‘People like Maximilian Russell?’
‘Yes, Mr Jackman, people like Maximilian Russell.’
‘Well, the fact that you obviously know about their existence must mean there’s others as do. So, goodbye the world.’
‘Goodbye the world,’ she repeated gravely.
‘Can I offer you a whisky instead?’
She shook her head and rose. ‘I’ve already had a brandy, thank you. I think I need to retire.’
He stood up, put down his cigar and held out his hand. ‘Miss Grandison, may I thank you for your help over the last week or so? And may I say that you have a real talent for this work.’
‘What work?’
‘Why, the work of detection. I’d be proud to have you at my side any time.’
‘Mr Jackman, you do me too much honour. I don’t feel I have done very much at all.’
‘You can let me be the judge of that. Thank you, Miss Grandison.’
Ursula shook his hand. ‘Thank you, Mr Jackman. I can’t say it’s been an enjoyable experience; I’ve been too emotionally involved, but I have admired your approach and ability.’
He gave a little bow. ‘Any time, Miss Grandison.’
* * *
Over the next few days, Ursula spent most of her time sitting with Belle. She didn’t attend the elaborate funeral the Colonel had arranged for his brother. She no longer ate with the family. She and Mr Haddam were served their meals in the Morning Room, timed so that Ursula could be free to attend on Belle while the family luncheon and dinner took place. Ursula enjoyed the secretary’s company; he had a lively sense of humour and appeared to respect Mr Seldon, but was not in awe of him.
Ursula hardly saw the Colonel. Then he stopped her one day in the hall.
‘You are looking pale, Miss Grandison. You must take more exercise. Have you been riding today?’
‘No, Colonel.’
‘I’ll have a word with Helen. We can’t have you spending all your time looking after an invalid.’
‘It is what I am here for, sir,’ she said quietly. ‘I would prefer it if you did not speak to the Countess.’
The little encounter seemed to Ursula to demonstrate how their relationship had changed. It was unlikely, she thought, to return to the same ease she had enjoyed with him before the Earl’s death.
* * *
Two days after the funeral, Belle rose and dressed for the first time since she had collapsed, and attended tea. Harry was there.
‘Will you soon come riding with me, Aunt Belle? I’m very good at jumping now. Uncle Charles says so.’
‘I hope very soon,’ Belle said to her nephew with a lovely smile. But Ursula could see tears pricking at her eyes and she quickly drew Harry’s attention to the jigsaw puzzle of a map of North America that Mr Seldon had brought and was now gradually being put together.
‘I shall question you on the various states when you have finished that, Harry,’ said the Dowager Countess.
‘Yes,’ said Helen quietly, ‘you must remember that you are half American.’
Later, after an exhausted Belle was sleeping, Ursula went to the drawing room to report on how she had survived her first foray outside her bedroom. The door was a little open and she could hear Helen saying, ‘Papa, I do not want Ursula Grandison around here a day longer than necessary.’
‘Helen, surely she is your old friend?’
As so often with Mr Seldon, he managed to instil layers of possible meaning into even the lightest of utterances.
‘No, Papa, she is not my friend. She stole my first and greatest love – and you stood by and let her!’
Ursula could not remain eavesdropping. She entered the room just as Mr Seldon said, ‘Helen, do not be ridiculous.’
Helen was standing by the window, facing her father. Mr Seldon was seated in a wing chair with the glass of water he always commanded by his side.
‘Ah, Ursula, you have arrived at a good moment. I am just telling Papa how I can dispense with your presence at Mountstanton. I cannot forget how you stole Jack from me. I know, Papa, you never thought much of him but he was the man I wanted. And Ursula took and married him.’
‘I paid him to leave you alone,’ Mr Seldon said dispassionately. He ran a finger round the top of the water glass. ‘That should tell you what sort of man he was. I gave him enough money to take Ursula out of your hair as well.’
Ursula was stunned. ‘You did what?’
‘I think there is nothing wrong with your hearing, my dear. Your father walked off with my wife. Now my daughter had fallen for a despicable cad who was trifling with you as well. What was I supposed to do?’
Ursula, stunned, dropped into a chair. ‘But you rescued me from running that sleazy boarding house in San Francisco.’
He drank a sip of water. ‘I decided you had suffered enough. After all, hadn’t you discovered your marriage was no marriage? That your so-called husband already had a wife who was laying hold of his silver mine?’ He sipped a little more water. ‘And I needed your help with Belle.’
Helen looked as stunned as Ursula felt. ‘You knew Jack was married?’
‘You didn’t realise I had all your young men investigated, my dear?’
‘In that case,’ Ursula said, her mind whirling with the implications, ‘why didn’t you just tell Helen that – and me?’
‘She would have hated me,’ he said simply. ‘Better she should hate you.’
Ursula stood up. ‘My father was right to rescue Helen’s mother from you.’
She was careful not to slam the door behind her. Then for a moment she stood, not knowing where to go, knowing all she wanted was to get away from Mountstanton and the Seldons.
Helen and Mr Seldon deserved each other, she said to herself, and found that she was shaking.
‘Miss Grandison,’ said the Colonel, ‘you are upset. What has happened?’
He seemed to have arrived from nowhere. His expression and his voice were concerned.
‘There is nothing wrong,’ Ursula said and did not recognise her own voice.
He took her arm in a gentle grasp. ‘Allow me to disagree, Miss Grandison. Come with me.’
He took her into the library, the room that had seen so many dramatic scenes, sat her down and took a chair opposite.
‘My dear Miss Grandison, tell me what has happened. I will personally deal with the person responsible.’
She tried to hang onto her anger, she did not want to start crying.
‘Colonel,’ she jerked out, ‘there is nothing you can do.’
‘Can you not allow me to be the judge of that. And can you not call me Charles? Do we not know each other well enough now for you to grant me the privilege of using your name, Ursula?’
His kindness undid her and she buried her face in her hands. Then, resolutely, she lifted her head and dashed away the tears. ‘It is only that I have just been disillusioned over someone I thought I respected.’
He looked at her searchingly. ‘I will not ask who that was, though I think I can guess. May I say that I know what that experience feels like?’
All at once the anger left her. Instead she was filled with hopelessness. ‘Once, Colonel, Charles, I thought I was married to a wonderful man. I gradually found out that he was weak, a bully and a liar. Then, final degradation, his real wife turned up.’
What she hadn’t told him was how Jack had died. The scene she had so determinedly driven from her mind returned as vividly as any in a picture book.
One day, Jack had returned from the mine in triumph. ‘We’ve done it!’ he cried. ‘A massive lode. All the silver anyone could want. You will have dresses and jewellery and we’ll build a magnificent house. Come on, we must celebrate.’
He’d dragged her off to the sordid drinking den he patronised. Raw whisky was produced and all too soon cards appeared and a poker game was in progress. Jack won bigger and bigger pots; it was as though he couldn’t lose. Then someone produced a revolver and said he should try his luck with
that. Russian roulette, it was called, said the gun’s owner, a despicable fellow who constantly jeered at Jack. You put one bullet in the gun, give the barrel a twirl then point it at your head and pull the trigger. If your luck was in, you survived. Jack, drunk with more than whisky, had grinned and said that was his sort of game. Ursula had begged him not to play something so stupid and dangerous. He’d pushed her out of the way with a curse. She would never forget the look of astonishment on his face as the bullet entered his brain. The subsequent inquest struggled for a verdict but finally ruled it misadventure.
It was after his death that Jack’s first wife had turned up and announced that Jack’s estate was hers and Ursula had no claim on his share of the silver strike. No one knew where she had come from or how she had known about the mine, and it had never occurred to Ursula to ask. Now she thought she knew exactly who had informed the woman.
The Colonel leaned forward and took her hands. ‘I am so sorry, Ursula.’
How easy it would be if he took her into his arms and promised to look after and protect her! She knew it wasn’t going to happen.
She rose, walked over to the window and stood with her arms folded across her breast, her back to him. ‘What are you going to do, Charles? Follow your plan to stand for election to your Parliament?’
He came and stood beside her, looking out, as she was, at the garden. She knew neither of them saw it.
‘I feel rather as Napoleon must have done after Waterloo. All around is a defeated battleground.’ He gave her a wintry smile. ‘My aim was to distance myself as much from Mountstanton as possible.’
‘You’d make a brilliant politician.’
‘Would I?’
‘Of course you would. You’d speak the truth, fight for the rights of the people.’
‘I’m not sure that’s how to be a successful politician. And already I’m mired in lies and deceit. There is no other way out of this tangle if Harry and Mountstanton are to have a chance.’
‘You cannot deny Mountstanton, can you?’
He shrugged, ‘I find that you are right. I can’t. Helen says she is returning with Harry and Belle to New York for a while. Someone will have to look after things here.’
‘Harry’s inheritance,’ she said softly.
He nodded. ‘But what about you, Ursula? What are you going to do? Return to America?’
‘No!’ The answer was as much of a surprise to her as it was to him. She felt a slow excitement begin to build within her. ‘No, Charles, I’m not. If I can find a job, I’d like to experience London.’
‘I’m sure with all our connections, we can find you something.’
‘No!’ He looked stung and she smiled. ‘Sorry, Charles, I don’t mean to be ungrateful but I have learned to distrust favours. I need to make my own way.’ It was as though a huge burden had dropped from her shoulders and she suddenly felt as light as a cloud. She spread out her arms. ‘It will be an adventure. I need an adventure.’
He caught her hands, brought them to his mouth and kissed them. ‘Perhaps when you know where you are to be, you will be good enough to let me have your direction. Ursula Grandison, I would like to remain your friend.’
‘And so I would with you, Charles Stanhope.’
THE END
About the Author
Janet Laurence is the author of numerous books, including the Darina Lisle culinary crime novels (Macmillan). She was a weekly cookery columnist for the Daily Telegraph between 1984 and 1986, and has contributed to recipe collections and written cookery books. Janet was Chairman of the Crime Writers’ Association (1998-1999), was included in The Times’ ‘100 Masters of Crime’ in 1998, and invited to run the crime writing workshop at the Cheltenham Festival of Literature in 2000. She was the Writer in Residence and Visiting Fellow at Jane Franklin College at the University of Tasmania in 2002 and has also run the Crime Writing Course at each of the Bristol-based CrimeFest conventions to date. She lives in Somerset.
Copyright
First published in 2012
The History Press
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This ebook edition first published in 2012
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© Janet Laurence, 2012
The right of Janet Laurence to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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EPUB ISBN 978 0 7524 7733 6
MOBI ISBN 978 0 7524 7732 9
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