They left the stableyard and trotted up the lane to the wood. Winding through the trees they came to the open fields on top of the hill. Wallis urged his horse to a steady canter and, feeling more confident now, Adelina did the same. They rode towards the abbey ruins, and when they came within the shadow of the crumbling walls they reined in.
Adelina looked up at the decaying building with interest. “It’s a lonely place,” she said and shuddered.
Wallis frowned. “The villagers fear the place – some stupid superstition which I think has been put about by those who wish to use it for their own purposes.”
“Whatever could you use a place like this for?”
Wallis smiled a little. “A trysting place, perhaps, for lovers to meet in secret.”
Adelina’s eyes were drawn once more to the cold stones. Perhaps her mother and father had met in this very place all those years ago.
Suddenly there was a movement and the figure of a man appeared on one of the walls. He stood, his legs wide apart, his arms akimbo, looking down at them. The horses shied a little at the man’s sudden appearance.
“What the devil are you doing here?” Wallis Trent shouted angrily. “Why aren’t you working?”
“Oh, I’m working, Mr Trent, I’m working.” His tone was insolent. “One of the sheep strayed. I’m looking for her.”
Wallis snorted disbelievingly. “ Well, be about your work, then.”
The man made no move to obey, bitterness and hatred in his blue eyes as he looked down at Wallis Trent. He was stockily built, with broad shoulders and slim waist and hips. He wore a loose shirt, open to the waist and with the sleeves rolled up above his elbows, showing his tanned, muscular arms. Around his neck was knotted a red spotted neckcloth. He wore breeches with leather leggings buttoned on the outside of each leg from ankle to above his knee, and heavy boots. He had a shock of red hair and white, even teeth.
Adelina frowned slightly. He seemed to remind her vaguely of someone …
Wallis was speaking again. “I said be about …”
The man sprang from the wall and leapt the small distance between himself and Wallis’s horse. Jupiter reared, but the young man, showing no fear, caught hold of the bridle.
“Mr Trent – sir …” Instead of being a polite salutation, his tone was a sarcastic insult.
“Let go my horse,” Wallis Trent hissed between clenched teeth.
“When are you going to repair my mother’s cottage, to say nothing of all the other cottages in the village? You treat your animals better than your workmen!”
“Leave hold my horse,” Wallis said with dangerous emphasis on every word.
The young man held on, his face turned up towards Wallis. “When you’ve answered my question – sir!”
Adelina saw Wallis raise his riding-crop, and a small scream escaped her lips as he brought it down with a single vicious stroke across the man’s face. The man winced and turned his face away but, to her surprise, Adelina saw that he still held the bridle fast in his hand.
“Aye, you’d like to kill me, wouldn’t you?” his voice was low and menacing and then he added but one more word, putting into it every ounce of the hatred that was in his heart. “Wouldn’t you, brother?”
Then he let go of the horse, turned and walked away but not before Adelina had seen the purple weal made by Wallis’s whip swelling on his cheek. She stared after him and as she did so the thought came to her that he was the first person she had met in Abbeyford who had no fear of Wallis Trent.
“Come,” Wallis was saying, breathing heavily with ill-concealed anger. “ We must return home.”
“Who – was that?”
There was a pause before Wallis replied. “Evan Smithson. One of my employees, who seeks to rise above his station.” Then he urged his horse ahead as if to prevent Adelina asking further, unwelcome questions.
Chapter Four
“Emily, who is Evan Smithson? Is he Sarah Smithson’s son?”
“Oh, Adelina,” Emily said, her eyes wide with fear. “You shouldn’t be here. Mama will be angry. Go back to bed.”
After she had undressed in her own room that night, Adelina had quietly unlatched her door, listened a moment to be sure there were no sounds coming from the lower rooms, and had crept along the landing to Emily’s room.
Now she perched herself on the end of Emily’s bed. “Not until you’ve answered my questions,” she whispered.
Emily sighed. “ Oh very well. Yes – he’s Sarah Smithson’s son.”
“We met him this afternoon – up near the abbey ruins. Emily – he – he seems to hate Wallis? Why should that be?”
“I suppose he thinks he has good reason. He’s – he’s Squire Guy Trent’s illegitimate son.”
Adelina gasped. “Of course! The likeness is there. Why ever didn’t I see it? But – surely, he’s about the same age as Wallis, isn’t he?”
Emily nodded. “A year older, actually. Years ago, Guy Trent was as handsome and – and attractive as Evan is now. As you’ve seen, though, he drinks now and – and gambles …”
“But what about Evan? I mean – how …?”
“As a young man Guy was wild and irresistible. They say no girl was safe! He fell in love with a village girl – Sarah Miller. She – she had his child, but neither her family nor his would let them marry.”
“What happened?”
“The Miller family arranged for Sarah to marry a distant cousin, Henry Smithson. But their life together has not been happy. Henry Smithson bears a grudge, and so now does Evan, against the Trent family.”
“Yes,” Adelina said slowly. “ Yes, I guess they do. And what about Guy Trent?”
“He married Louisa Marchant, the daughter of a wealthy clothing manufacturer from Manchester way, according to his parents’wishes. You saw her in church.”
“She didn’t look exactly happy either,” Adelina remarked. “But Wallis is their son, I take it?”
Emily nodded and seemed about to say more, but at that moment they both heard the stairs creak and Mrs Langley’s familiar sniff.
“Oh Adelina,” Emily whispered frantically. “We’re caught. She always comes in here when she comes to bed.”
“Hush,” Adelina swung her feet to the floor. “Lie down, Emily, and pretend to be asleep.” So saying Adelina lay on the floor and rolled under the bed. The coverlet fell down at the side to hide her completely. The latch lifted on the door and Mrs Langley whispered softly, “ Emily?” But when, after a moment, there was no reply from her daughter except her steady breathing, Mrs Langley closed the door again. When she heard the other bedroom door close too, Adelina rolled out from beneath the bed, stifling her helpless laughter. She scrambled to her feet and not trusting herself to speak to Emily, for she knew she would laugh aloud, Adelina escaped back to her own room. She jumped into bed and pulled the covers over her head as her merriment shook her.
Adelina surmised that perhaps Wallis Trent, who seemed to wield such power in Abbeyford valley, since neither Lord Royston nor his own father took much interest in the estate, might succeed where Lord Lynwood had failed.
She made up her mind that she would ask him to approach Lord Royston on her behalf.
“One last try,” Adelina told herself as she mounted Stardust in the stableyard at the Manor, “and if that doesn’t work, I’ll leave Abbeyford!”
A busy harvest-time had kept Wallis away from the Vicarage for some time, but he had left word that Miss Adelina was to be allowed to ride Stardust whenever she wished. Taking advantage of his offer, Adelina slipped away from the Vicarage one afternoon and went in search of Wallis Trent.
She turned in the direction of the abbey, thinking that from such a vantage-point she would be able to see the workmen in the fields and perhaps see Wallis. As she drew near the ruins she could see plainly the gaunt walls, half gone, rising up grotesquely against the grey sky. It was a stark and lonely place and yet it fascinated Adelina, for she believed that perhaps her mother and
father had met here when their love had to be kept a secret. She was surprised to see how much of the building was still standing as she walked into the ruins. Within the outer shell there were numerous other walls, in various stages of collapse. There was a large, oblong-shaped room which had perhaps been the refectory, narrow passages, smaller rooms which might have served as kitchens, then tiny cell-like rooms which must have been the monks’ sleeping cells. One of these – the only one – still had its roof so that, inside the tiny square room, it was almost as it must have been before the abbey had been destroyed. Adelina stepped inside. The stone floor was remarkably clean – almost as if someone had swept it. The tiny slit of a window let in little light so that the cold stone room was dark and dismal and eerie. Adelina shuddered. Fancy spending one’s entire life walled up in a tiny cell like this! She tried to look out of the narrow window, but it was too high.
“May I help, m’lady?”
Adelina jumped violently and a small scream escaped her lips as she spun round. She fell back against the wall, her hands spread against the rough stone. The figure of a man blocked the doorway, but she could not see his face clearly, merely his outline. He was only a little taller than she and thickset.
“You!” she gasped as she recognised Evan Smithson.
“Aye, ’tis me,” he answered and moved towards her. “So you’re Royston’s granddaughter, are you? And you’ve wasted no time wi’ me brother, I see. I’ve seen you ridin’ round wi’im.”
“It’s – it’s not like that …”
Evan laughed hollowly. “ Expect me to believe that? You’re a sight better lookin’ than Miss Emily, I’ll grant you that.” His eyes roved over her face and body. “Aye, I’ve a fancy for you mesel’ …”
At that moment there came the sound of footsteps over the loose stones which littered the floor of the ruins. Adelina ducked out of the small room and into the open again. Then a girl’s voice rang eerily through the crumbling walls.
“Evan, Evan! You here, Evan?”
Adelina glanced back over her shoulder in amusement at the frowning young man. So, she thought, Evan Smithson used the abbey ruins as a trysting-place.
“Over here,” growled Evan, and a young girl appeared round the corner. She stopped uncertainly, her eyes widening in surprise as she saw Adelina. Adelina, too, was somewhat surprised herself, for the girl looked no more than fifteen or sixteen, though she gave every promise of womanhood. Long black hair fell about her shoulders like a cape and her coarse-woven dress was cut low at the neckline. Her face was thin and pinched, but her dark brown eyes flashed a look of jealousy plain for Adelina to witness as they rested upon her, flickered briefly towards Evan, and then returned to Adelina to take in every detail of her appearance. The girl’s hands, dirty and work-worn, plucked nervously at her brown skirt. Jealous she might be, for she had sense enough to recognise a worthy rival in Adelina, the mysterious beauty from a far-off land, of whom the villagers had gossiped never-endingly since the day of her arrival.
Evan grinned, suddenly, enjoying the spectacle of the two girls eyeing each other. The girl sidled closer to him until she stood beside him. Casually, he put his arm about her waist and drew her to him. The girl looked up at him adoringly, Adelina forgotten now. But Evan’s eyes were still upon Adelina’s face, challengingly.
Adelina’s mouth curved and she threw back her head and laughed. “I’ll bid you ‘good-day’, Mr Smithson.”
Lightly, she skipped over the rough ground and out of the ruins. Still laughing, she picked up the skirts of her borrowed riding-habit, mounted Stardust and cantered away.
Halfway down the hill, she saw Wallis riding Jupiter alongside the stream so she urged her mount forward. Seeing her, Wallis reined in and waited for her. He raised his hat and smiled as she neared him.
“Miss Adelina. What brings you out alone?”
Adelina reined in beside him. “ I was looking for you,” she replied with candour.
“I’m flattered.”
“I – want to ask you something.”
“Your wish is my command,” Wallis said pedantically.
“You seem to be a man of position around here,” Adelina began. “I wondered if you would speak to my grandfather on my behalf. If – if you could persuade him to – to receive me.”
“Take you back into the family fold, you mean? Forgive and forget – everything.”
Adelina shook her head sadly. “ I can’t expect him to forget, certainly. And – and I suppose he can’t forgive, or he would have done so a long time ago. No, I just want to meet him. To know him. After all, he is my closest living relative now.”
“And you,” Wallis murmured thoughtfully, “are his closest relative.”
They rode along side by side now and for some moments Wallis appeared deep in thought. Then he said slowly. “I see your grandfather about once a month. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Please – please will you speak to him the very next time you see him?”
Suddenly Wallis leaned over and to Adelina’s surprise took hold of her hand. “If I do, and he agrees to see you, then I may have a great deal to say to you concerning you and me.”
Then he let go of her hand, straightened up and turned away so swiftly that Adelina wondered if she had imagined his action and his words. Words which seemed almost a promise!
During the following weeks, Wallis’s attentions towards Adelina became markedly more noticeable. He took her riding frequently and for carriage rides. All the while Emily’s face became more forlorn and Mrs Langley’s more outraged, but neither seemed to dare to speak out against Wallis Trent. Adelina felt trapped. She could not risk offending Wallis, for with him lay her last chance of a reconciliation with her grandfather.
Early in November, Mr Langley announced at breakfast that he was to visit Lynwood Hall that afternoon. “I need to visit the library there to assist in my research. I have written to Lady Lynwood, asking her permission and she has graciously invited Adelina to take afternoon tea with her.”
“Why Adelina?” snapped Martha Langley waspishly. “Why not Emily?”
“I fancy her ladyship took a liking to Adelina, Martha my dear,” the Vicar replied mildly.
Martha Langley sniffed disapprovingly.
“You’d like to go, wouldn’t you, Adelina?” Mr Langley was asking her.
Adelina hesitated momentarily, shaken by the sudden longing to see Lord Lynwood again. During the past few weeks she had scarcely thought of him, but now his every feature was suddenly, startlingly clear in her mind’s eye. The brooding melancholy in his eyes, then the swift boyish smile that transformed his face. “I would love to go, thank you.”
The carriage bowled along the lane out of Abbeyford, through Amberly and at last wound up the long drive towards Lynwood Hall through the parkland and drew to a halt before the house.
A liveried footman held open the door of the carriage for her to alight and another opened the heavy front door at the top of a flight of wide stone steps. Adelina stepped down from the carriage and daintily picked up her skirts to climb the steps into the hall.
The first time she had been here she had scarcely noticed her surroundings. Now Adelina saw that the interior was even more grand than the exterior. The oak floor was covered with Persian carpets. There were two staircases, with white balustrades, sweeping up on either side of the hall to join in a balcony at first-floor level. White busts of Amberly ancestors were set in alcoves, and the high white ceiling was dome-shaped.
“Welcome to Lynwood Hall,” a voice spoke softly behind her and Adelina turned to see Lord Lynwood leaning against a door-frame, his arms folded, a small smile of amusement upon his lips.
“My lord,” Adelina dropped a curtsy as she had seen the villagers do.
“Ah, there you are, my lord,” Mr Langley entered through the door at that moment. “Your mama kindly asked Adelina to take tea with her whilst I peruse some of the documents in your fine library.”
Lord Lynwoo
d inclined his head. “Quite so, Mr Langley. Perhaps Miss Adelina will permit me to take her on a tour of Lynwood Hall before tea?”
The question was more a statement, for without waiting for either of them to reply, he offered Adelina his arm, his eyes never leaving her face, and when, shyly, she put her hand on his arm, he led her away leaving Mr Langley to find his own way to the library.
From the hall, Lord Lynwood took her through a seemingly endless number of rooms. Huge drawing-rooms with panelled walls, hung with tapestries, the dining-room with its long table with matching carved oak chairs, the walls almost covered with large oil paintings of the Amberly family. In the long gallery Adelina saw a portrait of Lady Lynwood, Francis’s mother, as a young, beautiful woman with black shining hair and those same bright eyes which still twinkled with mischief in her now wrinkled face.
Room after room with painted ceilings, rich tapestries, priceless furniture and objets d’art. Adelina caught her breath as Lord Lynwood led her into the family’s private chapel. Rows of high-backed chairs each with its own hassock. The altar was ornately carved out of white marble and rose almost to the ceiling, which was painted too. The lower half of each wall was panelled, but the upper half was entirely covered by a long mural running round the entire length of the chapel, depicting scenes from the Testaments.
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” Adelina’s husky whisper echoed eerily.
From there Lynwood led her through more rooms to a conservatory filled not only with plants of every conceivable kind but with more marble busts on pedestals.
“Well?” he asked, “ what do you think of my home, Adelina?”
“It’s very beautiful,” Adelina repeated wistfully.
Today he seemed determined to charm her, to be the perfect host, but then his eyes clouded briefly. “Your – your mother came here often.” With a supreme effort he brought his attention back to the present, to Adelina.
It was strange to have this girl here in his home, to see her sitting in the same chair where long ago Caroline had sat. She was so like her mother and yet there was a difference. In her eyes there was a depth of experience, of suffering, that Caroline in her protected world of luxury had never known. At least, Lynwood mused, not when he had known her. And there was a strength about Adelina too – a determination. Caroline, too, had been strong – ruthlessly, selfishly strong. Was Adelina so self-centred too? Lynwood didn’t know. Part of him longed to find out, to test her, and yet he shied away from being hurt in the same way again. No woman, he had vowed, would ever have the power over him to inflict such hurt as Caroline had done – not even her beautiful, desirable daughter! And yet …
Abbeyford Inheritance Page 5
