Deadly Inheritance (8 page)

The man immediately discarded his cap and shouted, ‘I’m coming down. Stay there.’

Ursula wanted to say that she had no intention of moving but saved her breath.

He negotiated the steep slope facing inwards. As she saw him sure-footedly using the rocks and trees to help his descent, she understood what a mistake she had made in trying to go down face-forward.

She admired the lithe way he moved. A little above middle height, he was dressed in grey-green tweeds, his jacket’s waist marked with a band of matching material, his trousers neatly nipped in below the knees. Muscular calves were covered in long socks of a colour that matched his suit. His footwear was as sensible as hers.

After a remarkably short time, he jumped the last little way down onto the bank and turned to face her. He looked to be in his early to mid-thirties, his features open and not unattractive. But Ursula saw what she had come to recognise as an upper-class Englishman’s belief in his God-given right to rule the earth.

‘Now, tell me what happened,’ he said; then his authoritative air softened slightly. ‘We’d better get you sitting down first.’

He helped Ursula towards a large boulder, then removed his jacket and placed it round her shoulders.

The feel of dry material on her freezing body was incredibly comforting and Ursula held the jacket tightly around her as she told her story as succinctly as she could, Honey sitting beside her wet-booted feet. Only now did she realise how lucky she was not to have been drowned in the river like that poor woman.

The man stood in front of her, listening, hand on hip, his weight negligently poised on one leg, sharp grey eyes studying her face as though probing the verity of her words. When she described how she had found the body, he wheeled and looked at where she pointed. Then he held up a hand to arrest her tale and strode over to the corpse.

She heard an intake of breath but he gave no other indication that the sight moved him. Then he was back in front of her again.

‘Do you recognise her?’ Ursula asked.

‘How do you imagine I could identify that poor remnant of humanity?’

‘But negroes can’t be common in this area.’

‘Negroes?’ He sounded perplexed. Then he said, ‘Ah! No, I’m afraid the body is almost certainly that colour because of prolonged immersion in the water.’

‘Oh.’ Ursula wondered at his knowledge of what drowning could do to a body.

‘I don’t understand why you were walking through the wood, you don’t sound from these parts.’

Ursula resented his tone. ‘I was walking from Mountstanton House to the village. I was told it was a shortcut.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘From the house? Who are you? Despite your current appearance, your air is not that of a servant.’

And, obviously, not that of a guest either. Ursula became exasperated. ‘I’m freezing. I have a damaged ankle and there is a dead body in the water. I don’t want to visit with you, I want action. Can’t the inquisition over my exact status wait for now?’

‘American, that’s what you are.’ His expression cleared. ‘Of course, you are some connection of Helen’s.’ He looked suddenly suspicious. ‘Not her sister, are you?’

‘No, I’m not.’

Suddenly he became all sympathy. ‘I am a pig. We need to get you back to the house and into a hot bath. And I need to inform the police about …’

Ursula averted her eyes as he waved towards the corpse.

‘Now, I can’t see getting you back up to the wood is a starter. Are you able to ride?’

Ursula nodded.

‘Can you bear it if I leave you here whilst I fetch some mounts? It’ll take some time but I think it’s the only way.’ He indicated the direction Ursula had decided led towards Mountstanton.

‘Honey can keep me company.’ Ursula may have disliked his attitude but she found she had complete faith in his ability to do what he said. ‘Can you, though, help me to sit over there?’ She indicated a rock some way away from the dead woman’s remains.

‘Of course.’ In a most ordinary manner, he placed her arm around his neck and helped her hobble further along the bank. Honey followed.

Determined not to show how much her ankle was paining her, Ursula was able to ignore the intimate contact she was forced into with her rescuer. She was merely thankful that he was only a little taller than herself.

Neither of them said anything until he had sat her down on the boulder.

Then he stood back and looked at her and the dog, once again nestled against her legs. ‘Would you like me to put that animal onto your lap? It could act as a hot water bottle. I’m sorry I do not have another coat.’

‘I shall be fine,’ Ursula said, summoning the last of her energy. ‘At least the sun is shining. By the time you return I shall be dry.’

‘I won’t take that long.’ He raised his hand in a sort of salute, then set off to climb the escarpment back to the wood.

Ursula held her face up to the sun and clutched the warm tweed jacket around her shoulders. It had a masculine smell of tobacco and carbolic soap and a faint, elusive male fragrance that recalled Jack. For a brief moment, she wondered who her rescuer was. Neither of them had introduced themselves but it was hardly the most social of occasions. Even so, Ursula thought grimly, the Dowager Countess would doubtless disapprove.

Etiquette was the least of her concerns. More important was to consider the identity of the corpse she had discovered. That might keep her mind off the pain in her ankle and the cold gathering in her bones.

* * *

Sooner than she had dared to hope, two horses thundered round the river bank.

Her rescuer, still wearing his tweed breeches, handled both mounts with consummate ease. Even before the horses drew to a halt, he was dismounting beside her. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

‘I’m fine,’ she said, trying to control her shivering.

‘Miss Grandison, you are a doughty lady.’

So, as well as organising mounts, he had ascertained her name. But if he thought flattery was going to get him anywhere, he could think again. Then Ursula remembered just what a wet and bedraggled picture she must present and that this did not seem a man who practised empty compliments.

‘I’m afraid I have been very remiss,’ he continued. ‘I should have introduced myself. I’m Richard’s brother, Charles. He’s out riding, and Helen is off somewhere with Miss Seldon. But I’ve alerted the household as to your state. Also I’ve sent a lad from the stables to inform our local constable of the situation.

This, Ursula realised, must be the Colonel Stanhope who had been expected, so she had been told a number of times, to arrive home within the next few days. She wondered that he should have been returning in such an informal fashion.

The Colonel helped her onto her mount. She was amused to see it was equipped with a side-saddle. It was many years since she had used one; riding astride had been her practice in California, and was so much easier.

Colonel Stanhope adjusted her stirrups, careful not to jolt her injury.

Before he could remount, Ursula forced herself to say, ‘If you could manage to get a piece of the dress, Colonel, an identification might be possible.’

‘You mean, the dead woman’s dress?’

She closed her eyes briefly. What else could she have meant?

‘Of course,’ he said swiftly and handed her the reins of his horse.

She didn’t watch to see how he carried out her request.

When he returned, he was stuffing a scrap of fabric into a pocket. ‘Right, Miss Grandison, let’s get you back to Mountstanton. I’d better take the dog, otherwise she might not be able to keep up. Can you hold her whilst I mount? Then you can explain exactly why you think that piece of material is important.’

* * *

Back at the house, Albert and James, two of the Mountstanton footmen, were waiting in the stable yard. They would, Ursula was informed, carry her upstairs to her room with their hands locked together in what she was informed was a ‘bosun’s chair’.

‘You should be safe enough like that,’ the Colonel said, helping her to dismount.

Then Harry clattered up on his pony, with Mrs Comfort puffing hard as she followed behind. She greeted Colonel Stanhope with an unaffected warmth.

‘Uncle Charles, how splendid,’ Harry said eagerly.

He nodded, ‘Good to see you, young Harry. How you’ve grown! Been riding, have you?’

‘I jumped lots of fences and I only fell off once.’

‘Excellent! You are obviously going to be as great a rider as your papa. Now, I think you should see that your pony is properly rubbed down.’

The boy dismounted and took the animal into the stables.

The Colonel turned his attention to the nanny. ‘Mrs Comfort, I’m delighted to see you again. I’m afraid, though, that something tragic has happened. I wonder if you recognise this piece of material?’ He handed her the scrap of cloth he had pocketed beside the river.

‘I don’t know why you should think I might know anything about this.’ Mrs Comfort held the drenched rag distastefully. The Colonel was silent. Ursula watched her carefully.

‘Oh, my lord, it looks like …’ She screwed up her eyes then gave a cry. ‘Yes, Polly has a dress made of just this stuff.’ She looked up at the Colonel. ‘You said something tragic has happened. Do you mean that Polly …’ her voice wobbled and failed.

‘A moment, please, whilst I see Miss Grandison taken to her room.’ The Colonel swiftly checked the footmen’s grip then helped Ursula to sit on the linked hands and place her arms round their shoulders. ‘Right, take her upstairs, and see that the crutches I asked for are there.’

‘But, Polly?’ wailed Mrs Comfort.

The two footmen looked at each other across Ursula. Their usually poker faces expressed profound shock.

‘Take her inside now.’ Authority quenched any possibility of enquiry.

Without a word, Ursula was carried into the house and up the stairs.

With extraordinary deftness, Ursula was lowered onto her bed.

‘Here are the crutches the Colonel asked for.’

They were lying against the only seating in the room, a little upright chair. Albert placed one on the bed beside Ursula. ‘Is there anything else you require, Miss Grandison?’

His manner was unusually subdued. Ursula thought how devastating the news of the girl’s death must have been; she was someone they had lived with, seen every day. ‘No, thank you,’ she said. All she wanted now was to be left alone. Her ankle was aching, so was her badly-bruised body, and her mind reeled from the impact of her discovery.

She remained sitting upright on the bed until the door closed behind the servants, then she lay down, pulled up her knees into a foetal position and closed her eyes. She shivered with cold, but dragging the bedcover over herself was more than she could manage.

Some time later Mrs Parsons knocked and entered. ‘Doctor Mason has arrived. Colonel Charles sent for him. May he come in, Miss Grandison?’

Ursula pulled herself into a sitting position again. Was there anything the Colonel had not thought of?

Doctor Mason was a tall, thin man with grey hair and cadaverous cheeks. His manner was nicely deferential without being obsequious. As he investigated her damaged ankle, causing her considerable pain, Ursula wondered if he modified his approach according to the rank of his patient.

‘It does not seem to be broken, rather badly sprained.’ He bound the foot and advised her to rest it as much as possible. ‘If an ice pack was available,’ he said to Mrs Parsons, ‘it might help reduce the swelling.’

‘Of course, Doctor. I will see to it.’

‘And keep the rest of yourself warm, Miss Grandison. You have had a bad shock.’ He took a small bottle out of his bag and placed it on the night table beside the bed. ‘If you have trouble sleeping, or your ankle pains too much, take a dessertspoon of this.’

Ursula nodded and thanked him; she had, though, no intention of resorting to the laudanum she was sure the bottle contained. She needed to keep a clear head.

As soon as the doctor and the housekeeper had left, she removed her still damp dress and underclothes, sucking in her breath as she saw the livid bruises beginning to emerge, and dragged on her nightdress. Then, with the help of a crutch, she limped over to the chest of drawers and found a wrap for her shoulders.

Underneath the bedclothes, warmth gradually began to penetrate her bones.

Soon there was another knock on the door and Mrs Parsons reappeared, followed by a footman carrying a tray. On it was an icepack, a stone hot water bottle and a bowl of hot soup.

Mrs Parsons took the tray. ‘Thank you, Albert, that will be all.’

The icepack was applied to the ankle, the hot water bottle, wrapped in a piece of flannel, was slipped into the bed, and the bowl of soup was given to Ursula. ‘It’s chicken. I am sure it will do you good.’

As Ursula started on the soup, the housekeeper placed a dessertspoon beside the bottle the doctor had left.

‘Thank you, Mrs Parsons, you are very kind.’

The housekeeper remained standing beside Ursula’s bed. She seemed suddenly to have aged.

‘Miss Grandison,’ she said finally. ‘Is it certain that the poor body you found is that of Polly Brown?’

For a moment, Ursula laid aside the soup, which was delicious, and said gently, ‘I cannot say, Mrs Parsons. Even if I had known Polly Brown, I would not have been able to recognise her, too much damage had been done by her immersion in the water.’ A brief shudder went through her.

‘Then how …?’

‘While the Colonel was fetching the horses, I had time to think. I had heard that a nursemaid had left here quite suddenly. Mrs Comfort told me this morning that the path through the wood was regularly taken by staff to the village. I thought it seemed just possible the nursemaid may have had an accident there – that she’d fallen down into the river and drowned. I asked the Colonel to obtain a piece of fabric from her dress. When he showed it to Mrs Comfort, she said that Polly had a garment of just that pattern.’

Mrs Parsons’s mouth pursed. ‘That girl’s off-duty dress was most unsuitable. She could be a disruptive influence in the house.’ She seemed to sense that a different attitude was expected of her. ‘Mind you, she was a splendid help in the nursery. His little lordship loved her.’ Again there came a suggestion that a slice of lemon had been placed between her lips. ‘If it is Polly who ended up where you found her – and I have to say, Miss Grandison, we all regret that you should have been put through such an unpleasant experience – well, if it is Polly, that is a tragedy, one we will all find difficult to come to terms with. Bad enough that she should up and leave like that but to have such an unfortunate accident and meet her end in that way, well, it is a sad day.’