‘Like you, I was not at all satisfied with the coroner’s verdict on Polly’s death. It seemed to me that, without my brother’s backing, we were unlikely to make progress down here and so I went up to London.’
Well, there was one unasked question answered.
He gave her the slightest of smiles, as though he had worked out at least one reason for her sudden antagonism towards him.
Ursula felt a momentary regret at not having had more faith in him – but also a sudden spurt of anger that he couldn’t have told her what he was doing. She was also very conscious of Mr Jackman’s keen attention and strove to keep her expression non-committal.
‘Through an old friend, I made contact with the Home Secretary and asked for an introduction to Scotland Yard.’
American she might be but Ursula knew exactly what Scotland Yard represented.
‘And, finally, after a little time, I got an introduction. But apparently what I was able to produce by way of facts was not enough for them to send down a detective for an investigation. However, it was suggested that if I was set on pursuing the matter, I contact one Thomas Jackman.’ He glanced over at the other man, who took a step forward.
‘Until recently I was a detective officer in the Metropolitan Police,’ Jackman said in a matter-of-fact way. ‘And I now pursue a calling, as you might say, as a private investigator.’
‘That is why Mr Jackman is in the village. He has booked himself into the Lion and Lamb and is pursuing enquiries.’
Ursula remembered Miss Russell’s indignation at this stranger questioning villagers.
‘What reason have you been giving for making these “enquiries” as you have it, Mr Jackman?’
‘Why that there is a gentleman of fortune who has come to see the error of youthful indiscretions and is now anxious to trace the possible offspring of a relationship he enjoyed in this area some twenty odd years ago.’
How that skimmed the truth!
‘When pursuing investigatory matters, miss, while being circumspect, I find it best to stick as near to the facts as is known.’ He glanced at the Colonel as though handing the conversation back to him.
‘As Jackman was in the neighbourhood, I sent him a note last night asking him to attend on me here,’ said the Colonel. ‘I wanted him to see my brother’s body before the authorities took over.’
Ursula felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.
‘Local authorities seldom take notice of evidence in the way we do at the Yard,’ Thomas Jackman said sententiously.
The Colonel leaned back in his chair. ‘Tell Miss Grandison what you said to me after your inspection of the scene in the belvedere.’
The detective turned to Ursula.
‘As soon as I saw the deceased, every instinct and all my experience as a detective said that it was not suicide.’
Ursula gasped. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Suicides do not shoot themselves lying down, miss.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Never known one yet.’
‘Why don’t they?’ The question seemed idiotic but she could not stop herself.
He shrugged. ‘Who’s to say? Perhaps because it’s awkward if a shotgun is used, as in his lordship’s case, though it seems if the deed is done with a pistol, the victim still prefers to be sitting or standing. Whatever the reason, I hold his lordship’s death to have been by some other hand than his own.’
‘Thank you, Jackman. Would you be good enough to wait in the hall while Miss Grandison and I discuss the situation?’
‘Of course, sir.’
The detective quietly left the room.
Ursula swallowed hard and tried to take in the enormity of what had been said. She turned back to the Colonel, now studying her through half-closed eyes. ‘Forgive me, but are you really taking that man’s word that your brother did not commit suicide? I realise such a verdict would have terrible consequences. Polly’s death has taught me that.’
His eyes were haunted. ‘The shame threatens to devastate my mother.’
‘But who could possibly have wanted to kill him?’ Later she realised that the thought of an accident had not occurred to her.
‘I knew I could trust you to go to the heart of the matter, Miss Grandison. You have raised the two crucial issues: First, can I rely on Jackman’s experience in these matters? Second, if I can, who could have had reason to shoot Richard?’
She saw one reason why he had been a successful army officer; personal feelings could be put aside when they had to be. Ursula wished she could manage to do the same. ‘Do you know what the view of the authorities is? Have they attended on you yet?’
‘Dr Mason came last night, pronounced Richard dead and said he would inform the coroner. I expect him and the Chief Constable to arrive at any moment.’
‘Should you not wait to hear what they say? And why are you telling me all this?’
The Colonel’s singularly charming smile broke through the exhaustion. ‘I asked Jackman to tell you his conclusions because I have the greatest respect for your common sense and superior intelligence. There is no one else in this household I can trust the way I do you.’
His words and the sincerity with which they were uttered were so unexpected, Ursula gazed at him in astonishment.
‘I do not expect the coroner to agree with Jackman’s verdict,’ he continued, ‘nor do I expect our Chief Constable to call on Scotland Yard to instigate a thorough investigation.’
Ursula tried to grapple with the situation. ‘But surely, sir, you are now the head of the Mountstanton household? Oh, I know it’s Harry who must be Earl but, until he is grown, you have to be in charge.’ He said nothing and she considered for a moment. For the first time an alternative presented itself. ‘What is being suggested here is surely impossible. If, and I cannot take it as more than if, Mr Jackman is correct in saying your brother could not have committed suicide, could there not have been some sort of accident?’
He regarded her steadily and his lip curled slightly. ‘I am sure my mother and sister-in-law would prefer a verdict of death by misadventure.’
‘Misadventure?’ Having suggested an accident, Ursula now found she was sceptical.
Charles sighed heavily and said nothing.
‘You think that your brother was shot by someone else? But that would make it a homicide!’
The word echoed round the quiet room.
Ursula looked at the Colonel in horror and saw that this was what he believed. ‘Can you take the word of that former policeman? Can he really be certain that people never shoot themselves lying down?’
He walked to the door. ‘Let us allow him to speak for himself.’
A moment later Thomas Jackman reappeared in the library and Ursula expressed her doubts.
‘I can understand, miss, that it is a hard matter to accept,’ he said. ‘Perhaps if I could suggest that we visit the scene?’
Ursula flinched.
‘You may stay here, Miss Grandison,’ the Colonel said quickly. ‘We will report back.’
She pulled herself together. If Colonel Stanhope had called her in because he felt her opinions could be valuable, she must not let him down. ‘I shall accompany you, sir.’
‘Are you sure?’ His voice was concerned.
‘Absolutely.’
Her reward was a warm smile.
‘Then let us go.’
‘A moment, sir,’ Mr Jackman said. ‘I think we shall need to conduct a small experiment. Is there a shotgun similar to the one used last night?’
The Colonel nodded. ‘I will fetch it from the gun room.’
‘And if we could take a couple of wooden chairs with us?’
‘Of course.’
* * *
Outside, clear skies and a warm sun said it was going to be another glorious day.
It was a curious little procession. First came the Colonel, a shotgun broken over his arm; then followed Mr Jackman carrying two plain wooden chairs from the se
rvants’ dining hall, and lastly came Ursula.
She found her steps slowing as they approached the belvedere. But the Earl’s body was covered with a tarpaulin; only the gun was visible. It lay neatly alongside the stone bench, beneath the hand, once again dangling down, its fingers just visible.
Mr Jackman halted short of that dreadful scene and put down the chairs, one alongside the other with a gap in between. He waved at the gun on the ground beneath the Earl’s hand. ‘Please, take note of its position.’
Ursula and the Colonel looked at it and then back at Mr Jackman.
‘If I could have the shotgun you are holding, sir?’
The Colonel handed it over.
The detective checked it was unloaded. Then he snapped the stock back onto the barrel and released the safety catch. Finally he adjusted the position of the two chairs so they stood a little further apart.
‘How is my height in relation to that of the deceased?’ he asked the Colonel.
‘You are several inches shorter, Jackman, my brother was taller than I am.’
‘Should not be critical.’
He lay down across the two chairs and Ursula put a hand to her mouth and swallowed hard as she saw what he was about to do. She closed her eyes as the ex-policeman brought the barrel of the gun up to his mouth. She heard a click followed by a thud and then silence. She opened her eyes.
Thomas Jackman was inching himself off the chairs. On the ground lay the shotgun.
‘You see, sir, miss?’
The gun lay at an angle to the line of the chairs.
‘But perhaps it could sometimes fall as that one did,’ the Colonel waved a hand towards last night’s weapon.
‘I could repeat this experiment as many times as you like, sir, but the result will never be as neat as that gun there.’ He gestured towards it. ‘Also, this one was not loaded; there was no recoil. You saw how when my finger loosened its grip off the trigger, the weapon slipped and then bounced on the ground. With the recoil, it would have landed further away.’
Ursula and the Colonel both looked again at the weapon that lay on the floor of the belvedere, so neatly positioned below the Earl’s dead hand.
‘And the champagne bottle?’ the Colonel asked.
‘Could have been placed there to suggest the dead man had drunk it to prepare himself for the final act.’
‘What are you doing?’ The voice was sharp. Coming towards them across the grass was the Dowager Countess.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Colonel went to meet his mother. Mr Jackman picked up the gun he had used for his experiment and laid it carefully on one of the chairs. He looked at Ursula.
‘Do you understand, miss?’
She nodded slowly. She might not trust the ex-policeman the way the Colonel obviously did but the demonstration had convinced her. It seemed incontrovertible that the Earl had not killed himself.
The Dowager made an angry gesture at her son and continued on towards Ursula and Mr Jackman.
‘Young man, I am the Dowager Countess of Mountstanton. I understand my son has hired you to investigate the tragedy that happened here last night,’ she said, looking the detective straight in the eye. ‘You may go home now. We know what happened: there was an accident.’
She stood as if prepared for roots to grow from her feet. ‘The coroner and the Chief Constable will soon be here and will pronounce officially that an accident occurred. I ask you to remove those macabre items from my lawn.’ She waved a hand at the chairs then turned to Ursula. ‘I am surprised to find you taking part in this extraordinary exercise, Miss Grandison. I thought better of you.’
With superb control, her head held high, her back ramrod straight, the Dowager Countess returned to her apartment.
Mr Jackman placed one chair upside down on the other.
The Colonel saw his mother into her apartment then hurried back to where the two of them were standing.
‘Accident?’ asked Ursula blankly. She had suggested this possibility herself; now it seemed unlikely if not impossible.
‘Richard was often known to take his shotgun after pigeons. My mother believes he grew bored with last night’s festivities and decided that shooting a few would offer better entertainment. She thinks a malfunction in the weapon caused the accident.’
‘Pigeons, Colonel, at that time of night?’ said Ursula.
He gave a hopeless shrug. ‘That is what my mother appears to believe. Mr Jackman, you have convinced me that my brother might well have been shot by someone unknown. I would be grateful if you would attempt to discover from those villagers who were here at yesterday’s celebrations, what time they left and if they saw anyone approach the belvedere. It cannot be seen from where the marquee was placed but someone might have noticed a person coming up from the river towards it, for instance. I think it unlikely anyone would have been bold enough to come round the house.’
‘Certainly, sir. When would you like me to report to you?’
Charles thought for a moment then suggested around six o’clock that evening.
Mr Jackman handed over the shotgun he had used for his demonstration, picked up the two chairs and walked swiftly away, just as two men appeared.
The Colonel straightened his shoulders. ‘Ah, the coroner and the Chief Constable. Miss Grandison, would you …?’
‘Of course.’
‘I will come and find you after they have conducted their examination.’
‘Will you …?’
‘Tell them the result of Mr Jackman’s little experiment? I will indeed, Miss Grandison.’ He seemed hurt that she would think anything else.
* * *
Ursula went back into the house feeling shattered. What was being suggested seemed impossible. And yet …
No sooner had she returned inside than Belle found her.
‘Oh, Ursula, isn’t it awful?’ Her pretty face was crumpled with distress. ‘And did you really find him? Come to my room and tell me what happened; no! That nosy maid of mine will interrupt us. Let’s go to yours instead.’
So once again they sought privacy in Ursula’s bedroom. Belle didn’t seem to want to talk until they were safely there. Passing the door of the nursery, Ursula thought that she heard Harry crying.
Belle sat on the bed and pulled Ursula down beside her. Then she wiped away tears from eyes already red with crying. ‘Now, tell me everything.’
‘How much do you know?’
‘Didier woke me with the news. She said that there had been a terrible accident and that the Earl had been shot.’ She looked up at Ursula. ‘I can’t believe it! Richard dead! She couldn’t tell me anything else, except that he had been found by the Dowager Countess and you.’ She sounded incredulous. ‘Helen is with Harry,’ she continued, ‘and I can’t find William.’ Suddenly she dissolved in a flood of tears.
Ursula put her arm around the girl and held her tightly. ‘I’m afraid it is all true.’ She swallowed hard. ‘There’s … there’s a sort of investigation going on.’
‘What do you mean?’ Belle’s eyes were huge, distraught.
Ursula took a deep breath and tried to put her thoughts into order. ‘We, that is the Dowager Countess and I, found the Earl’s body lying on the stone bench in the belvedere. A shotgun was on the ground beside him. The Dowager is certain there was an accident, that he was shooting pigeons and the gun misfired.’ To her own ears it sounded a ridiculously improbable event. ‘Have you spoken with Helen?’
Belle shook her head. She had lost all her colour and sat working her hands together in a distressed way.
‘Helen will need your support now,’ Ursula suggested. ‘It’s good that she will have you at her side.’ Surely Belle would be able to summon sisterly compassion, allow Helen to pour out her sorrow? Ursula could not see her doing so to her mother-in-law or, most especially, to herself. But she must need someone to confide her feelings in.
Belle did not look at all sympathetic. ‘She’s a widow now, isn’t she?’
‘She’ll want to marry William,’ Belle suddenly wailed. ‘I know she will.’ Huge sobs followed.
For a moment Ursula was stunned. Then she realised how distressed the girl was and gathered her tightly into her arms again. ‘Shhh, shhh, you don’t know that.’
Belle pulled back with a pout. ‘She warned me off William when we first arrived. Told me straight he was not for me. I knew what she meant by that. She’s always been selfish.’ Despite the fact Helen had spent the last seven years in England, there was a history of sisterly resentment in Belle’s voice. ‘And now I won’t get to make my debut!’ she wailed. ‘We will all have to go into mourning for months and months. I am getting measured for two black outfits this afternoon to be made by tomorrow. You are to have one as well. By the time the mourning is over, the Season will be too.’
‘It’s only a matter of dances,’ Ursula tried to comfort her.
‘Balls!’ Belle protested. ‘And being presented. Hardly anyone in New York is presented to royalty.’
‘Maybe a private presentation to their Majesties can be arranged.’ Ursula had no idea whether this was possible, yet, somehow, she had to get Belle thinking positively. ‘Perhaps you and Helen can go to Paris or Italy and do some sightseeing instead.’ What on earth, she wondered, was the form for English aristocrats dealing with recent widowhood? Whatever the rituals the Dowager would consider appropriate, Ursula was certain Helen would follow her own desires.
Would they really include marrying William Warburton? Did he have anything to offer beyond good looks and a neat figure? Surely Helen would need more?
‘She won’t want to do anything for me, Ursula. Helen only ever wants to do what she wants. And I’m sure that means marrying William!’
‘Darling Belle, I am sure Helen hasn’t any such thought in mind. She will have far, far too much to cope with over the coming months even to think of marriage. And can you see the Dowager Countess countenancing Harry’s mama doing any such thing?’
Deadly Inheritance Page 28
