Deadly Inheritance

by Janet Laurence

  ‘Lord bless us,’ said Jenny, his housekeeper, as she entered, tying on her apron, ‘but you’re up before times. Nothing wrong with madam, is there?’

  Adam shook his head. ‘I hope she and my sister are still asleep.’

  The process of getting a woman up who had no use of her legs was long and tedious, even when Adam was there to help. While he was away, Deirdre chose to remain in her bed rather than call on outside help to lift and carry her downstairs to the invalid carriage she used during the day.

  When he was there, the first part of Adam’s day was spent aiding Adele to bathe and dress his wife, then carrying her downstairs. Only after that could Adam turn his attention to his job as Mountstanton agent. There were mornings when her joints were in agony and the process was slow and desperate; Deirdre’s courage never failed to cut through Adam as though a knife stabbed him.

  Jenny took a broom and swept up the broken bottle without comment.

  Later, with Deirdre settled downstairs, he prepared to go out. ‘I’ll be back around midday, so count me in for luncheon,’ he said, running a soothing finger along her right eyebrow.

  Just as he was leaving to go to the stables, a horse and rider cantered in and he recognised the woman who had found Polly’s body.

  ‘Miss Grandison,’ he said, coming reluctantly towards her. ‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’

  She sat on her horse, a docile mare belonging to the Mountstanton stable, and looked down at him with clear grey eyes. She was not beautiful, not like the Countess, but her face was attractive: strong cheekbones, a generous but firm mouth and wide-set eyes that gave her a very honest look. Her dark green habit had style, and she sported a jaunty little tricorne hat. Her expression was serious.

  ‘Mr Gray, I wonder if you would speak to me about Polly.’

  He was taken aback. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I am not happy with the verdict of suicide.’

  ‘But what is it to do with you?’

  She looked intently at him for a moment then said, ‘I do not think we can converse like this. Will you help me dismount, please?’

  He would have preferred to send her on her way, but had to do as she asked.

  She almost fell as she reached the ground and he had to grasp her firmly round the waist. ‘I remember, you were using crutches at the inquest, were you not?”

  She nodded. ‘My ankle is much better now, Mr Gray, but a stick would be helpful.’

  There was nothing self-pitying about her and he found it no hardship to assist her to the bench outside the stables and fetch a trusty ash stick, chosen for its straightness and natural handle. She thanked him and sat with her gloved hands folded on it, watching as he tied her horse to a hitching post and loosened the girth of her saddle.

  Then she turned so she could look at him as he leant against the stable, his hands in the pockets of his breeches.

  ‘Mr Gray, you asked me what the verdict on Polly’s death had to do with me. I was the one who found her body in the river. I am sure you understand that it was a distressing experience.’

  Her eyes closed briefly as though she could still see Polly’s partially decomposed body. Even as she spoke, Adam’s own stomach muscles clenched and his mind revolted against the picture she conjured up.

  She took a deep breath and continued. ‘I am sure you also can imagine how overwhelming an experience staying at Mountstanton is, especially for an American who knows very little about the English aristocracy; what their rules of behaviour are, how they expect guests to conduct themselves, all that. However, when I understood that it was the body of Lord Henry’s nursemaid I had discovered, I could not understand how her disappearance from the household had been so easily accepted.’

  ‘Did you think one of them had been responsible for her death?’ he said, astounded. His own thinking was far more confused.

  She twisted the ash stick for a moment. ‘I wanted to know what sort of person Polly was,’ she said slowly, appearing to choose her words carefully. ‘Why no one had been surprised that she suddenly decided to leave what must surely have been a very desirable post? You should not be fooled by my appearance. There have been times when I was desperate to find a job, any job. So I know the value of one that offers security and a relatively comfortable living and I am sure that Polly did too.’

  He found it difficult to believe what she said. Everything about her suggested someone who belonged to a privileged class.

  ‘So I spoke to Mrs Comfort, the Countess, Mrs Parsons, other members of the staff, oh, and the Colonel.’

  Was it his imagination or did she colour slightly as she mentioned the last name? He dismissed the thought. In his opinion, there was nothing romantic about Colonel Stanhope.

  ‘The more I was told about Polly, the less likely it seemed to me that she had committed suicide. The Colonel agreed. I understand he spent time at Mountstanton, recovering from a wound sustained in the Boer War, much of it in the nursery with Harry and, of course, Polly. He seems to have admired her.’

  ‘Do you mean they could have become close?’ He tried to control his horror at the thought. He remembered the Earl’s unease when he asked if Adam knew who had seduced Polly. Surely neither he nor his brother could have abused their position in that way? Then he remembered the Earl’s father.

  She looked at him thoughtfully. ‘The Colonel does not seem to have been at Mountstanton during the critical period.’

  The way she phrased it unsettled Adam. She had not rejected the idea altogether, merely pointed out that the facts, as presented to her, did not support such a theory.

  ‘Mrs Parsons,’ continued Miss Grandison, ‘seemed to be convinced that she glimpsed you and Polly in flagrante delicto.’

  ‘She saw what she wanted to see,’ Adam said sourly. ‘Her imagination is too vivid.’

  The grey eyes studied him. ‘Then there is Mr Snell. Before he died he went around saying he knew something about Polly that he would tell at the inquest. Have you any idea what that could be?’

  Adam kicked at a stone. ‘Miss Grandison, there is no reason for me to tell you anything.’

  ‘You think I’m a nosey-parker spinster with a gory interest in death, is that it?’ She sat very straight on the bench and looked directly at him.

  He shrugged belligerently.

  ‘Mr Gray, at the inquest I gained the impression that you were very fond of Polly. Perhaps it would not be too strong to say that you loved her, however mistaken Mrs Parsons was about what she saw in the woods.’ Her warm smile said she wanted to be on terms of equality with him. ‘I have not always lived amongst rich folk who have others to serve them and a position in society that must be maintained. I have been at the bottom of the heap, scratching a living, never knowing where the next meal would come from. Somehow, though, I believed in the possibility that life could suddenly turn around and, like some fairytale, give me and those I loved everything we needed and more. I have always been ready to grab life and live it to the full. I think Polly was like that. I know it must be difficult for you to talk about her. You are the Earl’s employee; I understand you would not want, in thought, word or deed, to feel you might be in some sense betraying the Stanhopes. But think of Polly!’

  Adam closed his eyes. How much he longed to talk about Polly and what she meant to him. He had no one he could even mention her name to without them drawing the wrong conclusions. Could he be frank with this American woman who seemed to understand so much already, and who was so open and straightforward?

  Across the yard he saw the back door of the house open and Adele push Deirdre through in her invalid carriage. He went forward to help, not knowing whether to feel resentment or relief at the interruption.

  Deirdre looked up at him, mischief in her eyes. ‘Consorting with strange women behind my back, Adam?’

  ‘It is Miss Grandison, my dear. Miss Seldon’s American companion, asking about my work. Come and meet her.’

  Immediately her face was alive with inte
rest. Adam checked that the light rug which hid the hateful twisting of her legs was in place, then took over pushing the carriage. He brought it to Miss Grandison, standing and supporting herself with the ash stick. As Adam performed introductions, she held out her hand to Deirdre, who took it.

  ‘How lovely to meet you, Miss Grandison. The village has been agog with the arrival of Miss Seldon. I have heard how beautiful she is and how well she rides. Every glimpse of her is cherished and talked over.’ Her face shone with excitement.

  Adele smiled. ‘My sister-in-law loves to hear any detail of life at Mountstanton, Miss Grandison. For the most part we live very quietly here. Maybe you would like to come and take tea with us one day and tell us about life in America?’

  ‘I should like that very much, Miss Gray.’

  ‘Then we shall expect you soon, Miss Grandison,’ Deirdre said. She waved a hand, ‘Onward, dearest Adele. We must not miss a minute of this lovely sunshine.’

  Adele pushed Deirdre down the carefully smoothed path to the arbour at the end of the garden. This was supplied with chairs and a view over a sweep of fields and woods. Here the two women would sit, sewing or making lace, comfortably chatting until it was time for lunch.

  Adam Gray watched them go, trying to clear his mind. Had he brought about Polly’s death by not opening up before about what he knew? Did he have anything to lose by telling at least some of the story? As though he had mentally tossed a coin, he made his decision.

  ‘Miss Grandison, let me tell you what I know about Polly.’

  Ursula sat down, her back very straight. Adam picked up a twig, came and sat down beside her and twisted the forked piece of branch in his hand as he talked.

  ‘I have to go back a little way,’ he started. ‘My father was land agent to the Mountstanton estate before me. I grew up here, in this very cottage.’ He looked up at the top left-hand window, the one belonging to his bedroom. ‘It was always understood that I would, in time, take over from my father. I came back from the end of my schooling for a short period before beginning my training with a friend of my father’s in Derbyshire. I rode all over the Mountstanton land to get a proper feel for the place and to understand what was involved in its running. Occasionally, the fifth Earl, the present Earl’s father, came with me. He made me aware of many aspects of the estate that I might not, at that stage, have noticed.’

  He paused for a moment. In his mind’s eye he could see the tall, handsome man with his quick laugh and easy manner; godlike to a nineteen-year-old girl.

  Miss Grandison said nothing, but her alert expression assured him she was taking in everything he was telling her.

  ‘One day in late August, I was riding along the river. It was early evening and I was nicely tired and looking forward to dinner with my parents. Then I heard someone shout for help and I saw that a girl was stranded halfway up that escarpment you fell down when you found Polly.’

  ‘So you became the cavalry charging to the rescue,’ said Miss Grandison.

  Adam looked down at his fingers still playing with the twig. ‘I certainly went to her aid. She had been out blackberrying; the fruit was early that year. She thought she saw a particularly lush bush just below the top of that dreadful slope. She slipped, though, and was lucky not to tumble the whole way down. Well, I climbed up, helped her to the top, then walked her back to Hinton Parva before retrieving my horse. She was a maid of all work for the local teacher.’

  ‘Miss Ranner?’

  Adam nodded, pausing again. The facts were simple enough to state. What he had no words for was the impression the girl had made on him. He thought her face was the sweetest he had ever seen; her hair was golden, tied back neatly, which seemed to make more of its colour’s extravagance; her slight figure was dressed in the simplest of gowns and her eyes were the most mischievous he had ever seen.

  ‘I was smitten by the girl,’ he said stiffly. ‘And after that I suppose I went out of my way to encounter her as often as I could.’

  ‘And she was happy to spend time with you, I am sure,’ said Miss Grandison, sounding as though she completely understood the situation.

  Adam nodded. ‘These days I think she would be known as a bit of a minx,’ he said slowly. ‘I was too naive then to notice. I just felt myself incredibly lucky that such a pretty girl seemed happy to spend time with me, be affectionate.’

  Something subtle changed in Miss Grandison’s expression. ‘By “affectionate” what, exactly, do you mean, Mr Gray?’ she asked quietly, almost apologetically.

  ‘Nothing more than a hand in mine, a kiss on my cheek, a finger on my lips. That is, until the last night before I left for Derbyshire.’

  There was a long silence. Miss Grandison looked at him, a question in her eyes.

  ‘When I came back a year later for two weeks’ leave, I went down to Miss Ranner’s to see Mary – that was her name – but the teacher said she was no longer with her. I was totally unprepared for how shocked and disappointed I was. I realised then how much I had been thinking about her, you see. Remembering her gestures, her smiles, her blue eyes and golden hair.’ His voice faded as he saw again Mary with all her captivating ways.

  ‘Dare I imagine I know why Mary disappeared?’ Miss Grandison asked very gently.

  Adam gave her a haunted look. ‘Miss Ranner said she didn’t have an address for Mary and I was to forget about her. Two weeks later I was back in Derbyshire and was soon so busy that I did almost forget. Two years later, I met Deirdre and we were married.’

  ‘Did she lose the use of her legs through an accident?’ came the next gentle enquiry.

  Adam rose and strode over to where his visitor’s horse stood patiently and caressed the mare’s neck for a moment. ‘She fell down some stairs,’ he said. ‘She lost not only the use of her legs but also our baby.’

  ‘Oh, how very, very sad.’

  Adam pushed away the anger, frustration and guilt he always felt when he remembered that time.

  ‘It must have made life very difficult for you both.’

  His face carefully schooled, Adam came back and once again leant against the stable. ‘We managed. Seven years ago my father died, and I was offered the position of Mountstanton agent. My mother went to live with her sister in Devon and we came here. My sister, Adele, said she would help to look after Deirdre, and I settled into learning all about the estate. A year or so later, the Earl died and his son, the present Earl, took over. And, just before that, Lord Harry was born.’ He stopped.

  Miss Grandison said nothing.

  Adam took a deep breath. ‘Riding around the estate as I do every day, I used to come across Polly out with the youngster, first pushing him in his perambulator, then they’d either be walking or Lord Harry was on his pony and Polly riding a bicycle. As soon as I laid eyes on her, I recognised Mary in her face and also in her ease of manner. As my experience of girls had grown, I had realised that Mary was the sort of girl who gave her affections easily. Now I recognised the same lightness of character in Polly. I thought I also recognised something else.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  He gave a bitter laugh. ‘I went to see Miss Ranner. I insisted she told me the truth about Mary. After a little bleating about not breaking promises and the importance of confidences, she finally admitted that Mary had been in trouble. She was sympathetic, she said, but had to tell her she could not keep her on. She arranged for Mary to go to an old friend she knew. When she died in childbirth, Miss Ranner then organised for the baby girl to be taken into the local orphanage. She said that way she could keep an eye on her.’

  ‘And that was Polly?’

  He nodded.

  ‘And you felt you knew who her father was?’

  Another bitter laugh. ‘Oh, I was certain. Without courting attention, I tried to run into her and Lord Harry as often as possible. Only a word here and there but gradually they added up and she began to think of me as a friend.’

  ‘And so she told you when she discovered she was i
n trouble?’

  He nodded. His voice trembled as he said, ‘I begged her to tell me who had been responsible but she refused. She said I’d do him an injury and she could not bear that. She would not believe me when I said he’d be safe from me,’ he paused for a moment. ‘I … I think she was right not to trust me.’ He felt again the rage that had filled him as she’d confessed. ‘She … she said she just wanted my advice.’

  ‘And what advice did you give her?’

  ‘Why to say to the man, whoever he was, that she would tell me his name if he did not do the decent thing by her.’ He thrust his hands deep into his pockets, his rage now blackened with a deep sense of guilt. ‘I was responsible for her death, Miss Grandison. When she told him that, he killed her, he must have done. And I was not here. His lordship had sent me to try and sort out trouble in the Mountstanton Yorkshire mine. It took longer than either of us had expected. There is deep feeling running against the owner there.’

  There was silence for a long time.

  ‘What a shock it must have been to find that Polly was dead,’ Miss Grandison said finally. ‘But you surely cannot hold yourself responsible for your daughter’s death.’

  ‘I shall always hold that I brought about Polly’s death, Miss Grandison. But you are wrong; I was wrong; Polly was not my daughter.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Richard Simon Arthur Philip Stanhope, sixth Earl of Mountstanton, approached the portrait of his father, Simon Richard Arthur Philip Stanhope, the fifth Earl, with caution.

  The walls of the picture gallery were hung with works browned with age; their heavily ornamented frames often offering more interest than the pictures themselves. More recent additions, though, leapt out with fresh colours to charm the visitor.

  The art-laden walls seemed to hang about Richard like prison chains, dragging him down into a dungeon of history from which escape was impossible. He felt the eyes of his ancestors judging and dismissing him as the least of their number; three hundred years of Stanhope history pinning him to the spot.