I lived in a daze. There was one thought which kept coming into my mind. It was what Ben had said: “Don’t give up hope. Something will be done.”

Something had been done.

No. I would not believe that of Ben. He was vigorous in his pursuit of what he wanted. He had married for it. Would he murder for it?

There! I had said the word to myself. And now it haunted me and I could not get it out of my mind.

There was great anxiety in the family. We met and talked over the matter. They all said that Lizzie had been taking the drug to help her sleep. Some drugs were dangerous. It was easy to take too much.

Uncle Peter was staying at Manorleigh for the inquest.

We were all waiting for the outcome. That would either still our fears or make them realities.

We did not want to read the papers but we could not stop ourselves. They were full of the case. Everyone was talking of the sudden death of Mrs. Elizabeth Lansdon … wife of one of the candidates in the constituency of Manorleigh. She had been found in her bed by the close friend of herself and her husband … Mrs. Grace Hume, widow of the Crimean hero, grandson of Peter Lansdon the philanthropist. Why did they have to go into those details every time they mentioned them?

There were hints as to what might have happened. Mrs. Elizabeth was shy and retiring; she had given the impression that the life of a successful politician’s wife had little charm for her. It was her friend, Mrs. Grace, who had shone at the meetings; she it was who mingled with the people, kissed the babies and expressed general concern for the welfare of the voters … taking on the work and duties of the candidate’s wife.

Hints … all the time. I was amazed how the press enjoyed the hunt for sensation. They reminded me of a pack of hounds chasing a fox. Ben had angered them. He had been too clever, too successful they hated that. And now was their opportunity to destroy all that success.

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?”

“I wish to God it hadn’t happened. It’s just the worst time for Ben.”

“Do you think people believe …”

“People like to believe the worst. It is more exciting than the best.”

“What’ll happen?”

“Ben won’t get in this time.”

“It will be a terrible disappointment to him. He has worked so hard.”

“He’ll survive. The luckiest thing is that the verdict was what it was. It might have been very unpleasant. We have to be thankful for that.”

He kissed me good night.

I went into the house but not to sleep.

Uncle Peter was right. There was no miracle, Ben did not win the seat.

Uncle Peter said: “It was hardly likely that he could.”

So there he was … defeated.

I said to myself: At least he is innocent of Lizzie’s death. If he had planned to kill her he would not have done so at such an important time.

I felt relieved at the thought.

Ben came back to London. Grace had now returned to her own home; but she was constantly at one of our houses. She said she would sort out Lizzie’s clothes and send some of them to the Mission. She took them there and had a long talk with Frances. She was becoming very interested in the Mission.

I saw Ben now and then.

Uncle Peter said he was disillusioned and was talking of giving up politics. “It will take him some time to live this down,” said Uncle Peter. “People don’t like this sort of thing to be attached to their Member. They think he should be beyond reproach, not committing the sins of ordinary people.”

I said: “Ben has committed no sin.”

“No, but his wife died in mysterious circumstances. They’ll reckon that, even if he didn’t murder her, she took her own life. They’ll say, Why was she so bemused as to take an overdose? It must be because she had an unsatisfactory home life. Constituents do not like their Members to have unsatisfactory home lives.”

Uncle Peter thought he should face it and not show himself to be in the least put out by failure. Perhaps next election they would give him a constituency up North where the people might be less aware of what happened.

Aunt Amaryllis did not give dinner parties for a while. The family was in mourning. But she did gather us all together though; and when she did, Grace, Morwenna and Justin were often of the party.

“I look upon you, my dears, as members of the family,” she told Morwenna and Justin. “I really don’t want strangers at such a time.”

So I saw Ben often. We talked a little, in snatches and quietly because usually there were others in the room. These conversations normally took place after dinner or just before while we were waiting to go to the table.

I asked him if he felt badly about the election and he said he had expected it would go that way.

“After all your work, Ben!”