Deadly Inheritance

by Janet Laurence

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ursula feared she might break down when she had to recount her finding of Polly’s body to the coroner.

  At breakfast on the morning of the inquest, Belle sat next to her. ‘Dear Ursula, are you feeling very nervous?’

  Ursula produced a resolute smile. ‘It will soon be over.’

  ‘Shall I come too? So I can hold your hand?’

  ‘Darling Belle, that is very sweet of you, but I shall be all right.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘Promise.’

  Belle’s concern filled Ursula with unexpected warmth. For a moment she felt some of the closeness that had existed between them on the voyage from New York.

  Ursula smiled again, trying to hold on to this sense of rapport. ‘Tell me, what are you going to do today?’

  Belle’s sulky look appeared. ‘Nothing. Helen says she’s busy, you’ll be at the inquest, and William has disappeared.’

  ‘Disappeared?’

  ‘He’s gone to see his parents, Helen says. He won’t be back until next week. And he didn’t even say goodbye to me!’

  For a moment Ursula thought the girl would burst into tears. Then a maid entered and placed a fresh pot of coffee on the table.

  ‘Her ladyship asks if you will spare her a few moments in her boudoir, Miss Grandison.’

  ‘Of course, as soon as I have finished breakfast.’

  Ursula took Belle’s hand, only to have it snatched away. ‘Belle, darling, I can see you are unhappy. Can’t you tell me about it?’

  Belle rose and walked rapidly around the room, pushing her hands through her hair.

  ‘Ohhh,’ she moaned. ‘You don’t know, you can’t know.’

  Ursula stumbled out of her chair, ignoring the pain in her ankle as she drew the girl into her arms. ‘Belle, darling, don’t. Nothing can be that bad. Talk to me, please.’

  Belle pulled herself away. ‘You can’t help me, no one can.’ She ran from the room, slamming the door.

  Ursula remembered Helen at the same age and how impossible it was to talk any sense into her when she was emotional – and how trivial the reasons usually were for her temper. Once the inquest was over, she would find Belle and see what could be done to make her life at Mountstanton a little happier.

  As she limped along the wide corridor to Helen’s boudoir, the obvious decay in the fabric of the old house seemed more pronounced than ever. Entering the room, its charm and decorative order struck Ursula even more forcibly than it had the first time. She remembered the Dowager Countess’s drawing room. How similar in some ways the two women were. Both strong minded, both determined to have things ordered the way they wanted. But the Dowager seemed dedicated to the Mountstanton name and standing in a way that her daughter-in-law was not.

  Helen was sitting at her desk attending to piles of invitation cards and their envelopes.

  ‘Ah, Ursula. I wanted to tell you that the under-groom will take you, Mrs Parsons and Mrs Comfort to the inquest in the trap. It will leave in half an hour.’

  ‘You could have sent a message to tell me that,’ Ursula said, anger suddenly rising as she thought of the long walk with her crutches from the breakfast room. Also, it looked as though rain threatened and surely Mountstanton’s senior staff deserved the comfort of a closed carriage on the way to do their duty?

  Helen put down her pen. She was dressed simply in cream crêpe de Chine, the high-collared, prettily tucked blouse and graceful skirt displaying her slim figure to perfection, a pearl-embroidered belt providing a touch of richness.

  She looked coolly at Ursula. ‘I thought you might need a word of advice about this morning. Do take a seat.’

  Ursula remained leaning on her crutches. ‘Now why should you think that?’

  A slight flush stained Helen’s smooth cheek. ‘You are in a foreign country and it will surely be an upsetting occasion.’

  ‘Oh, yes; it will be upsetting all right. Do I gather that it will be too upsetting for you to attend?’

  ‘There is no need for you to take that tone with me. You cannot imagine that, in my position, I can be seen at such an event in our local public house.’

  ‘But it’s to consider the cause of death of your son’s nursemaid.’

  The flush deepened and Helen dropped her gaze. ‘No one is more upset at Polly’s death than I am,’ she said quietly. ‘But nothing I can do now will bring her back.’ She looked up again. ‘No one will expect either myself or the Earl to be there. It’s bad enough that Charles has to give evidence.’

  ‘And, of course, myself.’

  ‘The household cannot be kept altogether out of the proceedings.’

  Well, that made her status clear.

  ‘Which is why I thought it best to speak to you beforehand. Richard and I have already talked with Mrs Parsons and Mrs Comfort.’

  ‘So you can be sure they are not going to say anything detrimental to Mountstanton? What do you think I can say? I’d only just arrived here when I found that poor girl’s body. What, exactly, is it that you are afraid of, Helen?’ Ursula was now so angry she was shaking.

  ‘How dare you!’ Helen flared back at her. ‘As though there is any way you could demean us.’

  ‘Then why are you so anxious to discuss my evidence?’

  Helen took a deep breath. ‘You have completely misunderstood my intentions. I do not want to discuss your evidence; I only want to ensure that you will feel as comfortable as possible with what is going to happen.’

  ‘How many inquests have you attended, Helen?’

  She flung up her hands. ‘Oh, you never were willing to listen to other people. You’d better go and get ready to leave.’

  ‘Willingly. But, before I do, what have you got planned for Belle today?’

  ‘What has that to do with you?’

  ‘Mr Seldon put me in charge of her. So far I have seen nothing to suggest that you have her best interests at heart. It is your fault she has formed that unsuitable attachment to Mr Warburton.’

  ‘William has gone to visit his parents; he will not be here,’ Helen said in a tight voice.

  ‘So Belle understands. Was it you who told him to go? Did you forbid him to say goodbye to her?’

  White patches appeared either side of Helen’s mouth. ‘How dare you speak to me like that. I care very much about Belle. There is plenty to amuse her at Mountstanton. There is her music to practise, she can go horseback riding, there are books in the library, countryside to walk in. Boredom displays a lack of character. These invitations,’ she indicated the pile on her desk, ‘are for her coming-out ball. William was to have addressed them but, because his mother is not well, I told him to go to her. Now I have to send them out.’

  ‘If you really care about Belle, suggest she helps you so you can talk, discuss why she really wanted to visit you and make her debut here.’ Ursula limped towards the door.

  ‘Ursula,’ Helen said in quite a different voice. ‘Have you attended an inquest before?’

  ‘Yes,’ Ursula replied and closed the door behind her.

  Moving jerkily down the corridor, Ursula used her anger at Helen to overcome her memories of the Californian inquest into Jack’s death.

  Reaching the hall, she asked the footman if he could be so kind as to collect her wrap from her bedroom. Then she went and joined the housekeeper and the nanny as they waited in the stable yard for the trap to be harnessed. She was surprised to find that the butler was to accompany them.

  ‘I cannot allow you ladies to go through this ordeal on your own,’ Mr Benson was saying as Ursula joined the little party.

  She was touched to see how relieved Mrs Parsons seemed to be. She clutched at the butler’s arm as though it was all that lay between her and disaster. Mrs Comfort seemed less overwhelmed by the occasion.

  Halfway to Hinton Parva, rain arrived. Out came umbrellas but the protection they offered was minimal. As they drew to a halt in front of the Lion and Lamb, Ursula accepted the aid of someone�
��s hand to descend from the trap, her attention concentrated on getting safely down and retrieving her crutches. It was only when they were handed to her that she found herself thanking the Colonel.

  ‘I apologise on behalf of my family,’ he said in an undertone. ‘I rode here and it never occurred to me you were not all being brought by carriage.’ He turned to help the butler aid the other women to alight.

  The yard of the Lion and Lamb was seething with horses, carriages of all types, and a variety of people. The noise was overwhelming as people issued instructions, greeted friends and shouted comments. Ursula felt very vulnerable as she manoeuvred her crutches and was grateful for the Colonel forcing a way through for them.

  Inside the inn, space had been cleared for a table and an arrangement of chairs. Sawdust covered the floor and already the seats for spectators were filled with a collection of locals who looked to be eager for sensation rather than attending a sad inquiry into the death of a young girl.

  The Mountstanton party was seated to one side. Nearby was Miss Ranner, the teacher who had expressed such interest in Polly, together with the doctor who had attended to Ursula’s sprained ankle. She exchanged greetings with them both. She looked for Mr Snell but could not see him.

  ‘Morning, Dr Mason,’ the Colonel said.

  ‘Morning, Colonel. A sad business, this.’

  The Colonel nodded, refused the offer of a chair next to the doctor and stood behind Ursula. She heard someone shout, ‘Where’s his lordship, then? What’s he scared of?’

  It wasn’t possible to see who had spoken and he was immediately hushed down, but, clearly audible to Ursula, was the Colonel’s sharp intake of breath.

  Ten men filed in and sat themselves on the chairs set at right angles to the top table. Amongst them was a man in a sober suit with a dog collar.

  ‘The jury,’ the Colonel whispered, bending down to Ursula. ‘The vicar is the foreman.’

  A preacher had been the foreman at that other inquest. For a moment the room wobbled before Ursula’s eyes.

  ‘You look very pale, Miss Grandison,’ said the Colonel. ‘Can I fetch you a glass of soda water?’

  She nodded gratefully. Somehow he found a barman and obtained the water.

  The Colonel’s unobtrusive care of her provided Ursula with a lifeline. He did not have to take her hand or express support in words. It was enough that he was there. Later she could worry about her dependence on his presence.

  ‘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 apposit
e. 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.’