The Late Heiress: The Amberley Chronicles

by May Burnett

Roger could not see any evidence of blushing on Amelia’s fair face, whatever she might say. “I am merely wondering how the claim against Lord Colville will proceed, and whether the man is dangerous to Thomas as well as to your new sister,” he replied, not quite truthfully.

  “I realize he is dangerous to Nell, but to Thomas?” Charlie looked astonished. “Why should he be?”

  “If the man was capable of faking a death, bribing a coroner, subverting justice – and who knows what else – and has a very large fortune at risk, it would behove us to be prudent.”

  “I agree,” Amelia supported his view. “Though I would back Thomas against any aging and corrupt peer.”

  “In a direct fight that would make sense, but the days when a quarrel could be settled by duels among the principals are fast receding. Colville is a rich and politically well-connected peer, who can afford to hire all kinds of dangerous blackguards,” Roger reminded her. “I myself alerted Lord Colville that we suspected him before Thomas and Nell had even met, which in retrospect may have been a mistake. If that man from the War Office blabs, Lord Colville’s men may already be sniffing around your home in Yorkshire. It was no secret that we went off to Scotland, and we hardly travelled at breakneck speed. Someone might catch up with us any moment.”

  Charlie’s eyes sparkled militantly. “Let them come! What can they do here, in a civilised city, against all of us?”

  Their discussion was interrupted when Nell and Thomas entered at long last, having ridden over from their hotel in a hackney. Thomas’s hair still looked damp from a recent bath, and his arm was clasped possessively around his young wife’s waist.

  “So you survived,” Roger greeted them with a grin. “We were afraid that you would stay in there till starvation carried you off.”

  “I could eat something,” Nell admitted, sitting down next to Charlie.

  “Are you all right?” Charlie asked her.

  “Why wouldn’t I be? I am very well, just hungry.” Thomas rang for their cousin’s butler and requested a substantial repast for both of them.

  “Father and Mother are not back yet,” Amelia reported, “first they walked, and later they took the carriage, to call on some colleague of Father’s; a specialist in brain diseases with whom he has corresponded for years. They should return in time for dinner.”

  “Have you decided what you will do next?” Roger asked the newlyweds.

  “We have agreed to postpone our wedding journey until after the confrontation with Lord Colville,” Thomas stated. “We shall go to London and claim Nell’s fortune.”

  “In that case I can travel back with you,” Roger said. “The first article in the Argus will already have appeared. Lord Colville must be thoroughly alarmed. I agree that it is better to strike now, before he has a chance to muster additional support and evidence in his favour.”

  “And if the body in the Colville Crypt is to be exhumed, the sooner the better,” Charlie agreed. “Before it is a mere skeleton. I wonder who it was, when still alive?” They had all discussed this macabre subject with Doctor Seymour on the way to Scotland, but according to him, the speed of decomposition varied greatly according to the humidity, and could take place in a surprisingly short period if the conditions were right. “Not that I am any sort of expert on forensic matters,” he had added. “I have always preferred to tend to the living rather than the dead; and whenever I have handled the latter, they were rarely more than a few days old.”

  Roger wondered how such a gentle and civilised man as Uncle Richard could handle such disgusting chores as cutting up dead bodies, a part of any physician’s studies. The very idea repulsed him. Though he had killed and dissected animals and participated in hunts that sometimes ended bloodily, he had no stomach for touching human remains.

  Thomas and Nell did full justice to their meal and chatted with Amelia and Charlie in the meantime. They were sitting together more closely than before their wedding, presenting a united front even in this informal family setting. All must be well, not that he had had any doubt on the matter.

  “This lawsuit may be expensive,” Amelia said with a slight frown. “Do you need a draft on Father’s account, Thomas, before you depart?”

  Did that mean she was in charge of the family finances? It would make sense, as Thomas was hardly ever home in Yorkshire. Yet it would be highly unusual; Roger could not imagine having to apply to his sister Violet for funds, though she was almost the same age as Amelia Seymour.

  “Uncle Henry is not going to charge you much, as you are family,” Roger said. “Don’t worry about it. Once you have won you will of course reimburse any expenses he has had.”

  Nell shook her head. “I do not see why my father-in-law should underwrite such a risky undertaking, or why this ‘Uncle Henry’ should waive his usual fees. I suggest that we pass by Colville Hall, and retrieve the jewels I hid there. They are quite valuable.”

  “I don’t think you should go anywhere near your Uncle’s place, Nell,” Amelia said sharply.

  “Indeed, it is much too dangerous,” Charlie cautioned. “What if he caught you and put you in that crypt after all?”

  “I prefer not to think of my bride lying in a crypt, thank you very much,” Thomas protested. “And I agree that it is too dangerous to go there yourself, Nell, but with exact instructions I could do it for you.”

  Amelia shook her blonde head. “No! It would still be too risky – you could be charged with trespass, or shot as a poacher.”

  Nell did not look worried. “Remember that I planned to come back myself, and chose the hiding place accordingly. It is close to the wall, where anyone can easily cross over the trees, if they bring a rope. The sundial is half a mile from the house, with more trees to obscure the line of sight.”

  “In that case,” Roger said, “I volunteer for the job. It does seem fairer to use Nell’s jewels for the expenses of her lawsuit, than Uncle Richard’s fortune.”

  “No, I shall do it,” Thomas insisted. “Your parents would not like it if you were caught, Roger, and it would embarrass our uncle Amberley. I have a far more personal interest in the matter, and Lord Colville does not know me by sight, - I hope - while he knows and dislikes you.”

  “Thank you, Thomas.” Nell pressed a small kiss on his cheek. “You are my champion.”

  Charlie smirked, and Amelia tactfully averted her eyes. Roger said nothing more, but determined to persuade Thomas during the journey not to undertake such a risky expedition alone. That Roger was known to Lord Colville should not matter, as it was hardly likely the Earl himself would catch whoever entered the estate to dig up Nell’s jewels. The man rarely budged from London and his political intrigues.

  “I hope we manage to keep at least some of your jewels once I have retrieved them,” Thomas said to Nell. “They are your legacy from your mother.”

  Nell shook her head, nearly dislodging her thick hair from where it was hastily pinned up. “As though I cared about that! All I want is for you to be safe, Thomas. I am not at all sure I like this plan.”

  “We can discuss our strategy on the road,” Roger said. “It might be safest not to linger here too long. Shall I order the horses and carriage for early tomorrow morning?”

  Thomas and Nell exchanged a look.

  “Yes, please,” Thomas said. “I own I find it difficult just now to think about mundane details like that.”

  “No wonder,” Amelia added with a smile. “You are still newlyweds. Let us all drink to your happiness and success!”

  Chapter 21

  “A veiled lady, without card, is calling upon you,” her butler informed Lady Amberley, as admirably stolid as ever in face of this unusual circumstance.

  “How mysterious.” Marianne put down the novel she had been reading and inserted a delicately embroidered linen bookmark. “But a lady, you are certain, Jennings?”

  “I shall remain within call, my lady, but I judge there is no danger for you,” he replied, not directly answering her question. So ther
e was an element of doubt there. Respectable but not quite from the first drawer? Who could it be?

  “I will see her in the blue room in about ten minutes. Ask if she wants refreshments.”

  “Very well, my lady.” Jennings withdrew.

  When the Countess entered the blue sitting room on the first floor of her home, her unknown guest stood studying a group portrait of the third earl with his wife and seven children. Even in those far-off days, the children’s unpowdered hair showed the characteristic chestnut shade of the Ellsworthy family. The lady turned when she heard the door open.

  Marianne approached her guest a trifle warily. “You wished to see me, Ma’am?”

  “Thank you for receiving me.” The visitor put up her veil. She was in her late thirties, with grey beginning to encroach on her brown hair at the sides. Her face was plain but pleasant.

  “Lady Colville?” Marianne was surprised. “There was no need to arrive veiled, as one Countess to another I would certainly have received you. Come, let us sit. Would you like some tea?”

  At her gesture, Lady Colville stiffly sat down on the sofa, her brown redingote clashing with the blue satin upholstery.

  “No tea, thank you, Lady Amberley. I have come to implore you, if you have any influence on your family, to stop this horrid persecution by the press.” Her bosom was heaving with strong emotion. “The veil is necessary whenever I go out these days. I can hardly show my face without a hail of questions regarding my husband’s late niece.”

  Marianne hesitated, feeling unexpected pity. Yet the way Lady Colville had referred to Lady Marian did not contain an iota of regret or sorrow. She hardened her heart. “I am sorry to hear that, but what makes you think that our family is behind the press campaign? We are not related to Lord Colville’s niece. Besides, you know how those papers are; once they have found a bone they do not give it up until it has been chewed to death.”

  From her visitor’s flinch, she realised that metaphor might not be the most felicitous, and added quickly, “I certainly do not want to add to your troubles. Much of the criticism I have seen concerns your refusal to wear black gloves or armbands for a relative from whose demise your family stands to gain so much. It would have been easy indeed to avoid that opprobrium.”

  “Had I had the least idea the whole country would talk about it, I would have worn them, believe me.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Marianne asked with genuine curiosity.

  “My husband asked me to wear mourning for that girl, but I could not find it in me, and refused. You must understand – I had never met her in my life. While the previous earl lived none of us were welcome at Colville Hall. He and my husband were estranged. Later I would have been most willing to extend a maternal hand to young Marian, but it was not to be.”

  “After Lady Marian was orphaned, surely she would have benefited from your care?”

  “As I said, I was ready and willing to have her live with us, like another daughter. But my generosity was spurned. My husband told me Lady Marian absolutely refused to associate with me and my children, on the grounds of my less exalted birth.” There was a tinge of long-nurtured resentment in Lady Colville’s voice.

  Lady Amberley blinked. “Good heavens. Without any other relations, surely Lady Marian was not in any position to be as haughty as that. Your husband was her guardian and nearest relative, and she a minor. Had he insisted, she would have had no choice but to come and live with you.”

  “The way he described her behaviour and refusal, I was relieved that he did not insist, and left her to her own devices in Colville Hall. Of course it meant I could not go there to take up my own role as chatelaine, but I consoled myself that this state would only last until she married.”

  “Has it occurred to you,” Marianne suggested gently, “that you husband’s explanation why he did not bring his ward to live with you might not have been altogether truthful?”

  “Not at the time – not until quite recently.”

  Marianne said nothing, but tried to look sympathetic.

  “I did try to see her once, because the rumours that she was sickly and invalid alarmed me,” Lady Colville confessed. “I thought that if she was poorly, she might have changed her mind about joining us. One time, about two years ago, as I was travelling to visit friends I told my coachman to make a detour to Colville Hall.”

  Here was independent testimony regarding the mysterious ‘Nell’s’ claim. Marianne leaned forward intently. “And did you meet the girl then?”

  “No. I went all over the place, but she was not in residence, and had not been for quite a while, the surly housekeeper told me. I shall replace the woman right away when we finally get to live there – I was not at all pleased with the state of cleanliness, and the dusty curtains. And as for the gardens! It will take years to set them right.”

  “Did you ask your husband about it, and make suggestions regarding the upkeep of the Hall?”

  Lady Colville looked down on her tightly clasped hands, encased in pale cream kid leather. “Since he had advised me not to get in touch with Lady Marian, I did not mention my visit. However, the housekeeper must have reported it to him, for a few days later he casually mentioned that Lady Marian was taking the waters at a continental spa, for her deteriorating health.”

  Marianne shook her head at this picture of a marriage without mutual trust. “Surely you must have become suspicious at that point?”

  “In retrospect, I should have, but at the time I was busy with other things – my younger daughter had pneumonia and barely survived – it seemed more important to deal with my immediate problems.”

  “When Lady Marian was reported to have died, did you not attend the funeral?” To allow a close relative to be interred without family present was almost unheard-of. Surely Lady Colville must be aware how strange it looked.

  The Countess shook her head, looking obstinate. “I flatly refused to attend, or to wear mourning. Since by my husband’s account the proud girl had refused to have anything to do with me…” her voice trailed off. “How was I supposed to know that her cause would be taken up by those vicious journals! What business is it of theirs? It is not as though their muckraking would be of the slightest benefit to a dead person, while my living family suffers.”

  “As long as a story is interesting for their readers, they regard it as their business,” Marianne said. “I strongly suspect your problems are due to your husband rather than his niece. But I still don’t understand what you think I, or my family, can do about it.”

  Lady Colville looked at her reproachfully. “It was your nephew, Roger Ellsworthy, who first started this prurient interest in our family affairs. He accosted my husband and me at a charity concert with the same rude questions that the press began asking within days. Shortly afterwards I saw him talk to Lady Perkins and Mrs. Ricklesby, and almost immediately I was subjected to impertinent enquiries from these ladies and their particular friends. They also talked to our neighbours and acquaintances, spreading distrust and rumours.”

  “I see,” Marianne murmured, “but given that those ladies are rabid gossips, what makes you think that Roger put them on your trail, and not the other way around?”

  “I hear your nephew pretends a sentimental interest in Lady Marian, now that she is dead, and wears white orchids in her honour. Morbid and unhealthy, I call it. Haven’t you heard about the ode Mr. Ellsworthy is supposedly writing in Lady Marian’s memory?”

  Marianne raised a brow. “Really? That is a new departure for him. Roger is mainly interested in natural history and science. I would have thought there isn’t a poetical bone in his body.”

  “That is why the sentimental twaddle he talked about the dratted girl made such an impression. It surprises me that you have not heard of it yourself from multiple sources.”

  “Maybe Roger’s friends did not want to expose him to his elders’ ridicule. I cannot ask him just now if it is true, as Roger is out of town, and I do not know –,” Marianne lied wit
h a straight face – “if he has anything to do with those articles and rumours, though I cannot imagine why he should. I am going to talk with my husband and see if we can do anything to help, but quite frankly I fear that the papers will write whatever they want. Even the Queen cannot stop them from printing awkward questions.”

  “But they are implying that Marian was murdered by my husband – that we neglected and ignored her! It is so unfair!”

  “It may be unfair towards you, Lady Colville, but I am less sure about your husband’s conduct as a guardian. Did he discuss Lady Marian’s health troubles with you? That she was allowed to travel to a place like Chatterham with only a companion and maid does not look good. Were you aware of her being there at the time?”

  “I had no idea she was even in the country. The news of her death by drowning came as a complete surprise. I felt uneasy in my mind then, suspecting she had taken her own life. The bitter, haughty young woman my husband repeatedly described to me might well have been capable of such a mortal sin.”

  “I don’t think you can take your husband’s description of Lady Marian as gospel, Lady Colville. My own impression is that there is some mystery involved in her fate, and it is little wonder that the sensation-loving papers have taken up her cause. That she was distantly related to her Majesty’s husband must be grist on their mill.”

  “That detail came as a complete surprise. I had no notion of her royal connections, remote as they are. Though they help explain her refusal to live with us…”

  “That refusal may never have been uttered,” Marianne pointed out, but Lady Colville, still clinging to her long-established dislike of the dead girl, did not pay attention.

  “If you are unable or unwilling to help combat this vicious campaign, there is nothing else to discuss.” Lady Colville stood up with a sort of forlorn dignity, and lowered her veils.

  “Once the full truth is out, things may look very different,” Marianne said. “I hope it is better rather than worse, Lady Colville. Let me escort you outside.”