Removing the damp clothes and washing herself down with the hot water was instantly reviving. Ursula wrapped herself in the big towel Sarah had draped by the fire, now crackling nicely and bringing welcome warmth, then sat to dry her hair. Finally dressed in a muslin gown and with her hair arranged into what she hoped was an elegant chignon, Ursula realised it was time for tea. The family would be gathering in the drawing room. In the nursery, Mrs Comfort would be having her afternoon refreshments. Perhaps Mrs Parsons, the housekeeper, would also take the opportunity of a break from her duties and this might be the time to engage her in conversation.
Ursula made her slow, careful way downstairs.
In the hall the duty footman assured her the housekeeper was likely to welcome a visit at this time and gave directions for her office. Ursula passed through the green baize door into the servants’ area and eventually found a door with ‘Housekeeper’ painted on it. The upper half was glass but Mrs Parson’s privacy was guarded by a curtain hanging on the inside.
Just as Ursula was about to knock, she heard someone sobbing and turned to leave. A small gap in the curtain showed Mrs Parsons with an arm round a bitterly crying Maggie Hodgkiss.
Ursula made her way to the drawing room. Inside were the Earl and the Countess, the Dowager Countess and the Colonel. No Harry, no Belle, and no Mr Warburton. Tea had been served.
The Colonel was relating how he had found Maggie Hodgkiss in the uncomfortable company of Mr Snell.
‘Quite apart from upsetting Maggie, the man seems to be making vague accusations about Polly’s liaisons,’ he was saying as Ursula entered.
‘Liaisons?’ repeated the Dowager Countess. ‘Really, Charles, I wish you would leave your coarse army language behind when you are at home.’
There was a sudden rush of red and white fur as Honey ran towards Ursula and sat hopefully before her.
‘Ah, Miss Grandison,’ said the Dowager graciously. ‘I see you have formed a warm friendship with my dear Honey. It is most kind of you to exercise her.’
Unseen by his mother, the Colonel gave Ursula a wink and said smoothly, ‘Since Miss Grandison’s unfortunate accident, I, too, have been responsible for exercising your animal, Mama.’ He came forward and helped Ursula to sit in a comfortable chair, placing the crutches beside her.
This attention was met with tightened mouth and a look of disapproval from the Dowager.
Helen sat by the fireplace. She was looking particularly lovely in a rose chiffon dress trimmed with heavy lace. Her blonde hair was piled elaborately on her head, an ivory comb inserted on one side. She had some delicate embroidery in her hand and stitched with the air of someone who had mentally retired to some other place.
As soon as Ursula was settled, the little spaniel looked ready to jump up on her lap, but the Dowager said, ‘Honey,’ in a sharp voice and the dog retreated to the shadow of her mistress’s black silk skirt.
‘China or Indian tea, Miss Grandison?’ asked the Colonel.
‘No need to do that, Charles, the footman will be back soon,’ instructed the Dowager.
‘I am well able to pour a cup of tea, Mama,’ said the Colonel in a pleasant tone and raised a questioning eyebrow at Ursula.
‘China, please, Colonel Stanhope.’
A moment later she was supplied with the fragrant tea and a cucumber sandwich. ‘I see ready money was available,’ she murmured to the Colonel.
He grinned delightedly. ‘A devotee of Mr Wilde!’ he said, returning to his chair, situated some distance from both his mother and his sister-in-law.
The Dowager turned impatiently to her elder son. ‘So, Richard, who is this Snell fellow? Do I know him?’
The Earl was standing by the window, surveying the garden. To Ursula he looked even more bored than usual.
‘Snell, Mama? He’s been here a few years. Moved into that little cottage at the end of Hinton Parva, the one that stands on its own.’
‘It matters not to me which cottage he inhabits, I want to know what sort of man dares make such personal remarks about us.’
‘Hugh Snell moved to Mountstanton when he retired from his position as secretary to the Dean of Wells, Mama,’ said the Colonel as his brother failed to provide any further information. ‘I believe he was persuaded to retire early.’ His tone was matter-of-fact.
The Dowager pounced. ‘You mean there is something unsatisfactory about the man? He committed some malfeasance?’
‘I mean the Dean finally found his presence insupportable.’
‘Do you think Snell will insist on giving evidence at the inquest?’ the Earl suddenly asked.
A footman entered bearing a tray of fresh tea.
‘Evidence?’ Helen looked up, her delicate eyebrows curved in surprise. ‘At the inquest? Surely Snell is just a gossipmonger, he can’t have seen anything, no matter what he says. Richard,’ she added, as though some memory had just come back to her, ‘Isn’t he the man who made such a fuss about some repairwork he felt necessary on his cottage? I remember him accosting you in Hinton Parva in a most unpleasant way. Wouldn’t accept that the work could only be done at his expense.’
There was an awkward silence for a moment as the tray was placed on a table, then the Dowager said, ‘Thank you, James, we can serve ourselves.’
‘Yes, my lady.’ The footman exited smoothly from the room.
‘Really, Helen,’ said the Dowager, ‘How could you be so indiscreet?’
Helen gave a little shrug. ‘Don’t you claim that the servants always know everything? Why do you try to hide things from them?’
Ursula wondered how difficult Helen found it to have her mother-in-law behaving as though she still ruled Mountstanton. ‘Has an inquest been arranged?’ She asked.
The Earl seemed to come to life. ‘That ba—,’ he broke off. ‘Sorry, Mama. That bumped-up strutting turkey cock, Squire – as he insists on being addressed – Adenbrook, how Papa allowed him to be appointed Chairman of the Magistrates I will never know; anyway, he has arm-locked the coroner into announcing that a public inquest will be held the day after tomorrow.’ Veins stood out on his forehead and a tic flickered in his left eyelid. ‘Just when I thought that we’d sorted the whole matter out.’
‘Perhaps, Richard,’ said the Colonel quietly, ‘if you hadn’t insisted on taking the hunt over Adenbrook’s land after his protest, the man would be more amenable.’
A silence fell in the room, broken only by the crackle of the fire. Helen added a new thread to her needle; the Colonel poured himself another cup of tea. The Dowager took a deep breath and said, ‘Richard, I approve of your sentiments but there is no point in getting agitated about the matter. The law has to take its course.’
‘Law be …’ He walked across the room, then returned and took control of himself. For the first time he acknowledged Ursula’s presence. ‘I am afraid, Miss Grandison, that not only will you be required to give evidence regarding the finding of the body, but a policeman will call tomorrow to take a statement. I told that damn coroner it was inappropriate that you, Mrs Comfort and Mrs Parsons should be expected to attend Hinton Parva police station, which is what Adenbrook insisted would be correct. How the man survives as a magistrate I cannot conceive.’
Ursula noted that he had neglected to mention Polly by name. To refer to your dead nursemaid merely as ‘the body’ seemed to her callous in the extreme.
‘Thank you,’ she said, feeling he expected her to be grateful. On behalf of the two older women, she was grateful. For herself, she would have found it interesting to visit the local constable to have her statement taken.
She looked across at the Colonel, half expecting him to grin at her in a way that signalled he understood her reaction. Instead, she found his gaze fastened on his sister-in-law as she drew her needle through the fine linen, anchoring drawn thread-work into place with something of the aura of a fairy princess.
Ursula felt shock as she recognised a yearning in his expression. After an unexpectedly difficult str
uggle, she managed to put her emotions aside. Then found that a piece of the puzzle slid into place with the smoothness of expertly fashioned machinery.
Chapter Fourteen
In the gloomy dining room that evening Belle shone.
Ursula watched as her charge chattered gaily, entertaining the entire table. Was she, against all protocol, allowed to do so because only Belle was uninvolved with the nursemaid’s death and the imminent inquest? Or because there were no outside guests that night?
‘You were able to entertain yourself this afternoon?’ asked Helen as Belle finished describing an amusing incident involving a ride in New York’s Central Park, a runaway bicycle and a dashing young man.
‘William took me round the family portraits. It was so interesting.’
Ursula noticed for the first time that she was wearing one of her best dresses, a pale blue silk from Paris that was supposed to have been reserved for her London debut.
‘There are some very fine portraits there, Miss Seldon,’ said the Dowager. ‘Was there one that particularly caught your attention?’
‘Oh,’ said Belle roguishly, ‘I liked best the ones of the various Earls.’ She turned to Richard. ‘Isn’t it amazing how you all look the same?’
‘Do we?’ he drawled. ‘I have never noticed it.’
‘Oh, yes, it is very marked. And I went and had a good look at Harry after my tour and it is quite clear that he is a Mountstanton.’
It was as though the oxygen had suddenly been sucked from the room.
‘It’s the nose,’ said the Dowager after a moment. ‘How very perceptive of you, Miss Seldon. There is a very definite Mountstanton nose.’
Belle looked across the table at the Colonel. ‘You don’t have the nose though, Charles, do you?’
He smiled gently at her. ‘I take after my Mama,’ he said, raising his glass to the Dowager.
‘But you have the chin,’ his mother said with what, for her, was warmth.
‘Show me your profile, Charles,’ Belle demanded. ‘And you, Richard.’
‘Belle, this is not good manners,’ said Helen.
But the brothers complied. Ursula followed Belle in comparing their silhouettes.
It was true, the Earl’s nose was slightly hooked where the Colonel’s was straight. But they both had the same square, slightly pugnacious jaw.
The Colonel held up his left hand. ‘Here’s another Mountstanton feature,’ he said and wiggled his little finger. Ursula could see that it was slightly crooked. ‘Did you notice that Harry has inherited this as well?’
‘I suppose your features are all part of belonging to an ancient dynasty,’ Belle said. ‘We don’t have that in America, do we, Ursula?’
‘The Indians do. They belong to tribes who guard their inheritance jealously.’
‘Oh, Indians,’ Belle said carelessly. ‘I cannot count them.’
‘All your nation needs is time, Miss Seldon,’ said the Colonel. ‘You must remember we have had hundreds of years of careful breeding.’ He shot a look at his brother that was unreadable.
‘I trust you appreciated the beauty of the Countesses,’ the Earl said to Belle. He raised his glass to his wife at the bottom of the table. ‘There is a particularly lovely one of Helen by Sargent, done just after we were married.’
It was almost the longest speech Ursula had heard him make, and certainly the first compliment to Helen.
Ursula turned to Mr Warburton. ‘Is there a particular feature that runs in your family?’ she asked.
He gave her a wide smile. ‘Big ears.’ He demonstrated that his were indeed large and slightly stuck out. Somehow they did not detract from his looks. ‘My eldest brother, the heir, managed to avoid them though.’
‘All this talk of personal appearance is exceedingly bad form, particularly at the dinner table,’ said the Dowager repressively. She turned to the Earl. ‘Have I told you that the son of one of our oldest friends has been appointed Ambassador to Peru?’
The conversation was successfully turned.
At the other end of the table, Helen asked the Colonel for details of the political situation in South Africa and Ursula pressed Mr Warburton for details of his home.
She received the impression of an open and fun-loving family. How different from this cold and unemotional house. ‘Do you miss your brothers and sisters very much?’ she asked impulsively.
He flashed a glance up at Belle, left marooned by talk of people she knew nothing about, then dropped his gaze as she beamed a warm smile at him. ‘They are very kind to me, here,’ he muttered.
Ursula had caught the exchange of glances. She felt deep unease.
Helen now brought the secretary into her conversation with the Colonel.
While duck plates were cleared and roast beef was brought in, Ursula studied Belle across the table.
Quite apart from the Paris gown, the girl had something about her that evening. It was almost as though she had drunk too much wine. Though she sat quietly while the Earl listened to his mother’s talk of neighbours, longing looks from beneath demurely lowered eyelashes were sent down the table towards William. How long before Helen noticed?
The meal seemed interminable. Charlotte Russe followed the beef. Ursula forced herself to make conversation with the Dowager and achieved a minor triumph by discovering that they shared a love of music.
‘It has been a great sorrow to me that I can no longer play the piano,’ the Dowager told her, displaying hands twisted by arthritis. ‘Do you play, Miss Grandison?’
Ursula confessed that she had been delighted to be able to practise that morning on Helen’s superb piano.
The Dowager’s eyes lightened. ‘Ah, yes, the Steinbeck. It arrived with Helen and I envied her that instrument.’ The admission following on the revelation of her physical disability somehow made the Dowager more human.
After anchovy fritters, Helen took the ladies to the drawing room but the men did not linger long over their port. Soon after they rejoined the party, the Dowager asked her daughter-in-law if she would play to them. ‘It is a very long time since I have heard you, my dear.’
‘Please do,’ Ursula pressed. ‘I remember so well your recitals in Paris.’
Helen did not look pleased. ‘I am out of practise.’
‘In South Africa, out on the veldt under the stars, I remembered your playing Chopin and hoped the fighting would soon be over so I could hear it again,’ said the Colonel quietly.
‘You have to excuse me,’ said the Earl. ‘I need to check on details for the inquest.’
Helen opened up the piano, sat down, gazed at the keys for a few moments then began playing Chopin études.
Ursula had a clear view of Belle sitting in a chair not too far from Mr Warburton. Her hand hung down over the arm, as though she wished him to take it. The secretary’s gaze was firmly fixed on the pianist and he held his coffee cup in both hands.
Ursula had heard Helen play better and quite soon the piano was closed again.
Ursula picked up her crutches and excused herself. The Colonel held open the door for her. ‘Thank you for your company today,’ he said. For an instant a rapport flashed between them.
Upstairs Ursula wondered whether she should write another letter to Mr Seldon. Not only, though, did she lack the energy, there was too much that confused her. Something had been going on over the dinner table beyond the obvious; what, exactly, had it been?
Ursula blew out her candle and tried to sleep, aware that part of her difficulties lay with emotions within herself that she did not wish to acknowledge.
* * *
The breakfast room next morning was empty. ‘They’re all riding,’ the maid told her. ‘His lordship and the Colonel went out early and her ladyship, Miss Seldon and Mr Warburton left half an hour ago.’
Ursula looked out of the window. It was a fine morning at the moment but clouds were gathering. Servants were everywhere performing cleaning duties, but there was no sign of the housekeeper.
> Exploring the back regions, Ursula came across a big, buxom maid carrying a large container of cleaning items and with a smear of soot along her forehead. She gave Ursula a happy grin.
‘Was there something, miss? I’m Susan,’ she added.
Ursula did not hesitate. ‘Perhaps you can help, Susan. I’m just wondering what the system is with dirty washing. My underclothes have disappeared and …’
‘And you was wondering when they’d be back, I expects.’
Ursula nodded apologetically. Someone, probably Sarah, cleared the linen basket in her room daily but so far nothing had been returned. Did she need to explain that her supply of underwear was more limited than Helen or Belle’s?
‘Thing is, with Maggie away, laundry has had a bit of a pile up. Now she’s back, though, should soon be sorted. If you want to ask if your stuff’s ready, laundry’s across the yard.’
At the rear of Mountstanton was a collection of outbuildings designed in keeping with the main house. The one that housed the laundry was indicated by the sheets, which could be seen through the windows, hanging in serried rows.
Ursula limped over and managed, with difficulty, to open the heavy door.
Immediately inside she was faced with rows of washing lines, hung almost to the floor with wet sheets and tablecloths. The air was heavy with the smell of boiling coppers and its humidity would challenge a Turkish bath. For a moment Ursula stood, fascinated by the number and variety of the hanging items. Many of the sheets were heavily trimmed with lace, unlike those on her bed.
Then she heard voices.
‘Why didn’t you keep her safe? She trusted you. What happened to her?’
‘Now, Maggie, you know nothing about Polly.’
‘I do! I do! We was best friends. She told me everything.’
There was a sudden silence.
“What did she tell you?’ The voice was wary, suspicious.
‘She told me that you was sweet on her. Then that something had happened. You’re a bastard, John, a bastard.’
There was a sound that might have been Maggie hammering at the man’s chest.
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