As Ursula was shown into the room, he thrust one of his hands through his hair, smoothing it back in a gesture of frustration.
‘Miss Grandison, my brother has told me some cock-and-bull story that he said he heard from you, who was told it by that village busybody Miss Ranner. I want you to repeat it to my face.’ His voice was dark and disturbed.
The Colonel indicated a chair. ‘Please sit, Miss Grandison.’ He did not look at his brother.
‘Yes, do,’ said the Earl irritably. ‘Accept my apologies for not offering one to you immediately.’
Ursula sat down and allowed the Colonel to place her crutches suitably to hand.
Speaking in an expressionless voice, she repeated Miss Ranner’s story, editing her words into a concise account of how the woman came to be in the lane and what she had seen. ‘I suggested she might have been mistaken in her identification of the rider but she said she recognised both his outline and his horse.’
The Earl brought a clenched fist down on one of the library tables with such force that a book fell to the floor. ‘Damn it, woman, she could not have seen me. I was not there, I was here.’
‘There are not many grey horses in the district, Richard.’
The Earl swung round on his brother. ‘Do you dare to disbelieve me? God’s sake, man, it was night! All cats are black and don’t tell me it was bright moonlight. Yes, the moon was full but clouds scudded across.’
‘How could you tell, if you were inside Mountstanton?’ The Colonel sounded like a reasonable man with a reasonable question but his gaze bored into his brother’s face.
‘I said I was here, not that I was fast asleep behind curtains!’ The Earl raked his hair with his hand again, strode to the end of the library, turned and strode back. He had all the tension of a coiled spring. ‘I smoked a cigar on the terrace, if you must know. In fact, I looked for you to join me but apparently you had gone to bed. Everyone had gone to bed, it seemed, but me.’ He thrust his hands back into his trouser pockets. ‘Even Benson was locking up. I had to promise to attend to the terrace door when I had finished. At least he trusted me,’ he finished bitterly. ‘I then had a nightcap and went to bed. I did not,’ he added through gritted teeth, ‘go to the stables, saddle Snowy and ride off to Hinton Parva.’ He glared at his brother.
He sounded positive but did he protest too much? ‘Is there anything further you wish to know, my lord?’
‘What? Oh, no, Miss Grandison, you may go. Wait – I would rather you did not spread this story around. There is no need to distress my mother. I find it difficult to understand why Miss Ranner spoke to you in the first place. Had she even met you?’
‘Yes, my lord. On a previous occasion, she and I had talked at some length in her cottage. The Colonel was busy talking to the coroner and I think she felt I might be someone who could, well, make you aware of what she believes she saw.’
The Earl said nothing.
Ursula took her crutches from the Colonel. He laid a hand briefly on the top of her arm as she prepared to leave the room. ‘Thank you,’ he said.
She felt very sorry for both men. Whatever the truth of the matter, trust between the brothers seemed to have broken down.
‘Whatever the truth of the matter’; the words repeated themselves inside Ursula’s head. However convincing the Earl might have sounded to her, she knew that his brother did not believe him.
Did the Colonel really believe that Richard, Earl of Mountstanton, had secretly visited a man whose stated intention was to give evidence at the dead nursemaid’s inquest? A man who this very morning had been found murdered?
Chapter Nineteen
Later that afternoon, Ursula was quietly knitting in the small sitting room used for casual activities, and trying without success to engage Belle in conversation. The young girl sat playing a game of cat’s cradle, silently refusing to respond to any of Ursula’s light comments.
The door opened and Belle looked up, her eager expression changing to one of disappointment as the Colonel entered.
‘I must change for this visit Helen wants to make,’ she said, and left the room.
The Colonel courteously held the door open for her.
Ursula smiled and indicated a convenient chair.
‘I thought you would like to know what has been decided regarding Polly’s burial, Miss Grandison.’
Ursula put down her needles. ‘I have been wondering what should happen. I suppose, the verdict being what it was, she cannot be buried in a church graveyard.’
He sat down. ‘No, I fear not. However, I understand there is a space just outside the Mountstanton church environs where a grave could be dug, and Richard has agreed that this would be most suitable. The plot is now being prepared and Polly will be buried tomorrow morning. The Reverend Taylor has been consulted and he has agreed to say a few simple prayers at the graveside.’
‘May I attend?’
He looked pleased. ‘I hoped you might want to be there. The poor girl will not have many to say goodbye to her; there is the stigma of suicide and the lack of any family.’
‘Perhaps she thought of her fellow staff as family?’
He coloured slightly. ‘I hope so. What are you knitting?’
She held up the cobwebby confection. ‘It’s a wrap. I bought the wool at your village store and Miss Ranner lent me the pattern.’
He leaned forward to examine it. ‘It is beautiful. If it didn’t sound too fanciful, I would say it was fairy work! Who will be lucky enough to wear it? Perhaps Miss Seldon – over a ball dress?’
Ursula laughed. ‘Knitted wraps are not fashionable.’
I have seen women knitting in South Africa,’ he said. ‘It seems a very peaceful and productive activity.’
Ursula smiled but said nothing.
‘I thought coming home was going to offer me a period of quiet contemplation, a time to consider the future,’ he said slowly, his gaze on the leaping flames of the fire. ‘Instead …’
‘Instead you’ve been plunged into a tragedy with unpleasant ramifications.’
‘Quite so. In many ways it reminds me of war.’
‘You mean, unexpected attacks, that sort of thing?’
He smiled. ‘You understand, I think. Guerrilla warfare is always the most difficult for an army to counter and overcome.’
* * *
The next morning was sunny and warm. A small party set off from the Mountstanton side door towards the grey-stone church that stood in the grounds surrounded by a haphazard arrangement of headstones and tombs set in well-tended grass.
On the far side of a low stone wall, a grave had been dug. Waiting there was the local vicar, a light breeze teasing his surplice. Resting on webbing was a coffin of quality wood with brass handles, on its top a simple wreath of white roses. Four undertaker’s assistants were in attendance.
Polly might not be allowed to lie in hallowed ground but Ursula was glad that an effort had been made to see that her burial was as dignified as possible. She suspected that it was the Colonel who had made the arrangements.
Both brothers were there, as was Helen. The Dowager had announced that it was unsuitable for either herself or Belle to attend and she was surprised at any of the family ignoring the criminal taint of suicide. Mrs Comfort walked beside the Mountstanton housekeeper and butler. Behind them came Maggie Hodgkiss, the laundry maid, and she was followed by several of the other servants. Ursula noted that the footman, John, was amongst them.
The vicar opened his prayer book.
Across the fields came a furiously ridden horse. All turned as Adam Gray, the agent, pulled up and dismounted, handing the reins to one of the assistants.
‘Your note has only just reached me,’ he said angrily to the Colonel, taking his stand beside the brothers.
There was a short committal service, then the coffin was lowered into the grave. Helen cast the first handful of soil, followed by her husband and brother-in-law. The Colonel handed Ursula a small quantity of the earth to save her the necessi
ty of bending. She threw it in. The Mountstanton servants added their handfuls.
Last of all was Mr Gray.
Resting on her crutches, Ursula watched the way his square, rugged face worked and his light blue eyes blinked hard to clear them of tears. His generous mouth, though, was firmly controlled.
Then it was all over. The vicar exchanged a few words with the Earl and Countess, and the Colonel turned to the agent.
‘Will you join me in a sherry, Gray?’
The agent shook his head. ‘Thank you, Colonel Stanhope, but I have matters to attend to.’
‘I’m sorry my note reached you so late.’
‘Not really your fault; I was late getting home last night and didn’t check my correspondence until this morning.’
The servants headed for the house and Ursula limped behind them.
* * *
The following day, Ursula spent the morning practising on the piano. Everyone else was out; the Earl and his brother off on some business in Salisbury, and Helen had taken Belle for a luncheon some distance away. Emerging from the drawing room, Ursula encountered Mrs Comfort and Harry.
‘Miss Grandison!’ exclaimed Harry. ‘I have been wondering who can play cards with me.’
Mrs Comfort shushed him.
Ursula laughed. A simple game with a five-year-old boy sounded a perfect way of passing the time.
Negotiating the stairs, Ursula realised that her ankle, at long last, really did seem much stronger.
Harry ran to a cupboard and found a pack of cards. ‘I like snap,’ he said happily. ‘I always win.’
‘Who do you play with?’ Ursula shuffled the cards. The pack seemed well worn.
For an instant his expression trembled. ‘Polly liked to play snap.’ He sat at the table and set his mouth in a straight line.
‘And remember how Colonel Charles played with you and Polly when he was recovering from his wound?’ Mrs Comfort said in an encouraging tone.
‘Mama does not like me to play cards; she says they are a path to per … per … perdition,’ he finally brought out on a note of triumph.
Ursula smiled. ‘I think we can play a game of snap without dangerous consequences, Harry.’ For an instant she remembered games of poker played in the mining camp; the high stakes, the tensions, the accusations of cheating, the spilling over of passions when fortunes changed hands, the shots that could be fired – but it was only for an instant, then she firmly closed a door on her memories.
For Ursula, card entertainment lay in speed and hilarity, and she forced the pace until Mrs Comfort almost collapsed in tears of laughter. She was first to lose her cards. Harry, though, even while laughing with them, demonstrated surprising powers of concentration and single-mindedness. Time and again his ‘snap’ came a split second before Ursula’s, and not because she had deliberately hung back.
‘I won! I won!’ he crowed, gathering up the last pile of cards.
‘You are a real champion,’ Ursula acknowledged. ‘I can see that your mama may well fear you turning into a gambler.’
‘Are you a gambler, Miss Grandison?’
She looked at the eager face. ‘No, Harry, I am not. I don’t mind losing a game but I hate losing large sums of money. I have known many gamblers, though,’ she added.
‘Do lots of them win?’
She shook her head. ‘Sometimes they have lucky streaks, then they play some more and lose it all. Sometimes they lose very, very large sums. I knew a man who shot himself because he had lost everything he owned – and more.’
‘How could he lose more than he owned?’
She sighed. ‘Because he lied and offered to bet something that wasn’t his.’
Harry looked up at her, his eyes huge. ‘And that’s why he shot himself?’
‘Yes. He had lost his honour as well as his possessions.’
‘Well, let that be a lesson to you, my lad,’ said Mrs Comfort. ‘No wonder her ladyship doesn’t want you playing cards.’
Harry’s soft little mouth pouted. ‘But I’m not going to lose anything.’
‘Not if you don’t play for money,’ Ursula said with a smile. ‘Play because you enjoy the game, not to win stakes.’
She stayed to have luncheon with him and Mrs Comfort in the nursery, enjoying much simpler fare than was served in the dining room, and entertaining both boy and nurse with tales of mining in the Sierra Nevada. Harry listened, open-mouthed, and had to be gently encouraged to eat his meal as Ursula told him of fights and the privations of living in a mining camp.
On her return downstairs, Ursula requested the loan of a walking stick. Abandoning her crutches, she tried to walk with only the aid of the stick. Her ankle was more painful than with the support of the crutches, but the feeling of freedom was worth the extra discomfort.
Ursula turned around at the end of the corridor, and saw the Colonel watching her.
‘Congratulations, Miss Grandison. I commend your courage.’
‘A short walk on friendly terrain hardly calls for bravery.’
‘I am sure you need to rest that ankle now,’ he waved a hand towards the library and Ursula was happy to enter.
‘Did your business go well?’
He shrugged. ‘It was nothing very important.’
‘I have spent a very pleasant time with Harry this morning,’ Ursula said brightly. ‘We played snap. He won,’ she added with a smile.
‘Harry’s a demon with the cards. I think he has an uncommonly bright intelligence.’
‘You’re very fond of him, aren’t you?’
‘He’s my nephew, the Mountstanton heir. But he’s a capital fellow; one can’t help liking him.’ His smile was endearingly natural.
‘I agree,’ she said softly. ‘I enjoyed his company so much I ate luncheon in the nursery.’
He sat down opposite her. ‘I’m afraid that your stay at Mountstanton is not offering you many opportunities for fun. I had hoped that perhaps, with the wretched inquest out of the way, I could suggest a diversion of some sort.’ He grinned at her. ‘You have, after all, promised to tell me about your Californian adventures.’ The smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. ‘But now I find I have to go up to town.’
‘Oh?’ Ursula tried to sound disinterested.
‘Business.’
‘Of course.’
Silence grew and deepened. Ursula wanted very badly to know how long he was going to be away and just what he was going to be doing in London, but could not bring herself to display such bad manners as to ask.
The Colonel drew a quick breath. ‘I’m hoping to stand for parliament in the next election. At the moment an election doesn’t look likely. I should have abandoned the war in 1900, as my comrade Winston Churchill did. There was an election the following year but I wasn’t a famous war correspondent and I doubt I would have won a seat.’
‘You want to be a politician? Is that why you have resigned your commission?’
He looked down at his hands. ‘I’ve experienced the splendid way the ordinary soldier can conduct himself. His class gets a raw deal out of life and I’d like to help change that.’
Ursula wished she knew how the English political system operated.
The Colonel gave her a contrite smile. ‘This isn’t the time to talk about such matters. I should not, perhaps, have mentioned it. Only Richard thinks I’m a fool and Mama refuses to discuss the matter with me.’
‘And Helen?’
‘Oh, Helen says she’ll never understand politics and not to bore her with such matters.’
‘I would be interested to hear about your aims and the party you hope to join.’
‘It’d take too long now. I have a train to catch.’
Was he really to disappear up to London? ‘What about your investigations into Polly’s death?’
‘I haven’t forgotten her, Miss Grandison.’
‘And Mr Snell?’
His gaze shifted to his beautifully polished shoes. ‘Apparently the post-mortem exami
nation has enabled the death certificate to be signed. Heart attack, plain and simple.’
Ursula felt deeply uneasy. Could it be that simple?
‘I have to consider Richard,’ he said awkwardly, fiddling with his gold watch chain. ‘He’s terrified of Mama and she’s determined that the whole matter should be quietly wrapped up. No scandal must attach itself to the Mountstanton name.’ He sounded bitter.
‘You are surely not terrified of your mother?’
‘I’d rather face a brigade of Boers than Mama in full cry, but there are times when I can summon sufficient courage to do my duty rather than hers.’
Was this the man Ursula had been certain would fight to a standstill to redress the wrong he saw being inflicted on Polly’s memory?
He rose and held out his hand. ‘I must say farewell for the moment, Miss Grandison. But I shall return shortly and then I hope we may be able to spend some time together.’
She inclined her head. ‘I shall look forward to that, Colonel Stanhope.’
It was, she thought, a polite exchange of social niceties that meant nothing very much.
What had happened to the rapport she thought had been established between them?
* * *
Ursula was surprised at how empty the enormous house seemed without the Colonel. She told herself to banish such nonsense from her head. When she and Belle had arrived at Mountstanton, the place had seemed overflowing with people and the absence of someone who had not even been present then could not, would not, make a difference.
She made determined efforts to practise walking with the stick rather than the crutches, played more cards with Harry and accompanied him to the stables to watch him ride his pony. She watched his face flush with triumph as he jumped the two low arrangements of rails cleanly. ‘Won’t Papa be pleased?’ he cried to Ursula as he dismounted.
Days passed and then two weeks with no sign of the Colonel. When Helen had asked in a desultory way over dinner if they could expect to see him in the near future, the Earl had said, ‘You know Charles, he does what he wants when he wants.’
Deprived of the Colonel’s stimulating presence, Ursula tried to apply herself to the task Mr Seldon had entrusted to her: the discovery of why Helen was not spending her dowry on restoring Mountstanton. Ursula made friends with Mrs Parsons. She learned a great deal about running a mansion such as Mountstanton and soon realised that the housekeeper was as puzzled as she was about the lack of funds being spent on the house. Gradually the housekeeper become more and more forthcoming until finally one day she said, ‘Forgive me for saying so, Miss Grandison, but we does wonder about her ladyship’s dowry. It’s not as if we’ve heard of sums being laid out on other areas of the estate.’
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