“No—I’ll play no more part in this,” Thomas said doggedly.
Sir Matthew glared at him but Thomas Cole—so quiet, so gentle—had never felt such a violent anger against any human being until this moment. Nor was he going to let the matter rest there. He took a deep breath and said, “I’ll see Lord Royston …”
Sir Matthew gave a wry laugh. “ I doubt you’ll be welcome there, Cole.”
Thomas Cole reddened. “You’ll find no one in this valley will lay a hand against Miller to help you put him in gaol.”
Sir Matthew smiled and said quietly, “I had already foreseen that possibility.”
He moved and pulled the bell-cord. Instantly there was the sound of shuffling and rattling outside and the door flew open to reveal four tough, evil-looking men, completely unknown to either Thomas Cole or Joseph Miller.
“There’s always those who’ll undertake any kind of work, Cole, for a guinea or two,” Sir Matthew said smoothly.
Helplessly, Thomas watched whilst the four men made to take hold of Joseph Miller and bear him away. Now he realised fully just how deep was Sir Matthew’s hatred—and fear—of Jospeh Miller.
As the men half-dragged Joseph from the room, he turned and now looked Sir Matthew full in the face, his final threat echoing in Sir Matthew Trent’s ears.
“Tha’ll rue the day your son defiled my girl, my Sarah … There’ll be a curse upon the Trents! A curse …!”
“You can’t come in here, my man,” the butler said loftily.
“I can—and I will!” Thomas Cole shouldered aside the butler and stepped into the spacious hall of Abbeyford Grange.
He paused a moment. Anger and a sense of outrage had brought him this far and would still carry him to face Lord Royston—but for the moment he paused, conscious of the fact that he was standing in Caroline’s home.
As if his longing had transmitted itself to her, miraculously she appeared at the top of the wide, sweeping staircase.
“Thomas!” she breathed his name and started down the stairs towards him but at that moment the double doors to the morning-room were thrown open and Lord Royston appeared.
His surprise at seeing the estate’s bailiff standing there swiftly turned to anger as he saw Caroline hovering on the stairs. The impudence of the man! Daring to come here! He was about to open his mouth to speak, but Thomas Cole turned and completely ignoring Caroline strode purposefully towards him.
“I must speak with you on a very urgent matter, my lord.”
Misunderstanding, the earl said stiffly, “I do not think there is anything we have to say to each other, Cole.”
Ignoring his dismissive air, Thomas persisted, “ My lord, please hear me out. There has been a serious miscarriage of justice. Sir Matthew Trent has sentenced Joseph Miller to two years imprisonment with hard labour for an alleged attack upon his son. I believe the man to be innocent.”
Lord Royston’s eyes were hard, his mouth a thin line. Slowly, with deliberate emphasis, he said, “ I would trust Sir Matthew’s judgement rather, than yours. Whatever action he has taken has my full approval.”
Thomas Cole stared at him in disbelief. He had known the Earl of Royston to be a hard man, but had always believed him to be just. Now it seemed that Lord Royston could be as corrupt as Sir Matthew. His next words confirmed that he too would use this situation to bring about something he wanted. “And since you have ranged yourself on the side of this villain I think you had better leave this district without delay, Cole, without delay!”
Thomas heard Caroline’s cry of despair, but he did not look up. Instead he faced her father, fearless now, his resolution firm. “And gladly, my lord,” he said with heavy sarcasm. “Perhaps the Americas will treat a man more justly.”
He turned and walked towards the door. “Thomas, oh Thomas!” He heard her cry, but he neither looked back nor even hesitated. The door closed behind him to the sound of Caroline’s distraught
weeping.
For Caroline, help came unexpectedly.
Lady Lynwood and her son paid a visit to the Grange and, whilst the old friends talked together, eagerly Caroline suggested that she and young Lynwood should go riding.
Lynwood noticed Lord Royston’s hesitation but could not guess at the reason for it.
“I’ll take good care of her, my lord.”
The earl’s expression softened. The young boy, in his adoration of Caroline, could know nothing of the doubt in the older man’s heart.
It was five days since Thomas Cole’s visit to the Grange, during which time Lord Royston had scarcely let Caroline out of his sight.
Surely Cole would be gone by now? Surely he would not have dared to linger in Abbeyford?
“Very well then, but be back here before dusk.”
Gleefully Caroline ran to change into her riding-habit. “ Hilton, Hilton, have my horse saddled, will you? And bring Lord Lynwood’s mount too.”
A short while later they were cantering down the grassy slope towards Abbeyford village.
Caroline reined in and breathed deeply at the fresh, clean air. “Oh Francis, you don’t know how good it is to be free, to get away from that house.”
Lynwood frowned, puzzled. “ I don’t understand you.” He was disturbed to see that Caroline looked pale, with dark shadows beneath her eyes.
“Did you know that my father is arranging a marriage for me—to Lord Grosmore?”
The boy’s face coloured. “ No, no I didn’t.”
Caroline grimaced. “ Well, he is.”
“You—you’re not—pleased?”
“I most certainly am not! ‘Gros’ by name and gross by build. Ugh, he’s fat and ugly, Francis.”
All the time she was speaking her worried eyes were searching the fields and hillsides. Francis could feel her agitation.
“But, surely, your father only wants your happiness?”
Caroline’s pretty mouth pouted. “It seems in our social sphere one marries suitably—it doesn’t signify whether or not one loves—or even likes—one’s husband.”
Lynwood burst out, “How I wish I were older!”
Caroline smiled and leaned across to pat his arm. “Oh Francis, how sweet you are! Things don’t seem so bad whilst I have you to champion my cause.”
Together they rode down into the valley, over the bridge near the smithy. Here Caroline slowed her horse to walking pace and looked down at him anxiously.
“I fear Captain is lame, Francis. How fortunate we are near the smith! I think he had better take a look at him.”
Lynwood dismounted, tethered his own horse to the rail outside the forge and held up his arms for Caroline to dismount. She slid into his arms. For a moment the young boy held her in his embrace. Though he was some four years younger, he was already taller than Caroline.
Coyly Caroline tossed her head and laughed. “My, Francis, I hadn’t realised how tall you’ve grown.”
Reluctantly he let his arms fall from about her waist, knowing that because of the years that separated them, because she would not wait for him to grow up, his love for her could never be returned.
She was moving away from him, calling to the smith. “Smith, are you there?”
A tall, broad-shouldered man appeared, his face red from the heat. “ M’lady.” He touched his forelock.
“I fear my horse, Captain, is lame. Will you take a look?”
“Certainly, m’lady.” The man caught hold of the bridle and led him into the forge. “ Steady, boy, steady,” he murmured soothingly to the animal. “ Now, let’s take a look at you.”
Lady Caroline and Lynwood followed the smith and stood watching. Caroline began to fidget. “ Oh Francis, the heat is too much. I must get a breath of air!”
He turned and would have accompanied her outside again, but Caroline laid her hand upon his arm and smiled her most winning smile. “No, I shall be all right, you stay. The smith may need you to hold Captain’s head.” She turned and walked away. Lynwood hesitated, wanting to fol
low her, to stay with her, but she had asked him to remain here …
Caroline walked swiftly away from the forge and along the lane until she came to the cottage where Thomas Cole lived. Her heart was thumping wildly and she glanced back frequently to be sure Lynwood had not followed her. If only Thomas had not gone!
She tapped on the door and waited anxious moments, biting her lip. The door opened and he was standing before her.
“Caroline!”
She held her fingers to her lips and stepped inside the cottage. “Thomas, oh Thomas, my love! I have only a few moments—Lynwood is at the smith’s with my horse …”
As she stepped into his cottage and saw that the room was in a state of turmoil, packing-cases and trunks standing open, Caroline turned wide, frightened eyes upon him. “Thomas—you really are going away!”
“I must, my dear. I can no longer stay here—you know that.” His mouth was tight, his eyes bright once more with remembered anger.
“Yes …” she whispered.
“The man—Miller—was innocent, Caroline, I’m certain of it. But Trent wanted to be rid of him because he was a disturbing Influence amongst the villagers.”
Caroline’s eyes filled with tears. “And my father? He would not help, would he?”
Sadly Thomas shook his head. “No. It grieves me to think ill of him, my love. But—he would not.” Thomas sighed. “ I think he too saw a chance to rid himself of my presence.”
Caroline bit her trembling lip and held out her hands to him. “Oh Thomas, I was so afraid you would have gone already.”
For a moment they were silent, staring at each other, their love for each other flowing between them.
“Thomas—Thomas—take me with you,” she begged, desperate because he was leaving her.
His arms were about her fiercely, his lips against her hair. “Aye, b’God, an’ I will! I’ll play them at their own game!”
Caroline did not understand the bitterness behind his words—all she knew, all she cared about, was that he would not go away without her.
He held her away from him, his strong hands gripping her shoulders, his brown eyes boring into hers.
This was a new Thomas Cole—a masterful, decisive Thomas Cole. “We must talk, make plans. How can we meet?”
Eagerly she said, “ The waterfall—I could get away from Lynwood and meet you there soon. He’s at the smith’s with my horse. I pretended Captain had gone lame so I could slip along here. I had to see if you were still here—I was so afraid …”
“Yes, yes,” Thomas Cole kissed her swiftly. “Go now—quickly …”
Lynwood was already leading her horse out as Caroline hurried back towards the forge.
“The smith could find nothing amiss, Caroline.”
She forced a bright smile. “ Perhaps I was wrong. Come, help me mount and we will continue our ride.”
They skirted the village and rode up through the pastures towards the abbey ruins.
Caroline’s merry laugh came bouncing across the breeze to him. “Come, Francis, I’ll race you to the woods.”
She spurred her horse to a gallop and was away across the grass before Lynwood had realised what she was doing.
When he reached the edge of the wood, she had disappeared amongst the trees. He could neither see nor even hear her horse.
Lynwood groaned. After his confident promise to Lord Royston to take care of her, he had lost her.
“Caroline, Caroline!” At walking pace he rode amongst the trees, following a track, then doubling back and trying a different direction. He came to the roadway leading to the Manor and followed it until he stood at the edge of the wood overlooking the valley. He scanned the hill slopes, the lanes and pastures. There was no sign of Caroline.
“Caroline, Caroline!” he called in desperation, his heart pumping fearfully. Through the wood again he continued northwards until he came to the road leading from Abbeyford through the trees to Amberly. There was no one on the road, no one to ask if they had seen her. All was silent and still save for the distant sounds of the waterfall. Ducking beneath the trees, Francis rode on towards it and felt relief flood through him as he saw Captain tethered near some bushes at the top of the cliff overhanging the fall. Then swiftly, he felt a stab of terror. Had she fallen? Was she lying Injured below, or worse, in the pool?
“Caroline!”
Young Lynwood flung himself from his horse and ran to the edge of the cliff. He was about to scramble down the rough pathway when he stopped.
Below him, near the pool, oblivious to his presence, stood Caroline. With her was the Abbeyford estate bailiff—Thomas Cole—his arms around her, his lips against her neck.
Unobserved by either of the lovers, standing on the very edge of the sheer drop, Lynwood stood motionless. Transfixed, unable to leave, he watched them, the pain growing in his chest, the hurt that Caroline, so lovely, so pure, could be meeting someone in clandestine furtiveness. Now he realised the reason for Lord Royston’s reluctance to allow Caroline to go riding that morning. And worse, Caroline had used him, Lynwood, to escape from her father’s watchful eye and meet her lover. The use she had made of him, the deceit she had practised upon him, hurt almost more than seeing her in the arms of Thomas Cole. He had not wanted to believe ill of her, but now there was no escaping from the truth.
Young Lynwood turned from the edge of the cliff and retched upon the grass.
He had idolised Caroline, worshipped her as an untouchable goddess. But his goddess had fallen from the pedestal on which he had placed her and the boy suffered the first pain of total disillusionment and disappointed love.
In those few short moments the Earl of Lynwood grew to manhood.
Chapter Twelve
The village was stunned by the news of the sentence Joseph Miller received. Justice was swift and severe—they all knew and accepted this—but in Abbeyford very few people ever broke the law and only the very oldest inhabitant could remember the last hanging in the village and that had been for sheep-stealing by a young man desperate for food with a young and starving family after the Bill of Enclosure had taken his land and livelihood.
Sarah wept. It seemed as if these days her eyes were constantly red-rimmed. The rosiness was gone from her cheeks. As her body became swollen with child, her youthful bloom was lost for ever. Her black hair became lank and lifeless, her face puffed and blotchy. Wearily she dragged herself about the cottage, but the home that had once been warm and comforting was now a dismal and unhappy place.
Joseph Miller never saw his family again, for, just as Thomas Cole had predicted, seven weeks after his committal to prison, Joseph died of gaol-fever. From the day he was taken from his cottage, Ellen Miller had sat in a chair by the cold hearth, her eyes vacant, her hands idle. She neither spoke nor could she be persuaded to eat.
A week after the news of Joseph’s death had reached them, she died in her sleep. Beth found her in the morning, the life gone out of her body as it had gone from her spirit the day her husband had been snatched from her.
Ella, who had depended solely upon her mother’s care, pined, developed consumption and followed her mother to the grave in a few short weeks.
Beth wrapped her few belongings into a bundle and took the road out of Abbeyford, vowing never to set foot in the valley again.
“There’s work to be had in the manufactories in Manchester and such cities for the likes o’ me. Why, amongst them city girls, even my face won’t be out o’ place!”
Now there was only Henry Smithson and she in the cottage as Sarah came near the time to give birth to her child—Guy’s child.
When Guy Trent had recovered sufficiently to leave his room, it was to find that things had changed vastly. Sarah—his lovely Sarah—was married to Henry Smithson and beyond his reach for ever.
Joseph Miller was gone from the village and the Miller family broken. Sir Matthew’s tyrannical treatment of Miller had stirred resentment in each and every villager. Realising this, he planned ste
ps to restore himself in the eyes of the simple village folk as their benevolent squire.
“Well, my boy, after this escapade, ’tis time you settled down and took yourself a wife. I have arranged a marriage between you and Louisa Marchant, the daughter of a clothing manufacturer near Manchester. He has promised a generous settlement upon his daughter …”
Guy Trent rode his horse like a maniac away from Abbeyford towards Manchester, his heart filled with fury. The marriage was fixed for November and all the village would be invited to attend a grand feast in the barn at the Manor to celebrate their master’s son’s wedding. In this way, Sir Matthew hoped to banish the bitter memories from the minds of his tenants and employees. He would feast them and entertain them and make them forget that he had ever been anything but the kindly, charitable master he fondly imagined they had always believed him to be.
On the very day of Guy’s marriage to Louisa Marchant, in the cottage in the village Sarah Smithson gave birth to his child. Though two months premature, the boy survived. There was no rejoicing at the birth of Evan Smithson. In the pain of her labour, Sarah cried out for Guy. Her cries for her lover finally destroyed the last shreds of Henry’s affection for Sarah. He would never forgive. He would never forget. Henry looked upon the bawling, red-haired babe with loathing and vowed to sow the seed of revenge within the child against his own sire!
“Papa, we are invited to Guy Trent’s wedding,” Caroline had told her father some weeks before the proposed date. Lord Royston smiled tenderly upon her. For the past few weeks she had been good-humoured, obedient and a most loving daughter towards him.
He congratulated himself.
Thomas Cole was gone from Abbeyford—he had checked on that. And Lord Royston now presumed—indeed hoped—that the young man was already safely out of England bound for America.
As Lord Royston had confidently expected, Caroline seemed to have realised her foolishness when she had had more chance to observe the differences between Lord Grosmore—a man of unquestionable high birth and wealth—and Thomas Cole, the estate’s bailiff.
Abbeyford Page 12