Deadly Inheritance

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Deadly Inheritance Page 32

by Janet Laurence


  For a long moment Helen stood irresolute, then started leafing through the papers on the desk. She had hardly made any inroads before William entered.

  ‘Helen!’ he exclaimed, coming towards her.

  ‘I thought you were supposed to be acting as Richard’s secretary?’ she said, waving at the disorder all around them.

  He gave her a slow smile. ‘That’s what my father arranged.’ He surveyed the papers without a hint of distress. ‘I have written various letters for the Earl, even managed a little research into possible ways of improving the shooting. Somehow it didn’t seem anything more was necessary. Now, though, I have to assist with organising his funeral. The Dowager insists it must match the grandeur of the last one.’ He sighed. ‘There is just so much to be done!’ But he smiled warmly at her. Then his eyes darkened, he moved closer and swept her into his arms. ‘Oh, Helen, Helen, Helen! What does any of this matter?’

  For an instant, as his mouth came down on hers, Helen almost succumbed. To be able to forget everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, to lose herself in earthy lust with this splendid specimen of uninhibited English manhood would be so wonderful.

  His breathing quickened. He looked into her eyes, his pupils huge and dark. ‘My dearest, dearest desire. Oh, Helen, I adore you. I’ve loved you ever since I first saw you. Ever since then you have been a shining, unattainable star. But now, now you can be totally mine. Say you will marry me.’

  Again his mouth claimed hers and his arms tightened around her. Again a sort of crazy belief that this could solve all her problems took hold of Helen. William had a good relationship with Harry, his background was impeccable, and he knew how to make a woman’s body respond. Maybe this wasn’t exactly how she had planned things but maybe it would work.

  She dug her fingers into his shoulders and allowed herself a moment’s joyous delight before she drew back. ‘William, dearest …’ she started.

  Then she saw her sister standing in the doorway.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The tension in the shabby smoking room vibrated through Ursula like a plucked wire.

  The Colonel stood looking out of the window. His shoulders were rigid. The unflappable soldier appeared to be deeply upset. Was it, Ursula wondered, because of the claim that Polly had been a close relation, even a half-sister? Or was it something to do with Helen?

  Frustration filled Ursula. Were charming, facile and self-indulgent women always to have strong men at their feet?

  Helen had invited Belle over to England but how much had she done to make the visit enjoyable for her little sister? There was her husband, had she shared any of his problems? Until the night of his death, Ursula had seen little warmth in Helen’s relationship with the Earl. Apart from that collapse over his dead body, the only genuine emotion she had displayed since Ursula’s arrival seemed to have been for her little son. But weren’t dynastic marriages supposed to produce more than one possible heir? And surely Helen should be involved with charitable works, not enjoying languishing looks from her husband’s secretary?

  Clouds had come up and the sunny day had turned dark. Ursula found she was shivering.

  ‘She’s frightened,’ said the Colonel without turning. ‘Helen is frightened.’

  ‘Why? Why should she be?’ But Ursula knew he was right.

  He shrugged and left the window. ‘Perhaps, like my mother, she is afraid of a slur on the good name of Mountstanton.’ A touch of irony removed any pomposity from his words.

  ‘Do you believe that Polly was a Mountstanton?’ Ursula asked curiously.

  Another shrug and a gesture that asked her permission to sit. Once again they faced each other, but the ease that had been between them earlier that day had vanished.

  The Colonel’s attention was claimed by a rip in the leather upholstery of his chair. ‘My father, I regret to say, left a number of by-blows.’ He looked up. ‘I’m sorry, I should not use such language to you.’

  Ursula gave a grim chuckle. ‘As I think you know by now, I am used to far worse, Colonel. Nor, I am afraid, does the existence of illegitimate offspring distress me.’ She thought for a moment. Would it be a betrayal of Helen to explain why the letter could have so disturbed her? Yes, she quickly decided, it would. It was past history and should remain so.

  ‘Respectability is important to Helen, as important to her as it is to the Dowager Countess.’

  ‘I don’t think that can be true. My mother yields to no one in her fierce protection of the family name.’

  For the first time, the full implications of the letter struck Ursula. ‘You are saying your father deceived your mother. Isn’t it possible another Mountstanton, your uncle, say, or a cousin, could have been the philanderer?’

  ‘Ah, Miss Grandison, can you really be that naive?’

  Ursula flushed.

  ‘I know that my mother soon realised what sort of man she had married. But what could she do? The morals of English high society, Miss Grandison, are worse than those of the most depraved mining camp. The only rule, it seems, is that scandal must be avoided. Not long after my parents were married, scandal did threaten to ruin my father’s reputation and my mother’s happiness.’

  Ursula tried to envision the overpowering Dowager Countess as a young girl devastated by the imminent collapse of her world. It was not easy.

  ‘What happened?’

  He sighed. ‘My grandfather arranged matters somehow. But the repercussions have followed my mother to this day. Not only her,’ he added, looking down again at the ripped leather and retreating into himself. After a moment he gave Ursula a strained smile. ‘Ever since then Mama has tried to ensure that scandal could never threaten the family again. She has guarded both the Mountstanton name and her own. Double-dyed in family pride, you might say.’

  ‘Did the incident you mentioned have anything to do with Polly?’

  ‘Good heavens, no!’ He seemed almost relieved to be back with the question of the nursemaid’s parentage. ‘It would be convenient, I suppose, if a Mountstanton other than my father might have sired her, particularly as far as Mama is concerned. But I am afraid it is not possible. My father’s younger brother died in infancy and the two cousins that exist decided New Zealand offered greater chances than England for impoverished younger members of an aristocratic family. They have been there for some thirty years.’

  Ursula suddenly saw a way of revealing something of Helen’s background without betraying her.

  ‘Respectability for Helen is, you might almost say, the reverse of that of the Dowager Countess.’

  ‘Ah! I think I understand. Forgive me for putting it this way, I mean no disrespect, but as far as she is concerned, there is no family reputation to be maintained, is there?’

  Ursula could not help laughing. ‘I hope you will not put it that way to Helen, but Mr Seldon would be the first to admit that he came from nowhere.’

  ‘Born on a mid-west farm, I understand, that went under in a drought, came to New York and clawed his way to fortune, isn’t that it?’

  Ursula nodded. ‘Railways, mining, newspapers, import, export; he has had a genius for seeing profit in many different ventures.’ And never flinching from tough decisions, always taking risks that hardly ever failed, never hesitating to do down any man who dared to cross him. ‘Respectability was never high on his agenda; with Mr Seldon, riches meant more than reputation. He has only ever wanted to be regarded as a hard and successful man.’

  ‘Poor Helen.’

  Ursula fought a fresh feeling of frustration. After all, hadn’t she achieved exactly the reaction she wanted? ‘However, New York society is as rigid as any continental place, perhaps even more so. Despite their wealth, the Seldon family could never be accepted into the higher echelons. No invitations for Helen and Belle from those pillars of respectability, Mrs Astor and Mrs Vanderbilt. Mr Seldon understood that but he knew his rapidly expanding fortune could achieve respectability for his daughters without their help. Tha
t is why he sent Helen to school in Paris rather than New York.’

  ‘And you accompanied her, I understand. How did you fit into the picture, if I may ask?’

  Ursula looked down at her hands. ‘My father was in partnership with Mr Seldon.’

  The Colonel stared at her. ‘But you have no fortune?’

  If she had, she would not be acting as Belle’s companion. ‘No. There was a falling out and my father lost all his assets.’ She was not prepared to go into the details. ‘Mr Seldon was fond of me and felt I should not be deprived of a good education. He said it could be my salvation.’ For the briefest moment, Ursula remembered how he had looked when he’d said it, dropping it into the middle of her devastation, and how she had clung to that statement as though her fingernails held onto a window ledge high above an unyielding pavement. ‘Anyway, Helen never felt her father’s millions were enough to guarantee happiness. She has always needed respectability, to be accepted in the top circles.’

  The Colonel shifted his position uneasily. ‘So that is why she married my brother.’

  ‘She had proposals from a number of foreigners,’ Ursula said quickly.

  ‘Foreigners!’

  ‘Non-Americans, I mean. Helen wanted to live in Europe. There were French aristocrats, an Italian Count, a Prince from Scandinavia.’ She was embellishing now, but all in a good cause. At least, Ursula wondered suddenly, was it a good cause? She remembered Helen’s reactions just now in her boudoir, and all the ways she had rubbed at Ursula’s sense of what was right. But it was too late now. ‘Your brother had competition, Colonel, but he won her fair and square.’

  He said nothing for a long time. Ursula could gather no hint of his thoughts. The man would be a triumph at the poker table.

  The Colonel rose and took out his hunter. ‘Time I was back with the lawyers, Miss Grandison. Look, you will have to go with Jackman to Adam Gray and get the truth out of him.’

  Ursula looked at him with something like horror.

  ‘He would talk to you, Colonel. I’m sure he won’t to me or Mr Jackman,’ she said quickly. Ursula did not know why she distrusted the investigator but the idea that they were to form some sort of team filled her with dismay.

  ‘Nonsense. Didn’t you tell me you’d already met Gray? I’m sure you can make him tell you anything you want to know. Anyway, Jackman has my note of authority and he knows how to interview suspects.’

  ‘You think Mr Gray a suspect? What do you suspect him of? Seducing Polly?’

  ‘No. I think he was extremely fond of her; she was someone you could easily get drawn to – attractive and full of life and fun. If Gray did write that letter, and I think he did, he might well take revenge on someone he considered responsible for her death.’

  ‘You mean you suspect Mr Gray of shooting your brother?’

  ‘It’s a possibility that has to be considered.’

  ‘But why should the Earl have been responsible for Polly’s death? Or do you think he was her seducer?’

  The Colonel shook his head. ‘I don’t think so but Gray might.’

  ‘He does have an uncertain temper,’ admitted Ursula, remembering the agent’s performance at the inquest.

  ‘You will be able to get at the truth, you and Jackman.’ It was said with an authority that would allow no dissent and Ursula knew that further protest would get her nowhere.

  While the Colonel and Ursula had been with Helen, Thomas Jackman had been sent to talk to Mrs Parsons about the movements of the staff at the fête.

  Now a servant was despatched to the stables to issue instructions for the trap to be harnessed. Another one was ordered to tell Mr Jackman to meet Miss Grandison there. ‘You can drive a trap?’ the Colonel queried as an afterthought.

  Ursula grinned. ‘Fine time to ask! But, yes, your confidence is not misplaced.’

  He gave her a heart-warming smile. ‘My confidence in you, Miss Grandison, is never misplaced.’

  * * *

  Clad in a jacket against the cooling air, and abandoning the stick she had become so used to depending on, Ursula went out to the stables.

  Thomas Jackman was already there, standing very still, and looking at the harnessed trap and horse with an expression of misgiving. It was his eyes that made her distrust him, Ursula decided. They seemed to assess everything he looked at – to find everything wanting. Anyone that cynical did not deserve her consideration.

  ‘Ready?’ she said briskly.

  He nodded, took a firm grip on the side of the vehicle and hauled himself up.

  Ursula thought he might have helped her first. She accepted the aid of the groom.

  ‘Beauty’s thrown a shoe so it’s Barnaby you’ve got there, Miss Grandison. He’s steady as they come, long as you keep him straight.’

  She looked at the sturdy chestnut horse, at the way he rolled his eyes, and then at the groom with a tinge of distrust. ‘What are you saying, Jem?’

  His gaze slipped from hers. ‘Nothing, miss, just that if you don’t keep him straight, he can do a bit of a dance, like.’

  ‘Bit of a dance,’ repeated Ursula thoughtfully. ‘Well, I’d better keep him straight, then.’ She picked up the reins, flicked them at Barnaby’s back and said, ‘Gee up, there.’

  ‘Know what you’re doing and where we’re going, do you?’ asked Thomas Jackman.

  She looked ahead, avoiding the penetrating eyes, nodded serenely and kept Barnaby trotting happily down the drive. The sun was low in the sky. Ursula decided that the interview with Mr Gray should be a short one; she wanted to be back at Mountstanton well before dark.

  ‘Did you have a productive meeting with Mrs Parsons, Mr Jackman?’

  ‘What a woman for talking round a subject without ever getting to the heart of it. I learned a great deal about the way Mountstanton is run without getting to know anything of use to my investigation. Tell me what we’re supposed to be doing when we meet this Gray fellow.’

  Ursula fought with renewed irritation. Both the task she was faced with and the man who was with her were equally distasteful. Then she took a deep breath and decided it was no good wishing the Colonel was accompanying her instead of this so-called investigator. She had been given a job to do and it had to be carried through as successfully as possible.

  ‘We’re going to see Adam Gray, the Mountstanton agent, the man the Colonel believes wrote that note to Polly.’

  ‘Right. And how much do you know about him?’

  Keeping Barnaby going straight ahead on the stony and rutted road required constant attention and Ursula related all she had learned from her talk with the agent as succinctly as possible. It seemed like weeks rather than a couple of days had passed since she had ridden over to see him.

  ‘Believed he was this nursemaid’s father, did he? And you thought their relationship somewhat different?’

  ‘Well, as I said, at the inquest it looked possible he might have been, how shall I put it, involved with Polly? Mrs Parsons claimed she had seen the two of them in what she called “a compromising position”.’

  ‘But the Colonel and his brother did not think it worth questioning him?’

  Ursula sighed. ‘They probably would have done … eventually.’

  ‘Only you took it on yourself to tackle him. Why?’

  Looking back, Ursula was surprised at the determined way she had approached the agent. ‘It was because I was so unhappy with the inquest verdict. From all I had learned about Polly, suicide seemed the last thing she would do.’

  ‘Not got much of a future ahead of her, though, had she? With child; due to lose her position as soon as it was known; unlikely to get any sort of a reference for a new one; abandoned by the man who had got her into trouble. Exactly what, Miss Grandison, did she have to live for?’

  Ursula flinched at this, then corrected Barnaby’s tendency to move off the centre of the road.

  ‘Put like that,’ she said slowly, ‘I have to say she had very little, if anything. But the Colonel also believ
es the coroner arrived at the wrong verdict. And …’

  ‘Yes?’ said Mr Jackman impatiently as she paused, remembering what had occurred to her as soon as she’d taken in the contents of that piece of paper. ‘And what?’

  ‘Once she’d read the letter, she must have thought she had a weapon she could use in a fight for justice, and a livelihood of some sort for herself and the unborn child.’

  Mr Jackman clutched the side of the trap as they bounced over a particularly stony section of roadway. ‘Mercy, Miss Grandison; this conveyance is unsafe. I doubt you can get us there safely, let alone back.’

  She laughed. ‘The Colonel has confidence in me, so should you.’

  Jackman did not look particularly reassured. After a moment’s nervous twitching he said, ‘So, what do we want from this agent fellow?’

  Ursula recalled exactly what the Colonel’s instructions had been. ‘First, confirmation he wrote the letter; second, how he found out who Polly’s father was; and third, whether he has any suspicions as to who seduced her.’ She did not mention the possibility that the agent had killed the Earl. She would see how the interview went first.

  ‘You say Gray believes it is the nursemaid’s seducer who killed her?’

  ‘He thinks it was because his advice to Polly was to tell the man that, unless he did the decent thing, she would let others know who the father of her child was.’

  Jackman made another grab at the sides of the trap as, once again, they bumped alarmingly over some ruts. ‘Have a heart, miss, that ditch looks very close and a mite messy.’

  Ursula tried to find a less rutted part of the road and for a while they travelled without conversation. As the trap at last began to move more smoothly she said, ‘Do you think Mr Gray could be right about Polly having been killed by her seducer?’

  ‘Could be.’

  Suddenly Ursula could visualise what might have happened: ‘They meet in the wood; she accuses him of behaving wretchedly towards her. He laughs, maybe says she asked for it. Polly tells him she’s a member of the Mountstanton family. He laughs some more and says she only means she’s one of their bastards. She gets angry and threatens that she will appeal to them if he abandons her. His reputation will be ruined, he will lose his job, be refused a reference. He panics; perhaps he grabs and shakes her, pushes her over.’

 

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