so he can tell the coroner.’

The Colonel gave a sudden snort of laughter. ‘I agree. Come, let me find you somewhere to sit while we wait for the return of the coroner and jury; your poor ankle must be hurting.’

He was right about that. Ursula was happy for him to find and wipe dry a space for her on one of the outside benches. She let the swirl of activity all around occupy her mind in a senseless kind of way. She was conscious, though, of the Colonel’s sharp eyes taking in every aspect of the scene. He must know most if not all of those present. Some greeted him, respectfully, but keeping their distance and throwing curious glances at Ursula when he introduced her as companion to the Countess’s sister from New York. It seemed they all knew it was she who had found Polly’s body and there was suspicion in the way they eyed her. Unexpectedly, she found herself missing the warmth and familiarity of that makeshift life in California.

Suddenly there was a shout. ‘They’re back!’

The long cart bearing the jury and coroner swept down the road from the river.

As they once again settled themselves inside the inn, Ursula looked around the little group of witnesses. ‘Do you see Mr Snell?’ she asked.

He surveyed the room and shook his head. ‘Maybe he had second thoughts about giving evidence.’

‘I am sure your brother will be relieved,’ said Ursula, watching for his reaction.

The Colonel said nothing but she detected a sense of unease. What was it Mr Snell knew?

At the back of the room, Ursula saw Mr Benson enter with a subdued and now sober Martin Gray.

The jury filed in; they looked shaken by their experiences.

The coroner called the room to order and soon Ursula found herself asked to describe finding the body. She spoke slowly and clearly; concentrating on the facts but blanking out an actual picture of what she had seen.

‘Thank you, Miss Grandison,’ the coroner said as she finished. ‘I am sorry we had to ask you to relive what must have been a most distressing experience.’

The Colonel was the next witness. He gave his evidence succinctly and unemotionally. Then he added a few words on Polly’s suitability for her position. ‘She never gave cause for any disquiet in the way she fulfilled her duties,’ he finished.

‘Thank you, Colonel Stanhope,’ said the coroner, making a note on the pad in front of him.

After the Colonel came the constable, who took the inquest laboriously through the removal of the body and his investigation of the scene, which had failed to discover anything that could throw light on how the deceased had met her end.

Then Dr Mason gave the results of his autopsy.

There were gasps and an outburst of whispered comments as he revealed that when Polly had died, she had been three months gone with child. The coroner had to ask for silence before matters could proceed.

Not for the first time, Ursula wondered how the girl had reacted to her situation. Had she been fearful, worried? Or had she had reason to think that the father of her child would take care of them both; that they were on the verge of a joyous life together? But in that case, surely she would have told someone? Bearing a child was one of the most important, yet often traumatic, events of a woman’s life. She needed the support and commitment of the man responsible for her condition.

Mrs Comfort, clearly nervous, was next to give evidence. Many times she lost the thread of what she was saying and had to be prompted back on course by the coroner. Ursula admired his patience as he coaxed her into a declaration that Polly gave every satisfaction and she knew of no liaison between her and any man.

When she came to Polly’s last words to her, she broke down. ‘“Don’t expect me back,” she said. I thought she was joking; wanted me to think she was running off with a young man. Well, I knew she wouldn’t be doing anything like that. She was always having a laugh with everyone, me included.’

The coroner regarded her for a long minute. ‘“Don’t expect me back,” was what she said?’

Mrs Comfort nodded.

‘And when she didn’t return, then you decided she had meant it?’

‘We all did!’

‘Mrs Comfort, once you knew she was expecting, could you imagine that she had decided to take her own life rather than bear an illegitimate child?’

Mrs Comfort’s hands worked her damp handkerchief. ‘Sometimes I didn’t know what she was about. She could go down into the depths; not often, mind, but every now and then. Not that she ever took it out on Harry. Well, we all find life a bit much at times, don’t we, sir?’

Beside Ursula, Mrs Parsons shifted uneasily. She would be next to give evidence.

‘Would you have said she was depressed that morning?’ asked the coroner.

‘Like I said, she’d been laughing. But, I don’t know. I’d’ve said she would have told me if she was expecting. I couldn’t have known her at all, could I?’ Tears began to flow again.

‘Thank you, Mrs Comfort, we appreciate your frankness. Now, if we can have Mrs Parsons, please?’

As the nanny took her seat, still upset, Ursula wondered if she realised how her evidence could have suggested to the jury that Polly had deliberately flung herself down that fatal slope.