by Janet Woods
Colour came and went in Oliver’s face and he looked shocked. ‘But … why hasn’t he informed me?’
‘He hasn’t had the time, and perhaps he doesn’t feel inclined. As you once told me, Luke Ashburn has a mind of his own. He’s also ambitious. For his own sake, right now I imagine he’ll be contemplating where his loyalties must lie. Being a charity case doesn’t always sit well on some men’s shoulders, especially when they’re reminded of it.’
‘I will warn you, my lord. If you decide to wed that woman then it won’t be in my church.’
Had Oliver Bryson always been so overbearing? Yes … but Ryder had matured over the past few years. Did Bryson think he’d wed Adele, after what had happened? Obviously. Ryder himself wouldn’t rule it out. But would Adele accept him for a husband, when she offered only reluctance to any personal advance he made?
Was it entirely possible that somebody had prevented her from getting to the church that day?
An infant … a careless seed sown in a moment of passion! Judge not that ye be judged. One for one.
He should have considered a consequence such as an infant before. Adele had been an innocent, and so young. He’d taken advantage of that.
He wished Hal were still there to talk to as he dragged his thoughts back into line. ‘Need I remind you that, as the earl of the Madigan estate I have the right to appoint the church living to whomsoever I believe deserves it? You are bound by its dictates while it provides you with a generous income.’
‘You wouldn’t put me out to grass … I’m your heir.’
Gently, Ryder administered the coup de grâce. ‘What my estate does not need is a clergyman or his wife interfering in Madigan affairs, whether it be for public or personal reason. Madigan House is my home. I was born there. A little humility on your part wouldn’t go astray, Reverend, I would suggest that from now on you confine yourself to weddings, funerals and christenings, and you keep your sermonizing for those in need of moral support.’
Oliver’s mouth opened, then shut again, as though he’d thought better of what he’d been about to say.
Ryder pushed further. ‘You are here to serve the parishioners, not to judge whether they are deserving of your administration. Word of mouth can work two ways. It would be a shame if it got back to your bishop.’
Alarm filled Oliver’s eyes. ‘You wouldn’t go that far, surely. It would ruin me.’
‘I’m aware of the ramifications and I know you have ambitions regarding the diocese … and the Madigan estate itself. Don’t pin your hopes on the Madigan inheritance. My intention is to wed and produce a family. I will add that if anything untoward happens to Adele or her family I will run you out of town, and will probably run you through as well. And if anything happens to me, Hal Stover will pursue the matter to the utmost end, and with the power of the law behind him. Now, sir … do you still consider me lacking in backbone?’
‘It was simply a hasty and unfortunate choice of words, for which I offer an apology.’
‘As for that, Reverend, you have always been silver-tongued. I don’t trust you enough to accept that apology. Best then that you get to your knees and allow your conscience to consult with its maker. You would benefit from having a little humility. Pride goes before a fall, sir, does it not.’
Looking anything but humble, Oliver Bryson said, ‘As you say, my lord.’
As Ryder’s adversary and his nagging wife stalked back into the church and closed the door firmly behind them, Ryder was reassured to know that he’d live, even if with regrets.
A baby, he thought, trying to get a grasp on the notion again. A moment later he quietly asked himself, ‘so what happened to the infant?’
Nine
Events of the day had shaken Adele.
Ryder’s manner towards her on parting had been remote, as though he had something else occupying his mind.
He nodded briefly to her, using the formal address as he inclined his head. ‘Mrs Pelham.’ Then to her aunts, ‘Many thanks for your hospitality.’
Adele gazed at her aunts after he’d gone, her heart filled with warmth for them. ‘I’m sorry to be such a nuisance.’
The pair exchanged a smile, then Patience said, ‘Any trouble has been cancelled out by the sheer pleasure of having you here and knowing you’re still alive. You were away for such a long time, Adele, and we waited and waited for word from you.’
‘Yes, I should have let you know I was well. It was unforgivable of me, and I have no excuse since I knew you’d be worried. It was difficult, you see … writing letters without him knowing … and finding someone to convey them back to England when I was not allowed a penny of my own with which to buy notepaper … or even a pencil.’ She bit down on her lip, not wanting to reveal too much.
‘Oh, we imagined you’d have a plausible excuse. Were you happy with him … that awful man who stole you away from us?’
It was obvious they’d been hurt by her lack of communication. She’d never been in a position to discuss the affair with her aunts and this was the first time they’d approached her with a question. She wished she could tell them everything, but she couldn’t … not after all this time. She also couldn’t answer the question with a lie. ‘No … I was not happy, but I had Sarah to love.’
Prudence looked up from her needlework, her eyes shrewd. ‘He treated you badly, didn’t he?’
‘I’d prefer not to talk about him, Aunt, I’m trying to forget it ever happened. You should know I would never have abandoned Ryder on our wedding day unless there was no other choice.’
‘Are you telling us that man forced you?’ Patience gazed at her sister with horror in her eyes. ‘Our poor, dear niece, I told you so, Prudence. I said she wouldn’t have run away without a word. Wait till I tell Mary Bryson. That will show her what comes of spreading all those rumours.’
‘No!’ Adele almost shouted, horrified. ‘This is my private business. If you tell anyone it will shame me.’
‘That nice young man who loved you was badly treated and became a laughing stock. Your father couldn’t hold his head up.’
‘Yes, I know, but Papa wouldn’t listen to my explanation. He condemned me without a hearing and threw me out. That hurt me, and it hurt him, but I cannot blame him.’
‘And the earl … don’t you owe the dear man an explanation? He abandoned his duty here and left, his pride in tatters.’
‘I cannot face the earl with my problems.’
‘Your problems became his by default. If you have any affection left towards him—’
Adele stood, gazing bleakly from one to the other. ‘I have loved Ryder Madigan since we were children together. Nothing can change that. Do you think my desertion of him was that simple? Were I to relate the circumstance and the consequence of that act, it would only prove to be as big a burden to him and to you as it is to me. Let sleeping dogs lie, I pray you. I need to retire now … I’m weary.’
‘Yes … you rest, my dear. Everything will seem better in the morning.’
Nothing would ever be better. If they breathed one word … if it got out that she’d killed someone, then the authorities would put her in prison. They might even hang her.
Somebody knew … they had spoken Edgar’s name. A shudder racked her and she pulled her shawl tighter as she felt the colour leach from her face. Somebody had been hidden in the bushes, watching her, waiting for an opportunity to catch her alone. Had the shooter been on the ship and witnessed what she’d done?
She must make an effort to find their travelling trunks and also the missing deeds. ‘Believe me, the earl is better off without me, and so are you,’ she said.
Patience patted her arm. ‘There, there, my dear, you are talking utter nonsense. As it upsets you we shall speak of it no longer, unless it’s your wish to do so. We’re not going to do anything that will lose you again, are we, Prudence?’
‘Indeed not.’
But Adele wondered how long her loquacious relatives would be able to hold their
tongues against the snide remarks.
That night the dream came.
The water was cold and above it Adele could see an arm holding a lantern. The light’s gleam made her feel safe, but then it began to grow dim and she was beset by unease.
‘Help!’ she called, her mouth releasing a stream of bubbles.
There was a reflection of a face in the lamp. Its smile was loathsome. ‘Please save me,’ she begged.
The image laughed when her mouth filled with water and she began to choke. She panicked and tried to thrash her arms, but she was tightly wrapped in ropes. With a muted whisper in case others overheard her, she pleaded, ‘I don’t want to die, Edgar … don’t kill me …’
‘Wake up, Adele!’
Arms came round her, supporting her. ‘You’re having a bad dream. It’s all right. I’m here.’
Blurry-eyed with sleep Adele clung tightly to the girl. ‘I thought that dream had faded over the past two months. Thank goodness it’s you … don’t let Edgar kill me.’
She was rocked back and forth. ‘My father can’t hurt us any more.’
So why was she still frightened when Sarah seemed to have no fear left in her?
Gently pushing Sarah’s arms aside she swung her legs out of bed and donned a faded blue velvet robe, hugging it to her. It was a relic of her past when life had been happier. She’d been the same age as Sarah was now, full of the joys of living and innocently looking forward to her future as Ryder’s wife.
The future she’d envisaged had never eventuated. In a short time, and because she’d been given no choice, she’d become a slave to a man with an unpredictable and vicious temper, and an elder sister to a small, sad girl, who’d clung to her. On the spur of the moment she’d taken a life … but Edgar refused to die. He was punishing her through her dreams.
She sighed and put him aside. She must go through her clothing, for the aunts had kept the garments clean and undamaged, in good faith that she’d return to wear them. Some of them would be perfect for the blossoming Sarah. ‘I’m sorry I woke you so early, Sarah. I’ll make us some tea, then we’ll sit and talk like we used to.’
She shook off the clinging vestiges of the nightmare. It seemed there was no end to the horror story that was Edgar Pelham.
Sarah smoothed a stray lock of hair back from her forehead. ‘You rest and I’ll make the tea. I put the kettle on the stove earlier when I let Gypsy and the cats out. They’ll be sitting on the windowsill looking aggrieved and wanting to come in again. They’re frightened they’ll miss something.’
Beyond the window the sky was on the turn with pale brushstrokes of pink and gold. It promised to be a fine day. The high-sailing moon was not quite a ghost. The birds were up already, singing a joyous song. On the pond the ducks sedately circled and Adele looked forward to the appearance of some ducklings. She experienced a sense of calm, of contentment tinted with some regret. Life would have been so different if her wedding to Ryder had gone ahead.
From her window she could see the grey stones of the church tower above the distant trees. Her parents and grandparents were buried there, and there she’d been christened. Adele Jessica Lawrence. There, she and Ryder would have become man and wife.
She must visit her father’s grave someday soon, make her peace with him. If she ever wed it would not be in the Brackenhurst church. Her memories were too poignant.
A cart filled with gravel and sand trundled past, led by a man with a shovel over his shoulders. His donkey nodded with each plodding step, his eyes half closed and sleepy. Ryder had made good his promise to have the holes in the road repaired.
He’d be lonely in his big empty house, for he’d always liked company. He would miss Hal and he would be planning his future without her in it.
Sarah returned, accompanied by the retinue of dog and cats, who arranged themselves comfortably on the bed. She had used the pretty china tea service that had been a favourite of Adele’s mother, with its pattern of yellow roses. She placed it carefully on the table and poured out the tea. There were oat biscuits on a plate.
‘What plans do you have for today, Sarah?’
‘Lord Madigan wants me to start making out the invitations for the harvest ball. Even though he hasn’t got a harvest this year he said the ball was a tradition in his father’s time.’
‘Yes, it was. Ryder and I used to sit on the upper stair and watch the dancers below in the hall. The orchestra was seated on the landing, and the morning room became the supper room for the night. Sometimes we used to copy the dancers.’
‘I was hoping to help arrange it, but Mrs Betts has done it before, and said she can manage. I was just to do the invitations, since the earl had specially asked for me. There’s a long list to be addressed, over a hundred people … imagine that. I shall have to use my very best handwriting.’
Picking up the sides of her robe Sarah twirled around, her honey eyes alight with excitement and the matching ripples of her hair flying. She flopped into the chair opposite Adele, out of breath and laughing.
Had she ever been that young herself – that happy?
‘The staff are going to the spring fair tomorrow and I’ve been invited to go with them. The earl has some business to do in Poole and will join us there later. Are you going?’
She shook her head. ‘No, I intend to sort out the clothing I left behind. Besides, my aunts will take the donkey cart and there’s not enough room for three of us.’
‘You could come with me and the house staff in the Madigan coach.’
‘It will be crowded as it is. No, I would rather stay at home … I have the beginnings of a headache.’
Sarah poured the tea then gazed at her from under her eyelids, her mouth slightly pursed. ‘How convenient. You can’t hide yourself away from the earl for ever.’
Astonished, for Sarah didn’t usually try to advise her, Adele protested, ‘I’m doing no such thing. You have to realize that my childhood attachment to the earl is no longer valid. I have my life to live and the earl has his. We have outgrown each other.’
‘Not while we daren’t mention your names to the other without a reaction.’ Sarah’s eyes began to shine and she sighed. ‘It’s so romantic.’
Adele laughed. ‘Either you’ve been listening to gossip, or a hive of bees has taken up residence in your head.’
‘Everyone is talking about you and the earl.’
Her smile faded, like a cloud over the sun. ‘Then you must be made aware that not all gossip is based on fact.’
Sarah kissed her cheek. ‘I know more than you think, since I was there and witness to my father’s cruelty. Now he’s dead I have a sense of freedom. One thing I can’t understand is why you married him in the first place.’ She lowered her voice then shocked Adele by saying, ‘He killed my mother when I was little. He pushed her down some stairs and there was a cracking noise. She went all floppy.’
Feeling as if the world had stood still, and all the moisture had been sucked from her body, Adele’s voice was barely distinguishable when she said, ‘You were small. You must have misunderstood. Memories can play tricks, and I expect she lost her footing and slipped.’
Sarah shook her head. ‘I remember it as clear as day. My father said he’d kill me too if I told anyone. Now he can’t. I’m telling you now because I know you’ll understand. I often remember him hurting you. That time when you lost the baby … we were in Boston trying to find some relatives. He punched you and said nobody would employ a woman who was with child, and he knew it wasn’t his. There was blood … lots of it and I was fearful you might die.’
Of course it wasn’t Edgar’s infant. He was the type of man who found women unattractive. She’d been thankful for that small mercy.
‘The baby was as small as a doll. You cried and said his name was Ryder. We dug a hole with our hands and you tore a strip from your chemise to wrap him in and pulled a little wisp of his hair out to remember him by.’
Sarah’s recall was almost perfect, but Adele di
dn’t want to reprise her past. ‘Oh … my dear, I’m sorry you remember such a dreadful time. We must keep these things to ourselves because people can’t understand the circumstances unless they were there.’ Adele drew Sarah into her arms and hugged her tight. ‘You mustn’t blame yourself over your mother’s death. You were too young to do anything to help her, and it wasn’t your fault. It’s all in the past and nothing good can come of it now. Your father has been punished.’ And by her own hand. She experienced an unseemly twinge of satisfaction.
‘I just wanted you to know you can confide in me, since I was there, and I’ll never do or say anything that will harm you.’
And since they were exchanging confidences, Adele said, ‘And I want you to know that I do love Ryder, and I always will. Something happened to prevent our union and now it can never be.’
‘It was because of my father, wasn’t it? But he’s dead now, so you could still marry the earl.’
‘It’s not possible, Sarah. Gentlemen of Lord Madigan’s rank apply high standards to the choice of a wife, and I no longer meet them because I’ve attracted scandal.’
‘Now I’m growing up, I can see how events happened more clearly. My father was a violent man, and you took the punishment for both of us, even though you were as scared as I was by his rage.’
‘He was violent, but he’s dead now. I got something rather lovely and lasting from it, and that’s you, my love. Now … I don’t want to talk about him any more.’
Sarah kissed her cheek. ‘When he brought you home to be a mother to me it was the best thing he’d ever done. I love you.’
For Adele, with this one exception named Sarah, it had been the worst thing. ‘I know you do … and I love you too. Now, let’s put that aside else you’ll have me in tears. I have a surprise for you. See that trunk in the corner, there is one or two gowns on the top that I thought might suit you. They’re a bit too young for me now. Try them on; one of them will be just the thing to wear at the fair.’
Within a few moments Sarah was dressed in a gown of soft cream with a smattering of dark pink rosebuds. Cream lace decorated the hem and there was a velvet bodice in the same colour as the rosebuds, in case the wind grew chill.