The Mystery at Underwood House (An Angela Marchmont Mystery) by Clara Benson Page A

Don.” Then everyone else came running out and he bent back over her and said “She’s dead!” Then he was sick and had to go and lie down for a while.’
    ‘ So everyone thought she had fallen accidentally. And why should you think any differently? It was only when Edward died that suspicions began to arise. One might almost say that to lose two relatives may be regarded as a misfortune, but to lose three looks like—what, Donald?’
    ‘ I don’t know what happened to Uncle Edward,’ said Donald. ‘Nobody does. And I doubt we’ll ever find out.’
    ‘ Then you don’t subscribe to the theory that the three of them were murdered?’
    Donald’s face darkened and assumed a curious expression.
    ‘ I have my own views,’ he said, ‘but I don’t suppose anyone will share them.’
    ‘ What do you mean?’ Angela asked, taken aback at the sudden intensity of his manner.
    ‘ Has it ever occurred to you that a house may have a personality of its own?’
    ‘ Why, I—’
    ‘ Underwood House is more than one hundred and fifty years old,’ said Donald eagerly. ‘Think of all the things it has seen in that time! Births and deaths and marriages, and love and hatred—perhaps even violence. You may think me crazy, Mrs. Marchmont, but I believe that buildings can absorb the influence, or the energy, of those who live in them, and that they will grow to love those who love them best. Aunt Philippa and Aunt Winifred and Uncle Edward never liked the place. They plotted against it in order to get rid of it. And so it took its revenge.’
    ‘ Do you mean you believe the house itself killed them?’
    He waved a hand.
    ‘ Nothing so simple. I am not so mad as to believe that a building is capable of putting poison in someone’s coffee or pushing them over a balustrade. Of course not. That would be absurd. But I do believe in sympathies. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I am certain that there was some mysterious influence at work, one which we are unable to understand—may never understand, in fact.’
    An almost fanatical light had come into his eyes. Angela was quite startled at how suddenly his detached manner had transformed into something altogether more impassioned.
    ‘ I take it that you are fond of Underwood House, then?’ she said.
    ‘ Why should it come as a surprise that a man should feel affection for his childhood home?’ said Donald. ‘Father is exactly the same.’
    ‘ I can understand it in your case,’ said Angela, ‘because you were brought up here by loving parents who were able to shield you from your grandfather’s influence to some extent, but I have always understood that your father had an unhappy childhood at Underwood. His brother and sisters certainly had no fondness for the place if they wanted to get rid of it.’
    ‘ I don’t believe Father suffered quite as much as the others. He is far more easy-going by nature, you know, and was usually sensible enough to remove himself when any scenes arose. The others were younger and took things much more to heart. Besides, he’s terribly wedded to the idea of his responsibility as the eldest son to carry on the family name and pass on the estate. You know of course that I was adopted? Now, let me tell you that I have never been allowed to feel it—rest assured that no natural son could have been more kindly treated. But it must inevitably have been a source of private disappointment to Father that he and Mother were unable to have their own children, although of course he is much too honourable to say anything about it. And I know it was a blow to him when Grandfather left Underwood to all four of his children, instead of to Father alone. I think he may have felt it a reproach for his inability to pass on the house to a “true” Haynes. But I am as much a Haynes as any of them,’ he went on, still with the same fiery glint in his eye, ‘and when the house becomes mine one day everyone shall know it.’
    ‘ Do you expect to