Philippa Carr - Pool of St. Branok

We heard the result of the inquest before Uncle Peter came back to tell us about it.

We were all gathered together in the house in the square. Justin and Morwenna were with us. They said they felt like members of the family and wished to share our grief at such a time.

We heard the paper boys crying out in the street. “Inquest Result … Mrs. Lizzie Inquest. Read all about it.”

The papers were brought to us. In thick headlines it read: “Coroner’s Verdict: Accidental Death.”

We all breathed with relief. I was sure the others had feared what I had that it might have been “Murder by some person or persons unknown.”

Uncle Peter returned. Lizzie’s body was to be brought to London and she would be buried in the family vault. He told us all about it.

“What an ordeal! It seems that Lizzie had been in the habit of taking the stuff. It’s a dangerous habit. She should have been stopped. Ben didn’t know about it. That didn’t do him much good. It gave the impression that he was a neglectful husband.

“Grace was put through a lot of questioning. She was the great friend. Yes, she had known about the laudanum. No, she had not thought it necessary to inform Lizzie’s husband. She knew that Lizzie had difficulty in sleeping and was amazed how well and happy she was when she had a good night’s sleep. Grace had thought it was helpful … taken in moderation. She had had no notion that Lizzie might be exceeding the dose. In fact she had thought she took it only rarely. Then she told them how she had gone to see Lizzie that morning. They had already ascertained that Ben and Lizzie did not share a room. They didn’t like that very much. As a matter of fact at this time I was getting a little worried.

“Grace was good. An excellent witness. She said Ben was a kind husband and that Lizzie was very fond of him. The only thing Grace knew of that worried her was having to face people and do what was expected of her … not by her husband. He was always very gentle with her … but by others. Grace had always done her best to help her.

“They asked if Grace was aware of certain remarks which had been made in the press. Grace said she was. And how did they affect her? She ignored them, because they were nonsense and she knew that they were made by people who feared their candidate was not going to win the election. Mr. Lansdon had never behaved in any way which was not in keeping with the conduct of a gentleman and a good and faithful husband.

“Did she think that Lizzie would take an overdose deliberately, knowing the effect it would have? Grace said she was sure she would not. She could have been careless. She could have taken a dose and forgotten she had taken it and then … perhaps sleepily have taken more. She was forgetful. But, they said, she was aware of her inadequacies and worried about them to the extent that they gave her sleepless nights. Grace admitted this was true.

“ ‘In view of this,’ she was asked, ‘having made yourself her protector, did you think it wise for her to have the bottle close to her bed?’

“I must say Grace was magnificent. She was so cool. In my opinion it is she who is really responsible for the verdict. She replied that the idea had not occurred to her until this moment when it had been put into her mind. ‘It would never have occurred to me that Lizzie would think of taking her own life. In my opinion, knowing her well, it could only be that she took the overdose by mistake.’

“And so the verdict. Accidental death.”

The next ordeal was her funeral. She was to be buried in St. Michael’s churchyard, where other members of the London branch of the family were laid to rest. It was a short carriage drive from the house, but because of the publicity which had been given to the case, there were many people besides the family to witness the burial.

Poor Lizzie. She was more famous in death than she would have believed possible.

Ben was there, looking unlike himself, serious and very sad. I wondered if he was reproaching himself for marrying her in the first place and then neglecting her and planning divorce.

Grace was elegant in black, attempting, it seemed, to keep herself aloof. The crowd wanted to see her. I think some of them had made up their minds that she was “the other woman” in the case and for her Ben had murdered his wife. They wanted drama and if it was not there they determined to create.

As the coffin was lowered into the grave someone threw a stone at Ben. It hit him in the back. There was a scuffle, someone was hurried away, and the burial continued.

I watched sadly as I listened to the clods falling on the coffin and I threw down a bunch of asters which I had brought.

We walked away from the grave—Uncle Peter on one side of Ben, Aunt Amaryllis on the other. We went back to Ben’s grand house. It seemed like an empty shell now. We drank sherry and ate ham sandwiches in sorrowful silence.

Grace came and talked to me. She seemed calm.

“I blame myself,” she said. “I should have taken more care of her.”

“Blame yourself! Why, Grace, you were wonderful to her. She relied on you.”

“And I did not see what she was doing.”

Justin came to us.

“It is a relief that this is over,” he said looking at Grace.

She nodded.

“You did well,” he added.

I thought there was a faint hostility between them and for a fleeting moment it occurred to me that Justin may have believed the story that Grace was too friendly with Ben. Then it passed. It was nonsense. I was imagining this.

“I hope so,” said Grace. “It was rather alarming.”

“It must have been,” replied Justin. “Are you going back to Manorleigh?”

“Of course,” said Grace. “How could I not?”

“If you do, it might look as though …”

“Oh, all that nonsense!” said Grace. “Nobody believes that. It’s all party politics.”

“Of course,” said Justin.

Morwenna came over. “Oh dear,” she said. “I do hope Ben is not too depressed by all this.”

“Here he is,” said Grace. “He’ll tell you.”

Ben stood before us and for a few seconds his gaze held mine … at least I suppose it was only for a few seconds. It seemed more and I felt that everyone in that room must be aware of his feelings for me. Then he said: “What am I to tell?”

“I was just saying,” Morwenna explained, “that I hoped you were recovering from this terrible shock.”

“Yes, thank you,” he replied. “I am.”

“Shall you be going back to Manorleigh?” asked Justin.

“Yes … this afternoon. Very shortly, in fact.”

“I suppose it is the best thing … to get on with work.”

“It’s the only thing.”

Again I intercepted his gaze. It was full of pleading. I felt quite unnerved and in that moment I did not know what to believe. I said: “I think Aunt Amaryllis is trying to catch my eye. I had better go and see what she wants.”

It was escape. I felt I might have been acting rather strangely and that Justin, in particular, was aware of it.

I found Aunt Amaryllis. She said to me: “Oh, there you are, dear. You’ll stay, won’t you? Uncle Peter is hoping you will. They will all be gone shortly.”

Uncle Peter came up and pressed my arm.

“I wish Ben could stay a little while,” said Aunt Amaryllis. “It will be awful going back to that place and electioneering after this. Someone was saying it won’t do any good. It will need a miracle for him to get in now.”

“We are good at working miracles in this family,” said Uncle Peter.

“I do hope it works out for him.”

I was glad when it was over. I had a quiet meal with Uncle Peter and Aunt Amaryllis and then Uncle Peter walked me home.

I said to him: “What do you really think about all this, Uncle Peter?”