Deadly Inheritance

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by Janet Laurence


  Ursula remembered more and more about that first dinner party. How the two of them had hardly spoken. How, when you were aware of what could be the situation, it was noticeable how each had managed to be in a different part of the room from the other. Then how brief Helen’s thanks had been when Ursula and Mr Russell had extricated Belle and Mr Warburton from the shrubbery.

  Ursula remembered her conversation with Belle in that little woodman’s cottage. Belle had been convinced that Helen used it for assignations with Mr Warburton. What if it hadn’t been Mr Warburton but Maximilian Russell she had met there?

  Ursula also remembered the antagonism the Colonel had shown towards the man when he had appeared at their picnic. She had wondered about that at the time, then dismissed the incident. Now she thought that the obvious explanation was that the Colonel had been aware of a liaison between Max Russell and Helen. He had been jealous!

  And was it in fact jealousy that had led to the firing of the shotgun the night of the Dowager’s birthday fête?

  Ursula gave a deep, deep sigh. She had thought Helen had conquered her waywardness; managed to learn how to keep her sudden passions under control; had left behind the times when she had been every bit as reckless as Belle.

  A shudder ran through Ursula as she remembered the mangled remains lying in the Belvedere. Just how much did Helen have to answer for?

  Ursula lay down on her bed and drifted into an uneasy sleep. At some stage, she was sure, Mr Jackman would want to know if she was all right and if she would dine with him that evening.

  She remembered enjoying their meal the previous night. But that was before today’s events. If they ate together this evening, would he want to know exactly what lay behind those dying words? And then there was the question still to be answered of exactly who was responsible for Polly’s death. Ursula did not feel up to dealing with the investigator yet. He would not be surprised to hear that she was stricken with a headache and would keep to her room.

  She wondered how long all the formalities regarding the shooting would take. She and Mr Seldon would travel by train tomorrow to Mountstanton. Would the investigator, together with the coffin, be on the same one? A shudder ran through her. She turned her mind instead to the task of everything that had to be told to the Colonel.

  How she wished he could have been in Liverpool this morning. Mr Jackman was immensely efficient and courteous, but …

  Ursula decided it was time she took herself in hand. How could she accuse Helen of wayward thoughts and not be in control of her own?

  She stood up and went over to the desk that stood in a corner of the commodious room she had been assigned, opened the hotel’s writing folder, and began to record her version of everything that had happened at Mountstanton, not only what she had seen but also what she had deduced.

  * * *

  Early next morning Ursula was back at the landing stage, hair neatly coiled at the nape of her neck and wearing the black straw hat Annie, the cheerful maid who was now looking after her, had dug out from somewhere. Ursula would not have been surprised to learn that the housekeeper had supplied it; somehow its no-nonsense shape belonged with Mrs Parsons.

  In her purse was a note from Mr Jackman. He hoped that she had recovered from the previous day’s distressing events and wrote that it looked as though he might be able to set off with Mr Russell’s coffin that afternoon. If not, he would come down with it the next day. She could, no doubt, explain what had happened to the Colonel. He would give an official report on his arrival at Mountstanton.

  Ursula was pleased to be one of a large number assembled to greet the arrival of the RMS Oceanic. The hustle and bustle was somehow comforting.

  Passengers thronged the decks. The Oceanic was the newest of the White Star Line ships and it looked as though there could be many on board of interest to the newspapermen waiting for their disembarkation.

  Ursula searched for Mr Seldon’s face. She was dreading this meeting. She had no good news for him and she had failed in the task he had given her.

  Then she saw him; an upright figure flanked by Paul Haddam, his ever-present secretary. Ursula waved frantically. Eventually Mr Haddam saw her and waved back.

  A gangway was installed and customs officials walked up. So much bureaucracy had to be observed before passengers could be allowed to leave the ship.

  Finally passengers were cleared to disembark. First down the gangway came Mr Seldon and his secretary. Mr Haddam fended off the reporters and beckoned her forward.

  ‘Ursula, my dear, thank you for coming,’ Mr Seldon said. His gaze took in every aspect of her appearance. ‘I hope you have not been too taxed by the necessity to meet me.’ Which meant that he thought she looked exhausted.

  ‘Of course not, Uncle Chauncey.’

  ‘The boat train, sir,’ murmured the secretary. ‘It is this way.’

  ‘Quite, quite; you have ordered the private carriage?’

  ‘All arranged, sir.’

  ‘Then I do not need to see you again until we change trains in London. You have the details?’

  ‘Of course, sir.’ The secretary opened the door to the private carriage, took charge of Ursula’s case, and removed himself.

  Once they were settled, Mr Seldon removed his outer coat, revealing a well-tailored suit in sober black. His grey silk cravat was secured with a pearl pin. His razor cheekbones were smooth and polished; his eyes were cold. Ursula’s morale sank even further as she realised Mr Seldon was in no mood to be indulgent.

  He sat down by a window and stretched out his legs. ‘Curious how firm ground seems to move like the sea when one first disembarks. I never cease to be surprised.’

  Ursula knew she was not expected to respond to this. She sat opposite him, her back to the engine, and waited.

  He leaned his head against the pristine white antimacassar arranged over the comfortable padding, his figure very still. He waited until, with a whistle, several jerks and clouds of steam, the train slowly started on its journey.

  ‘Now,’ he said as their speed increased and progress became a little smoother. ‘Perhaps you will tell me exactly what has been happening at Mountstanton and what my daughters have been up to.’

  Ursula knew there was no ‘perhaps’ about it. The account she had written the previous evening had cleared her mind and put the events in reasonable order. Grateful for this, she started speaking. Occasionally he interrupted, asking for further elucidation on some point or other. For the most part, however, he let her tell the story as she wished.

  Helen had told her that Belle’s condition was not to be mentioned. ‘Myself or Belle herself will tell him,’ she’d said. ‘He will not wish to hear the facts from anyone else.’

  So she slid swiftly over this part of her tale. Then she came to the events of the previous day and found she could not continue.

  Mr Seldon’s eyes narrowed for a moment. He brushed some indiscernible fluff from his tailored trousers. ‘You said that this investigator, Mr Jackman, right? So, this investigator and yourself were to interview Mr Russell once he had presented himself for boarding, yes? Presumably you were involved because I had asked for you to meet me?’

  Ursula nodded. ‘Also I had met Mr Russell and knew him slightly.’

  ‘Ah.’ After a pause he said, ‘So, what happened? Is the villain who shot my daughter’s husband in custody?’

  ‘He is dead, sir.’

  ‘Dead!’

  As briefly as possible, Ursula related what had happened the previous day. The full ghastliness flooded over her as she spoke and she was forced at one stage to stop. Mr Seldon said nothing but waited for her to resume her account, one finger tapping at the arm of his seat.

  ‘And the body? What is happening with that?’ he asked.

  ‘Mr Jackman is to bring it down to Mountstanton.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Why?’

  ‘I felt that Colonel Stanhope would want to assure himself Mr Russell had indeed died.’

  ‘I
see.’ Mr Seldon appeared to be lost in thought for some considerable time.

  ‘Well, then,’ he said finally. ‘Your account, together with the excellent letters you have sent me, outlines a quite remarkable series of incidents. However,’ his gaze came back to Ursula, his piercing eyes making her feel distinctly uncomfortable, ‘I think we need to examine several points in more depth.’

  Ursula braced herself.

  ‘This Maximilian Russell, are you suggesting he and Helen have been involved in a relationship?’

  Ursula gripped her hands together. ‘I don’t know, sir.’

  ‘If they haven’t been, I fail to understand what has happened.’

  Ursula said nothing.

  ‘Now, this fellow Warburton. Belle mentioned him in both the letters she has sent me – which were two more than I had expected.’ He looked out of the window for several minutes.

  ‘Belle is a highly impressionable girl,’ he continued. ‘She can become infatuated with a young man at sight and she certainly seems to have done so with this chap. Do you agree?’

  Ursula could feel her hands sweating inside her gloves. ‘He is very attractive,’ she admitted.

  ‘Is she going to fall into my arms and beg me to let her marry the fellow?’

  She looked at him helplessly.

  Mr Seldon’s gaze sharpened. ‘I take it she is. Is there any reason why I should consider Mr Warburton’s suit?’

  Again Ursula found words impossible. Chauncey Seldon in this mood could tie her into knots.

  ‘And don’t try to lie to me, Ursula. You have never been good at lying.’

  ‘I … I cannot see Mr Warburton as a suitable husband for Belle, Uncle Chauncey.’

  ‘Because?’

  What could she say? There was no evidence to suggest he had been responsible for Polly’s death.

  ‘I think he has charm but he is also a fortune hunter.’

  ‘I hope he hasn’t managed to seduce her yet,’ he said, almost as a throwaway comment. The gimlet eyes suddenly pierced into Ursula again and he took a quick breath of disgust. ‘Ah, I see he has. With the inevitable result I suppose. What a stupid girl.’ Again he sat looking out of the window while Ursula hoped that Helen would understand that she had tried not to let her father know about Belle.

  ‘I am afraid both my daughters take after their mother,’ he murmured. Then he turned to Ursula. ‘What were you doing allowing Belle to spend time with him?’ There was menace in his tone.

  Ursula looked at him steadily. ‘I have been blaming myself ever since I found out about Belle’s condition, sir,’ she said in a low voice.

  ‘Have you nothing to say in your defence?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Too busy chasing a will-o-the-wisp idea that a slut of a nursemaid had been murdered.’ Ursula closed her eyes for a moment at the slur on poor Polly. ‘Not to mention making eyes at Helen’s brother-in-law.’

  At that Ursula sat a little straighter. ‘No, sir! I deny that.’

  His cold gaze surveyed her. She felt her very soul was exposed.

  ‘Huh,’ he said at last. ‘So there is something you are prepared to offer a defence against.’

  She said no more.

  ‘Not only did you fail to protect Belle but you have not been able to ascertain why Helen has not, as she swore she would, proceeded with Mountstanton’s restoration?’

  Ursula shook her head. She had known this interview would be difficult, but it was proving far worse than she had feared. She was being treated like an unsatisfactory servant. In the past, he had seemed to view her as a surrogate daughter.

  His finger tapped the arm thoughtfully. ‘Do you think that she has been conserving her settlement with the idea of running off with this Russell fellow?’

  Ursula glanced down at her tightly entwined fingers. ‘She gave no indication that such an idea might be in her mind,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Hmm.’

  There was a long pause, then, ‘To think I sent Belle to stay in such a cess pit.’

  A railway official knocked on the door and asked if they would like luncheon tickets. ‘First sitting in half an hour, sir.’

  Later, when they were seated in the restaurant car, Mr Seldon assessed Ursula’s black travelling costume. ‘I am glad that you are observing the conventions with your dress. Now, tell me about my grandson, Ursula. Tell me about Harry.’

  Relief filled her, ‘Oh, you’ll love Harry. He’s bright, he’s got guts and he’s such fun.’

  There was no more interrogation. She could almost feel their relationship had returned to its previous warmth. Ursula entertained Mr Seldon with tales of the Hinton Parva villagers, even getting him to laugh at her description of the village shop.

  ‘They’re the same everywhere, local stores; hotbeds of gossip, ripping off the little people to make up for the fact the toffs don’t pay their bills.’

  Ursula said nothing but inside she felt a sense of triumph. Despite the severity of the interrogation, there was one fact she had managed to keep from Mr Seldon.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  On arrival at the station for Mountstanton, Ursula and Mr Seldon descended from the train. Waiting to greet them was the Colonel. Ursula thought how typical that he appeared to know exactly which carriage door was theirs and be standing opposite it as the train drew to a halt.

  For a few moments there was a flurry of activity. The secretary went to organise the luggage. The Colonel introduced himself to Mr Seldon and apologised for military action preventing him attending the wedding, eight years earlier, of Helen and his brother. He courteously welcomed Ursula’s return without referring to the intended meeting with Maximilian Russell.

  Ursula knew he would not want the matter spoken of before Mr Seldon. Nevertheless, there was in his demeanour and voice that told her something had happened. Immediately her thoughts flew to Belle. She tried to catch his eye without success. Instead, while Mr Haddam attended to cases and porters, Charles escorted Mr Seldon and herself out of the station to where his highly polished, dark green motor vehicle awaited them.

  ‘I thought, sir, that you would appreciate this more than a horse-drawn carriage.’

  Mr Seldon looked around. ‘But where is Helen?’

  ‘She wanted to stay with her sister; Belle is unwell,’ the Colonel said soothingly.

  ‘I have been acquainted with Belle’s condition,’ her father said sharply. ‘I am anxious to see her.’ He directed one of his piercing gazes at the Colonel. ‘What is it you are not telling me?’

  Anxiety gripped Ursula. ‘Is Belle all right?’ she asked.

  He looked from one to the other. ‘She has suffered a miscarriage,’ he said simply. ‘It was immediately after you left for Liverpool,’ he said to Ursula. ‘For a time her life was in danger but Dr Mason is now confident that the worst is over and she will recover.’

  Ursula felt her knees wobble and steadied herself on the side of the motor vehicle. ‘You didn’t think to send me a cable? Let me know what was happening?’

  ‘There was nothing you could do and we hoped that by the time you and Mr Seldon arrived here, there would be good news. As, indeed, there is.’

  ‘Let us get on our way.’ Mr Seldon opened the passenger’s door. ‘I see no chauffeur so I take it you will be driving this vehicle yourself?’

  ‘I have left my mechanic behind. There is enough room for you, Miss Grandison and your secretary. I have brought duster coats for you all,’ he indicated where they were draped, all ready to be donned, ‘together with goggles. There is a cart for your luggage.’ He waved a hand to where Jem was helping the porter load the cases under the supervision of Mr Haddam.

  Mr Seldon gave a cursory look, reached for a duster coat and said, ‘Miss Grandison and Mr Haddam will travel in the cart.’

  The Colonel looked at Ursula, his left eyebrow ever so slightly raised. ‘That sounds very suitable,’ she said, smoothly moving to the cart.

  Mr Haddam received the
news of how they were to travel with a sardonic smile. ‘At least I shall not need to have my notebook out but can admire the scenery,’ he said and helped Ursula to climb up onto the front bench. First, though, she stroked Barnaby.

  ‘Just as well it’s a straightish road to Mountstanton,’ she said to Jem.

  ‘Aye,’ he said with a grin. ‘And I knows all his little tricks. We’ll wait a moment to let the Colonel get clear. Barnaby don’t like the noise that motor makes.’

  ‘Say, that’s a fellow with dash,’ said Mr Haddam admiringly as he watched the Colonel swing the handle at the front of the elegant vehicle, then climb aboard and set off with Mr Seldon. ‘Army is he? Cavalry for sure.’

  ‘Infantry,’ said Jem laconically. ‘Served in the Sudan as well as fighting the Boers.’

  Ursula was surprised, then told herself that servants always knew everything about their employers, and would boast about their doings to the servants of other households.

  ‘You don’t say? Just shows you never know about people.’

  How true that was, Ursula thought as Jem set Barnaby in motion.

  She did, though, know that Mr Seldon would have told the Colonel everything that had happened in Liverpool long before she and Mr Haddam arrived at Mountstanton.

  * * *

  Benson welcomed Ursula back and assured her that Miss Seldon was now considered out of danger. ‘She had a fall, Miss Grandison, which caused some internal bleeding. We were all very worried for a while but Dr Mason says that she should now recover fully.’

  Ursula wondered just how much the staff knew about the ‘internal bleeding’, and decided that, though it would never be mentioned, nothing would have escaped them.

  ‘Benson, has anything been heard from Mr Jackman?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Grandison, he has cabled that we are to expect him later this evening on the eight-forty-two train.’ Then, as though he could not stop himself, the butler added, ‘He has requested to be met by a cart with a cover.’

  ‘Thank you, Benson.’

  Ursula climbed the stairs to her room, not knowing whether to feel relief or frustration that most of what had happened in Liverpool would have been told to the Colonel by Mr Seldon. It was, though, now essential that she spoke with him before Mr Jackman arrived. Would he send for her, or would she have to ask for a meeting?

 

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