Abbeyford Inheritance

by Margaret Dickinson

  Adelina smiled but she had little knowledge of the subject. Her fight had been for mere survival. She had had no time to worry about the wars and battles of history. But she did not wish to appear ignorant, so she listened intently, and said, “ You mean Lord Lynwood’s uncle?”

  “Yes, my dear,” Mr Langley replied.

  “You know Lord Lynwood?” There was surprise in Wallis Trent’s tone and she could feel his eyes upon her dowdy gown.

  “Yes – I – er – met him when I arrived here.”

  “Are you staying here long, Miss Adelina?”

  “I – don’t quite …”

  Mrs Langley interrupted. “Adelina must find employment. Her parents are dead.”

  There was an awkward silence around the dinner-table. It was as if Wallis Trent were waiting for Mrs Langley – or someone – to tell him more about Adelina, and Mrs Langley’s short, clipped sentences gave the impression that there was certainly more to tell, but that she had no intention of telling it.

  “I see …” Wallis murmured, but his tone implied that he did not.

  Then a thought came to Adelina. Wallis Trent was her grandfather’s tenant-farmer. Perhaps he was on friendly terms with Lord Royston. Perhaps a man like Wallis Trent, with his authoritative manner, could help her. Impetuously, she said, “I thought perhaps, that if only – I could meet my grandfather …”

  “Be quiet, Adelina,” Mrs Langley snapped.

  Wallis glanced quickly at Mrs Langley and frowned slightly. Ignoring her command he addressed Adelina. “Your grandfather, Miss Adelina? And who might that be?”

  Everyone was motionless, the silence tense and watchful. Adelina hesitated. She realised she had spoken out hastily, but it was too late to draw back now.

  “Lord Royston.”

  “Lord Royston!” Wallis repeated, his frown deepening noticeably. “I see,” he added slowly, this time with more obvious understanding.

  “Lord Royston does not acknowledge her as his granddaughter,” Mrs Langley said pointedly. “He disowned her mother twenty years ago when she eloped with the bailiff of the estate.”

  “But you’re hoping your grandfather might relent now, are you?” Wallis was still speaking directly to Adelina.

  “I only – wanted to meet him. To – to see where my mother had lived. Is that so very wrong?”

  Wallis shook his head. “ No – no I suppose not. If that is all you do want.”

  The meal was finished amidst embarrassed silence, and conversation in the drawing-room afterwards was stilted and strained. Wallis Trent appeared to be thoughtful, as if deliberating with cool calculation, and often Adelina could feel his gaze upon her.

  As he took his leave, he turned to Adelina and, smiling now, asked, “Do you ride, Miss Adelina?”

  “I …” she hesitated. She had not, of course, ridden for a long time and yet, hazily, she seemed to remember having done so as a child.

  Boldly she answered, “Yes, yes, of course.”

  “Then my stables are at your disposal. I should deem it an honour to take you riding and show you the countryside.”

  She heard Mrs Langley’s swift intake of breath and a gasp from Emily.

  “Why, thank you, Mr Trent,” Adelina replied politely. “That – that would be most kind of you.”

  He took her hand and kissed it. Then he said ‘goodnight’ to the others and was gone.

  As soon as the front door closed behind him, Emily burst into tears and fled upstairs to her room. Bewildered, Adelina turned to meet the hostile eyes of Martha Langley. There was hatred in the woman’s expression and, strangely, a look of fear. “Why did you have to come here?” she hissed.

  “I – don’t understand why Emily is so upset?”

  Mrs Langley thrust her thin, angular face close to Adelina and said, “Emily is betrothed to Wallis Trent.”

  “What has that to do with me?” Adelina asked.

  “Nothing – and everything!” was Martha Langley’s puzzling reply.

  The next morning – Sunday – Adelina, heavy-eyed, found herself being aroused even earlier than usual.

  “You’ve to go to early service at the church, miss,” the housemaid explained, “with the mistress and Miss Emily. They always go.”

  Adelina groaned but roused herself.

  Much to her surprise she found that the bright, clear morning air invigorated her. The dew was still on the grass and the birds twittered in the trees and hedgerows.

  Adelina found herself the centre of attention even amongst the devout few who attended such an early service. No doubt, she thought wryly, word of her arrival would have passed round and those who remembered her mother would have revived all the old scandal and gossip.

  As they returned home together, Adelina tried to draw Emily from her quiet mood. The girl’s eyes were red with weeping and her mouth still trembled, but she uttered no word of reproach to Adelina.

  “There weren’t many in church, Emily.”

  “No – it’s very early. Matins and Evensong are better attended, you’ll see.”

  Adelina stopped and turned to face her. “Do you mean we have to go again today?”

  “Why, of course.”

  “To both services?”

  “Yes. That’s what the Sabbath is for,” Emily said primly. “Besides, it brings the whole village together in an act of worship right from the Squire of the Manor down to the labourers and their families.”

  “Does – does Lord Royston attend church?” Adelina asked hesitantly.

  “No,” Emily replied with uncharacteristic harshness in her voice. Then she sighed and, in a rush of tender feeling towards Adelina, put her hand upon her arm. “I wish you would forget the idea of meeting your grandfather. He has said he does not want to see you, and – and …”

  “Yes?” Adelina prompted.

  “And my mother will see to it that you don’t meet him!”

  “I see,” Adelina murmured, her tone flat with disappointment. “So everyone is against me.”

  Emily did not answer.

  Evensong, as Emily had predicted, was far better attended than the earlier services. Mrs Langley, Emily and Adelina were already seated in their pew when Wallis Trent entered the church with his mother on his arm. As they took their place in the Trent family box pew, Adelina was aware of the glances and whisperings exchanged amongst the villagers. She was surprised, after what Emily had implied, that there were no smiles of welcome for their employer and his mother, their faces were resentful. Instead of uniting employer and employee it was as if they felt the Trents had intruded upon their one social event of the week.

  Lady Louisa Trent was a tall, stately woman. Once she must have been very beautiful, with a flawless skin and grey eyes, but time and life had etched bitterness into her face. Her mouth was tight and unsmiling, and her eyes held some deep sadness. She was dressed in a pale blue pelisse trimmed with braid and tassles. She carried a matching reticule and parasol and her bonnet was trimmed with a darker shade of blue velvet ribbon.

  Suddenly a hushed whisper and a stir ran through the congregation, and the few who dared, turned to see Lord Lynwood enter the church with his mother, the Dowager Countess of Lynwood.

  The Earl glanced from side to side as he progressed slowly up the aisle, the Countess leaning heavily on a stick in her left hand and with her right arm through her son’s. He appeared to be looking for someone.

  Then the Earl saw Adelina and his eyes stopped their restless roaming. He smiled slowly at her and Adelina smiled in return, suddenly realising how very glad she was to see him again.

  The Earl and Lady Lynwood took their places in a box pew on the opposite side of the aisle to the Trents, to whom they nodded in greeting.

  Once more, Lady Lynwood was dressed entirely in black, her hat giving the only relief to her sombre outfit, being topped with three large white plumes, and the crown encircled by a white ribbon and bow.

  Throughout the service, Adelina was acutely aware of the pres
ence of both Lord Lynwood and Wallis Trent. They stood in front of her, tall and straight, Wallis a head taller than the slim and elegant Earl.

  The service ended and the Earl and his mother left the church first, followed by the Trents. There was much reluctant curtsying and forelock-touching from the village folk, but at last Mrs Langley, Emily and Adelina were able to leave. Outside, the Dowager Countess was waiting.

  “Mrs Langley.” Her ladyship’s voice rang out. Adelina was amused to see the haughty Martha Langley obliged to curtsy to her superior. “You’re looking well,” Lady Lynwood said and then her sharp eyes fell upon Adelina. “Ah, Miss Adelina, we meet again.” Her eyes, twinkling with mischief, met Adelina’s. Then Lady Lynwood gave her strange cackle of laughter, and pointed her stick at Adelina with a sharp prodding movement.

  “You’ll have your work cut out with this one, Martha Langley. She’ll not be as docile as your own little foal. She’s too much like her mother!”

  Mrs Langley’s mouth pursed and the fingers of her hands clenched. Adelina guessed that Mrs Langley would dearly love to answer the old lady with some sharp retort, but dared not.

  “Come and visit me, Miss Adelina, whenever you wish. You’re a girl with spirit – I like that. Your mother used to visit me often – it’ll be like old times.” She nodded, turned and once more leaning heavily on Lord Lynwood’s arm, she moved towards her carriage. Adelina saw Lynwood bend towards his mother as he helped her into the carriage and say something to her. Again Lady Lynwood’s cackling laugh rang out, then she patted her son on the arm and glanced across at Adelina and nodded knowingly. The Earl did not climb into the carriage, but closed the door and bade the coachman ‘drive on’ to leave him standing on the roadside.

  Lady Trent, too, stepped into her carriage alone, Wallis remaining at Emily’s side.

  Lord Lynwood was standing before Adelina. “Miss Cole.” He bowed towards her but there was mockery in his action. Not to be outdone, Adelina curtsied pertly. “My lord.”

  “I have seen your grandfather again this morning.” Concern for her and some hidden pain seemed to be fighting for control of his features. “But he is still of the same mind.”

  “It was kind of you to try,” she smiled up at him.

  His eyes searched her face, boring into her soul, but he did not return her smile.

  “You’re so incredibly like her,” he murmured. “ It’s hard to believe …”

  Adelina sighed. “But I am not her. I am Adelina.”

  For an instant his face cleared of his inner anguish and she glimpsed how differently he – and everyone else – might treat her if she were not the living image of her mother.

  “Yes, yes, of course you are.” He smiled and his face became suddenly more boyish, more roguishly handsome. He held out his arm to her. “May I escort you home, Miss Cole?”

  She was about to accept his offer graciously when Wallis Trent approached them. The two men nodded curtly to each other, and Wallis said to Adelina, “ Mrs Langley has asked me to escort you and Emily to the Vicarage.”

  Adelina almost laughed aloud. How foolish all this was! Why, here were two men exchanging hostile looks over who was to escort her home, when the Vicarage was only a few yards away, right next to the church. It was ridiculous!

  Lord Lynwood dropped his arm and the brooding expression was back in his eyes. “I’ll bid you ‘goodnight’ then, Miss Cole,” he said tersely and without meeting her gaze again, he strode away. Adelina watched him go, wondering at his strange, erratic changes of mood.

  “… If you are free tomorrow,” Wallis Trent was saying.

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?” Adelina dragged her attention from Lord Lynwood’s disappearing figure to concentrate on what Mr Trent had been saying.

  “I said, ‘I should be happy to take you riding if you are free tomorrow’.”

  “Oh – I – er, yes, thank you. And Emily too?”

  The smile faded a little from Wallis Trent’s face. “Of course, if she wishes to come. But I thought she did not ride.”

  “I – don’t know. I haven’t asked her.”

  At that moment Emily moved towards them and with a determined cheerfulness stepped between them and linked her arms through theirs. So, with Wallis on her left arm and Adelina on her right, Emily drew them down the narrow churchyard path towards the Vicarage.

  Wallis and Adelina walked in silence and, though Emily chattered about the weather, her father’s sermon and the presence of the Earl of Lynwood and his mother, it was with a forced gaiety, a pretence that nothing was wrong.

  “It’s unusual for them to come to our church, isn’t it, Wallis? The Dowager Countess is wonderful, though I must admit to being a little afraid of her. They say she was a great beauty in her day and had all the gentlemen falling at her – her feet!” There was a catch in her voice as if the longing to be beautiful herself was too much to bear.

  As they reached the Vicarage gate, Wallis said, “ I shall expect you at the Manor at three tomorrow afternoon, Emily. I shall take Adelina riding. You may come with us, if you wish,” his tone was uninviting, “or stay and talk to my mother. She’s always glad to see you.”

  “Yes, Wallis,” Emily said meekly.

  He gave a small bow. “ I’ll say ‘goodnight’, then.” And he was gone.

  Three o’clock the following afternoon found the two girls walking up the lane towards Abbeyford Manor. Adelina was dressed in a riding-habit borrowed from the tight-lipped Martha Langley, who would have liked to have refused but dare not, since it was Wallis Trent who had issued the invitation. The habit must be twenty years old, Adelina thought, and it was far too tight for her figure, but at least it was a riding-habit. Emily walked beside her in silence. They crossed the wooden footbridge near the ford and took the left-hand fork in the lane towards the Manor. Emily led the way through a small gate from the lane directly into the stableyard so that they did not go near the front of the house.

  Suddenly, Emily stopped, her eyes widening and her cheeks blushing furiously. “ Oh dear!” she whispered.

  “What is it?” Adelina, who had walked a few paces ahead, stopped too and turned to look back at Emily. Then she followed the line of Emily’s wide-eyed gaze and saw a man walking the distance of the hundred yards or so from the house to the stable and slapping his riding-boots with his whip as he walked. Adelina’s eyes narrowed as she took in his appearance, and at Emily’s whisper, “It’s Squire Trent – Wallis’s father!” Adelina watched him with interest. He was rather small for a man, but stocky and powerfully built. His head was bare and showed a fine head of hair, still red though slightly greying at the temples.

  Squire Trent, Adelina noticed, still wore breeches and top-boots, though these were now no longer worn by the younger men of fashion. His blue eyes were dull and bloodshot, his teeth, yellow and broken.

  As he saw the two girls, he stopped and blinked as if he thought they were some drink-induced mirage.

  “My God!” he muttered under his breath. “Royston’s daughter!” He blinked again and shook his head slightly as if trying to clear his muddled thoughts. “No, no, it can’t be! That was years ago.” He put his hand to his head. “Who the devil are you?”

  “I’m Adelina Cole. Lord Royston’s granddaughter.”

  He nodded slowly as realisation dawned upon him. “There’s no mistaking that. Dear God, but you’re the image of her! It’s as if … God, how you bring back the memories!”

  Guy Trent, wavering a little unsteadily on his feet, gazed at Adelina’s face, drinking in her loveliness and her youth. And as he did so the wasted years seemed to roll away and he could almost believe himself to be once more the virile, attractive, impulsive young man he had once been.

  “Oh, there’s Wallis,” Emily cried, relief evident in her tone, and Adelina looked up to see Wallis striding across the stableyard towards them, an angry frown upon his face.

  Squire Trent gave a grunt, winked broadly, though a little tipsily, at Ade
lina. “ I’d better be on my way if my sobersides son is about to descend upon us.” He sighed dramatically. “He always seems to spoil my fun.” His voice dropped to a whisper and he leant closer to Adelina, his breath hot and evil-smelling upon her face. “I do hope we meet again, Miss Cole.” With that he turned and walked unsteadily away towards a stable-lad holding a horse by its bridle. He waved his hand to his son. “ Just going, my boy, just going.”

  A moment later, Squire Trent rode out of the yard, looking none too safe on his mount, waving wildly to Adelina.

  Why, she thought, he’s afraid of his own son, and she felt a flash of pity for the drink-sodden, unhappy man who lived on his memories.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Adelina – Emily,” Wallis greeted them.

  “I will – go and see your mother, Wallis, if – that is convenient?”

  “Of course, my dear,” Wallis smiled slightly. “You’ll find her on the terrace.”

  “G-goodbye then, Adelina. Enjoy your ride.” She turned away swiftly as if to hide the tears.

  The stable-boy was leading a horse. forward to the mounting block.

  “Ah, here is Stardust for you to ride, Adelina.”

  Now that the moment had arrived, Adelina regretted her bravado. She moved towards the horse, biting her lip and trying to remember what she should do. But she need not have feared, for as soon as she stood upon the mounting block and felt the smooth leather of the saddle beneath her fingers and touched the horse’s neck, the knowledge she must have learned in childhood came flooding back instinctively. She mounted quite easily and held the reins. It surprised Adelina herself to find that she knew exactly what to do without hesitation. For a moment the longing for the lost years of her childhood with both her mother and father, the happier years, threatened to engulf her. Then she saw Wallis mounting a magnificent animal, a wild-eyed stallion, his shining coat jet black.

  “This is Jupiter,” Wallis called to her. “Do you like him?”

  “He’s superb.”

  Wallis patted the horse’s neck, his action showing his pride in the possession of such an animal. “ Come, let us begin our ride.”