Delightful Harry certainly was, but he could also be very temperamental. One advantage with Belle’s arrival was that she and Harry had formed an immediate bond. With an effort, Helen dismissed the problems with her sister; it was time now to deal with Ursula, no doubt already waiting for her in her boudoir. Helen for once was pleased that both her suite of rooms and her husband’s were on the ground floor. Their facilities left a great deal to be desired, but at least she did not have to negotiate a long staircase.
Outside the door of her boudoir, Helen paused for a moment, drawing strength from her grievances.
* * *
Ursula sat with a straight back in a little buttoned chair. The room was the most charming she had met with so far at Mountstanton. It looked recently decorated. The soft, fresh blues and creams and pretty furniture gave quite a different impression from the rest of the house. There was a Watteau on one wall, and two interesting Impressionist paintings on another.
The room brought back the Helen Ursula had known throughout her youth: a volatile, pretty and gregarious girl, one who broke most school rules while managing to evade retribution. Many times Ursula had lied to save her friend from disaster.
What was going to be demanded of her now? And how was Belle to be handled? Walking towards that flash of pink in the shrubbery, Ursula had seen the girl standing far too close to Mr Warburton; they might almost have been in an embrace. She had exchanged a speaking glance with Mr Russell and they had quickened their pace. As they approached, Belle had looked at Ursula with the satisfaction of a cat that had stolen the cream. ‘Do not be unkind, Ursula, I could not bear it,’ she said, laughing.
Ursula could not catch what Mr Russell said to Mr Warburton but she heard a protest from the younger man.
‘Come,’ said Ursula calmly, ‘Let us walk back to the house. Her ladyship will be looking for Belle, I am sure.’ She had placed her hand through Belle’s arm. After a moment’s resistance, the girl had walked with Ursula, leaving the two men to follow.
That Helen was very angry when she met them was obvious but Ursula admired her control. Ten years ago she would have exploded into a tantrum. Now she managed to handle the situation to a nicety.
Ursula turned from the problem of Belle to the enjoyable time she had spent seated next to Mr Russell at the dinner table. He was a delightful conversationalist and if Englishmen in general were more like him rather than the Earl, whom in other respects he greatly resembled, then perhaps the next few months would not be as difficult as she feared. There might even be another meeting with Mr Russell.
The door opened and Helen entered.
Ursula remained sitting.
Helen stood as though expecting her to rise, then seemed to decide that, for once, she would not insist on the courtesy due to her position.
‘You look very tired, Helen.’
The Countess went over to the fireplace and tugged on the bell pull. ‘It was a long evening,’ she said, sounding surprised. ‘I think we could do with something to drink.’
This was not what Ursula had expected.
A footman arrived.
‘Whisky and some soda, please, John.’
‘Water for me, please,’ said Ursula.
‘Of course, my lady.’ The footman bowed with a twinkle in his brown eyes that said he liked the idea of the two of them enjoying a nightcap.
Ursula waved at the two Impressionist paintings. ‘You have good taste,’ she said.
Helen looked at them as though for the first time. ‘Part of my wedding present from Papa. Richard doesn’t like them so they hang here.’
‘Renoir, I think, and Monet?’
Helen waved a dismissive hand. ‘If you say so.’
‘This house seems to have many treasures. And its patina of age is attractive,’ she added, wondering what this would bring forth.
Helen hardly seemed to hear. She sat down and removed her shoes.
It was almost as though they were schoolgirls again.
Helen looked ruefully at Ursula. ‘I have hated you for ten years. When I saw you with Belle the day you arrived, I was almost consumed with hatred.’
‘And now?’ Ursula sat very still.
Helen dragged a hand across her forehead. ‘I feel empty. Seeing you sitting there, remembering what we once were to each other, the hate suddenly seems pointless. It’s as though rotting flesh has fallen away, leaving clean bones.’
‘An interesting metaphor,’ Ursula said dryly.
‘I suppose you think that I have no reason to hate you. After all, I have my belted Earl, and an historic mansion, not to mention a house in London.’
‘And a beautiful son.’
Helen’s expression softened. ‘Yes, I have Harry.’ There was a moment’s pause before she said, ‘And you, Ursula, what do you have?’ There was a note of satisfaction in her voice that suggested the answer had to be, ‘nothing’.
‘Memories, mostly damaged ones.’
The footman knocked and entered. He bore a silver tray holding a whisky decanter, glass tumblers, a soda siphon, a gracefully shaped jug of water and a bowl of ice.
There flashed across Ursula’s memory a vision of an unlabelled, dumpy bottle of gut-blasting moonshine, tin mugs on a rough board table, raised voices, and a haze of tobacco smoke. She closed her eyes for a moment and blanked it out.
‘Thank you, John,’ said Helen. ‘We will serve ourselves.’
Ursula opened her eyes to see Helen holding out a glass of whisky with ice.
She took it and added a splash of water.
‘Papa wrote that Jack was killed in an accident in California. Were you there?’ Helen sat down with her own, amber-filled glass.
Ursula nodded. ‘It wasn’t an accident. He had a devil of a temper when drunk.’ She wasn’t prepared to go into details. She enjoyed the smoky-peat flavour of smooth liquor. After a moment she added, ‘If he hadn’t died, I would have left him.’
Helen looked at the contents of her glass. ‘He was a devil of a man every which way. I haven’t forgiven you for taking him from me.’ There was a streak of acid in her voice.
Ursula shook her head. ‘He wasn’t yours, any more than he was mine.’ She looked full at Helen. ‘He told me when we reached St Louis that you would have been too easy.’
Helen flushed. ‘But I had money. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Ursula. Men want money. They need money.’
‘Jack said that real power didn’t lie with money, it was to do with knowing how to handle people. Give him people he could set against each other and it was as though he’d been filled with alcohol. Look at how he set you against me. He’d have made one hell of a politician.’
Helen said nothing.
After a moment Ursula added, ‘I didn’t steal Jack, Helen. He had no “sold” notice on him.’
Helen tossed down the contents of her glass and refilled it, then leant against an antique secretaire, nursing her drink.
‘What made Papa send you with Belle?’ she asked abruptly. ‘He must have known it would annoy the hell out of me.’
‘He wanted someone with her he could trust.’
‘He thought he could trust you?’
‘He knew he could. He rescued me from the slums of San Francisco.’ Ursula looked down into her glass. ‘After Jack died, a friend of his employed me to run a boarding house. The clientele were the lowest of the low and I could see no way out. Then your father arrived.’
‘He likes power, too,’ Helen said bitterly.
‘He said he needed someone to help with his younger daughter. I was starving and he offered me a feast.’
‘What does he intend with this debut season for Belle?’
‘Have you not discussed this with him?’
Helen sat down again. ‘Belle was about to finish her education and I suggested she might enjoy a London Season. He agreed.’
‘So why do you ask what his motives are?’
‘Papa never does anything without motives.’
&
nbsp; Ursula shrugged. ‘If you mean do you think he’s hoping for another marriage into the aristocracy of England, you can rest easy. He wants her to have a good time and then return to New York to brighten his days.’ Ursula watched to see what the effect of this would be on Helen. Belle’s tearful complaint that her sister had already chosen a husband for her was very much in her mind.
‘But if Belle were to fall in love?’
‘Ah!’ Ursula studied the handsome tumbler she was holding. ‘Belle’s happiness is important to him,’ she said slowly.
‘Anything Belle wants, Belle gets, is that it?’
Ursula was silent.
‘I’m surprised he didn’t come with her.’
‘He would have liked to but business keeps him in New York for the moment.’
‘Business, always business!’ Helen topped up her glass and waved the decanter at Ursula, who shook her head.
‘It’s business that gives you your money. Without it, do you think you would be here?’
Helen gave her a searing look and Ursula realised she had been clumsy. As she cast around for a way to defuse her remark, Helen said stiffly, ‘Thank you for rescuing Belle this evening.’
Ursula shrugged again. ‘She is very young and untrained in formal behaviour. I am sure you can make her aware of what is required. I will, of course, help in every way I can.’
Helen drained her glass for the third time. ‘It’s late. We must go to bed.’
Ursula rose. ‘Helen, let me say that it’s good to see you again.’ She placed her half-finished glass on the silver tray. ‘Thank you for this evening.’
Helen said nothing.
* * *
Going back through the main hall, Ursula saw a door open and the Earl and William Warburton stagger out. It was the Earl who seemed the worse for wear. His arm was around the younger man’s shoulder; he was laughing inanely and slapping the other man on the chest. ‘I sank them; I said I would sink them and I did, I did, I did.’
The light in the wide corridor was very dim, the lamps flickering. Ursula drew back into a doorway and hoped to remain unnoticed.
The footman who had brought the whisky to the Countess’s boudoir appeared and draped the Earl’s free arm around his shoulder. ‘Come along, my lord,’ he said. ‘We’ll see you to bed.’
As the little party drew level with Ursula, she distinctly saw the footman wink at her.
Chapter Six
The morning had promise. There was a mist but behind it the sun was shining and Ursula thought it would soon clear.
Helen had announced at breakfast that she and Belle would go for a drive and visit some neighbours, including Lady Frances Russell. The Dowager Countess was to be taken on a tour of the estate by the Earl.
Ursula decided she would explore the village of Hinton Parva, the nearest to Mountstanton, and applied to one of the footmen for directions.
She should go down the drive, then turn left at the end and follow the road. ‘It’s not above a couple of miles or so,’ the footman added.
This was not a distance to trouble Ursula, especially on such a fine day. She put on stout footwear, changed her linen skirt for one of ankle-length in plain drill cotton, and donned a short jacket.
As she passed the nursery, drawing on her gloves, Mrs Comfort emerged with Harry.
‘Morning, Miss Grandison. Going out for a walk? That’s the ticket. Me and his lordship are off for a pony ride.’
‘I’m to jump today,’ Harry announced in a proud voice.
‘I’m to jump today, what?’ pressed Mrs Comfort.
Harry looked down at his boots. ‘Miss Grandison,’ he muttered.
‘That sounds splendid. I’m sure you will jump beautifully. Will Mrs Comfort ride with you?’ Ursula asked with a smile.
Harry laughed. ‘Nanny don’t ride! She will watch me. And clap when I jump. You will clap, won’t you, Nanny?’
‘Yes, my love, of course I will.’
‘And then I can show Papa how I jump.’ He gave a little skip as they all walked together towards the stairs.
‘Where be you off to, Miss Grandison, if I may ask?’
‘I thought I would see what an English village was like, Mrs Comfort.’
‘Somewhat different from your American ones, no doubt.’
Ursula laughed.
‘And will you walk through the wood?’
The idea of a wood sounded interesting.
‘Which way is that?’
Mrs Comfort stopped beside a window. ‘See, over there, Miss Grandison?’ She pointed.
Beyond the formal garden, a path led up to a thickly wooded hill.
‘Goes right over and down into the village. Bit rough in places but probably nothing to you.’ Mrs Comfort glanced at Ursula’s sensible footwear. ‘Us staff always uses it if we’re going to Hinton, shorter than by the road, see. Polly loved to take that way.’
‘Polly?’
Mrs Comfort’s face creased with some indefinable emotion. ‘Polly was the nursemaid here.’ Ursula remembered that the nanny was without an assistant. ‘She seemed happy with us, and the little lord loved her.’
‘So what happened?’
‘Took and left, she did. Without a word of warning. Anyway, miss, she liked the wood. And the bluebells are out; they’re early this year. It’ll be quite a sight.’
‘Can you ride, Miss Grandison?’ asked Harry.
‘Yes. Perhaps one of these days we could ride together. Do you think that might be possible?’
‘I will speak to Papa,’ he said seriously as they started down the stairs. ‘Papa says it is important for ladies to ride well.’
‘And your Mama, does she ride with you?’
‘Mama rides exceedingly well but I do not think she really enjoys it.’
Ursula was amused at the pedantic way he said this. ‘Has she told you so?’
‘No, but she does not ride out with Papa. She says he rides like the devil.’ He grinned at her.
‘Lord Harry, I’ve told you before about your language!’
Harry slipped his hand out of Mrs Comfort’s and ran down the rest of the stairs. ‘I’ll be first at the stables,’ he shouted.
The nanny smiled at Ursula. ‘I do like to see him enthusiastic, Miss Grandison. And he does love riding, as does her ladyship, whatever Lord Harry says. He spends too much time at the stables, though.’
‘Harry!’ came a stern cry.
The Dowager Countess was in the hall. ‘You do not run like a common lad. You walk steadily, like a gentleman.’
Harry stood with downcast head. ‘Yes, Grandmama.’ Then he looked up at her. ‘I am going riding. And we are to jump.’
For a fleeting moment Ursula thought she saw the ghost of a smile on the Dowager Countess’s face. ‘I look forward to hearing all about it later, Harry. But, remember, walk steadily.’
She saw Ursula. ‘Ah, Miss Grandison, going for a walk, I see.’
‘I thought I would explore the village, your ladyship.’
‘In that case, my dog will accompany you. I was going to ask the under gardener but you taking her will allow him to continue with his work.’
‘A dog, your ladyship?’
The Dowager Countess moved slightly and Ursula saw for the first time that she was holding a lead. On its end was a small spaniel with long ears, soulful eyes and an attractive red and white coat.
‘This is Honey.’
Ursula crouched down. ‘Hello, Honey.’ She caressed the dog, gently rubbing between its ears and underneath its neck. Honey licked her face. ‘I think we can be friends,’ she said as she rose and held out her hand for Honey’s lead.
This time the Dowager Countess did smile. ‘I can see Honey will be in good hands. You will not let her chase rabbits or get over-excited. When you get back, apply at the stables and they will give you a brush. She always needs one after a run.’
‘By all means,’ Ursula said, amused.
* * *
As she left th
e house with the spaniel, Ursula saw Helen and Belle setting forth in an open landau. Helen looked strained and Belle sulky. Ursula waved at them.
‘What a lovely day,’ she called as the carriage moved forward. There was no response.
The hill was steep, the sun had burned through the mist, and Ursula soon removed her jacket and tied it round her waist. She laughed with enjoyment of the day and the spaniel trotted happily alongside her.
At the top, Ursula stopped to catch her breath and admire the countryside. She looked up at what was now a brilliant blue sky. Birds sang, liquid and sweet, in the soft spring air. She drew a deep breath. Compared with the vast open spaces of America, this countryside before her was a patchwork of handkerchief-sized pieces. But each piece was miniature perfection. For the first time since she had left on this trip with Belle, Ursula felt a sense of freedom. She bent down and released the dog.
Honey looked up at her uncertainly, her head on one side.
‘Come on, let’s go into the wood and see if there are any rabbits.’
After the brilliance of the sun, the darkness was almost sinister and the air was cold. Ursula shivered. She loosened the sleeves of the jacket from round her waist and put it on again, rubbing at her arms.
Gradually her eyes adjusted to the shaded light and she saw that the path continued straight ahead. Then she caught her breath. On either side of the path were the bluebells Mrs Comfort had spoken of. Slender, arching stems supported sprays of small, bell-shaped blossoms, carpeting the floor of the wood in an intense blue that yielded a sweetly fragrant and intense aroma. ‘Oh!’ cried Ursula. ‘How beautiful!’ The emotional force of this quietly enchanting sight was overwhelming.
She moved slowly through the wood. She forgot about the dog, forgot about Belle, Helen, and Mountstanton House; she forgot about Mr Seldon and her mission and just drank in the vision before her.
Honey ran through the bluebells, bounding in delight, her ears flying. Then she flushed a rabbit and streaked away after it. Ursula laughed and clapped her hands in encouragement.
Suddenly, Honey disappeared from view. One moment she’d been there, racing through the bluebells, the next she had vanished. Ursula hurried after and found that the wood ended abruptly along the top of an escarpment. Both rabbit and spaniel appeared to have gone over the edge.
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