Deadly Inheritance
Read Deadly Inheritance Online
Authors: Janet Laurence
To Susan with thanks for all your
support, encouragement and help over the years
and for your wonderful friendship.
Many thanks to the Writers’ Group: Shelley, Gay, Georgie, Helena, and Maggie, who we miss so much. Without their always-constructive criticism, advice, friendship and support, this book would never have seen publication. Thanks also to Sir Anthony Dewey, Bt, for instruction in the use of shotguns; Dr Michael Dingle for medical advice; Dr Dorothy Gennard, Visiting Senior Research Fellow, School of Life Sciences, University of Lincoln, for forensic advice regarding the immersion of bodies; and Michael Thomas for reading and advising on the ms. Lastly, many thanks to my agent, Jane Conway-Gordon, whose expertise found a publisher for
Deadly Inheritance
, and to my editor, Matilda Richards, for her excellent eye for detail. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, can only be coincidence and all mistakes or inaccuracies are mine.
Chapter One
April 1903
The boat train from Liverpool was crowded with passengers newly arrived from America.
The trip had been rough. Looking pale, a pretty girl of some seventeen years occupied a corner seat in a First Class carriage. She smoothed her smart, pink linen travelling suit with a careful hand. Her straw boater was set neatly on long, blonde hair. Her eyes were large and pale blue.
Opposite, sitting with her back to the engine, was a woman ten or so years older, who showed no sign of having suffered
mal de mer
. Where the girl was dressed in the height of fashion and displayed all the polish that money could achieve, her travelling companion’s costume was restrained and serviceable. Chestnut hair was drawn back in a plain knot, under a hat that would never catch anyone’s eye. Her gloves were cotton and her boots very ordinary. Her face, though, was rather fine, with classic features and a pair of exceptional grey eyes. She wore an expression of amused tolerance. After the porter had organised their heavy luggage and she had supervised the stowage of hand luggage onto the racks above the seats, she asked the girl, ‘Belle, dear, will you need a magazine or a book to read on the train?’
‘No, Ursula, how can you think such a thing? It would make me seasick all over again. Anyway, we are in England, on our way to London. How can I read when there will be so much to see?’
There came a whistle from the stationmaster followed by a louder, longer one from the train. The coal-fired steam engine began a slow and noisy progress, rather like a huge, lumbering elephant that required time to achieve momentum. Ursula Grandison, the girl’s companion, found their gradual increase of speed thrilling.
‘May I?’ asked a middle-aged man, taking hold of the leather strap that operated the door window. ‘It’s the smuts.’
He pulled up the window, secured the strap, and sat down again next to a well-dressed woman who Ursula took to be his wife. On her lap sat a King Charles spaniel.
‘Oh!’ said Belle with a charming smile. ‘What a cute little dog. May I stroke him?’
Ursula watched. Children and dogs, she thought, are a passport to instant friendship.
Soon Mrs Wright had exchanged names with Belle Seldon and they were in lively conversation.
‘Are you planning a long stay in England, Miss Seldon?’ asked Mrs Wright, sounding very English to Ursula’s ears.
‘I’m visiting my sister,’ Belle said, caressing the little dog’s long, silky ears. ‘She’s been married for over seven years but this is the first time I’ve come to England.’
‘Over seven years, is that so? You will be longing to see her again.’
‘Oh, yes! Though she and the Earl have visited us in New York.’
It was too late for Ursula to intervene and she watched the information Belle had so naively offered take root and blossom.
‘Your brother-in-law is an Earl?’ Mrs Wright strove to sound as though this was an everyday occurrence. ‘Then … then your sister must be a Countess?’
‘She is,’ beamed Belle. ‘And I am to become one too.’
‘You are? Which Earl are you to marry?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Helen only knows titled people, or so it seems from her letters, and she is to find me a husband.’
Mrs Wright did not appear to find this at all incredible. ‘And shall you like to be a Countess?’
‘Oh, yes! To have a title and have everyone look up to you and live in a beautiful house must be great.’
‘Belle,’ said Ursula gently. ‘Mrs Wright cannot be interested in your prattle.’
Belle smiled happily. ‘I do go on,’ she said to her neighbour. ‘Papa is always saying I should talk less and listen more. But I like to talk.’ She gave an extravagant caress to the dog. ‘Why don’t I take your little doggie for a walk down the corridor? I am sure he would like some exercise.’
‘If you are careful with him,’ said Mrs Wright.
‘Oh, I’ll be careful,’ laughed Belle. She took the little dog’s lead. One of the other passengers opened the door into the corridor.
‘She is a delightful girl,’ Mrs Wright said to Ursula. ‘Would you be another sister?’
‘I am her companion,’ Ursula said briefly.
Mrs Wright could not contain herself. ‘Is her sister really a Countess?’
‘The Countess of Mountstanton,’ Ursula said; her voice did not invite further comment.
‘Good heavens,’ breathed Mrs Wright. ‘And you are going to stay with her and the Earl?’
Ursula nodded.
Mr Wright cleared his throat. ‘I think, my love, we should consider whether we wish to take luncheon on the train.’
‘Of course we will take luncheon,’ his wife said in surprise, then coloured slightly. ‘I’d be grateful if you could reach up for my bag, James; I want my book,’ she added, a little belligerently.
Her wish was instantly gratified.
Allowed to retreat into her own company, Ursula studied the countryside as the train passed through. She failed to take in any of its features.
The mention of Mountstanton House had reminded her of the task she had been given. It was one she found daunting.
* * *
At London, a change of trains provided Ursula and Belle with a carriage to themselves.
As they racketed along towards Somerset, Belle exclaimed over the neatness of the countryside. ‘Everything is … is, well, so nicely arranged. It’s as though it’s all waiting to be painted. There are so many hedges, so many tiny roads; the people should be small too but they seem a normal size.’ She seemed totally recovered now from the effects of their voyage.
Ursula smiled at Belle’s enthusiasm and hoped it would last until they arrived at their destination.
By the time they pulled into a small station decorated with tubs of wallflowers, the sun that had sparkled all the way from London had disappeared behind dark clouds. Ursula shivered slightly as she stepped down onto the platform, where a smartly uniformed stationmaster and a neatly dressed porter were the only signs of life. Where, she wondered, was Belle’s sister?
No other passengers left the train so the porter had only their baggage to unload. Ursula pointed out their belongings and he started on the task with no sense of urgency.
‘Where is Helen?’ asked Belle. ‘She promised to meet me.’
At that moment a large carriage drew up outside the station. A dashingly liveried footman jumped off and opened the door. Without waiting for the steps to be let down, a young man leapt to the ground and hurried onto the platform.
‘My dear Miss Seldon, a thousand apologies. Your sister has been forced to remain at Mountstanton. Her mother-in-law, the Dowager Countess,’ his face twisted in comic distress, ‘has returned unexpectedly. So I have come to welcome you instead.’ He swept off his hat, chucked it onto a bench, took Belle’s hands in his and smiled down at her. ‘Do say that you are not too desperately disappointed.’
Belle looked anything but disappointed.
Ursula studied the young man. He was extremely attractive. Looking to be in his mid-twenties, he was tall with hair carefully greased to repress a tendency to curl, eyes of a sparkling blue, a straight nose, and a mouth curved in a happy smile under a bold moustache.
‘The Countess told me that you are the prettiest girl in the world. I did not believe her but it is true.’ Another of those charming smiles.
Belle seemed unable either to remove her hands from the young man’s grasp or to utter a word.
‘It is very kind of you to meet us,’ Ursula said serenely. ‘Perhaps we could introduce ourselves? Miss Seldon’s name you know and I am Ursula Grandison, her companion. Whom have we the pleasure of addressing?’
He released Belle’s hands and with one of his fists hit his forehead. ‘My wits have been sent scattering by Miss Seldon’s beauty. William Warburton, at your service, ladies.’ He gave them a graceful bow. Now, let us see about your bags.’ He looked down the platform at the pile of luggage that was being assembled. ‘Porter, don’t hang about, bring that stuff over here.’ His voice was curt and authoritative. He snapped his fingers at the two liveried servants who had appeared. ‘Help him or we will be here all day.’ He turned back to Belle and Ursula. ‘Ladies, may I escort you to the carriage?’
Belle happily laid her hand on the arm that was offered to her.
Ursula said, ‘Mr Warburton, I think I should check that all the luggage has been retrieved from the baggage compartment. If you will allow, I will join you in a moment.’
He gave her a brief nod, retrieved his hat, and escorted Belle in the direction of the carriage.
* * *
Ursula never forgot her first glimpse of Mountstanton.
The journey had been no more than some twenty minutes through neatly ordered farmland. Then the carriage swept through a matching pair of stone lodges set either side of massive wrought-iron gates that stood open in welcome, before following a long drive through parkland where deer cropped grass beneath mature specimen trees. Finally, in the distance appeared the house.
Ursula had expected grandeur but could not suppress a gasp of surprise at Mountstanton’s size and majesty. As they drew closer, the house grew more and more imposing; the impressive façade with its rows and rows of windows, lightened a little by the way the frontage had been broken into three sections, with wings stretching back on either side in perfect symmetry. She found the total effect of the building and everything it represented overwhelming. Then, bending down sideways to see through the carriage window, she noticed a small domed and pillared pavilion sitting atop the central portion of the house with an almost frivolous grace. It was so delightful, her spirits rose. Maybe what awaited them would, after all, be a pleasant experience.
‘Ladies, welcome to Mountstanton,’ Mr Warburton said with a grand flourish as the carriage drew up on a gravelled area.
