Deadly Inheritance

by Janet Laurence

  ‘No better, but little worse either, which is a cause for relief. You have been picnicking, I see.’

  ‘Have you had lunch? There is plenty left over and we should be delighted to have you join us,’ said Ursula in a spirit of mischief. It was patently obvious that the Colonel was not happy with the encounter but she was delighted to meet Mr Russell again. She could not forget either what a stimulating conversationalist he had been or how he had managed to smooth over the unfortunate disappearance of Belle into the shrubbery with William Warburton.

  ‘I should warn you we have finished the wine,’ the Colonel said, his voice slightly less hostile.

  ‘Many thanks, but I need to return home. However, I hope I may have the pleasure of more conversation in the near future with you, Miss Grandison. I am seriously thinking of travelling to America after, well, when I no longer have ties here. I think it is somewhere I can make something of myself.’

  ‘I should be delighted, Mr Russell. I believe it has much to offer.’

  He mounted his horse again and sat looking down at the two of them. ‘Miss Grandison, I am your servant. Charles, I understand you have resigned your commission. I wish you luck with whatever lies before you.’ He raised his whip in farewell then trotted away.

  Ursula looked at the Colonel in an enquiring manner.

  His face worked in an odd way then he shrugged his shoulders. ‘Is there anything else in the basket? I’d hate to offend Chef.’

  Ursula inspected the basket. ‘Fruitcake,’ she said, unwrapping a greaseproof paper packet. ‘What a pity there isn’t coffee to go with it.’

  He suddenly grinned. ‘There speaks the American. An English girl would have expressed a desire for tea.’

  ‘After luncheon, surely not?’

  ‘Maybe you are right. But in South Africa I found I longed more often for a billy can of tea than coffee.’

  ‘In the Sierra Nevada there was always a pot of coffee on the stove. Tea was unknown.’ Ursula handed him a slice of cake.

  ‘No doubt you Americans gave it up after the Boston Tea Party.’

  Ursula laughed as she watched the retreating figure of Max Russell. She wondered why the Colonel should show such tightly controlled animosity towards someone his brother and sister-in-law appeared to treat as a friend.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The picnic was packed up in near silence. Max Russell seemed to have left a strained atmosphere.

  The Colonel called Honey to heel and announced he would give her a quick walk, ‘So long as you feel happy to be left on your own for a little, Miss Grandison?’

  Ursula assured him she would very much like to sit quietly and contemplate the scenery. ‘It is very beautiful here, Colonel,’ she said, leaning against a wheel of the trap. ‘I think I could look at this scene forever. Does any of this land belong to your brother?’

  ‘All of it,’ he said curtly.

  ‘All of it?’

  ‘As far as you can see – on every side.’

  ‘How much land does he own?’

  ‘Ten thousand acres here, another five thousand in the north of England, one thousand in Scotland.’ He sounded stilted, as though these figures were embarrassing, then clicked his fingers at Honey and disappeared across the top of the meadows.

  Ursula sat in awed contemplation of the fields and hills that rolled away from her and tried to imagine a total of sixteen thousand acres of Britain. This was such a small country compared with the seemingly unending expanses of America; to think of one family, one man, owning such a large portion of it was extraordinary. Then she wondered how much income the land represented.

  ‘Rents are down, I know that,’ Mr Seldon had said before she left with Belle. ‘Large estates require large sums to be spent in maintenance. Helen complains of the burden death duties have imposed on them. However, I don’t think that’s the answer. Helen would not allow her dowry to be spent propping up failing farms.’

  Ursula thought over what she had seen of the relationship between Helen and her husband, the Earl of Mountstanton. It hardly seemed a marriage made in heaven. An image flashed into her mind of the drunken Earl being supported by Mr Warburton and the handsome young footman along the corridor from the billiard room. To Ursula’s eyes, Richard Stanhope seemed a cold and unsympathetic man. She remembered the passionate girl she had shared her schooling with. Had one unfortunate liaison made her settle for status rather than romance?

  She could not help remembering Jack Dyke, the man both she and Helen had fallen in love with. She had been working in Chauncey Seldon’s office, earning her keep. Helen was preparing her society debut and moaning that she was not on either Mrs Astor’s or Mrs Vanderbilt’s list. ‘I won’t meet the right people if I’m not invited to their parties!’ But Helen was welcomed everywhere else. Where she met Jack Dyke, Ursula had no idea. She herself had met him when he came into the office selling typewriters. He was funny, charming, tall and handsome. And an excellent salesman. He’d won a contract from the Seldon company for ten typewriters and taken her out to lunch to celebrate. Later, he’d told Ursula the idea to approach the company had come from Helen.

  Jack invited Ursula not only to lunch but to the theatre, dinner, Coney Island. He seemed to be flush with cash and swore he was going places. Then the typewriter company went bust, the Seldon company lost money and Jack didn’t dare show his face there again. ‘California,’ he said. ‘That’s the place for a man like me. I’ll be running my own show in no time. Come with me, darling girl. We’ll get married and have a wonderful life.’

  So she’d run away with him. How was she to know Jack had been dating Helen as well? And when she did find out, she was ashamed to admit that she felt a sense of triumph that it was she who had captured his heart.

  Down the meadow Ursula saw the Colonel throwing a stick for Honey to retrieve. Charles Stanhope was direct in his manner and stood no nonsense. Certainly not a romantic figure. He had, though, a warmth about him; look at the way he had taken care of her. No, he was not cold like his brother. To Ursula’s American eyes, the difference in status between the two brothers was extraordinary. Did the younger man envy the Earl his position? Marriage to Belle would bring him money but that did not seem important to him, any more than did the pomp and position that his brother and mother took for granted. Nor did he appear close to his sister-in-law. Ursula had not seen them exchange more than the odd word.

  In the Sierra Nevada she had suffered serious bruising and several cracked ribs, but nothing that had hampered her movements the way this sprained ankle did.

  Soon after they’d arrived in San Francisco, Jack declared all his savings had been exhausted. It had taken less time for Ursula to lose her illusions about the man she had so hastily married in front of a drunken Bronx cleric. They’d travelled to St Louis by rail, then joined a covered wagon train. During the long, difficult journey over the Rockies and the Sierra Nevada, Ursula came to realise she had married a drinker and a gambler, and a man who found his greatest enjoyment in arguing, both with words and his fists. They’d been expelled from one wagon train and had to wait at a trading post for another, when Jack’s charm had rescued them. For the remainder of the journey he had tried, with some success, to curb his worst instincts. In San Francisco he seemed to make no attempt to find employment, spending most of his time in various bars. Then he declared a drinking buddy had made him a partner in a silver mine claim that would make their fortune. Ursula hoped that, away from the temptations of a large city, he would once again be the charming man she had fallen in love with. It was not to be.

  Ursula brought her mind back to Helen. How would she have dealt with Jack? Would her father have cut her off if she had married him? Maybe Jack realised that was how it would have been. But he knew that Ursula had no money; he must have loved her.

  Was it after losing Jack that Helen had learned to control her passions? She seemed to show very little emotion these days. She was as cool with her husband as with her brother-
in-law. The only people Ursula had seen her show genuine warmth towards had been Max Russell and William Warburton. Ursula realised Mr Russell had much of Jack’s charm: less mercurial, perhaps. He was certainly more sophisticated and he had not shown any particular love for alcohol at the dinner table.

  Ursula shivered. Dark clouds now obscured the sun and a chill wind was blowing up across the meadow.

  The Colonel strode up the hill with the dog. ‘It’s going to rain, we should be going,’ he said and started to harness the horse to the trap.

  Ursula hauled herself to her feet. Putting any weight on her foot was still extremely painful; she wondered how long it was going to take to heal; she hated not being able to move easily.

  Buckling the last of the straps, the Colonel checked that all was secure. He stowed away the basket Ursula had repacked, then helped her up on to the front seat.

  ‘With luck we’ll get back before the worst of the weather.’

  ‘It was such a lovely day and the sun seemed so set this morning.’

  ‘That’s the English climate for you; we can get four seasons in a day.’ The Colonel handed up Honey and Ursula settled her on the seat between them.

  On the way back the Colonel concentrated on his driving. The easy relationship that had developed between them seemed to have vanished.

  A fine drizzle started as they reached Hinton Parva. The Colonel slowed their speed. Then he gave an exclamation and brought the horse to a halt.

  Outside the village store a girl was trying to pull away from a man who held her by the wrist. Ursula recognised Mr Snell, the unpleasant fellow she had seen earlier inside the shop. The girl looked to be in her middle twenties, with a plain face and brown hair dragged back beneath a simple bonnet. Her neat figure was dressed in an ill-fitting grey skirt and coat. She looked very distressed. No one else was in the street; any villagers had disappeared inside to escape the rain.

  The Colonel thrust the reins into Ursula’s hands and jumped down.

  ‘Maggie, good to see you again. Do you need a lift up to the house?’ He looked at the man. ‘Mr Snell, do you have some business with Miss Hodgkiss?’

  The man dropped the girl’s hand. ‘So the Honourable Charles Stanhope is returned from the wars. A fine mess you’ve found at home.’

  ‘Maggie, where is your luggage?’

  She dipped a little curtsey. ‘I’ve left it with Mr Partridge, sir. I was going to walk back through the wood.’

  ‘Run and ask him to bring it here.’

  She disappeared into the shop.

  The Colonel turned back to Mr Snell. ‘I would ask you not to accost Mountstanton staff, sir. Please ensure there is no repetition of what I have seen this afternoon.’

  The man flushed a deep crimson. ‘Your family lords it over everyone but you have no right to speak to me like that. I will consort with whom I choose.’

  ‘It is unbecoming of someone with pretensions to being a gentleman to press his attentions on unwilling females.’

  ‘Ho! What makes you think all the so-called gentlemen at Mountstanton behave themselves?’ Mr Snell’s tone was full of innuendo and an abhorrent slyness.

  The Colonel looked steadily at him for a long minute, then turned away as the storekeeper came out carrying a small, battered travelling case and tucked it in beside the picnic basket on the trap.

  The Colonel thanked the man, helped Maggie up onto the seat beside Ursula, then climbed up and took back the reins. He gave a small salute to the storekeeper and drove off down the street.

  ‘Miss Grandison, may I introduce Maggie Hodgkiss, a member of the Mountstanton staff. Maggie, Miss Grandison has arrived from America with the Countess’s sister, Miss Seldon.’

  Ursula smiled at the girl, but she seemed too distressed to take in the introduction.

  ‘How is your mother, Maggie?’ continued the Colonel. ‘I hope, since you have returned to us, that she is better.’

  The girl held herself very straight. ‘Thank you, sir, she is much recovered.’ Then she gave a small gulp and said in a completely different tone, ‘Oh, sir, is it true what Mr Snell told me about Polly? Is she truly dead?’

  ‘I am afraid that, yes, it is true.’

  She gave a cry. ‘How did it happen, sir?’

  ‘What exactly did Mr Snell say to you, Maggie?’

  The girl clutched her hands together. ‘He …’ she gave another gulp. ‘He said I was not to expect to find my friend, Polly, at Mountstanton because she had suffered a … a grievous outrage … and was dead.’ She ended on a sharp cry and brought her hands up to her mouth. ‘What did he mean, sir? How did Polly die?’

  The Colonel glanced at Ursula.

  She took one of the girl’s hands in hers. ‘I’m so sorry, Maggie. She seems to have fallen down that steep hill from the wood into the river. I … well, I found her.’

  Two astonished brown eyes looked into Ursula’s. ‘You, miss?’

  Ursula nodded. ‘It is very sad. I think, though, to call it “a grievous outrage” is a little strange.’

  ‘Do you know Mr Snell well, Maggie?’ asked the Colonel.

  She shook her head violently. ‘Polly and I were with Miss Ranner one afternoon and he called, so she introduced us.’ She gave a slight shudder. ‘As Polly and I walked back to the house, we both said that he was a queer fellow all right.’ Her hand clutched at Ursula’s and she swallowed hard. ‘Mr Snell was there when I arrived on the Salisbury coach. He grabbed me after I’d asked Mr Partridge if he’d look after my case and said what I told you. He came straight out with it. I was that shocked I didn’t realise at first he had hold of my wrist. I mean, Polly dead! I can’t hardly believe it.’

  The rain was now falling in earnest.

  ‘Get the rug out of the picnic case, Miss Grandison; it can shelter you and Maggie,’ the Colonel ordered.

  Ursula reached for the basket. She pulled the rug over both her and Maggie’s heads. ‘I’m sorry, Colonel, it’s not large enough to include you.’

  He gave her a quick grin. ‘My men would have thought me unworthy of respect if I succumbed to being wrapped up against a light shower of rain.’ He flicked the reins to encourage greater speed from the horse. ‘I’m not going to suggest we shelter under the trees, this is going to get much worse and we’re not far from home now.’

  Despite the rug, Ursula began to feel the rain seeping through her clothes. She smiled at the servant girl. ‘I hope you’re not feeling too cold, Maggie?’

  The maid gave her a nervous smile. ‘It’s much better than walking through the woods, miss, and it’s very kind of you and Colonel Charles to give me a lift.’

  ‘Tell me, Maggie,’ said the Colonel, ‘Who was Polly’s young man?’

  The brown eyes opened wide. ‘What do you mean, sir?’

  ‘Come on, Maggie,’ he said gently. ‘You’re not going to tell me a girl as attractive as Polly didn’t have a young man to tell her how beautiful she was? Or that she didn’t confide in you her feelings for him.’

  Another nervous smile from Maggie. ‘Well, Colonel Charles, you never knew with Polly. One moment she’d be saying John had sworn he loved her and the next that there was someone else but she couldn’t tell me his name. Loves a bit of a mystery, does Polly. I mean … she did. Oh, sir, I can’t believe she’ll not be there when we get back.’

  ‘Did she not give you any idea who the mystery man might be? Drop you a hint, get you guessing at all?’

  ‘Is it important, sir?’

  He glanced at her. ‘It could be, Maggie. It could be very important.’

  She closed her eyes for a moment, as though that would help her to remember. ‘Before I left she was very mysterious, more than ever I knew her.’ There was a brief hesitation. ‘Polly did say, though, that I’d be fair amazed when I heard what she had to tell – and that I could find myself curtseying to her. Only, she said it in such a way, I knew it was a joke. I mean, we used to say every now and then that a prince might appear and carry us off
and that we’d live in splendour, like what you do at Mountstanton, sir, if you don’t mind my saying it. We didn’t mean anything by it, not really.’

  He gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Why shouldn’t you dream, Maggie? Life’s hard enough; without our dreams we’d find it insupportable.’

  Did the Colonel have them? Ursula wondered. He’d left the army, what was he intending to do now? Was it anything connected with Mountstanton? Is that why he was so concerned about its staff? Or was it that he considered them part of his family and felt a duty towards them?

  The horse increased its speed as the shelter of the stables drew near.

  On arrival in the yard, a groom dashed out to hold the horse. The Colonel jumped down and helped Maggie descend.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ she said and reached for her case. But he’d already got hold of it. ‘I can take it now, sir, thank you,’ she gasped as he swung it down.

  The Colonel, though, instructed a stable lad to take the case up to the women’s corridor. Then he retrieved the crutches and helped Ursula and the dog down. Maggie ran into the house as a footman came out with an umbrella. The Colonel took it and held it over Ursula’s head. ‘I hope you aren’t too wet, he said as she limped towards the house.

  Ursula laughed. ‘I should tell you about the number of times I was soaked to the skin in the Sierra Nevada. No one held an umbrella for me then.’

  ‘I look forward to hearing your Californian exploits.’

  It seemed that the rapport established between them had returned. Then Ursula realised how much it had come to mean and told herself to be careful.

  The Colonel left her at the back door and returned to the stables, no doubt to see that the horse was properly looked after.

  Passing the kitchen area, Ursula looked in and complimented the Chef on the excellent picnic. When she reached her room, she found Sarah had brought up a big jug of hot water and had lit her fire.

  ‘Colonel Stanhope requested it, miss,’ she said, dipping a little curtsey. ‘He said you and Maggie were wet through.