by Sahara Kelly
Surveying her gown, she concluded it would do. Simple in style, but well designed, it was a pale grey wool, high necked and long sleeved, which she appreciated in this weather, but trimmed with gentle ruffles of unusual pearl grey lace. There were black bands at the hem and a black ribbon to tie beneath her breasts.
With the addition of her black spencer, and her bonnet with only a small grey and black ribbon rosette for decoration, she felt she would represent Wolfbridge and her status as a widow with great effectiveness. None could accuse her of flaunting anything, nor would anyone argue that she was trying to be something she wasn’t.
Her childhood experiences in church had shown her the worst of those things—women who pranced in on a Sunday, draped in their finest gowns and glancing over the congregation like gaudy birds of prey, seeking a likely gentleman. Or the people who strode down the aisle as if expecting God to thank them for being there. Those were the ones who ignored the rest of the world, looking down their noses, believing themselves to be far above the hoi-polloi beside whom they were forced to worship.
Adalyn knew she was neither, thank Heavens. Although she spared a moment to wonder exactly what she was.
Lady of Wolfbridge, widow of the late Sir Ridley Wilkerson…true on both counts. But who was Adalyn? The woman who found herself exploring new skills and new experiences every day? Or perhaps the woman already far removed from the lost and trembling woman Giles had first brought to Wolfbridge.
It was a conundrum, but she set it aside, picking up her gloves and leaving her room to meet Giles. It was time to pay her first visit to the church of St. Polycarp, which lay less than two miles away from Wolfbridge to the south-east. She’d learned that the estate often provided sheaves of wheat for the autumn and harvest services and if it had been a good year, they would also send holly boughs for Christmas.
So there was a cordial relationship already established, and she hoped to ensure it continued by upholding the reputation of Wolfbridge Manor.
She watched Giles with anxiety in her heart as she descended the stairs to where he awaited her.
“Will I do?”
“You are perfect, Lady Adalyn. I am very proud to walk at your side today.”
“Oh goodness, Giles. Stop. You will turn my head.” She chuckled and took his arm as they walked out of Wolfbridge and down the steps to the waiting carriage. “Not the gig?”
“Not for your initial visit,” he replied. “We shall arrive looking as good as we do now, with every hair in place. First impressions matter, and this is your first time at St. Polycarp’s. It doesn’t hurt to take a few extra steps. Besides, I have a feeling that Daniel and Jeremy may attend. They’ll use the gig if they need to.”
She couldn’t possibly argue with his logic, so she settled herself and prepared for the brief journey.
Several other gigs and carriages were gathered in front of the church, so it took a moment or two for Giles and Adalyn to find their way between them and begin the short walk beneath the lychgate and up the path to the entrance. There was a peal of bells summoning the faithful to worship, and Adalyn wondered at the consistency of Sunday services throughout the land. She’d heard that sound every Sunday, no matter where she’d been at the time, and absorbed the fact that there were feet walking paths like these everywhere in England at this very moment.
The heavy wood doors were opened wide and Adalyn recognised the smell of the church as soon as she stepped inside—the distinct odour of incense mingled with the air of slight mustiness, damp wool and faith. It was unique, but easily identifiable. She would have known where she was even had she been blindfolded.
Giles walked her along the nave, a steady progress toward the altar. She glanced around, noting the stone floors, the carved angels and cherubs where the columns met the arched wood ceiling, and the stained glass windows. Large candles flickered on either side of the altar, as did others here and there within the interior.
There were already quite a few congregants gathered, and she caught a slight rustle and murmur as the two of them made their way to the front of the church.
The Wolfbridge pew was so designated by a lovely carving on the outside—a wolf leaping over a river. There was no doubt in her mind that this was where she should sit. Giles led her to the front and she moved the hassock aside to take her seat, noticing that Giles did the same.
The routine of many such mornings returned, and she settled the worn cushion before her, slipping to her knees for a few moments of silent prayer.
Then she eased back onto her seat, wondering how full the church would be this morning and looking around with interest. The windows were eye-catching, many featuring bright and vivid scenes of fire, sometimes surrounding a man with tonsure and halo. She wondered if this might be St. Polycarp himself, and thought she would ask Giles if he knew, once the service was over.
Across the nave was another lovely carving, this one of a house with five prominent fir trees. The Fairhurst pew, of course, but empty this morning as was to be expected.
The rest of the church was filling rapidly, and it wasn’t long before the bells rang for the last time, the doors were closed and the Vicar walked out from the vestry to the altar.
Somewhere behind the marble columns and ageing tapestries an organ cranked to life and the service began with a hymn Adalyn knew well. The similarity of the programme, the music, and even the sermon, was balm to her nerves. She might be a stranger in this area, but she was no stranger to a church.
Settling more comfortably, she allowed the service to drift over her, rising when appropriate, sharing a hymnal with Giles and participating as much as anyone else present. There could be no criticism of the new Wolfbridge Lady’s dedication to observing a morning of worship.
The Vicar, a short man with a wonderful head of silver hair, recognised her presence with a few kind words of welcome, then moved on to more kind words, this time for the family and friends of Sir Amery Fairhurst. His untimely departure was mourned, his soul commended to the Lord, and on behalf of his congregation, the Vicar offered his condolences to the remaining members of his family.
It was nicely done, thought Adalyn, even though there were no Fairhursts present. The rest of the congregation would now know of his passing, if word had not spread far yet, and there was indeed a hushed ripple of murmuring as the Vicar announced the loss to his parish.
With a final prayer and blessing, the service concluded, and everyone rose in unison. Giles gave Adalyn his arm, and turned, watching the crowd as it began to leave the building. She caught sight of Jeremy and Daniel, who had apparently slipped in to catch some of the observances.
She nudged Giles and nodded at them. “Could they not have joined us?”
He shook his head. “Unfortunately not. I had to spend quite a bit of time with a variety of local authorities before I could get permission for myself to sit there. For a servant, no matter how important, to sit in the family pew? No. Unheard of.” He sighed. “Had they been ready earlier, they could have sat in the row behind us, but then again, it’s Sunday. At least they were here.”
She chuckled. “Not regular churchgoers, then?”
“One does what one can. And I leave the others to God and their conscience.” Giles grinned. “Come. It’s our turn now. I’m sure they’re waiting for us outside.”
Knowing there would be more than a few gathered beyond the doors, Adalyn straightened her spine and walked out into the cool morning with a smile on her face. The Vicar was profuse in his thanks and compliments, all of which she accepted with modest words and grateful nods. Giles bowed politely to the man, and then steered Adalyn away, which resulted in them passing through a crowd, receiving polite and curious smiles, a curtsey or two and many voices wishing them “Good morning”. She did her best to acknowledge them all, with her own smiles and a return greeting wherever she could.
Almost at the lychgate, a voice could be heard above the others.
“Jeremy…Good Heavens, Jeremy, is t
hat you?”
Adalyn’s head turned to see a young woman in a smart bonnet making her way through the crowd to where Jeremy and Daniel stood by the gigs outside the church, waiting for their Lady.
She couldn’t help but notice Jeremy’s face whiten as he spotted her hurrying toward him, and she frowned when she also observed Daniel’s surprise and quick touch to his friend’s shoulder.
Who on earth was she?
“Giles? Do you know her?” She murmured the words, hoping the noise around them was sufficient to keep her question between the two of them.
“I do not,” he answered, his arm firmly drawing her beneath the lichgate and out into the drive.
By this time, the woman had made her way to Jeremy and the couple had drawn aside. They were engaged in some sort of conversation, but Adalyn couldn’t tell if either party was overjoyed or engaging in an argument. Their faces betrayed nothing but politeness.
Which she didn’t believe for a second. “Daniel, who is that?” They reached his side and he turned to them with a frown.
“I have no idea. I’m not sure Jeremy did either, until she called his name. Then he almost lost his breath.” Daniel glanced at Giles. “I think it may be someone from his past.”
Adalyn caught the look they exchanged and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. “What is the problem with that? Is there something wrong?”
Giles took a breath. “It’s a long story, my Lady. Let’s see what Jeremy says. Here he comes now.”
The three of them waited as Jeremy returned, accompanied by the young woman. Her face was a little flushed, but Adalyn could not detect a trace of tears, or joy either. Both seemed to have assumed the masks of polite acquaintances, but she’d be willing to wager her favourite shawl that this was not the case.
“My Lady,” bowed Jeremy, as formal as she’d ever seen him. “If I may be allowed, this is Miss Susanna Brockford. An acquaintance from some years ago.”
Adalyn extended her hand. “How lovely to meet you, Miss Brockford. It would appear that your arrival has surprised Jeremy…” She smiled as the other woman curtseyed.
“Indeed. I find myself very much shocked as well. My sister lives not far from here, and this is the first time I have had chance to visit. Seeing Jeremy in church…” she raised a hand to her bosom, “well it quite astounded me. As if a ghost had risen and decided to attend Sunday services.”
Her laugh was charming, her manners perfect, but beneath Adalyn sensed a turbulent emotion barely repressed.
“A delightful coincidence, I’m sure.” She turned to Jeremy. “Meeting old friends must always be a pleasant experience, Jeremy. I’m sure Giles would agree that this day should be devoted to renewing such an acquaintance.”
“Of course.” Giles was non-committal, his voice level. “We’ll not look for you today, Jeremy. Miss Brockford,” he bowed. “Please take all the time you need.”
“Thank you, my Lady.” Jeremy bowed back, but in his eyes Adalyn could see something unusual. A look of pain, perhaps. Or unhappiness. She wasn’t sure.
“Daniel can ride back with us, I believe,” Giles commented. “It will be a bit snug, but since it’s a short trip, we’ll all manage. That will leave you the gig, Jeremy.”
“I’ll get the carriage,” nodded Daniel.
“My Lady.” Miss Brockford curtsied. “Thank you for your kindness.”
Adalyn smiled and bowed, then watched as she tucked her arm into Jeremy’s and allowed him to lead her away.
Climbing up into the carriage, she looked at Giles. “They know each other well, I’m guessing.”
He followed her, leaving room for Daniel to join them. “I agree.”
“I hope Jeremy’s all right,” she spoke aloud, realising that his situation was uppermost in her mind. “I would have expected him to be more pleased at the arrival of a friend from his past.”
“I did not hear him say friend, though, Adalyn.” Daniel glanced at her. “Did you?”
She turned over their earlier conversation. “Well, no. Now you come to mention it, he didn’t. He called her an acquaintance.”
“He’s never mentioned her before?” Giles asked Daniel.
“No. But we don’t talk much about our pasts, Giles, even amongst ourselves. Our job is to focus on the present. There here and now. And on Lady Adalyn.”
“Of course,” he nodded.
Adalyn listened, busy with her own thoughts. Uppermost amongst them was a certain amount of confusion. She was puzzled at Jeremy’s reaction to Miss Brockford. Also by Daniel’s comment. Why did they not share their pasts? She could easily have believed that it would be part of the close relationship everyone exhibited. There was a bond there, without a doubt, but was it only Wolfbridge?
She remembered her first days at the Manor and her desire to learn more about her gentlemen. She had not, thus far, given it much more thought, but perhaps now she could elicit some information that would help her understand these men and their devotion to the mistress of Wolfbridge.
She shifted closer to Daniel, enjoying the slight warmth that heated her side. But turned her head toward Giles. “I think it may be time to speak of matters we’ve left untouched, Giles.”
He raised his eyebrows in question. “My Lady?”
She smiled. “You have a habit of calling me my Lady when you’re not ready to answer my questions or words, Giles. But when you’re relaxed you call me Adalyn. It’s quite endearing, but I am wise to your little slips now.” She reached out her hand and touched his arm. “I know so little about you all, but you know everything there is to know about me. If we are to move forward together, to wherever fate has determined, I would like to work toward a balance between us.”
Giles looked at Daniel, then sighed. “We’ll see.”
“Humph.” She narrowed her eyes and watched the lane ahead. She vowed to make sure that information was forthcoming. Otherwise the mistress of Wolfbridge Manor would be most displeased.
Chapter Fourteen
Jeremy arrived back at Wolfbridge late in the evening, just as Adalyn was about to retire.
His demeanour was calm, his face betrayed no untoward emotions—but Adalyn was convinced that he was not himself. That little sparkle in his eye had vanished and his lighthearted wit had left him.
So she readied herself for bed, accepted Daniel’s offer of assistance, and the two of them talked briefly about their day. But even he seemed disinclined to linger, and she blew out the last candle knowing her room was devoid of her gentlemen. She felt rather lonely, and frowned at their unwillingness to talk about important matters. Personal matters.
If they had been women, there would still be a deep and emotional conversation taking place downstairs. On that somewhat amusing thought she fell asleep.
The whisper of the curtains being pulled back to admit the daylight, and the rattle of a teacup on a tray awoke her, and she yawned and stretched.
“Good morning, my Lady,” Jane Barnsley curtseyed. “I’ve your tea steeping, and hot water in the ewer. If you’ve a preference for your dress today, I’ll be happy to take it downstairs and give it a quick iron…”
Adalyn’s heart lifted. “Jane, how lovely. You and I are going to get on so well. The men are extremely efficient, but there’s just something comfortable about hearing a woman’s voice first thing.”
Jane smiled. “I’ll pour the tea then, shall I?”
“Please do.” Adalyn got out of bed and headed for the screen in the corner of her chamber. “Milk only, please.”
“Yes, my Lady.”
The tea was excellent and Jane offered a few suggestions about her choice of garments for the day, suggesting a lavender shade of ribbon to replace the pale grey.
Adalyn agreed, and blinked at the sudden thought that time was passing. It was going on three months since Sir Ridley Wilkerson had passed away and precipitated her into this amazing adventure.
“Is the walk to get here in the mornings acceptable, Jane?” asked Adal
yn over her teacup. “Not too far?”
“Oh no, Ma’am. Ten minutes at a brisk pace. And I like to keep a brisk pace.” She smiled from eyes as blue as a spring sky.
She was quite lovely, tall and shapely with excellent posture and hands that could be described as delicate. Mr. and Mrs. Barnsley were to be applauded. Jane was a wonderful creation. Except, of course, for the scarring. Adalyn prayed it would fade slightly as time went on, for surely it would be the first thing anyone noticed about her, and that was just wrong. She now understood why the young woman had needed to defend herself, and sighed at the sad tale. That might have been her own lot, had she been forced into service by circumstances beyond her control.
Her toilette completed, Adalyn left Jane to her chores and walked downstairs to the parlour for breakfast.
There she found Daniel and Giles talking with Evan, who was laying out several dishes of food on the sideboard.
“Good morning,” she said, walking up to them. “I trust everyone slept well?”
Their greetings were somewhat subdued. “Indeed, my Lady.”
“Thank you, Lady Adalyn.”
She helped herself to toast and walked to the table, taking her seat. “Very well then. Sit down and tell me what's going on.”
“My Lady?” Giles raised an eyebrow.
“Giles,” she said, after sipping her tea. “I have been here for almost a quarter of a year. In that time I have come to know you all quite well. Quite well indeed. So cut line. Something is not right this morning. Jeremy is not here, and neither is Trick. Now one or the other of you may have work that needs to be done, but seldom are two of you absent while the rest of you act as if nothing were happening.”
Daniel shook his head. “You are too observant, Adalyn.”
She gazed at him. “You are all so very dear to me. If something is wrong I need to know.”
“She’s right.” Jeremy walked into the room. “And it’s my fault.”
“It’s nobody’s fault, lad,” Giles sighed. “But perhaps it’s best for us to talk this through.”
“Trick?” asked Evan.