Page 77 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle

‘You must go, of course,’ said the dowager. ‘I wish she had told us a little more. The telegram she received spoke of an accident, but we have no idea what sort.’

‘Cordwell dead!’ Aunt Caroline exclaimed. ‘How can it be?’

‘It hardly matters how,’ Maud said impatiently. ‘Perhaps a chimney fell on him. Or the roof collapsed. Linda spoke about the terrible state of repair.’

‘Oh dear! I hope it wasn’t anything too . . .’ She didn’t want to say ‘messy’. She was quite pale. ‘Poor Linda! What a blessing, as it turns out, that she brought the children to London with her.’

Maud was brisk. ‘I must send a note round to the cousins – they will have to break the news. I think it better if the children remain with them for the time being. There is no need for them to attend the funeral, whenever that happens. You will have to arrange it,’ she added to Giles.

‘Of course,’ he said. He was thinking of the sentence money all gone. Was that Linda’s usual exaggeration, or was it literally true? He had already had to deal with his father’s financial delinquency. He didn’t want to have to go through it all again with the Cordwell estate.

‘The most important consideration,’ Maud went on, ‘is Rachel. This must not be allowed to spoil her debut.’

Giles came back from financial considerations to say, ‘She will have to go into mourning, I suppose?’

‘I have been thinking about that,’ said Maud, whose mind had been working furiously. ‘If he had only waited another month . . . July balls are not important, and out-of-town events can be more easily managed.’

‘I don’t suppose the timing was in his gift,’ Giles said drily.

Maud paid him no attention. Her gaze was fixed on her sister’s. ‘I don’t think,’ she said slowly, ‘do you, Caro, that in the circumstances . . . ?’

Caroline returned the look, and picked up the thread. ‘You mean with the relationship being so remote?’ she said intelligently. ‘Only a brother-in-law?’

‘Merely a sister’s husband,’ Maud improved. ‘Hardly a relationship at all.’

‘Complimentary mourning would only require four weeks – perhaps one might make it two? Attending balls, but not actually dancing?’

‘But in this case,’ Maud pronounced, ‘I think slight mourning is all that’s required. It’s not as if Cordwell was in society. He rarely came to London. No-one knew him. Slight mourning, I think, would amply answer the case.’

‘Which means what?’ Giles asked.

‘Attending balls and dancing, but no laughing,’ said Caroline. ‘Quiet behaviour. And white gowns. With perhaps a purple band around the hem.’

‘A mauve band,’ Maud corrected. ‘And white gloves with a mauve trim.’

‘The difference will hardly be noticeable.’ Caroline looked up in sudden doubt. ‘But do you think—’

‘It’s what Linda would want,’ said Maud, firmly. ‘She, of all people, knows the importance of a girl’s Season.’

Giles wasn’t sure about that. Linda liked to be the centre of attention. He felt she would want to spread her mourning as far in every direction as possible. And there was no reason to think she would feel sympathy towards Rachel rather than resentment.

He had often thought the mourning rules absurd in this modern world, and he saw the sense in not jeopardising Rachel’s chances when her relationship with Cordwell had been so tenuous in any case. But he had felt a little uncomfortable as he listened to Cordwell being progressively written out of family history. He couldn’t claim to have known the man, though had found him pleasant enough at their occasional meetings; but it seemed hard that anyone should disappear so rapidly, like a pencil drawing being rubbed out – an already faint pencil drawing.

A new day had brought Colonel Havering, accompanying Dr Pinchbeck and the constable from Frome Magna (Frome Monkton had no policeman). The constable stood stolidly behind the doctor, who regarded Linda in critical silence as the colonel renewed his condolences. Linda waited in silence for the next blow to fall. She supposed there would be one, though she did not know from which direction.

In the absence of any reaction from Lady Cordwell, the colonel went on.

‘I’m afraid, my dear ma’am, that there will have to be an inquest, as there is in every case of sudden death.’ Linda looked at him sharply. ‘But I do not wish you to worry. As perhaps you know, Dr Pinchbeck is the coroner for this district, so it will be his duty to carry it out.’

Pinchbeck looked eager to please. ‘As far as anything can mitigate these tragic circumstances, I am glad to assure you that, given the circumstances, I do not believe there will be any difficulty in my returning a verdict of accidental death.’

He glanced towards the policeman, who took it up. ‘I’ve interviewed Harry Beck, my lady, and I know him to be a sober, respectable sort of man, and a reliable witness. It’s clear from what he says that there was no-one else in the immediate vicinity when the accident occurred. And from the position in which he found the body – his lordship, I should say, begging your pardon, my lady – it seems as though he must have stumbled climbing over the stile, causing the gun to go off.’

Pinchbeck went on quickly. ‘It’s a narrow stile, that one – I know it myself – and it’s easy to get a foot caught under the bar as you swing your leg over. I shall take evidence to that effect. I’m sure there is nothing for you to worry about, ma’am.’

Linda glanced at the colonel, who nodded encouragingly. She said, ‘I was not worried about anything. Thank you, gentlemen. I should be glad to be left alone, now.’

She sat for a long time staring at nothing, her mind too numb for thought, feeling quite light-headed. Around noon, Mrs Clegg brought in a tray, and laid out a luncheon of cold ham, game pie, fresh bread, and a dish of early cherries.