Deadly Inheritance

by Janet Laurence

  Ursula thought of the footman: his handsome features, his elegant figure, the knowing way he could look.

  ‘Did she say she was interested in anyone else? Forgive me for being so curious but discovering her body makes me want to know everything about her.’

  ‘I think I understand, Miss Grandison. But there’s nothing much else I can tell you. Except when I heard she’d left, I thought how strange she had not come to say goodbye to me. Then, yesterday, when the news came that she was dead, I cried. She was such a little piece of sunshine. And when I hear her called a hussy,’ her voice suddenly strengthened, ‘I cannot bear it. Jealous, that’s what they were.’

  They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

  Miss Ranner looked round. ‘Now, who can that be? Ellie, someone’s called!’

  The little maid appeared and opened the front door.

  There stood Colonel Stanhope.

  He removed his cap. ‘Good morning. Is Miss Ranner at home? I believe she has Miss Grandison with her.’

  His formality surprised Ursula; he could not help but see both of them sitting there. But it was pleasant how he respected the conventions in this little village he knew so well; that here, at least, he forgot his abrupt army ways.

  Miss Ranner rose. ‘Colonel Charles, please, do come in. Can I offer you a cup of tea?’

  Chapter Eleven

  Belle walked with quick, angry steps towards her bedroom. On her way she encountered one of the footmen.

  ‘John, tell my maid to come immediately.’

  He looked at her with that familiar twinkle. ‘Of course, Miss Seldon. At once.’

  There was just a trace of something in his voice. It could not be called cheek but Belle was conscious she had not been as courteous as she had been taught. Ursula would have said, ‘Please and thank you cost nothing, Belle, and they ease our transactions with those less privileged than ourselves.’

  ‘Thank you, John,’ Belle said, trying to sound gracious.

  The twinkle became a little more pronounced. ‘Think nothing of it, Miss Seldon.’

  The fellow was flirting with her! Belle gave him a sidelong glance and her mouth curved in a small smile before she continued on her way, her steps not quite so angry.

  She felt guilty. It was not Ursula’s fault the morning had gone so badly wrong. Belle gave a bad-tempered shove to her bedroom door.

  On rising, when she had told her maid that she would be riding and to bring her habit, Didier had pursed her lips and asked in that high and mighty French way of hers if her ladyship knew she was to ride. As if the woman had the right to question her!

  Casting herself onto the room’s small sofa, Belle gnawed on a finger. Helen seemed determined to prevent William spending any time with her. Didn’t she want Belle to enjoy herself? Helen was unkind, overbearing, never considered her needs, did not respect her wishes, treated her like a doll to be ordered about. It was too bad!

  A breakfast tray arrived. Belle listlessly poured herself a cup of coffee and buttered a roll.

  Then her maid entered. ‘Mam’selle requires me?’

  Didier was another source of Belle’s bitterness with her sister. Middle-aged and severe, Didier was no fun. Look at her now! No smile, she seemed almost grumpy. After all, the whole point of her being at Mountstanton was to serve Belle, so why couldn’t she be pleasant to her?

  ‘I am not going riding; the Countess and I are to pay a call and I need my yellow muslin.’

  ‘Bien sur, mam’selle.’ At least there was no hint of triumph.

  Didier went and found the gown. ‘C’est ravissante, mam’selle.’

  ‘Speak English.’

  The maid reverently laid the garment on the bed. ‘I said, it is pretty.’

  Didier started to undo the fastenings of her habit.

  ‘Madame, La Comtesse, ’er French is so good. But you, mam’selle, you do not seem to speak French at all. ’Ow is this? You are sisters, no?’ She laid the riding jacket neatly on the sofa.

  Belle felt the ancient jealousy rise in her chest. ‘My sister went to school in Paris. That’s how she knows French. My school was in New York.’

  Didier unfastened the habit’s skirt and removed it along with Belle’s undergarments. ‘Maintenant, we ’ave the jupon de soie, n’est ce pas?’

  A moment later silk slipped down Belle’s body, its cool touch on her skin infinitely comforting.

  Whalebone stays were tightly laced around her upper body, pushing up her small breasts into soft, seductive shapes.

  With Belle seated at the dressing table, Didier unfastened the knot of blonde hair, brushing it until it was a shining swathe, then clipped it back with ivory clasps.

  When she was finally ready, Belle looked at herself in the long, cheval mirror. ‘My pearls,’ she said, darting to the dressing table, opening her little jewel case and taking out the string.

  ‘Ah, no, mam’selle, not for the morning.’ Didier inspected the contents of the case then picked out a cameo brooch. ‘This, I think.’ She fastened it at the neck of the yellow dress, just below the narrow ruffle that showed off Belle’s slender neck, then stood back.

  ‘Ravissante,’ she declared. ‘You are very, very pretty, mam’selle. And I am proud to ’elp you look so, so chic.’

  Belle impulsively hugged her maid. ‘Thank you. No one has ever dressed my hair so beautifully as you.’

  Didier blinked. ‘Mais, votre chapeau!’ She found a pretty Leghorn straw with a tie of the same muslin as the dress. She fastened it with a bow under the girl’s chin, then stood back and gave a final nod of satisfaction. ‘Mais oui, parfait!’ She handed over a pair of white lace gloves and a parasol that matched her dress.

  Belle found Helen giving instructions to Mrs Parsons, the housekeeper who was even more severe than Didier.

  Helen gave her sister a quick, assessing look, seemed to approve, turned back to Mrs Parsons and said, ‘Miss Seldon and I will be here for luncheon, as will Mr Warburton and Miss Grandison. The Dowager Countess is visiting friends. You must enquire of the Earl and Colonel what their plans are.’

  ‘Yes, my lady.’ Mrs Parsons took herself off.

  ‘The carriage is already outside, Belle, we must not keep the horses waiting.’

  It was the closed carriage today. As they drove at a steady pace through the park and onto the road, Belle asked, ‘Helen, why do you and Richard not have a motor vehicle?’ Papa uses one now all the time. So do many others in New York.’

  Helen was frowning over a small notebook. ‘Too expensive, the vehicle needs a mechanic for its maintenance and propulsion and is too liable to break down.’

  The horses’ hooves clipped a steady beat on the dusty road. The carriage was so old fashioned! However, they were private inside.

  ‘Tell me, Helen, why have you not redecorated and modernised Mountstanton?’

  Helen gazed out of the window for a long moment. ‘Plans are being made.’

  ‘But you have been married more than seven years!’

  ‘Richard has not been Earl that long.’

  ‘Didn’t your papa-in-law pass away just after Harry was born? That must have been some five years ago.’

  ‘Belle, it is no concern of yours how Richard and I manage our affairs.’ Helen’s tone made it clear that the matter was closed.

  Belle watched her sister attempting to write in the notebook, her pencil jerking with the jolting of the carriage. ‘Helen, why was I not sent to school in Paris as you were?’

  Once again the notebook was put down. ‘Belle, dear, why on earth do you ask this now?’

  ‘Didier wanted to know why I did not speak French. And I thought how I would have liked to go. My friend, Sarah-Anne, she went and she wrote me that it was wonderful,’ Belle said wistfully. ‘I don’t think it fair that I wasn’t sent,’ she added more forcefully.

  ‘Papa wanted you at home.’ Helen said in a warning voice. After a moment she added, ‘You must know that Papa writes me everything. There
is nothing I am not aware of.’

  She should have known, Belle reflected a little bitterly. Papa was always telling her how she should look up to her sister, how important it was to obey her in every respect.

  ‘And, of course,’ Helen continued smoothly, ‘Without Mama, he would have felt too lonely with you abroad.’

  Belle sighed deeply. She was seven when her mother had disappeared from her life. Mama had been so much fun. She was always laughing, always had wonderful ideas for expeditions, always bought Belle lovely little presents. ‘I do miss her,’ she said with a little gulp. ‘I wish …’

  ‘I know, dear.’ Helen laid a sympathetic hand on Belle’s arm. ‘It would have been so wonderful to have had her here with you. She would have been so proud of you and I think of me, too.’

  For an instant Belle felt completely in tune with her sister. ‘I am so sorry she died. Home seems empty. And Papa will never speak of her.’

  The pressure on her arm increased for a second. ‘She would want us to enjoy ourselves,’ Helen said in a rallying tone. ‘And I hope that that is what you will do this morning. The three Paxton sons are extremely handsome. Meeting them now means that they will all ask you to dance at the London balls.’ Helen hesitated for a second, then added, ‘Darling Belle, you do realise what a chance you are being given, don’t you? Much more valuable than a year or two at finishing school in Paris.’

  Belle twirled the point of her parasol on the carpeted floor. ‘By chance, you mean, for marriage?’

  ‘Of course I mean for marriage, you little goose.’

  ‘But I could always marry one of the boys back home. I’m not sure I want a lord of some sort if it means I’m stuck with a draughty, run-down old rabbit warren of a house, a mother-in-law who thinks she has the right to lay down the law, and a husband who never seems to want to be with his wife.’

  Helen closed her notebook and turned to her sister. ‘Darling, don’t you understand we have no entrée into the top rank of New York or Washington society? Papa’s millions can buy us haute couture gowns from Paris, hunters from Ireland, and travel to anywhere we want to go, but it can’t propel us into the Vanderbilt and Astor circles.’

  ‘But why should we care?’ Belle asked passionately. ‘Did you marry Richard so that you should have the entrée, as you call it, into London society? Did Papa’s millions buy him for you?’ she ended on an acid note.

  ‘He fell in love with me,’ Helen said decisively.

  ‘Well, I want someone to love me. I want to have fun and enjoy myself. Isn’t it possible to get married and have fun? And does a husband have to have a title? After all, didn’t you want me to marry Richard’s brother, the Colonel? He only has an army title, or does that count as much as being a Lord?’

  ‘He is Colonel the Honourable Charles Stanhope. Please, Belle,’ Helen said persuasively, ‘be sensible. I admit, I was wrong over Charles. I hadn’t realised how much he had changed. When I first came to England he was a dashing young captain and every girl who met him fell head over heels.’ She fiddled with her pencil. ‘I thought what fun it would be if you and he made a match of it. You see, Belle, you do rather let your emotions run away with you. I think you need to find a man who can perhaps, well, take charge.’

  For a moment Belle could hardly breathe. How dare her sister make her sound like a schoolgirl who had to be managed? But Helen’s jibe about her not being able to control her feelings resonated uncomfortably. She gripped the handle of her parasol and took several deep breaths the way her father had advised when something boiled up inside her.

  ‘Belle, my sweet,’ he’d said after she had thrown a temper fit over not being allowed to have something she’d really, really wanted. ‘You are full of passion. All the Seldon females are. Helen has learned control and you must too. Whenever you feel you must lash out, or fall into howls of rage, or fling yourself into some unsuitable chap’s arms, take three deep breaths and tell yourself, it will all go away; that nothing is that important. Or, if it is, then the only way you will achieve your desire is to use your head and not your heart. Do you understand?’

  He had looked so concerned and so loving, Belle had sat on his lap, wound her arms around his neck, and buried her face against his chest. ‘Darling Papa, you are so, so wise.’

  There were so many things Belle wanted to ask Helen about her marriage and her life but she felt she had been warned off. Her questions would have to wait.

  ‘I want a son just like Harry,’ she said instead.

  Helen smiled. ‘Well, first you have to find a husband.’

  Belle adjusted the muslin folds of her skirt, not looking at her sister. ‘Helen, why don’t you wish me to spend time with Mr Warburton? He is so very nice,’ she added in a rush. ‘He makes me laugh.’

  ‘Belle, I have told you,’ said Helen wearily. ‘William is with us to learn how to be a secretary. He handles Richard’s affairs. He has no money and will have to earn his living. So you will do him no service by distracting him from his duties.’

  ‘It seems to me he spends more time with you than with Richard,’ said Belle slyly, back to twirling her parasol.

  Helen gave an exasperated sigh as the carriage turned in through high, wrought-iron gates.

  ‘We’re here. Please, Belle, for all our sakes, be the well-behaved young lady I know you are.’

  There was a note of entreaty in Helen’s voice that Belle had not heard before. A little kernel of satisfaction sat in the pit of her stomach as the carriage drew up in front of a solidly respectable-looking house.

  * * *

  As they returned home, Helen said briskly, ‘That went very well. They were all charmed by you, Belle, as I knew they would be.’

  Belle gave a little smile of triumph. She had made sure she simpered in regular young-miss style as the three Paxton youths had attempted to secure her attention.

  ‘And weren’t those young men attractive, and so very personable?’

  ‘Oh, very personable.’ They had indeed been handsome, very much in what Belle was beginning to realise was the English style: tallish, good bone structure, upright posture, wearing their unremarkable clothes well. ‘They did not, though, seem very amusing.’

  ‘I heard you laugh a lot,’ Helen said curiously.

  ‘Young men like a girl who laughs a lot. Surely you remember that, Helen?’ Belle said with a superior air. ‘All I had to do was think how very funny they looked with their high collars and faces that might just have been freshly scrubbed.’

  ‘I am sure they all dance well.’

  Belle was certain they were the sort of young men who would step on your best shoes the moment they took you onto the floor. ‘Can we have some dancing at Mountstanton, Helen? I am sure Miss Grandison can play for us.’

  ‘Why, that is a splendid idea, Belle. I will organise a small party for a few days’ time. Tell me,’ she added after a small pause, ‘You get on with Ursula, Miss Grandison, that is? She is helpful?’

  ‘I like her; she is very kind to me. I am so sorry she has hurt her ankle, it must be awkward for her.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Helen dryly.

  ‘Tell me about that poor nursemaid that Ursula found in the river.’

  ‘Nothing to tell,’ Helen said briefly. ‘Harry was very fond of her, and it was upsetting when she left so suddenly. It’s very tragic she should have suffered such a dreadful accident.’

  Belle felt most sorry for poor Harry. She decided to take him for a walk or a ride that afternoon. Perhaps it might be possible to have William Warburton along as well.

  * * *

  While they were all assembled waiting for luncheon to be announced, the Earl said, ‘Helen, we need a meeting with Mrs Parsons this afternoon.’

  ‘Why, Richard?’

  The Earl looked towards Belle in a pointed way. ‘It follows on from the meeting with the coroner. I’ll tell you everything after lunch.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Helen.

  Belle contained her curiosity.
She was, though, very conscious of William Warburton’s gaze flicking between his employer and his wife.

  They went into luncheon. No explanation had been given for the absence of both the Colonel and Ursula. Belle was not concerned about the Colonel, he was old and no fun, but she did wonder about Ursula.

  ‘Will this meeting take long?’ Helen asked her husband once they were seated.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, I have no idea! But we may have to talk to some of the other servants as well.’

  Helen moved smoothly into a description of their morning’s visit.

  As soon as the Earl had finished his meal, he rose. ‘Summon Mrs Parsons,’ he said to his wife. ‘We’d better get this over with.’

  Helen looked at Belle. ‘I expect you can find something to do, can’t you?’ She gave her a smile. ‘William, show my sister the picture gallery.’

  ‘Of course, my lady,’ he said with a covert glance of conspiracy at Belle that gave her a flutter of excitement.

  ‘Will there be anything else, Miss Seldon?’ asked the butler. ‘Coffee, perhaps?’

  ‘I don’t think so, thank you, Benson.’

  ‘I can suggest something better than the picture gallery,’ William whispered as they left the dining room. ‘What would you say to a place no one would think of looking for us? A place where we can be alone?’

  Belle’s heart began to beat more rapidly and her breath came more quickly. ‘Where?’

  ‘Follow me.’

  William went up the main staircase, past the first floor, up to the second floor, then he turned the opposite way from the nursery and led her down a long corridor to another, much smaller staircase that wound upwards.

  Curiosity as well as excitement consuming her, Belle followed the young man up and up till they came to a door. William opened it, Belle followed him through – and gasped in amazement.

  They were on the roof of the house. The door had accessed a wide, paved area bounded by a parapet that ran all the way around the house and was decorated with urns. There were areas of pitched roof covered with slate tiles. Chimneystacks of brick built in twisted patterns rose everywhere.