Deadly Inheritance (20 page)

Tilly didn’t ask how Walter knew this; he had an uncanny ability to overhear things that should have been private. The Earl failed perhaps to realise how sharp were his under-groom’s ears when they rode out. And they all knew how Lord Simon could be with the girls. There were a number on the Mountstanton staff who had fallen for his charms and found themselves packed off with a small pension. Now, apparently, he’d got involved with the daughter of the local auction house proprietor. She had, so word got out, been sent off to visit an aunt somewhere in the north, no doubt with a suitable sum of money in recompense.

As soon as the engagement was announced, the underground network of servant gossip had provided details of the girl who was to be their mistress. Lord Simon’s mother had died two years earlier, so there would be no mother-in-law holding the household reins.

Bertie Fry, Lord Simon’s valet, had filled them all in: ‘Rich, her father is. A Viscount now, but made a fortune in India. Not trade, mind you. Respectable family but come into the title all unexpected. Regular train of deaths there was.’ Bertie accompanied his master to various house parties so had had plenty of opportunity to observe the future Countess of Mountstanton.

Normally Mr Peabody, the butler then, would have told him to mind his language and his business but he was as keen as they all were to know every detail.

‘Is she the only child?’ he asked. Everyone wanted to know if the fortune had to be carved up between various offspring.

‘There’s a son and a beautiful sister. She’s already been snapped up …’

‘Fry!’ Mr Peabody said warningly.

‘Been chosen in marriage she has, as has the son,’ the valet had said with a mischievous look at the avidly listening maids.

‘Is the Honourable Beatrice a beauty as well?’ asked one.

He shook his head. ‘Not a corker – but not bad looking. Pleasant and got a sort of, well, a sort of style, you know?’

On a fine day – and they all took that as a good omen – Lord Simon had helped out of the open landau a slim girl with an erect carriage and undistinguished looks. She had worn a green silk travelling costume in the latest fashion and on her brown hair a bonnet trimmed with roses. The only sign of nerves had been her tight grip on her new husband’s arm.

Accompanied by Mrs Hastings, the housekeeper, and Mr Peabody, the bride had moved with her new husband down the long line of servants, greeting each one pleasantly.

Matilda had marvelled at her new mistress’s ability to maintain her appearance of interest. But as she had bobbed and given her name, she noticed a glazed look in the pale blue eyes and it seemed to be with a feeling of relief that, after the last servant had been acknowledged, Beatrice Stanhope turned to her husband.

‘I am very happy to meet you all,’ she said, standing on the top step. ‘Together we will ensure Mountstanton is as glorious now as in the past.’

Her father-in-law frowned at this suggestion the house might have deteriorated recently and Lord Simon quickly took his bride inside.

It had not taken long for the staff to realise the will of steel that existed beneath Lady Mountstanton’s pleasant manner. And only her father-in-law managed to escape her organising ways.

‘Mrs Hastings says she won’t stand for it any longer,’ Agatha, the assistant housekeeper, told Matilda a year later.

The cook had already walked. Two promising footmen had left for neighbouring estates and not been replaced.

‘Her ladyship told Mr Peabody that they were not needed,’ Agatha sighed. ‘She said we was all lazy and it would do us good to work a little harder. A little! My heavens, Tilly, as if we didn’t do enough polishing and sweeping and dusting as it is without having to run errands, and serve the tea and even dinner, which isn’t right! Should be footmen. As for keeping all those danged chandeliers clean and deal with the candles, well, I don’t know how we’ll manage!’

Tilly said nothing but privately she reckoned that Mountstanton had never been so clean as under her ladyship; or so well organised.

If only they didn’t have to put up with Enid Barnes, her ladyship’s maid! The woman thought she was so superior, being as how she had been trained in a Duke’s household. She was always running to her mistress with some tale of backsliding amongst the staff.

The last straw for Mrs Hastings had been the sheets.

‘She told her ladyship it was time they was replaced,’ said Agatha. ‘One was that thin it tore as it was put on. Instead, her ladyship said they must all be turned side to middle. Mrs Hastings happened to say in the servants’ hall that she thought this was a bit much just as Enid entered. So an hour later she’s hauled over the coals by her ladyship for querying one of her orders.’

‘Every sheet to be turned?’ Matilda found it difficult to envisage sheets with a seam down the middle gracing the grand bedrooms.

‘Course not, silly. Not the guests’ All the servants’ though
and
her ladyship says the family can very well suffer a slight discomfort.’

Matilda stood awestruck at this.

‘And poor Mrs Carter has a pile of sheets as high as a house to deal with.’

Matilda had watched the battles that the new mistress fought and won. Her dowry was used for patching up some of the roof and then investing in the Home Farm rather than for redecorating Mountstanton’s salons. The only time lavish food appeared was for entertaining and the Earl’s temper deteriorated as he battled with his daughter-in-law over how many could be invited for his famed shooting weekends.

‘’E’s the one insisted Lord Simon got married, and ’e chose ’is bride, so ’e can’t complain, now can ’e?’ Walter said to Matilda three years into the marriage. ‘But ’e’s on at Lord Simon to fill the nursery.’ For there were no offspring yet.

The more the indoor staff grumbled though, the more Matilda decided she had to treat the constant surveillance and nit-picking as a challenge. The Viscountess began to notice her with the occasional approving nod.

The Viscount had a much easier relationship with his stable staff. ‘Treats me like someone he can talk to,’ Walter said to Matilda when she managed to snatch some minutes with him behind the carriage house one evening. ‘Today he came as near ’e ever ’as to complaining about her ladyship.’ Walter spread a horse blanket over the rough grass and drew Matilda down to sit beside him with her head on his shoulder. It had been a hard day, with the Viscountess even more demanding than usual, and she found the feel of his solid flesh beneath her cheek very comforting.

‘Told me she’d said he wasn’t to buy the ’orse he’s set his heart on. ’E took me to see ’im last week. Bit flash it was; too long in the back and I didn’t like the look of the ’ocks. Of course, ’e didn’t take any notice, just thanked me and said ’e’d drop ’is price. Then today told me ’e wasn’t buying it after all.’

‘Because her ladyship had said “no”?’

‘It was plain as any pikestaff. There’s going to be trouble there, you mark my words.’

And sure enough, there was. Rumour was soon rife that the Viscount was being seen too often in the company of a highly connected and single young lady.

For a time it seemed that her ladyship was unaware of what was going on. The staff, though, knew that her husband’s mood had changed. It was almost, Matilda thought, as though life had become beautifully simple for him.

Walter saw more of the situation than most since he often accompanied the Viscount out riding. ‘I’m to say we’ve been somewhere quite different than what we ’as,’ he told Matilda.

‘Different? Why, where is it you go?’

‘There’s an old cottage in the east part of the estate. ’Is lordship has ’ad it cleaned and ’es put in a bit of furniture. They plays at ’ousekeeping there. Never seen ’is lordship so ’appy as after one o’ those sessions.’

Matilda was horrified. ‘What if her ladyship finds out?’

Walter’s broad forehead creased and his brown eyes were very anxious. ‘It’s what I bin afraid of. That’s why I go along with ’is stories of ’ow ’e’s been checking estate matters or visiting town.’

Then, suddenly, it was all over. The young lady had married and gone away and the Mountstanton nursery was being brought back into service.

‘’E’s different, Lord Simon is,’ Walter told Matilda. ‘’E’s like a man lost. Doesn’t know what to do with ’imself.’ He gathered her into his arms. ‘If I lost you, I don’t what I’d do. Tilly, we’ve got to get married, that’s what. I reckon I can get ’is lordship to give us a cottage. Then you can make us an ’ome instead of working all the hours up at the ’ouse.’

They came together in a long kiss that was deeper and more passionate than any Matilda could remember.

There was no trouble about the cottage and Matilda gave up her ambitions to be head housekeeper without a pang. Indeed, such was the tension in the house, she could not wait to start organising her own home.

Marriage was everything Matilda had hoped for and the birth of little Alfred made her world complete. She rejoiced at the news of the birth of a Mountstanton heir, rejoiced again when the little one gained a brother, then mourned at the death of the fourth earl. But none of it really touched her.

Agatha would often come over for a cup of tea and envy Matilda her situation. ‘We never see his lordship, he’s always off somewhere. Her ladyship gets more sour and high handed by the day. I tell you, Tilly, she’s that pernickety! I don’t know how long I can stick it.’

When Alfred was four, tragedy struck. Within a week Matilda’s darling boy was dead of diphtheria and her husband had been killed by a kick from a temperamental horse the fifth Earl had insisted on buying.

Two days after the second funeral, the Countess arrived at the cottage.

She sat in the small living room drinking tea. Her gaze swept the pristine room: the few items of furniture beautifully polished, a small cut-glass vase on the mantelpiece holding a tiny bunch of snowdrops. ‘You will need to return to work,’ she said after a brief expression of sympathy. ‘The cottage will be required for the new under-groom.’

Matilda had sat, frozen.

‘I can offer you the position of assistant housekeeper; Agatha wants to get married.’ The Countess made it sound an extraordinary desire.

There seemed no other alternative. So Matilda returned to service at Mountstanton.

Something, though, had changed for her. She now understood about loss. She watched the battles between the Earl and the Countess and began to sympathise with her mistress’s determination to keep what was hers. It enabled her to stomach the high handed ways and the zealous watching of expenditure.

Matilda’s delight was to watch the Countess's two sons grow into young men. She welcomed the American bride, rejoiced at the long-awaited birth of Lord Harry, followed so soon after by the death of the fifth Earl from a debilitating illness. She knew what Walter would have said: ‘Well, at least it means you’ll be rid of ’er ladyship.’ Except that she wasn’t. Settled in the west wing, the Dowager came and went in the main house as she pleased. How the American Countess put up with it, Matilda could not imagine.

The discovery of Polly’s body had been a terrible shock. When they thought she’d run off, Matilda’s conscience over keeping what she’d seen secret had been stilled. Now, it seemed she couldn’t stop thinking about it and wondering was it right to keep silent? But if she spoke out, there would be trouble, no doubt about that. Why could Polly not be allowed to rest in peace? The interview with the Earl and the Countess had been difficult. This one threatened to be worse. The Dowager had always seemed able to see into the darkest corner.

‘Parsons, is there anything else you could feel tempted to tell the coroner?’

‘No, my lady,’ said Matilda quietly.

‘I understand the Earl and the Countess asked if you knew of any liaison Polly was conducting.’

‘Yes, my lady.’

‘And you told them that as far as you knew, she was not involved with anyone at Mountstanton.’

‘Yes, my lady.’

‘And, of course, as head housekeeper you know of all involvements between staff, forbidden though they are?’

Not only of the staff, Matilda wanted to say.

‘I keep myself informed, my lady.’

Rules could never be kept when blood spoke to blood.

There was a long silence. The Dowager’s gaze remained focused on the housekeeper.

‘I always thought, Parsons, that behind her demure exterior Polly Brown was an out-and-out minx.’

It was unusual language from the Dowager.

‘Apparently, according to my daughter-in-law, she could do no wrong in the nursery.’

‘Mrs Comfort was very satisfied with her conduct, my lady.’

‘And I understand that is what she will tell the coroner.’

So the nanny had had a similar interview to herself.

‘Now, Parsons, tell me what you know of this man Snell.’

‘Mr Snell, my lady?’

The gimlet gaze hardened. ‘Don’t be stupid, Parsons. I understand that someone called Snell is claiming he saw something in the woods involving Polly.’

Matilda’s heart lurched. ‘Mr Snell is a gossip, my lady; nothing he likes better than making up tales. He can’t be believed, whatever he says.’

‘Not even when he announces he will act as a witness at Polly’s inquest?’

Matilda’s mouth almost dropped open in shock.

There was a glint of satisfaction in the Dowager’s eyes. ‘So, perhaps you have something more to say now, Parsons?’

Matilda gathered her wits together. ‘There is nothing I can add, my lady, to what I have already told you, and his lordship and my lady.’

Another long pause. More rhythmic tapping on the arm of the chair. Finally the Dowager waved a hand at the housekeeper. ‘Go, Parsons. You always were a fool.’

Matilda dipped her head and retired.

No sooner had she got back to her office than the butler appeared. It was twenty years now since Mr Benson had replaced Mr Peabody on his retirement.

‘Will you allow me to ask, Tilly, how your interview with the Dowager went?’

Matilda sighed. ‘When she finally dismissed me I almost scuttled out, Arthur.’

He gave her an understanding smile. ‘May I suggest that we take a small glass of port to settle your nerves? Everyone will be changing for dinner and I have done everything necessary in the dining room.’