Deadly Inheritance (34 page)

‘I am glad my mother had you with her,’ he said. ‘I can imagine no one who would be a greater support.’

‘I wish it had not been she who had to discover him,’ she said, her voice low.

‘I, too.’

As they approached the French windows, she removed her hand from his arm. ‘Thank you. I am so glad the family has you here to help with everything that will follow from this. It will be a terrible time.’

He held the French window open for her to pass inside.

The Dowager Countess had drunk her brandy but otherwise seemed not to have moved since they left. Her eyes, those pools of darkness, searched Charles’s face. What she saw there seemed to satisfy her. She gave a slight nod.

‘I have sent for Benson, Charles. There will be things to organise.’

He marvelled at her ability to rise above shock. He picked up her hand, held it in both of his, looking searchingly into her frozen face, then kissed her fingers. ‘I will do all I can, Mama. Have you also sent for Helen?’

Some fleeting emotion passed over her features, gone before it could be identified. ‘After Benson, I thought.’

No doubt she was right but Helen had to be informed as soon as possible. He glanced at Miss Grandison.

She picked up her cue. ‘Would you like me to bring her here?’

A slow nod from the Dowager Countess.

‘It would be best not to tell her what has happened.’ Charles realised he had taken command, as he had to.

‘Of course.’ Ursula left the room.

A moment later a tap on the door signalled Benson’s arrival.

For once, the butler’s famous ability to absorb extraordinary events failed him.

‘Lord Richard!’ he said faintly. ‘Dead? Shot?’

Charles was suddenly aware how long the man had been a pillar of the Mountstanton establishment. He laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m afraid so, Benson. We are all relying on you to manage what has to be done.’

With a visible effort, looking as if he had aged ten years in ten seconds, the butler pulled himself together. ‘Of course, Colonel Charles. What would you have me do?’

Charles sat down at his mother’s desk and dashed off two quick notes. He handed the envelopes to Benson. ‘One for the doctor and the other to Mr Jackman at the Lion and Lamb. Send a groom with them immediately. Then bring some form of substantial covering to the belvedere.’

‘At once, sir.’ He took the envelopes, looked at them for a moment as if they might contain explosive material, then left the room.

‘Jackman? Who, pray, is Jackman?’ his mother asked.

Charles wondered how much he should tell her. ‘Just someone who may be able to help,’ he said. ‘The police will have to be told but they can wait until the morning.’

It seemed enough. For a moment both of them were silent. Then: ‘He was never the man your father was,’ his mother said suddenly. ‘It was always a sadness to Simon.’

Charles sighed. It was not the first time he had heard this. ‘Richard never forgot his duty, he was a good man,’ he said firmly.

The door was thrust open and the room filled with fragrance. Helen, her face pale and distraught – long, fair hair tumbling down the back of a Chinese dressing gown, over which sprawled a burning red dragon – marched up to her mother-in-law.

‘How dare you send Ursula to summon me here? She refuses to tell me what has happened – only that it is nothing to do with Harry.’

‘Helen, I am afraid it is Richard,’ said Charles, coming forward.

‘Richard?’ she said sharply. ‘What has he done?’ She did not add ‘now’, but the word vibrated silently.

‘He is dead,’ said the Dowager Countess. ‘He has shot himself. It is the act of a coward.’

‘Mama!’ protested Charles.

‘Shot himself?’ Helen whispered. She looked at Charles as though for reassurance it hadn’t happened.

‘I am afraid it is true.’

‘Where is he? I must see him.’

‘Please, no, Helen, not yet.’

‘What do you mean, “not yet”? He is my husband, of course I must see him.’ She sounded imperious.

‘I’ve brought these.’ Ursula stood just inside the door looking drawn and very tired. She held a collection of linen. ‘Tablecloths. I found them in a pile gathered from the garden. I thought you could use them …’, her voice trailed away as she held them out to Charles.

‘Of course.’ He took them, grateful for her typically practical approach. ‘Will you give me a few minutes?’ he said to his sister-in-law. He looked again at Miss Grandison, ‘Perhaps you would be good enough to accompany Helen?’

‘If she will allow me to do so.’

Making his mind a blank, Charles went back to the belvedere. He used one of the smaller cloths to cover the bloody remains of the dead man’s head, then spread a larger one over the body. He carefully arranged the hands over the breast so they were in full view.

By then Helen was approaching with Ursula.

She slowly climbed the steps and stood by the shrouded body. Charles laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

With an irritated gesture, she shook it off. ‘Leave me,’ she commanded.

He retreated down the steps.

‘It’s the shock,’ Ursula murmured. She stood at the bottom of the steps.

Strange, Charles thought, it was almost as though he was on a battlefield; all feeling cut off, action somehow muffled.

He made a sudden movement forward as Helen stripped the cloth off Richard, but Ursula caught his arm. ‘She is doing what she has to do.’

It was all he could do to stay where he was as Helen then raised the smaller cloth so that she could see the bloody mess beneath; beside him Miss Grandison drew in a sharp breath and raised a hand to her mouth.

Helen dropped the cloth with a smothered cry. She snatched up the large cloth and vomited into its folds.

Ursula ran up the steps and placed an arm around her, murmuring into her ear.

Carefully, Helen folded the linen into a bundle and gave it to her companion, who placed it on the ground. Then Helen started to undo the buttons of Richard’s jacket and waistcoat. ‘Help me,’ she instructed Ursula. After a moment’s hesitation, she obeyed. Charles watched, unbelieving, as the two women revealed Richard’s naked breast. Then Helen flung herself on to it and let out an animal cry that cut to Charles’s heart.

Ursula managed to raise the weeping woman off the body. ‘There is nothing you can do,’ she said, enfolding her in her arms. ‘There, there; cry all you want; it will help, Helen, I promise you.’

For a moment the two women stood as though classical figures on a vase of grief. Then Helen allowed herself to be walked down the steps. As she passed Charles, he saw how ravaged her face was and felt pierced as he realised how much she had, indeed, loved his brother.

He picked up another of the cloths, covered the head again and refastened Richard’s clothes so that his brother was once more respectably dressed.

Inside the Dowager Countess’s drawing room, Helen sat huddled in a chair with Miss Grandison sitting on the arm and holding her around the shoulders. Charles looked at his mother. Her eyes were closed. It was impossible to tell whether she was conscious of anything that was happening or not.

Benson came in. ‘Your messages have been sent, Colonel Charles.’

Weariness threatened to consume him. ‘Thank you. Let me know when either the doctor or Mr Jackman arrives.’ He sensed rather than saw Miss Grandison react to the name.

Helen suddenly sat upright. ‘Organise a stretcher, Benson. Then have his lordship carried to his room. Have warm water and towels brought there. I will prepare him for burial.’

The butler looked at Charles.

He crouched down in front of his sister-in-law. ‘Helen, dearest, Richard cannot be moved until he has been officially declared dead and someone in authority has viewed his body. I will arrange for that in the morning. There may have to be an autopsy.’ He gave a nod to Benson, who melted from the room.

Helen looked mutinously at Charles. ‘Why should there have to be an autopsy? It is perfectly obvious how he died. Nobody should be allowed to touch his body but me.’ He said nothing and after a moment she touched his cheek with her hand. ‘Dear Charles, you must understand; he was my husband. Maybe I was not the best wife he could have had but we did love each other. Surely it is I who should prepare him?’

The Dowager opened her eyes. ‘I do not approve of someone in Helen’s position undertaking such a task but she has the right attitude. Charles, surely our rank still counts for something? Surely we can order these things as we see fit?’

The weight of competing demands was heavy. He stood up and looked down at Helen. The hem of her dressing gown was wet with dew but the writhing red dragon, that covered so much of the silk, disguised the bloodstains it had absorbed.

‘I will do what I can,’ he said. ‘And I will keep vigil by Richard until the doctor arrives.’

Helen rose, lifted a hand, then let it drop in a helpless gesture. ‘If you will not allow me to do anything, then I shall retire.’ She looked at her mother-in-law. ‘You should, too, Mama. Tomorrow will be … difficult.’

Ursula rose. ‘Shall I come with you?’

‘No. I … I need to be alone.’

Even through her grief, Helen managed to leave the room as though she was exiting a stage.

Ursula turned to the Dowager Countess. ‘Shall I find Barnes for you, your ladyship?’

She received a weary nod.

Charles was left alone with his mother. He helped her to rise.

‘Thank you, Charles. At least I have you.’

He kissed her cold cheek. ‘Always, Mama.’

She stood erect, indomitable. ‘You will take charge. And make sure that Miss Grandison does not leave us until all this is over. One can rely on her to act in the right way. The Mountstanton way.’

He watched her greet her maid.

As Charles walked back to his brother’s body, his mother’s description of Miss Grandison echoed in his mind. Yes, the American woman was someone who could be relied upon. But to act in the Mountstanton way? That was a different matter.

Ursula’s uneasy sleep was broken by a knocking at her door.

For a moment, she thought that she was in California and the banging came from the door of her wooden shack. Then, with a sickening lurch in her stomach, she remembered. She was at Mountstanton and the Earl had shot himself.

‘Come in,’ she called, levering herself into a sitting position.

‘Oh, Miss,’ Sarah said, putting a jug of hot water on the washstand, her round, usually happy face stunned. ‘Have you heard?’

Ursula nodded.

‘To think of that happening whilst we were having our fun!’ Sarah’s eyes were moist and swollen, her mobcap pulled to one side. ‘Mr Benson told us all this morning. Inside and
outside we were all there; like Sunday morning prayer meeting it was.’

Ursula had a sudden vision of the Mountstanton staff gathered to hear the news: maids in aprons, footmen in livery, Benson and Mrs Parker in their formal dress. In many ways they were like a family.

‘It’s terrible.’

Ursula had not seen any sign that the Earl had been greatly loved – not as his father was – if all she had heard could be relied upon.

‘Oh, Miss, I doesn’t know what I’m doing. I should ’ave brought you your tea before your water.’

‘Don’t worry, Sarah.’ Ursula longed for a cup of tea but the girl’s distress was obvious.

‘I’ll get it right now, miss.’

* * *

By the time Ursula reached the Morning Room, it was clear that, though the staff were struggling to act as normal, the usually smooth and unobtrusive service was today clumsy and ill-prepared. She saw the butler pass through the hall, his face stolid with repressed grief, then pause to admonish a footman whose trembling hands had scattered a pile of mail.

In the Morning Room, a flustered maid hastily cleared away plates, apologising for not having done so before. It seemed that at least two other members of the household had breakfasted already.

Ursula found she had no appetite. She toyed with a roll, drank a cup of coffee, then went along to Helen’s boudoir and knocked on the door, hoping she was not still in bed. A low voice said, ‘Come in’.

Helen sat in her pretty buttoned chair, last night’s red dragon silk kimono replaced by a white lace negligée. Her long, fair hair looked as though it had not seen a brush since she woke up. Her eyes were red, though her mouth was full and relaxed. By the window stood William Warburton, a slight flush on his cheeks, his hands in the trouser pockets of his dark suit.

‘I came to see how you were,’ said Ursula, standing just inside the door.

Helen shrugged. The distraught girl from last night had vanished; the controlled woman was back.

‘I am as you see me, a widow in her grief.’

Behind the words Ursula heard animosity.

Helen stretched out a hand towards the man standing behind her. ‘William has been very kind. He will help sort out Richard’s papers.’

Ursula had to stop herself from saying that surely Richard’s brother should do that. After all, if Mr Warburton really had been the Earl’s secretary, he must be acquainted with his correspondence at the very least and the Colonel would have many calls upon his time.

Helen rose in an easy, languid movement. ‘I must dress. Harry has to be told he no longer has a father and that he is now – poor child – the Earl of Mountstanton. William, I will see you later.’

He gave her a graceful nod of his head. ‘Of course, your ladyship.’

She went into her bedroom.

Ursula looked across at the secretary. ‘Have you seen Belle this morning, Mr Warburton?’

The slight flush on his cheeks deepened. He shook his head.

‘Has she heard about the Earl’s death, do you know?’

‘I … that is, I am not sure. Surely someone will have told her?’

Not if she had been asleep when the Earl’s body was discovered. But her maid would tell her as soon as she woke. Ursula wondered how the girl would react. Belle had not liked the Earl of Mountstanton. However, he had been her brother-in-law.

‘I had better go to her,’ she said, and realised that the shock of finding his body had been so great, she hadn’t given thought to how much she would miss the Earl. More than she might have expected, given how little contact she had had with him, she concluded. There had been glimpses of a reserved, even shy, man beneath the unyielding front he seemed to have adopted for the outside world. If only he could have let go and shown the charm of his brother – somewhat eccentric though that charm might be. Perhaps the duties and responsibilities of the Earldom meant it hadn’t been possible.