Lydia was too shocked by this to reply.
“As to my remark, I merely wished to ascertain your intention in regards to remaining in this house. My daughter will, of course, remain with me, certainly until she is of age.”
“But Mamma!” interjected Adeline, “of course Lydia will remain here, this is her home, her father's house!”
“Which is now my house.” said Evelyn flatly. “Of course it does not suit me to have Adeline thrown entirely on my hands, at this time, so if you wish to remain as her companion, you will be most useful to me. Of course I can not offer you any salary, but as you have your own fortune that would be unnecessary in any case.”
Lydia made no reply. Her surprise and dismay were too great to allow the formation of any coherent answer. To be offered a place as hired companion, to be given a place on sufferance, in the home that was hers by all natural right and custom! Adeline, too, looked on with eyes round with dismay. Silence prevailed for some minutes, during which time Mrs Trent, unperturbed, finished her cup of coffee, and the last genteel fragments of thin, crust-less, buttered toast.
“I beg you will think on it, and let me know at your earliest convenience.” she said smoothly, and passed out of the room.
Great was the consternation that remained in her wake, and the girls were still talking the matter over, without reaching any useful conclusion, when Alfred entered, shaking the last few flakes of February snow from his hat, which he placed on the mantelpiece to dry.
“Here, ladies, look what treasure I have found you!” he cried, proferring two small nosegays of snowdrops.
“Oh Alfred, how perfectly lovely,” dimpled Adeline, “But what do you think?” and in indignant tones she poured the whole into her lover's ear, while Lydia blushed redder every minute with offended embarassment. Alfred was surprised as they.
“I did not think a lady could be so insolent to one so nearly connected with her.” (And here Alfred betrayed how limited his acquaintance with ladies really was.) “What will you do, Lydia?”
“I am so surprised, I do not know myself. Of course it would be hard, very hard, to be parted from my sister, yet my heart rebels at submitting to such an insult.”
“I shall not remain in any house in which my sister is not full as welcome as I.” proclaimed Adeline stoutly. “But where we are to go, and what we are to do, I know not.”
At this Alfred was moved to speak the thought that had been in his mind these three months or more.
“Adeline, my dearest, you have a home with me that will receive you at a word. And of course your home will be your sister's home, for her own sake as well as yours, for she is the kindest and the best of women, save one, and I love her second best in all the world. Do say you will come, darling, and be my wife.”
Adeline's eyes filled with bittersweet tears.
“Oh Alfred, I don't know what to say”
“Say yes, my sweetest girl, and make me the happiest man on Earth. I know - “ thinking of that dear departed gentleman, “I know we cannot be married very soon, but in a few months, surely we can become man and wife without upsetting any proprieties, and then you both can come home.” and so saying he put out his hands and drew both girls to him. Lydia merely placed a hand on his shoulder, saying
“I could not wish for a kinder brother.”
Adeline somehow ended up with her face hidden on his breast, unable to give him any answer but to caress and kiss his hand, which she now held captive between both of hers.
“I had better speak to your mother. I shall be back soon, dear, and then we can settle how it is all to be.”
The settling had to wait some time longer, however, as Mrs Trent merely referred Alfred to her brother-in-law.
“Adeline is my daughter, but I am not her legal guardian, it seems. Of course you seem a good kind of young man, and I have no objection to her marrying you, in due course, if her guardian does not object. Of course she has no expectations beyond the two-and-a-half thousand pounds settled on her by her stepfather.”
“That surprises, but does not deter me, Madam. I have an income – not great, but sufficient to maintain a wife.”
“I do not see why you should be surprised. My husband wished no difference made between the girls, and I do not wish the world to say I favoured one above the other. Of course, should I predecease her, she may inherit a very pretty fortune, but that is not to be counted on. For instance, I am not yet fifty, older women than I have married again, and in that case my money would belong to my husband.”
Alfred was filled with disgust at the way this woman, so recently widowed, spoke of marrying again, coupled with the coldly casual way she spoke of her daughter.
“I do not believe the woman has an ounce of natural feeling in her.” he said to himself. However, he merely begged the use of paper and pen, and to be furnished with the direction of Mr John Trent.
That good uncle did not leave the young people long in suspense.
'My dearest Niece,' he wrote
'I have received this day a letter from Mr Alfred Denham, who begs your hand in marriage.
Far be it from me to stand in the way of your happiness, my dear, and I give my full and hearty consent to your marrying whomsoever makes you happiest, on the day you come of age. Yes my dear, I counsel you to wait until you are twenty-one. I understand that the acquaintance between yourself and Mr Denham has been of long standing, and that although not positively wealthy he has sufficient income to maintain a wife in comfort. I give him credit for disinterestedness, for he tells me he is full aware that you would bring nothing to the marriage but that small fortune settled on you by my brother, which he intends to secure entirely to you, and that you have no expectations in the future (an arrant lie, by the way my love, for how two girls with a wealthy bachelor uncle, who is affectionately aware of their merits, and has no other soul on Earth to leave his money to, can be said to have no expectations, I do not know)
In any case, fortune or the lack thereof on either side is no objection. Your ages, however, give me some concern. Mr Denham seems to me to have powers of intellect that require some vent for him to be truly settled and happy. I advise waiting, not only so that you can be quite sure this is the right step to ensure your future happiness - for matrimony is a great step, Adeline, and nineteen very young to fully comprehend your own feelings – but also to enable the young man to take steps to establish himself in some profession that will contribute greatly to the happiness, as well as the comfort, of both.
Fourteen months is not so great a time to wait for a lifetime's joy, my dear – in any event you would have to wait 6 months or so until you are out of full mourning, so I am only asking you to add another eight months to that time.
I am sorry if this verdict gives you disappointment, my dear, but hope you will take it in the spirit it was intended, and give credit to the kindly feelings of your affectionate uncle,
John Trent.'
The letter was their uncle all over - so very like their Papa, his brother - all frank kindness and good, solid sense. His arguments were disappointing to the young people, but his judgement was so sensible, and so frankly and kindly expressed, that they could not find a single objection which would hasten the day when Adeline Wade would become Mrs Alfred Denham.
And so it was determined that the young couple should put off that happy day ntil the first day following Adeline's twenty-first birthday, and that until then Lydia would swallow her pride, and submit to being regarded as a hired dependent in her father's house.
Chapter the 9th
Lydia was not the only member of the household to be offended by Mrs Trent. One afternoon Lydia was surprised to see Bessie the housemaid lugging a battered portmanteau down the stairs, her face much streaked with tears, her eyes red and puffy.
“Why Bessie, whatever is the matter?” cried Lydia, “No trouble at home, I hope.”
“Trouble there is, but not at home. I've been give warning, Miss.” moaned the distressed
housemaid.
“Warning? But why? It would be very unlike you to be remiss in your duties.”
“Well it seems Mistress lost some trinket or other, and it's not the first time things has gone a-walking, by her account, and she demanded the key to my box, just like that, Miss Lydia, and me a respectable woman as has always been used to be spoken to kindly in this house.
“Anyway I fired up at that, like, for to have the finger pointed at me is more than I could bear, as has always been honest. And I told her I weren't no thief and if she wanted to find her things maybe she should look in that Frenchy Estelle's box first. For the sneaky sly thing is always creeping round, and seems to have more money than any of us can account for, she's always dressed up that smart, and sneaks around telling tales of folks, for it was her that told Mistress of Maisy being late back from her evening out last week, when the poor girl had to stay and watch her babby brother as had the croup, til her mother got back from the doctors, and Maisy got such a scolding as reduced her to tears, and her next months evening out stopped.
“Well Mistress just drew herself up and said summat about how she 'didn't choose to keep dishonest and insolent servants', and I might take my months warning, and I said I wouldn't stay another day in a house where I was supspected and insulted, let alone another month, so here I am, and off I go, bag and baggage, this very afternoon. And this the house where I've lived since I was but sixteen, and was my very first place, and I've watched you young ladies grow up from babbies, and served you faithful, and always been treated respectful...” and here the loquacious woman's narrative broke off in a fresh flood of tears. She was genuinely distressed, and not just at being 'out of place'. The good creature had served the family faithfully for twenty years, and this her reward! Lydia was incensed. She bade the housemaid to go and have a cup of tea in the kitchen, and calm herself, while she attempted to intercede with the lady of the house.
She found her stepmother idling over that same long piece of embroidery, though the chair-back in berlin-wool and beads seemed to have made very little progress since the first time we saw it.
“Mamm... Mrs Trent, I am distressed to learn you have dismissed poor Bessie.” said Lydia, in as gentle a tone as she could manage. “She is this moment preparing to leave the house!”
“Really, how tiresome.” drawled the widow, “These rustic servants are so unreasonable, they take one up so. I only asked her for her key, having missed a bracelet from my dressing-table, only a trumpery thing, but I have missed things before. However, the bracelet is found, so it is of no moment.”
“Then may I tell Bessie she is no longer suspected, and that she may stay?”
“Oh, tell her anything you like. I suppose it would be tiresome to find a new housemaid – only you had better tell her to curb her tongue in my presence. I am mistress in this house, and I will not tolerate insolence.”
Lydia softened this message down for Bessie's consumption, and begged her to remain. The housemaid at first stuck fast to her determination of leaving the house at once, but when Lydia dwelt on how sad Adeline and herself would be to part with her, she tearfully consented to have the manservant take her box upstairs, and resume her duties, with many blessings on the two young ladies, and direful imprecations against those who 'were a mite too quick to judge'.
Lydia found herself quite exhausted by this drama, and shortly rang for tea. To her surprise, the tray was brought by Maisy.
“Mistress is having tea in her room this evening, Miss, and there was something I wanted to show you.”
The girl proffered a grubby, creased piece of paper, somewhat singed at the edges.
“I know I didn't ought to have took it, but I found it behind the grate in the parlour a few weeks back, and I thought I made out Miss Adeline's name, so I picked it up, curious like. I didn't think anyone would mind, it being rubbish, as someone meant to burn. Only I didn't read it, for I can't read handwriting very well just yet, and it preyed on my mind that if it was something concerning Miss Adeline, I ought to give it to her. And so I'm giving it to you.”
“Thank-you Maisy, it is probably just a note from one of the neighbours or something. But you did the right thing, I'm sure, though if it was meant to be thrown away, perhaps you should have poked it in the kitchen fire. But nevertheless, I'll see what it is before we decide!” and she good-humouredly held out her hand for the paper.
She waited until Maisy had set down the tea things and curtsied herself out of the room, before looking over the paper in her hand, fully expecting it to be an invitation or a laundry-list.
It proved to be a letter, in a strange hand, and Lydia was completely unprepared for the astonishment it's contents gave her.
It was dated simply 'London, May 17th, 18--' and had neither signature nor direction, save for initials.
'E,' it read,
'Well I expect you never thought I'd turn up again like a bad penny, but here I am, just returned from Australia. Don't be alarmed, I went there of my own free will, not her Majesty's, having heard great things of that continent with regard to seeking one's fortune.
It's a hard life out there, and a lonesome one, and by and by I got to thinking of a few things I did as I oughtn't to have, and a few things I ought to have done different, and a few things I ought to have done that I didn't. In short, my dear, I fell to thinking of you and the girls.
I know things have gone too far wrong between us for us to be reconciled, that was obvious when you left me all them years ago. I don't say you ought to have stayed, I was never what you might call a good husband. But I would like to see my girls, and perhaps make some amends for my neglect all these years. I hear Adeline is still with you, and I wonder if you know anything of Catherine. I can't seem to trace her or her husband – I hope he made a better one than I. It is Catherine I most want to see, feeling it is to her I have most amends to make, poor girl. I have been down to the place where they lived when I left ten years ago, but nobody seems to have seen hide nor hair of them for many a year. If you know anything of her, I beg you will tell me where I might find her. Perhaps I might come down and see you, if the appearance of a rough customer like me won't lose you your place.
I don't know if you ever speak to little Addy of her father, perhaps you can find it in you to give her a kind word regarding her repentant
M.'
As Lydia was perusing this letter, with widening eyes and racing heart, Adeline came in, accompanied as ever by Alfred, her cheeks dyed pink by the brisk winds of early March.
“Why Lyddy, you look as pale as a ghost. Whatever is the matter!”
“Adele, perhaps you had better read it yourself, I can't understand it. There is some mystery or misunderstanding here. It is a letter. It is dated last May, and I think it is from – your father.”
Chapter the 10th
Who can describe the consternation, the clamour of tongues, in that little parlour that evening.
“My father? But that is impossible. My father died before I was a year old, Mamma says.”
“But yet here we have a letter from a man called only 'M', who has been abroad the last ten years, who addresses the recipient 'E' as her husband, and who speaks of his daughter Adeline. Evelyn begins with an E, you see. And it was found in this house.”
“But wait, he speaks of losing this 'E' her place. Perhaps it is one of the servants he writes to. Estelle begines with an E, as does Bessie, for that matter – Elizabeth, you see. I would not blame either of them for leaving a husband and concealing it, if he were cruel to her, as this man seems to admit he was.”
“But that still leaves the coincidence of 'Adeline' – your name is not a common one, you know.”
“Yes Lyddy, but though uncommon it may not be unique. Oh, if only we had the envelope, then we might be sure who it was addressed to.”
“We need not multiply possibilities, Adele, the name and initial do fit you and your mother. And the writer may have assumed she was living here as a servant – pe
rhaps a housekeeper or governess, rather than as the lady of the house.”
“But stop a moment, Lyddy, and think what a terrible light this would put Mamma in. It would mean she knowingly married Papa while she had a husband still living. She would have been living with him seventeen years as his mistress. I know Mamma is not the kindest of women, but I cannot imagine she would stoop so low. Or perhaps she thought my father really had died, after she fled from him. Perhaps some cruel rumour reached her that led her to believe she was free. Oh, what anguish she must have suffered when she learned the truth!” and here the compassionate girl shed a tear. It was evident from her talk that she was becoming more convinced that the letter was addressed to her mother, and the Adeline there named was herself, though the honest girl could not believe anyone, let alone her nearest relative, base enough to live as one man's wife, while married, in the sight of God and the Law, to another.
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