Deadly Inheritance (25 page)

After the coroner’s summing up, the verdict had been exactly as she had expected. And the evidence as it had been extracted from each of the witnesses would seem to back up that conclusion. The wound to the back of the girl’s head had only been mentioned in order to be dismissed as a result of the fall down the rock-strewn slope.

When the Colonel had given his evidence, he had made a point of saying that he did not see the fall as a suitable means of suicide. Had Polly meant to kill herself, he’d said, she would have found a rope and hanged herself, or thrown herself off the railway bridge in front of a train.

The coroner had listened with barely concealed distaste. ‘In many cases of suicide,’ he’d said, ‘the victim had not meant to complete the act; they had merely wished to draw attention to themselves. Or perhaps the nursemaid had hoped the fall would bring on a miscarriage.’

Ursula thought of the glimpses she had been given of Polly. A wayward, rebellious spirit who found discipline difficult but who loved children. A girl who believed she was on her way to a better life. No, the Colonel was right, this had not been suicide.

Did the verdict matter so very much? Nothing could bring her back. But the consternation that had run through those present underlined how very shocking such an act was. It was a criminal offence and meant that Polly could not be laid in hallowed ground. There would be no religious ceremony, and her body would be buried outside church boundaries.

Mrs Parsons and Mrs Comfort were talking quietly together. Everything about their postures suggested that they were now going to put what had happened behind them.

Mr Gray, the agent, had disappeared. Ursula wondered how he felt about the verdict. His was a troubled soul.

‘Is your foot still very painful, Miss Grandison?’ Miss Ranner’s face was concerned. ‘I heard the Colonel ask you to wait for him; would you like to do so in my little house? It must be most uncomfortable for you to have to stand with your crutches.’

‘That is very kind but I think I must remain here. As soon as the trap is harnessed, we shall be expected to return to the house.’

‘Of course; quite proper. But perhaps we could find somewhere to sit inside? There are a number of traps and carriages being harnessed and yours could take a little time. I am sure Mr Benson would not, as I expect Colonel Stanhope would say, “pull rank”.’ She flushed slightly. ‘I would never normally sit in the Lion and Lamb but I am sure no one could raise an eyebrow if we were to be there under the present circumstances.’

She bustled back into the public house. Ursula gave a nod to Mrs Parsons and followed. She was sure it was not merely her comfort that Miss Ranner was concerned about.

Inside the hostelry, the rows of chairs were being put away and fresh sawdust spread. In a far corner, the Colonel was addressing the coroner in a low voice that didn’t carry but had sufficient force to have the other man purpling up with affronted dignity.

The same friendly barman who had earlier produced the coffee, arranged a couple of chairs at a small table for them and, having refused the offer of further refreshment, Ursula and Miss Ranner sat.

‘Thank you,’ Ursula said with relief. ‘You were quite right; it is difficult to remain standing with this wretched ankle of mine.’ She stretched it out before her. ‘However, I truly think there is an improvement. All the swelling is down and I can at least do up my boot again. Perhaps I may soon graduate to a stick instead of these clumsy crutches.’

Miss Ranner sat smoothing her gloves over her dark brown skirt, her forehead creased in deep wrinkles.

Ursula tried again. ‘Are you dissatisfied with how the inquest has gone, Miss Ranner?’

She looked up. ‘As to that, it is what I expected. Poor Polly,’ she said with unexpected vigour. ‘She has not been given justice but there is nothing I can do about it.’

‘Then is there something else bothering you?’

‘It is poor Mr Snell.’

Ursula was taken aback. ‘Death is always distressing. But, forgive me, Miss Ranner, I have gathered the impression that very few in the village will mourn his passing.’

‘Oh, Miss Grandison, I am afraid you are right. I hate to speak ill of those who have passed on but Mr Snell was not a nice man. However, I hope I can always regret a demise, particularly one that was so sudden.’

There was a just perceptible stress on the last phrase. ‘He was not at all indisposed?’

Miss Ranner went back to smoothing her gloves. She gave a quick look around them, then said in a low voice, ‘I am wondering if the Earl noticed anything amiss last night.’

This was totally unexpected. ‘Last night?’

‘It was so late, you see.’ Miss Ranner leaned forward, eager to continue now that she had started. ‘I usually walk Jessie, my little dog, just before I retire. Last night I was involved with a book from the circulating library. Such an exciting tale of the French Revolution and the rescue of those poor aristocrats from the guillotine, I could not bear to leave it until I knew exactly what happened. Do you ever find that with a book, Miss Grandison?’

Ursula smiled. ‘I know exactly what you mean. So, last night you read late. Do you not find text by lamplight taxes your eyes?’

Miss Ranner dismissed this with a wave of her hand. ‘Not when I can arrange my chair right beside it.’ She gave her gloves another stroke. ‘I did not realise quite how late it was until Jessie whined quite piteously and drew my attention with her little paw on my shoe. And I saw it was past eleven o’clock! I was so upset at being neglectful of her needs that I went for my shawl and took her outside. Mr Snell’s cottage is a little beyond mine; it is the last in the village. I usually walk Jessie in that direction, as there is so much vegetation beside the road, you see?’

Ursula nodded.

‘We had not gone as far as Laurel Cottage, Mr Snell’s, when a rider came out and rode off in the direction of Mountstanton. It was a clear night with a full moon and I could see that it was the Earl.’

She stopped and looked at Ursula.

‘You were certain it was him?’

‘Oh, yes, his figure is quite unmistakeable, as is his white horse, though, of course, it should be called a grey.’

‘No doubt he had some very good reason for calling on Mr Snell,’ Ursula suggested in a colourless voice.

‘Oh, I am sure,’ Miss Ranner said in heartfelt tones. ‘And no doubt when he hears the news he will tell Dr Mason that Mr Snell was alive and well when he left. The poor man must have had some sort of attack later in the night, or even this morning, for I am sure his lordship would not have left him if he had been in any distress.’

Ursula gave this rapid consideration. ‘I suppose the moon being so bright, you did not need the aid of a lantern to walk your little dog?’

Miss Ranner agreed.

‘And the night being so bright, the Earl would undoubtedly have noticed you?’

Miss Ranner dropped her gaze. ‘Very possibly. Though, with that monster of a yew tree … it leans right over the road and we have been saying to Mr Snell for an age that it needs to be cut back. No one knows how old it is and if a storm should bring down a branch, someone might be badly injured. Well, I was in its shadow and it could be that he did not see me. He rode away in the opposite direction, and so quickly.’

‘I am sure if it was him, as soon as he knows about Mr Snell’s demise, his lordship will come forward and let the doctor know what sort of state he left him in,’ Ursula said soothingly.

Miss Ranner gave her an apologetic smile as the Colonel appeared.

‘Miss Grandison, here you are, waiting for me?’

‘I have been waiting for the trap to be harnessed,’ said Ursula. Her eyes challenged him. ‘Miss Ranner has been keeping me company.’

He immediately smiled and raised his hand in the manner of a fencer acknowledging a hit.

Miss Ranner rose. ‘Colonel Charles, now that you are here I can return to my house and poor Jessie. Do reassure me; you have been instructing the coroner that the verdict was wrong?’

His expression darkened. ‘We need more evidence, Miss Ranner, and I am making it my business to see that it is discovered.’

She took his hand in both of hers. ‘Colonel Charles, I knew we could rely on you.’ She turned to Ursula, ‘Miss Grandison, thank you for listening. I hope you will visit me again soon?’

‘I shall be sure to, Miss Ranner.’

The woman gave her a questioning look. Ursula glanced briefly towards the Colonel. Miss Ranner’s face cleared as though she had received the message she needed. A moment later she was gone.

‘What has Miss Ranner been saying that she was grateful you listened to, Miss Grandison?’ The Colonel sat on the chair opposite her.

What a pleasure it was to deal with someone so quick on the uptake. Yet Ursula was reluctant to come straight out with what the woman had told her. The information could be entirely innocent, or it could be flawed, or … 

‘She is not happy with the way the inquest went.’

‘I understood that. Neither am I, as you heard me say. And I do not understand Gray’s part.’

‘Perhaps you or your brother need to speak to him.’ There, she had at least referred to the Earl.

The Colonel gave her a searching look. ‘That should be Richard’s task. I shall be speaking to him as soon as I return. But how did the man’s evidence strike you?’

Ursula dragged her mind back to what the agent had said. ‘He was emotional but very definite that he had not been involved with Polly.’

The Colonel whistled tunelessly for a moment. ‘I can make no sense of things. I’d hoped this morning would throw some light onto Polly’s death. Instead it has merely deepened the mystery.’

‘Your brother will no doubt be relieved Mr Snell did not appear,’ Ursula said and waited for a response.

‘Snell would have produced some farrago. I suppose I should express regret at his death but I cannot.’

Ursula looked into his face. His eyes were a clear grey; she realised she had not before noticed how clear. He was frowning. ‘You have something you wish to say, Miss Grandison?’

She took a quick breath. ‘Miss Ranner has just told me she saw your brother ride away from Mr Snell’s cottage late last night. A little after eleven o’clock she said.’

His face froze. ‘What on earth was she about, walking in the lane at that hour of the night?’

Ursula repeated Miss Ranner’s tale.

‘Village busybodies,’ came the bitter response.

She said nothing.

The Colonel put both hands on the table, laced his fingers together and studied the result.

‘Your brother must have had a good reason for his visit,’ Ursula said in her calmest voice.

‘If it was him.’

‘Miss Ranner said she recognised not only his figure but his horse. Are there many greys in the neighbourbood?’

‘Not that I know of.’

‘All that is needed is a word to your brother that his evidence as to Mr Snell’s condition at the time he left him last night could possibly be required.’

The Colonel’s expression grew thunderous. ‘All that is needed! Miss Grandison you have no idea what you are suggesting. My brother is a law unto himself.’

The door to the pub opened and Dr Mason bustled in and went straight up to the coroner, who was now exchanging words and papers with his clerk.

‘He’s dead all right,’ the doctor said, his words carrying clearly to where Ursula and the Colonel sat. ‘But don’t ask me to sign his certificate.’

Ursula and the Colonel looked at each other.

* * *

No more rain came on the journey back to Mountstanton.

There was little talk in the trap about the inquest. Instead there was a discussion on the qualities needed in Polly’s replacement.

‘And a very plain looking girl!’ was Mrs Comfort’s last, decisive word on the matter.

Back in the house, Ursula ascertained that the Countess was in the library.

There was a fire in the great stone hearth. A pleasant smell of wood smoke, beeswax and neat’s-foot oil made the book-lined room welcoming.

Helen sat in a deep leather chair. Standing in front of the fire, gazing down into its flames, was the Colonel, still in his riding clothes.

‘I’m sorry,’ Ursula said, ‘I didn’t mean to disturb you, Helen. I came to give an account of the inquest but I see that you will already have received one.’

The Colonel turned. ‘My horse was faster than your trap.’ He smiled briefly at her and waved a hand towards a chair on the opposite side of the fire to Helen’s. ‘Please, join us.’

Ursula looked questioningly at the Countess.

‘Oh, come in,’ Helen said impatiently. ‘You will know everything shortly anyway.’

‘After you left,’ the Colonel said once Ursula was seated, ‘I asked Dr Mason exactly what his diagnosis of Snell’s death was.’ He had changed his riding boots for brogues and she was caught by the incongruity of the shoes with riding breeches. ‘He was not at first inclined to offer any opinion. I pointed out that he had refused to sign the death certificate; he hemmed and hawed a little, then Geoffrey Matthews said he must have had some reason for this and he’d better tell us.’

How useful to have a name of such power as Mountstanton, Ursula thought.

‘Mason said he’d found Snell in bed, lying on his back. His first thought was that the man had died of a heart attack. Snell was a patient of his but had no history of heart tremors. However, something had undoubtedly stopped his breathing. Then Mason said he’d looked at his eyes and noticed the unmistakeable signs of asphyxia. He could only conclude then that Snell had been smothered to death.’

Helen placed a negligent hand on the book she’d been holding. ‘Did he explain what those unmistakeable signs were?’

The Colonel nodded. ‘Apparently smothering causes tiny red dots to appear in the eyes – blood no doubt.’

Ursula gave a small gasp and gooseflesh rose on her arms.

‘There’s more,’ the Colonel continued grimly. ‘Mason then went downstairs and tested the doors. Both were locked but a back window in the little scullery-cum-kitchen was open and might have been forced.’

‘Can he be sure?’ Helen asked casually, as though the matter was of no great moment.