Deadly Inheritance (2 page)

An elaborate and pillared stone portico shielded a heavy front door.

As the steps of the carriage were let down, the Countess of Mountstanton emerged.

‘Belle, darling, I’m so sorry I could not meet you at the station.’

Belle tumbled into her sister’s arms with incoherent cries.

The Countess searched her sister’s face as though she was seeing it for the first time, then she kissed Belle again. ‘I am so pleased you are here at last. You have grown even prettier. You will take Society by storm.’

As Ursula emerged from the carriage, the Countess held out her hand in a limp gesture.

‘I regret that Papa failed to give me your name. His last message merely said that Belle would be travelling with a companion.’

Ursula supposed she should dip a curtsey. She remained standing.

Belle slipped an arm through hers. ‘This is my dear friend, Ursula Grandison,’ she said cheerfully to her sister.

The Countess’s face froze. ‘
You
!’ she said.

For a moment there was an ugly silence.

Helen stared at Ursula with baffled rage while Belle looked from one to the other in bewilderment. Then William Warburton said jovially, ‘I have never seen two more beautiful sisters, or two who looked more alike.’

Belle laughed and the moment was broken. ‘That’s not true. Helen is more beautiful; she is taller, her hair is more golden, and her eyes are green, not blue like mine – and her nose is straight.’ They all looked at Belle’s own nose; small,
retrousé
and quite charming.

The Countess smiled at her sister. ‘My mother-in-law is waiting to meet you, she has returned from her visit to Yorkshire especially.’ There seemed to be a note of warning in her voice.

A distinguished figure in a black tailcoat and striped trousers stepped forward. ‘Miss Seldon, welcome to Mountstanton.’

‘Thank you.’ Belle gave a quick, uncertain look at Helen.

‘This is Benson, our butler.’

‘If there is anything you need at any time, Miss Seldon, please let me know.’ The butler inclined his sculptured head with a practised movement that combined courtesy with a consciousness of his own standing.

A middle-aged woman with a stern face, dressed in unobtrusive black, a heavy ring of keys hanging from her waist, emerged from the shadows behind the butler. ‘I am Mrs Parsons, the housekeeper. I, too, welcome you to Mountstanton, Miss Seldon,’ she said.

As the sisters were about to enter the house, the Countess glanced back over her shoulder. ‘Come along, William.’

Mr Warburton threw a quizzical glance at Ursula, then hurried to follow.

Ursula Grandison stood for a moment on the gravel. She had told Mr Seldon how it would be.

‘You girls,’ he’d said lightly. ‘All that nonsense was years ago. I doubt if Helen remembers any of it.’ He looked at Ursula. ‘Belle needs someone to accompany her and business keeps me here. Anyway, I need both Helen and that husband of hers, that Earl, to be off their guard. They wouldn’t be if I was there.’

Chauncey Seldon commanded attention wherever he went. Over six foot, with the broad neck and powerful back of a fighter, his small dark eyes were astute and his face, with its razor-shell cheekbones, full of an intelligence that warned no one should attempt to double-deal him.

‘But no one is going to notice me, is that it?’

‘Don’t be bitter, Ursula, it doesn’t suit you. It’s not Helen’s fault things turned out the way they did.’

Ursula had taken a deep breath. They were in Mr Seldon’s panelled study, the engine room of the gothic house he had recently commissioned on Fifth Avenue. Everywhere in the mansion was evidence of the vast wealth he had accumulated. It was a world that once she had inhabited by right. Now she must remember that he was offering her a lifeline.

‘It will not be easy,’ she said slowly. ‘But if what you suspect is true, Helen will need help. I am already very fond of Belle and I think I could be of use to her. And,’ she gave him a brilliant smile, ‘I would love to go to England.’

‘Good! I know you will not disappoint me. Or Helen. Send regular reports. If they’re urgent, do not hesitate to cable.’ Mr Seldon rose, went over to a side table and picked up an ornate silver goblet. ‘Have I shown you my latest purchase? It’s Italian, sixteenth century, belonged to a Medici.’ His large hands with their carefully manicured nails caressed the decoration lovingly, before passing it over to Ursula for her appreciation.

She admired the workmanship and asked pertinent questions on its history, but she did not envy its new owner. It was, after all, only a goblet. Chauncey Seldon valued the past for its treasures; she for its memories. He seemed to think it possible to dismiss them. She knew he was wrong.

Ursula sighed and entered Mountstanton. Heavy panelling and murky tapestries seemed hungry for daylight, despite the size of the windows. Huge pieces of well-polished furniture stood on a flagstoned floor inadequately covered with Turkish rugs.

The Countess was in whispered conference with the housekeeper.

Belle moved towards Ursula. ‘What has happened to Mr Warburton?’ she murmured.

The young man who had met them had vanished.

‘No doubt he has matters to attend to.’

‘Now, Belle, we will find your room.’ Helen took her sister’s hand.

‘What about Ursula?’

‘Mrs Parsons will look after her.’

With a lost little look, Belle allowed herself to be led out of the hall and down a long corridor.

‘I am afraid I am unable to show you to your accommodation quite yet, Miss Grandison,’ Mrs Parsons said smoothly. ‘Allow me to take you somewhere you can refresh yourself after your journey.’ She flicked a finger at a footman standing at the side of the hall with all the animation of a waxwork figure. He approached, received her low-voiced instructions, gave an expressionless nod and disappeared. The housekeeper turned an unsmiling face to Ursula and took her up an imposing flight of stairs.

The room Ursula was shown into was undistinguished. A brass bedstead was covered in a chintz spread; a tired brocade armchair stood in one corner, and a washstand in another. Only two good watercolours offered any sense of style.

‘You will have had a long journey today. Is there anything from your luggage you require immediately, Miss Grandison?’ The enquiry was courteous but without warmth.

‘There are two dressing cases. The crocodile one belongs to Miss Seldon, the plain leather one is mine. We would both find them very helpful.’

‘Of course; I will see that they are delivered immediately. Tea is shortly to be served in the Blue Drawing Room.’ The housekeeper hovered for an uncertain moment. ‘We all hope Miss Seldon and yourself will be very happy with us,’ she added, without conviction.

A few minutes later a maid knocked, entered and placed a jug of hot water on the washstand. ‘Will there be anything else, miss?’

Ursula shook her head and asked the maid her name.

‘Sarah, miss.’ The girl was tall, with a plain face lit by lively eyes. Soft brown hair escaped from a mobcap.

There were a hundred things Ursula would have liked to ask but knew it was too soon. ‘Thank you, Sarah. It is a great pleasure to be here.’

The girl grinned. ‘Quite a place, isn’t it?’

At last a servant who appeared normal.

Another knock at the door announced the arrival of Ursula’s dressing case. Sarah took it from the footman and laid it carefully on a luggage stand. ‘There’s a bell if you need anything else, miss.’ She indicated a silk rope hanging beside the bed.

Ursula thanked her again.

* * *

Hat discarded, travel grime removed, hair brushed into place, Ursula descended the stairs.

She should, she supposed, be feeling nervous. Helen had shown every sign of being as difficult as Ursula had anticipated. Was she planning to accommodate her in the stables? Or would she try to dismiss her? Perhaps she was sending a cable to her father at that very moment.

The stairs were shallow, offering easy passage. On the walls hung huge oil paintings, their subjects half hidden by over a century of candle smoke.

Ursula was not nervous. On the contrary, she found herself pleasantly excited by the prospect of battle – and of discovering what the exact situation was in this extraordinary house.

The waxwork footman came to a semblance of life when Ursula asked him for directions, and led her down a corridor lined with marble columns as discoloured as the oil paintings.

The Blue Drawing Room was as gloomy as the entrance hall. Curtains insufficiently drawn back prevented a clear view of its décor. Ursula longed to grab the lengths of velvet and yank them clear of the glass so that light could flood the room and illuminate the dark blue flock wallpaper. Almost immediately, though, she realised that that would only expose the shabbiness of the furniture.

Sitting rigidly upright in a large wing chair that would have dwarfed someone less powerfully aware of her own identity, was a figure dressed entirely in heavy black silk. A row of jet buttons enlivened the bodice; an elaborate silk fringe edged the skirt.

Behind Ursula, Helen entered with Belle. They could not have spent much time in the privacy of the bedroom catching up on their different lives. Belle looked bewildered. Her shoulders were rigidly held back, her chin lifted in a manner that betrayed nervousness.

‘Mama, may I present my sister, Belle Seldon? Darling, this is the Dowager Countess of Mountstanton, my mother-in-law.’

Belle dipped the curtsey Ursula had made her practise.

The Dowager lifted a lorgnette and studied the newcomer, then snapped the hinged spectacles shut. ‘Come closer, girl.’

Belle advanced a couple of steps, her chin rising even higher.

‘Speak to me.’

Belle gazed at the Dowager Countess, her eyes wide with astonishment.

‘And don’t stare. Speak, I said. I am sure you can utter since I would have been told if you were a mute.’

‘Mama, Belle is a little shy,’ Helen said hurriedly.

Belle glanced at Ursula, who gave her the tiniest of nods and a smile of encouragement. She felt a moment of triumph that the girl had looked to her rather than Helen.

‘Your … your ladyship, I am very happy to see my sister and to visit England.’ Belle’s voice, after the initial stumble over the correct form of address, was steady.

‘No nasal twang; I am relieved. And you really are very pretty and quite suitably dressed. If you allow yourself to be instructed by your sister, you will do very well.’

The lorgnette was once again opened and raised. ‘And who is this?’

Ursula took a step forward. ‘I am Ursula Grandison, Miss Seldon’s companion, your ladyship.’

‘Indeed?’ Cold eyes surveyed her. ‘Necessary for the time being, I suppose. Your appearance is acceptable and you, too, lack that particularly ugly vocal characteristic so many of your fellow Americans display.’ She gave a small shudder of distaste.

Ursula wished she had adopted a Brooklyn accent, then reflected that it would only have upset Belle and done nothing to repair relations with Helen.

‘Here is tea, Mama,’ Helen said with a note of relief as a procession of footmen arrived.

The bustle of service allowed seats to be found and something approaching a sense of ease to come over the little group.

‘Where is Richard?’ The Dowager Countess had refused the cucumber sandwiches and sat holding her porcelain cup with unstudied dignity. Her voice was sharp.

‘Out riding somewhere, Mama,’ Helen said negligently. ‘None of us expected you to arrive back today.’

‘I do not understand why not when it was common knowledge your sister was to arrive this afternoon.’

A small boy ran into the room, fair hair curling round his face, bright blue eyes alight with excitement. He was followed by a comfortable-looking woman wearing a grey work dress enveloped in a large white apron. She dipped a curtsey, saw her charge was safely inside the room and then withdrew.

‘Mama! Mama!’ the boy cried.

Helen opened her arms to him. ‘Darling Harry.’

‘You should not allow that child so much licence.’ The Dowager’s mouth set into a grim line.

Harry leaned against his mother’s knee and looked resentfully at his grandmother. A little nudge at his back propelled him in her direction.

Reluctantly he approached. ‘Good afternoon, Grandmama,’ he said and, feet placed together, one hand held across his front and one behind, gave her a bow.

‘Good afternoon, Harry. What have you learned since I last took tea with you?’

‘I can recite the Kings and Queens of England, Grandmama.’

‘Excellent. Tomorrow I will ask you to do so. Now, you must greet your Aunt Belle. Belle, this is the Viscount Hinton, your nephew.’

Belle gave him a brilliant smile and held out a hand. ‘Come and show me this book, Harry, it looks so interesting.’ She indicated a large volume of architectural sketches lying on a table near the window. ‘And I would love to talk and get to know you. Have you been to New York? It is such an exciting city. Do you know its buildings almost reach the sky?’

Ursula saw that Belle knew just how to interest children.

‘It is most neglectful of Richard not to attend a family tea.’

Ursula had chosen a seat a little apart. She watched as Helen tried to parry her mother-in-law’s increasingly acid comments on her son’s general lack of respect, ending with, ‘It’s not what is expected of a Mountstanton.’

Over by the window, Belle teased and played with her nephew, encouraging him in a game of hide-and-seek with a floor-length chenille cloth covering a round table.

Little shrieks of delight drew a frown from the Dowager.

‘Harry,’ she said sharply as the boy climbed on the window seat. ‘Stop that.’

Helen advanced, saying, ‘Darling, come down …’

But she was too late. He jumped off with a cry of ‘Look at me,’ stumbled on landing and caught at the tablecloth.

A large porcelain bowl fell off the table and broke, shards scattering over a wide area. As Helen rushed to pick up her son, he broke into shrieks of distress.

Belle stood aghast.