Deadly Inheritance (3 page)

The Dowager Countess rose. ‘Harry,’ she said in an awful voice.

Harry fell silent.

‘You should know better at five than to behave like a hooligan. I have warned you before about the necessity to control your excessively high spirits. You will be beaten and sent to bed without supper.’

‘Mama!’ protested Helen, hugging her son.

Belle looked at the Dowager, her eyes wide with horror. ‘He mustn’t be beaten!’ she said passionately. ‘It wasn’t his fault. He’s only little.’

The gorgon stare switched from the small boy to young Belle. ‘You dare to question my authority, girl?’

Holding her son in her arms, Helen joined battle with her mother-in-law. ‘Mama, he realises how badly he has behaved.’

‘It was an accident,’ Belle said. ‘If the bowl was valuable, my father will replace it.’

‘The bowl is not the issue.’

Harry was now sobbing, quietly but relentlessly.

Ursula knew there was no point in saying anything, but she came and stood beside Belle in an effort to lend her support.

The Dowager narrowed her eyes and took a deep breath as the door opened to admit a tall man dressed for riding.

‘Mama, I apologise for not being here earlier,’ he said smoothly.

Ursula gazed in fascination at the Earl of Mountstanton. He had inherited the chill of his mother’s eyes. Like those of a fish, there seemed nothing behind them. His features were unmemorable. His figure was too thin for true elegance but he moved with a certain ease.

A kiss was dropped on the Dowager Countess’s cheek, then, ignoring his wife and crying son, the Earl turned to Belle. ‘Why,’ he drawled, ‘it’s my little sister-in-law. Welcome to Mountstanton, Liberty Belle.’

Little dimples appeared on either side of Belle’s mouth as she smiled shyly up at the Earl.

‘I’m so happy to see you again, my lord,’ she said.

‘Come, come! Not “my lord” please. My name is Richard and I am delighted you have at long last paid us a visit.’

‘Belle has only just left school, Richard; it would have been inappropriate before,’ Helen said, her tone sharp.

‘Of course.’ The Earl gave Belle the sort of look that, in Ursula’s experience, belonged to a man assessing the points of a horse.

‘I think with a little tuition, Miss Seldon could possibly be an asset to the Mountstanton name, Richard,’ said the Dowager.

Belle flushed and looked towards her sister. The Countess said with a hauteur of her own, ‘Belle is already an asset to the Seldon name.’

There was a flash of something indecipherable in the Earl’s eyes. ‘Quite,’ he said and looked around the room. ‘Warburton not here?’

‘Apparently you had letters requiring his attention.’ Helen picked up her cup of tea and sipped at it.

The Earl looked at his son, now leaning against his mother, biting on his thumb. ‘Harry, you stand to attention when I come into the room.’ He looked at his wife. ‘I hope the boy is not going to grow up a disgrace to his name.’

‘Harry is not waiting to grow up.’ The Dowager Countess waved an imperious hand towards the shards of porcelain littering the carpet.

‘How now, what’s this?’

Harry shrank against his mother’s side and tears began to well up in his eyes.

‘We were playing a game and … and there was an accident,’ Belle’s words tumbled out. ‘I will replace the bowl. Please do not beat Harry – or send him to bed without any supper.’ No angel could have pleaded more prettily.

‘And has this punishment been suggested?’ There was little more than polite enquiry in the Earl’s voice.

‘It is no more than the boy should expect.’ The Dowager sounded implacable.

‘Ah, but he is not
your
boy,’ the Earl said softly.

‘He is a Mountstanton.’

‘Quite. So I am the one to dictate his punishment.’

Harry trembled and his tears spilled over. His mother put her arm around him. Neither said anything.

Belle grabbed the Earl’s hand. ‘Please, don’t be so cruel as to beat him.’

He detached his hand from her grasp. ‘Harry, stand up straight. Look at me.’

The boy reluctantly unglued himself from his mother’s side and fixed a fearful gaze on the tall, unyielding figure before him.

‘You will go upstairs now and remain in the nursery. You will have no supper and I will be up later to demonstrate exactly how displeased I am with you. Helen, send for Mrs Comfort.’

Ursula had remained standing after the accident with the bowl, her whole body rigid with distaste. She hoped that the woman’s name reflected her nature.

The Countess rose without expression and went to pull on the long silk cord that hung beside the fireplace.

A footman appeared, received his instructions, and left.

The Earl flicked his gaze round the silent room. It rested for a moment on his mother, then passed on until it fell on Ursula.

The cold, fish-like eyes studied her for a moment. ‘And you are?’ he said in an indifferent voice.

‘Ursula Grandison, companion to Miss Seldon, sir.’ She deliberately did not give him his title nor dip a curtsey.

He raised an eyebrow.

She was silent and stood looking straight at him. Then he said, ‘So,’ and turned to his wife. ‘Do I see tea?’

By now there were several servants in the room, brushing up the broken pieces of china and filling empty cups.

‘Come and sit by me, Richard,’ the Dowager Countess said to her son, indicating a chair set next to hers. ‘I have been waiting to hear what you have been up to while I’ve been away.’

‘Later, Mama. I wish to learn what Liberty Belle thinks of her first sight of England and Mountstanton.’

Ignoring the flashes of red that flamed in the Dowager’s cheeks, the Earl settled himself next to Belle. ‘No doubt now you are so grown up, I shall have to call you Miss Seldon,’ he said pleasantly.

* * *

By the time it came for Ursula to be shown to her room by Mrs Parsons, she was exhausted. It was not the rigours of the travel; looking back on that morning’s train journey, it seemed positively tranquil compared with what had awaited at Mountstanton.

The life of Ursula Grandison had been full of ups and downs. Using her wits, she had extricated herself from potentially disastrous situations. Tragedy had visited her and so had extreme happiness. She had learned to survive in situations that would have swamped girls less courageous than herself. Never, though, could she remember having to witness such powerful cross-currents of tension. With no part to play in the scene, Ursula had found the afternoon more challenging than the time she had found herself separating men seemingly determined on beating each other into extinction.

Relief came when Ursula was handed over to the housekeeper to be shown her accommodation. And Helen’s announcement that dinner would be at seven o’clock, giving a clear indication that Ursula should not expect further contact with the family until then, was received thankfully.

There was careful politeness in every line of Mrs Parson’s carriage as she led the way back along the corridor towards the great staircase. As she followed in her wake, Ursula realised that the housekeeper could well provide a key to much that happened at Mountstanton. Would she, though, be able to reach through the impregnable reserve displayed by so many of the servants? Maybe even achieve a cosy chat?

‘This seems a very ancient house,’ she said, a note of enquiry in her voice.

‘Indeed it is, Miss Grandison.’ Mrs Parsons sounded pleased at her interest. ‘The original house was built in the reign of Elizabeth but the classical front was added some hundred and fifty years later.’

‘There are so many interesting pictures and pieces of furniture.’

The woman dipped her head in acknowledgement of this truth. ‘No doubt, America being such a new country, Miss Grandison, there will not be such houses there.’

Ursula thought of the treasures in the Seldon New York mansion and in some of the others built in that city over the last few decades. After visiting them, you would not be blamed for thinking that there could hardly be an antique piece of furniture, sculpture, painting, panelling or ancient hall left in Europe, so much had been transported to the New World.

‘It is a great privilege to be allowed to stay in a house such as this,’ she said. ‘Would you, perhaps, be able to give me a tour one day?’

‘Why, Miss Grandison, I would be privileged. But I am sure that her ladyship will wish to do that.’

‘The Countess must have a great many calls on her time. As indeed, must you,’ Ursula added hurriedly. ‘But your knowledge of Mountstanton must be unrivalled. How many years have you been here?’

‘Nearly thirty.’ They had reached the stairs. ‘I started as a maid, as my mother did before me. And my grandmother had charge of the laundry.’

Ursula looked at her in admiration as they moved upstairs. ‘Why, that could be called a dynasty! I do not believe we have any such tradition of service in America.’

Mrs Parsons paused on the landing. She looked pleased. ‘There is a tradition in England called
noblesse oblige.
It means that titled families, indeed, any with great estates whether titled or not, have a duty to those who serve them. We at Mountstanton believe that those who serve also have a duty of loyalty and dedication to the Stanhope family. That is the family name of the Earls of Mountstanton,’ she added in a helpful manner.

Ursula was fascinated. ‘I would very much like to hear more about Mountstanton, Mrs Parsons, when you have time.’

They started up a further flight of stairs.

‘It would be an honour, Miss Grandison. And I shall hope to hear from you what America is like.’

The higher in the house they went, the more the grandeur dropped away. By the time Ursula was led along a corridor there were no ornate balustrades, no great oil paintings on the walls, few pieces of furniture, and the floor covering was no more than serviceable.

A door opened as they passed and Mrs Comfort stood there, looking apprehensive. Then her expression lightened. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, miss, I’m sure. I thought …’

Ursula realised she must have thought it was the Earl come to discipline his son and heir. She smiled at the nanny. ‘Has the young Viscount recovered from the unfortunate incident in the drawing room?’

‘Unfortunate is the word, Miss Grandison. I never knew such goings on. I’ll be pleased when a new nursemaid has been engaged. ’Tis too much on my own, Mrs Parsons, as you well knows. I can’t manage the boy and his washing and ironing and everything else.’

‘Quite, Mrs Comfort.’

The nanny gave the sort of nod that said she hoped due note had been taken of her words and closed the door.

Where, wondered Ursula, as Mrs Parsons continued along the corridor, did the nanny figure in the accommodation hierarchy? No doubt above the position of the ordinary servant but well below the status of family or honoured guest. Well, that surely summed herself up as well.

‘Here we are,’ said Mrs Parsons and threw open a door. ‘I hope you will be comfortable.’

Remembering how lacking in charm the room she had been shown into on arrival was, Ursula did not expect much in the way of décor or furniture, and she was not disappointed. There was an iron bedstead covered with a cotton spread, a washstand, an upright chair, a simple chest of drawers, a small table and a deal wardrobe. A mirror hung on the wall above the table. There was also a text: ‘Be thou thrifty and the Lord will provide’, and a badly foxed print of a small child kneeling beside a bed to say her prayers, eyes closed and a deep frill round her otherwise plain nightgown. Ursula’s trunk had been placed against one wall.

Mrs Parsons ran a hand over the surface of the chest of drawers, as though checking that dust had been satisfactorily removed. ‘Do you require assistance to unpack?’ Her voice was distant; it was as though she was removing herself from the decision to award this inadequate room to Ursula.

‘Thank you, Mrs Parsons, but I am well able to undertake that task myself.’ Ursula grinned inwardly as she thought how seldom she had had the luxury of a personal servant in recent years. ‘May I enquire if the maid the Countess informed Mr Seldon would be provided for her sister is looking after the unpacking of her luggage?’

Mrs Parsons nodded. ‘Didier, as she has informed us she is to be called, is in the process of doing that right now.’ Her voice was noncommittal but Ursula received the distinct impression that the maid had not endeared herself to the housekeeper. ‘You will no doubt require a gown to be pressed for dinner this evening. I will send Sarah up to collect it shortly.’

Left on her own at last, Ursula sank onto the bed. The mattress was thin and supported by a hard, unsprung base. It did not matter. At least she could close her eyes and try for five minutes or so to blank out everything that had taken place since her arrival at Mountstanton.

After a little while she remembered that Sarah was to collect a gown for pressing. As she unlocked the trunk and picked out a dark grey silk gown, the door was flung open and Belle entered.

‘At last I have found you!’

Ursula rose and found herself wrapped in urgent arms.

‘Oh, Ursula, this is a horrid place. I was so looking forward to being with Helen again. My big sister who always cared for me. And now all she can do is tell me I must do this and I must do that and I mustn’t do the other.’ Belle burst into tears.

Ursula sat her down on the bed and found a handkerchief.

‘Hush, hush,’ she said gently and stroked the distraught girl’s hair. ‘Helen has a great position to maintain. She has a child to raise and this enormous house to run; she is no longer a carefree girl with all her choices in front of her, she has chosen her role and now has to make it work. Think how complicated her life must be, particularly with the Dowager Countess for mother-in-law.’

‘And that’s another thing,’ Belle screwed the sodden handkerchief into a tight ball and dabbed at her eyes. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you knew Helen?’ She gazed at Ursula, all tears now gone. ‘She says I am not to trust you. She is going to try and send you away, I know it!’ Belle flung her arms around Ursula again. ‘I don’t want you to leave, I need you. I hate this house. If you leave, I’ll leave too. I’ll go home to Papa.’