Deadly Inheritance (40 page)

A mixture of rage and panic surged through Helen. She rose. ‘You are despicable. You too, Ursula. But you at least are not a Mountstanton. If Mama were here, she would tell you, her sole surviving son, Charles, exactly what a disgrace you are to the family name.’

The Colonel looked incredibly weary, like a soldier surveying a lost battlefield.

His expression suddenly softened. ‘My dear Helen, you must be overcome with grief and I am a fool to have burdened you with this. Forgive us for this intrusion.’

He dipped his head but did not try to take her hand, merely turned and left the room.

Ursula had stood up. ‘You need rest, Helen. Have you had anything to eat today? Can I arrange for some refreshment to be brought to you?’

The Countess shook her head violently; her need to have this woman who knew so much about her leave the room was intense. ‘I wish to be alone.’

‘Of course.’ Ursula followed Charles out.

Left at last on her own, Helen went to the window and stood, her hands pressed against her forehead, looking out and seeing nothing. She tried to think rationally and calmly.

It was impossible. She walked around the room, wild thoughts chasing themselves around her mind.

For once, Helen was on the side of her mother-in-law. The Mountstanton name must be protected. Harry must be spared a tainted heritage. Why couldn’t Charles understand that? Why had he returned here? If he had to leave the army, why couldn’t he have gone somewhere else? Everything that was happening was his fault. How could he behave so irresponsibly?

‘Investigator’, the word hammered in her head. What sort of investigation was taking place?

Helen stopped her pacing and took two deep breaths. There was no need to panic. This was not an official investigation. Whatever fly-by-night rogue Charles had managed to get hold of – probably someone who had served with him, no doubt drummed out of the army in disgrace – well, whoever he was, he could have no standing in the eyes of the law.

Helen went into the corridor and glided gracefully towards the hall. All the window blinds were down. Benson was there. He seemed to have shrunk since yesterday.

‘I shall take dinner in my boudoir, Benson.’

‘Very well, my lady, I will see to it myself. I … I have arranged the mourning ornaments on the front door, my lady.’ He waved a hand in a way that suggested she might like to inspect them. Helen shuddered.

‘Thank you, Benson. Please see that I am not disturbed by anyone.’

‘Of course, my lady.’

She continued on to Richard’s study, the flimsy skirts of her robe floating out as she went.

The study seemed to be holding its breath. Richard’s desk and the tables that stood against the walls were stacked with the usual untidy piles of paper; some sheets had fallen to the floor, more looked in danger of following. William had not managed to reduce anything to order. Had he tried? Had Richard prevented him?

For a long moment Helen stood irresolute, then started leafing through the papers on the desk. She had hardly made any inroads before William entered.

‘Helen!’ he exclaimed, coming towards her.

‘I thought you were supposed to be acting as Richard’s secretary?’ she said, waving at the disorder all around them.

He gave her a slow smile. ‘That’s what my father arranged.’ He surveyed the papers without a hint of distress. ‘I have written various letters for the Earl, even managed a little research into possible ways of improving the shooting. Somehow it didn’t seem anything more was necessary. Now, though, I have to assist with organising his funeral. The Dowager insists it must match the grandeur of the last one.’ He sighed. ‘There is just so much to be done!’ But he smiled warmly at her. Then his eyes darkened, he moved closer and swept her into his arms. ‘Oh, Helen, Helen, Helen! What does any of this matter?’

For an instant, as his mouth came down on hers, Helen almost succumbed. To be able to forget everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, to lose herself in earthy lust with this splendid specimen of uninhibited English manhood would be so wonderful.

His breathing quickened. He looked into her eyes, his pupils huge and dark. ‘My dearest, dearest desire. Oh, Helen, I adore you. I’ve loved you ever since I first saw you. Ever since then you have been a shining, unattainable star. But now, now you can be totally mine. Say you will marry me.’

Again his mouth claimed hers and his arms tightened around her. Again a sort of crazy belief that this could solve all her problems took hold of Helen. William had a good relationship with Harry, his background was impeccable, and he knew how to make a woman’s body respond. Maybe this wasn’t exactly how she had planned things but maybe it would work.

She dug her fingers into his shoulders and allowed herself a moment’s joyous delight before she drew back. ‘William, dearest …’ she started.

Then she saw her sister standing in the doorway.

The tension in the shabby smoking room vibrated through Ursula like a plucked wire.

The Colonel stood looking out of the window. His shoulders were rigid. The unflappable soldier appeared to be deeply upset. Was it, Ursula wondered, because of the claim that Polly had been a close relation, even a half-sister? Or was it something to do with Helen?

Frustration filled Ursula. Were charming, facile and self-indulgent women always to have strong men at their feet?

Helen had invited Belle over to England but how much had she done to make the visit enjoyable for her little sister? There was her husband, had she shared any of his problems? Until the night of his death, Ursula had seen little warmth in Helen’s relationship with the Earl. Apart from that collapse over his dead body, the only genuine emotion she had displayed since Ursula’s arrival seemed to have been for her little son. But weren’t dynastic marriages supposed to produce more than one possible heir? And surely Helen should be involved with charitable works, not enjoying languishing looks from her husband’s secretary?

Clouds had come up and the sunny day had turned dark. Ursula found she was shivering.

‘She’s frightened,’ said the Colonel without turning. ‘Helen is frightened.’

‘Why? Why should she be?’ But Ursula knew he was right.

He shrugged and left the window. ‘Perhaps, like my mother, she is afraid of a slur on the good name of Mountstanton.’ A touch of irony removed any pomposity from his words.

‘Do you believe that Polly was a Mountstanton?’ Ursula asked curiously.

Another shrug and a gesture that asked her permission to sit. Once again they faced each other, but the ease that had been between them earlier that day had vanished.

The Colonel’s attention was claimed by a rip in the leather upholstery of his chair. ‘My father, I regret to say, left a number of by-blows.’ He looked up. ‘I’m sorry, I should not use such language to you.’

Ursula gave a grim chuckle. ‘As I think you know by now, I am used to far worse, Colonel. Nor, I am afraid, does the existence of illegitimate offspring distress me.’ She thought for a moment. Would it be a betrayal of Helen to explain why the letter could have so disturbed her? Yes, she quickly decided, it would. It was past history and should remain so.

‘Respectability is important to Helen, as important to her as it is to the Dowager Countess.’

‘I don’t think that can be true. My mother yields to no one in her fierce protection of the family name.’

For the first time, the full implications of the letter struck Ursula. ‘You are saying your father deceived your mother. Isn’t it possible another Mountstanton, your uncle, say, or a cousin, could have been the philanderer?’

‘Ah, Miss Grandison, can you really be that naive?’

Ursula flushed.

‘I know that my mother soon realised what sort of man she had married. But what could she do? The morals of English high society, Miss Grandison, are worse than those of the most depraved mining camp. The only rule, it seems, is that scandal must be avoided. Not long after my parents were married, scandal did threaten to ruin my father’s reputation and my mother’s happiness.’

Ursula tried to envision the overpowering Dowager Countess as a young girl devastated by the imminent collapse of her world. It was not easy.

‘What happened?’

He sighed. ‘My grandfather arranged matters somehow. But the repercussions have followed my mother to this day. Not only her,’ he added, looking down again at the ripped leather and retreating into himself. After a moment he gave Ursula a strained smile. ‘Ever since then Mama has tried to ensure that scandal could never threaten the family again. She has guarded both the Mountstanton name and her own. Double-dyed in family pride, you might say.’

‘Did the incident you mentioned have anything to do with Polly?’

‘Good heavens, no!’ He seemed almost relieved to be back with the question of the nursemaid’s parentage. ‘It would be convenient, I suppose, if a Mountstanton other than my father might have sired her, particularly as far as Mama is concerned. But I am afraid it is not possible. My father’s younger brother died in infancy and the two cousins that exist decided New Zealand offered greater chances than England for impoverished younger members of an aristocratic family. They have been there for some thirty years.’

Ursula suddenly saw a way of revealing something of Helen’s background without betraying her.

‘Respectability for Helen is, you might almost say, the reverse of that of the Dowager Countess.’

‘Ah! I think I understand. Forgive me for putting it this way, I mean no disrespect, but as far as she is concerned, there is no family reputation to be maintained, is there?’

Ursula could not help laughing. ‘I hope you will not put it that way to Helen, but Mr Seldon would be the first to admit that he came from nowhere.’

‘Born on a mid-west farm, I understand, that went under in a drought, came to New York and clawed his way to fortune, isn’t that it?’

Ursula nodded. ‘Railways, mining, newspapers, import, export; he has had a genius for seeing profit in many different ventures.’ And never flinching from tough decisions, always taking risks that hardly ever failed, never hesitating to do down any man who dared to cross him. ‘Respectability was never high on his agenda; with Mr Seldon, riches meant more than reputation. He has only ever wanted to be regarded as a hard and successful man.’

‘Poor Helen.’

Ursula fought a fresh feeling of frustration. After all, hadn’t she achieved exactly the reaction she wanted? ‘However, New York society is as rigid as any continental place, perhaps even more so. Despite their wealth, the Seldon family could never be accepted into the higher echelons. No invitations for Helen and Belle from those pillars of respectability, Mrs Astor and Mrs Vanderbilt. Mr Seldon understood that but he knew his rapidly expanding fortune could achieve respectability for his daughters without their help. That is why he sent Helen to school in Paris rather than New York.’

‘And you accompanied her, I understand. How did you fit into the picture, if I may ask?’

Ursula looked down at her hands. ‘My father was in partnership with Mr Seldon.’

The Colonel stared at her. ‘But you have no fortune?’

If she had, she would not be acting as Belle’s companion. ‘No. There was a falling out and my father lost all his assets.’ She was not prepared to go into the details. ‘Mr Seldon was fond of me and felt I should not be deprived of a good education. He said it could be my salvation.’ For the briefest moment, Ursula remembered how he had looked when he’d said it, dropping it into the middle of her devastation, and how she had clung to that statement as though her fingernails held onto a window ledge high above an unyielding pavement. ‘Anyway, Helen never felt her father’s millions were enough to guarantee happiness. She has always needed respectability, to be accepted in the top circles.’

The Colonel shifted his position uneasily. ‘So that is why she married my brother.’

‘She had proposals from a number of foreigners,’ Ursula said quickly.

‘Foreigners!’

‘Non-Americans, I mean. Helen wanted to live in Europe. There were French aristocrats, an Italian Count, a Prince from Scandinavia.’ She was embellishing now, but all in a good cause. At least, Ursula wondered suddenly, was it a good cause? She remembered Helen’s reactions just now in her boudoir, and all the ways she had rubbed at Ursula’s sense of what was right. But it was too late now. ‘Your brother had competition, Colonel, but he won her fair and square.’

He said nothing for a long time. Ursula could gather no hint of his thoughts. The man would be a triumph at the poker table.

The Colonel rose and took out his hunter. ‘Time I was back with the lawyers, Miss Grandison. Look, you will have to go with Jackman to Adam Gray and get the truth out of him.’

Ursula looked at him with something like horror.

‘He would talk to you, Colonel. I’m sure he won’t to me or Mr Jackman,’ she said quickly. Ursula did not know why she distrusted the investigator but the idea that they were to form some sort of team filled her with dismay.

‘Nonsense. Didn’t you tell me you’d already met Gray? I’m sure you can make him tell you anything you want to know. Anyway, Jackman has my note of authority and he knows how to interview suspects.’

‘You think Mr Gray a suspect? What do you suspect him of? Seducing Polly?’

‘No. I think he was extremely fond of her; she was someone you could easily get drawn to – attractive and full of life and fun. If Gray did write that letter, and I think he did, he might well take revenge on someone he considered responsible for her death.’

‘You mean you suspect Mr Gray of shooting your brother?’

‘It’s a possibility that has to be considered.’

‘But why should the Earl have been responsible for Polly’s death? Or do you think he was her seducer?’

The Colonel shook his head. ‘I don’t think so but Gray might.’

‘He does have an uncertain temper,’ admitted Ursula, remembering the agent’s performance at the inquest.

‘You will be able to get at the truth, you and Jackman.’ It was said with an authority that would allow no dissent and Ursula knew that further protest would get her nowhere.