Deadly Inheritance (7 page)

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 the 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.

‘Honey!’ she called, ‘Honey!’

There came an increasingly frantic series of yelps, then they stopped. The only sound was that of rushing water.

Ursula grabbed the support of a slender tree trunk and peered over the edge. An almost vertical slope studded with outcrops of rock and the occasional scrubby tree led down to a fast-moving river. Nowhere could she see the dog.

‘Honey!’ she shouted as loudly as she could.

Again no answer. Then, looking frantically around, her eyes caught sight of a wagging tail right down beside the water.

Ursula’s first thought was relief that the headlong flight down the slope did not seem to have harmed the animal; then came the realisation that, in order to retrieve the dog, she was going to have to tackle the descent to the river.

Well, she had managed worse climbs, she told herself; it would merely take a certain amount of care. And at least the odd stunted tree could offer support. Tying the leash around her waist, Ursula started down the perilous slope.

At first all went well. The outcrops of rock from time to time could act almost like steps. Every now and then there was a tree to provide a handhold. Gradually she gained confidence; then a protruding root caught her foot and, just as the slope was at its steepest, Ursula lost her balance.

Frantically she reached out for the tree whose root had been her downfall. Her hand grazed the bark but couldn’t grab a hold. She found herself tumbling over and over, spears of sunlight flashing across her eyes, jolting agonies of pain racking her body as she bounced from rock to rock. Terrified of breaking a limb, Ursula tried to roll herself into a ball, protecting her head with her arms.

Her flight ended in an almighty splash as she fell into the river.

For a moment she was aware of nothing. Then, gradually, her senses returned. She was lying in shallow water that flowed swiftly but gently over soft sand.

A tongue licked her face.

‘Honey,’ she groaned. ‘What have you done?’

Soaking wet ears brushed her cheeks as she received another lick.

With an effort, Ursula managed to raise herself into a sitting position. Nervously, she moved her aching arms and legs, testing for broken bones. It seemed at first as though she had survived the fall with no more than severe bruising. But when she attempted to rise, pain shot through her right ankle and she collapsed back into the water with a cry. At the very least it was badly sprained.

Ursula sat and assessed her situation.

Just before it reached the river, the steepness of the slope gave way to a narrow bank. On it was the odd, bleached branch, no doubt brought down by winter winds.

Weighed down by her wet skirt and petticoats, Ursula struggled to crawl onto the bank and then to reach a stout-looking stick. With its support she managed to get upright. Then realised that once again the dog was gone.

This time Honey was easy to see, engrossed in examining something in the river a little way away.

Ursula wrinkled her nose as a stray breeze carried a most unpleasant, rank aroma towards her. Oh dear, trust a dog to find something unspeakable. The last time she’d smelled anything so odious, it had been the carcass of a cow in a Californian gulch. Calling Honey had no effect. Finally, using her branch, Ursula hobbled towards her. Here, half a rotten tree had got caught by an outcrop of rock and provided a quiet pool. In the pool, humped up, was what appeared to be a washerwoman’s bundle.

Reassured by the fact it obviously wasn’t a dead cow, Ursula clipped the leash onto Honey’s collar then attempted to pull the dog away. Honey dug her feet into the shallow water, growled at Ursula, and returned to the bundle.

Impeded by her damaged ankle, Ursula staggered a little closer, took a grip on the animal’s collar and once again tried to pull the animal away.

Suddenly she let go of the dog. There was something unsettling about the sodden, bleached hump of chequered cloth. Despite the sun, Ursula felt arctic cold suffuse her. Balancing on one foot and trying to control her rising gorge, she poked at the bundle with her branch. Then she once again fell back into the water as a nauseous belch of gas was released. Her hand clamped to her mouth, Ursula watched the bundle roll on its side. A head was revealed. Once there had been a face, now the features had been eaten away. Half an arm briefly rose in the air then flopped down.

Ursula vomited, retching until her stomach was empty. She had thought the last few years had made her impervious to the most horrific of sights. This, though, was too much.

Finally she dragged herself up, sat on the sandy bank, and shouted to the dog. Rather to her surprise, Honey left the corpse and came, nestling into her side as though realising comfort was needed.

‘Oh, Honey,’ Ursula groaned.

Her eyes closed, she took deep breaths. Gradually her heartbeat slowed. On the inside of her eyelids, though, was the picture of what she had seen revealed in the water.

Eventually she brought herself to look at it again.

The skin was covered with an excrescence like a velvety veil, yet underneath it looked as dark as a negro's. Judging by what clothed it, the corpse was that of a woman.

Ursula looked at the steep slope she had fallen down. Whoever she had been, the dead woman must also have slipped and fallen. Perhaps she had knocked herself out, landed in the water and drowned. If it had not been for that dead tree caught in the river bank, her body would have been carried downstream.

So much for what had probably happened. More important was how Ursula could alert the authorities. Another glance up the slope told Ursula that, with her wounded ankle, it was an impossible climb. Did the river run all the way to the village? And how far was that? Could she hobble along the bank with the aid of her branch, contact the authorities and then get someone to drive her back to the house?

Grimly, Ursula attached Honey’s lead, struggled upright and started to limp painfully along beside the river. She had not gone far before she saw that an outcrop made further progress impossible.

She looked again up the slope to the bluebell wood. Mrs Comfort had said that staff used the path as a shortcut when going to the village. What were the chances someone would be coming along and could hear her cries?

Very unlikely; all the servants would be going about their tasks at Mountstanton. However, when it was realised that Ursula had failed to return to the house, Mrs Comfort would direct the search into the bluebell wood.

How long would that take?

Ursula started to shiver. The sun was still shining but this early in the year it did not have enough heat to dry her wet clothes. Ursula rubbed her cold arms and tried to get her blood moving. Then she looked along the river in the other direction. That way must surely lead towards Mountstanton.

She started to hobble along the bank. The dog trotted happily beside her.

As she drew level with the remains of the poor, dead woman’s battered corpse, Ursula looked straight ahead, grasped Honey’s leash tightly, and tried to think of something else.

Then, above the sound of the river, she thought she could hear someone whistling.

She stopped hobbling and listened hard.

Yes, it was definitely whistling. Someone must be walking through the wood.

With all her force, Ursula yelled, ‘Help, help!’ trying to bring the breath up from her diaphragm the way an actor had once taught her.

The whistling stopped.

She yelled again, and after a moment a figure appeared on the edge of the escarpment. ‘What the hell are you doing down there, woman?’ he shouted.

‘I fell. My ankle is sprained,’ she yelled back. ‘There’s a dead woman in the river.’ She waved in the direction of the sad bundle.