The young man’s face was set in lines of bitterness and his eyes glittered with hatred.
“Be off with you,” curtly Wallis Trent dismissed them with a wave of his hand. “And I’ll stand no more of your insolence.”
As the men moved away, Evan’s glance rested on Adelina for a moment, standing a short distance away beside her horse, waiting to speak to Wallis.
A small smile of malice quirked Evan’s mouth and then he turned and followed his workmates.
Adelina thought no more of Evan. She did not even notice which direction he took, for now her whole attention was fixed upon Wallis Trent.
He dismounted and came towards her. At first she thought that the anger still upon his face lingered from the harsh words to his men. Then she realised that he was not at all pleased to see her.
“Well, Miss Cole?” The question was sharp, unfriendly. Instinctively, she knew immediately that the reason she had not seen him recently was because he had deliberately avoided meeting her.
Before she even voiced the question she must ask, she knew what his answer was going to be.
“Wallis – I – I came to look for you because you’ve never let me know if you’ve spoken to my grandfather. I was getting desperate.”
His lips curled wryly. “That I can believe. Well – I do have some news for you, Miss Adelina Cole. Your grandfather wants naught to do with you. He does not acknowledge that he even has a granddaughter. Emily will remain his heiress. So, all your efforts to worm your way into his affections and have him make you his heiress have failed. And I shall marry Emily.”
Adelina gasped, staring up at him in disbelief. “ It – it had nothing to do with that. I just wanted to – to meet him …”
“But it would follow, wouldn’t it? You had it all planned?”
“No, no,” Adelina cried, anguished. “Is – is that want he thought?”
Wallis lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “ Who knows. He was deaf to all pleas. Lynwood tried too, so I understand, and has been doing ever since he brought you here.”
So Lord Lynwood had made repeated requests to Lord Royston for her. The thought warmed her cold heart to know that, despite his strange erratic moods, Lynwood had cared.
“You’d best make your way back to America. You’re not wanted here,” Wallis Trent told her heartlessly.
Adelina turned away sick at heart, the loneliness sweeping over her. She remounted Stardust awkwardly, Wallis Trent making no move to help her, though all the while she was acutely aware of his cold eyes upon her. She wheeled her horse round, dug her heels in and set off up the slope towards the abbey ruins, scarcely knowing where she went – nor caring!
Three people watched her go. Wallis Trent watched her until she reached the top of the slope and galloped towards the ruins, then he remounted his own horse and rode away in the opposite direction without a backward glance.
Later, he promised himself, he would visit the Vicarage and resume his courtship of Miss Emily Langley – Lord Royston’s only heiress!
From the edge of the wood a motionless figure on horseback had observed her meeting with Wallis Trent, had watched the short exchange of conversation and their parting. Lynwood’s heart twisted. Was he ever destined to watch the woman he desired meet with other men?
From the abbey ruins, still breathing hard from running, Evan Harrison crouched behind a crumbling wall and watched Adelina ride towards him.
As she drew near the ruins, it began to hail. Huge hailstones came tumbling from the laden clouds, stinging the horse and making the docile creature rear in fright.
Adelina screamed as she felt herself falling backwards. She fell upon the wet ground and Stardust bolted. For a moment Adelina was stunned, the breath knocked from her body. She lay motionless as the wind roared in her ears and the hail beat down upon her. Her dread of storms blotted out all common sense and reason and the final rejection she had just suffered destroyed her spirit. Then she felt hands lifting her up and carrying her.
As understanding returned she realised someone had carried her into the ruins, into the cell-like room which afforded the only real shelter in the derelict abbey, and had laid her on the floor.
She looked up to see Evan Smithson standing over her.
“Well, well, well!” In the dimness of the room she could scarcely see his face. “And what are you doing out on a wild day like this, my fine lady? Was your meeting with my dear half-brother so important?”
Adelina struggled to her feet, but with one strong push from his muscular arm, she found herself sprawling on the floor again.
“Not so fast, my pretty one. Now I’ve got you here, here you’ll stay for a while.”
Fear flooded through Adelina’s limbs. She broke out in a cold sweat. There was menace in this man’s tone.
All her old fighting instincts came flooding back. Fear and anger gave her strength. She watched his shadowy form and waited her moment, then with the swiftness born of terror she scrambled to her feet and made for the doorway. But Evan was too quick for her. He put out his foot and in the confined space easily tripped her so that she pitched forward, knocking her head on the rough stonework. She gave a groan of pain and lay still.
“Don’t you like my company, my lady? Prefer my brother, do you? Well, we’ll see how he’ll like you when I’ve finished with you!”
Again Adelina made to struggle up, but now Evan grasped her arms and pulled her to her feet. His arms slipped about her waist, and his lips found her mouth in a crushing, bruising kiss – a kiss which held no affection, nor even passionate desire. It was merely a weapon of hatred and revenge. He was brutally strong. He held her easily with his left arm, her arms pinned against his chest. With his right arm Evan wrenched at the bodice of her habit, tearing away the fastenings to reveal her thin chemise. She felt herself being pushed down on to the rough floor again. In the dim light she saw his face twisted with cruel vengeance. She screamed but her cries were drowned by the gale outside and the lashing rain. And then she heard him laugh in triumph as he held her arms pinned down upon the floor above her head, while his mouth sought hers.
“No, please, Evan,” she pleaded. “Please – let – me – go!” She writhed frantically, but he held her prisoner.
“No, no,” she screamed in terror, and he struck her across the face with the back of his hand, rendering her senseless. Then his full weight was upon her.
Suddenly it was over and he was moving away from her, leaving her exhausted, weak and bruised and filled with shame and horror and revulsion. She rolled away from him into the corner of the cell and retched, sick with humiliation and physical pain. Then she lay panting, sweating and yet shivering.
“No fine gentleman will want you now, my lady. And let me tell you, my brother thinks himself a fine gentleman.”
Adelina’s whole body shook and quivered, her teeth chattered and her icy fingers trembled as she reached for her clothes and pulled on her chemise and then her habit. She found the bodice so torn that she could scarcely conceal her bosom. She was cold and yet her body was bathed in sweat, the cold, clammy sweat of panic. Against her will, pathetic sobs escaped her throat. She whimpered like a small, bewildered wounded creature whom Evan had taken pleasure in hurting. He had wrought all his bitterness and hatred against the Trents upon Adelina, just because he believed Wallis Trent wanted her for himself.
She found her fear giving way to fury. She had survived the dangers of New York’s waterfront, only to come all the way to England to be robbed of that which she held so dear in the place where she should have been secure – her grandfather’s own village!
She saw that Evan, now fully clothed, was on the point of stepping through the doorway to leave her. Adelina scrambled to her feet. She stumbled blindly after him, rage robbing her of all sense and reason. The sky was dark and the rain falling heavily, but Evan was stepping casually over the stones which littered the ground. She began to run after him but tripped and fell. She screamed as the stones cut h
er hands. Sobbing wildly, she lay a moment and closed her eyes.
When she opened them she saw that Evan had stopped and was staring up at an awesome figure who was standing on top of one of the low, ruined walls, rigidly still, just waiting.
“Lynwood!” Adelina groaned. “ Oh, no!”
Lying on the rock-strewn, rough ground, the stones biting into her flesh, Adelina closed her eyes again, the shame sweeping over her once more.
Lynwood had arrived too late and was cursing himself for his delay.
From the edge of the wood he had watched her ride away from Wallis Trent towards the ruins. Then he had seen her fall from her horse, had even made the first move to reach her, but then he had seen Evan appear, lift Adelina’s limp form and carry her, with apparent gentleness, into the shelter of the ruins. For the second time in the space of a few minutes, jealousy and blind rage swept through Lynwood. He wrenched his horse about and galloped like a madman through the wood with neither a thought for his own safety nor that of his horse.
He raced towards the waterfall – the scene of his very first moment of disillusionment. Years before, in his boyish innocence, Lynwood had adored and worshipped Caroline. But, in ruthless pursuit of her own happiness, she had shattered his belief in her. Out riding with him, Caroline had slipped away from Lynwood, who had searched for her with desperate anxiety, fearing she had been thrown from her horse – was lying injured or worse! Then he had come upon her unexpectedly at the waterfall – locked in the arms of her lover Thomas Cole.
And now it was all happening again – but with her daughter Adelina.
Flinging himself from his horse, Lynwood ran down the steep path, crashing through branches and undergrowth, heedless of injury, to sink down, breathless, against a rock. He was shaking, his hands sweating, his heart thudding, his breathing painful rasps. He sat with his head in his hands for some time and then, as he calmed, reason began to return and he raised his head slowly and with unseeing eyes gazed at the rushing waterfall, a more horrible picture forming in his mind’s eye.
Lynwood knew something of Evan Smithson’s story, knew of his hatred for the Trents – and the reason for it. Lynwood frowned, trying hard to pull a vision from his subconscious mind. As he had watched Adelina meet with Wallis Trent, he had been vaguely aware of the farmworkers moving away, but then his whole attention had been riveted upon Adelina and Wallis Trent, the jealousy surging through his being. But there was something else, something important … He must remember … He groaned from deep inside as the picture came to him. While he had watched them, with only half an awareness he had seen too a shadowy figure leave the group of workmen and set off in the opposite direction, running, running hard up the hill towards the ruins.
Lynwood sprang to his feet. Evan Smithson! He had been the running figure. He had seen Adelina meet Wallis Trent, had darted back to the ruins while they talked and had lain in wait for her. Lynwood ran up the path and threw himself at his horse, his heart bursting with sudden fear.
He had been wrong – so wrong! Adelina would not meet Evan Smithson intentionally. Wallis Trent – yes. That was probable. But not Evan!
That outcast from the Trent family could only mean to harm her. Oh God! What have I done? He prayed as he galloped back through the wood, this time desperate to reach Adelina not to flee from her. Oh, Adelina, forgive me! Pray God I’m not too late!
But Lynwood was too late. Now, as he stood upon the broken wall and looked down upon the loathesome figure of Evan Smithson, and beyond him Adelina, bruised and hurt and weeping hysterically, he knew he was too late!
For a moment the earth reeled around him and the chasm of time opened up at his feet. The features of the man before him blurred, became those of another out of the past.
As Lynwood leapt down, it was not only Evan Smithson’s, but the throat of Thomas Cole that his hands grasped and held and squeezed! There was a wild, murderous look upon Lynwood’s face. Evan struggled desperately and lashed out at Lynwood’s face with his fists. Lynwood reeled backwards, releasing his hold. Evan threw himself on top of him, punching his face. Then Lynwood threw Evan over and he had the advantage. As the wind blew and the rain lashed about them, the two exchanged blow for crushing blow. Locked together they rolled over and over on the stones, their clothes becoming mud-stained and soaked. Adelina, too, watching, became wet to the skin, her hair plastered against her head. She saw Lynwood stagger to his feet and pull Evan up after him. With his left hand he held Adelina’s attacker while his right hand smashed time and time into Evan’s face until it was a raw, bleeding pulp. Suddenly Evan seemed to find a fresh surge of strength and he kicked Lynwood viciously in the groin. A grunt of pain escaped his lips, and he let go of Evan, bending double in agony. Evan took the advantage and turned to flee, stumbling over the rough ground. Lynwood looked up and saw his quarry escaping. Still holding his stomach, he limped after him. Adelina pulled herself to her feet and followed. She emerged from the ruins to see that Lynwood had caught Evan again, throwing himself full-length to catch him by the legs. They fell together and began to roll, legs and arms flailing, down the hillside, straight into the stream at the foot. Lynwood was the first to rise. He bent and from the rushing water pulled Evan to his feet. Again he smashed his fist into Evan’s face, again and again, until at last, exhausted himself, he released his hold. Evan fell back into the stream. Without a backward glance, Lynwood staggered out of the water, grasping at tufts of slippery grass to pull himself up the bank. He stood a moment swaying slightly, panting heavily.
As he climbed painfully back up the hill towards her, she saw that blood smeared his nose and one eye was half closed and beginning to swell. Adelina huddled against the wall, while Lynwood stood before her, swaying, still panting, his arms hanging loosely by his sides.
His rage was spent, worked out upon Evan. As he looked down at her swollen, bruised face, at her torn clothes and drenched hair, all that was left was an infinite sadness, a desperate longing for what might have been and now could never be!
He bent down and touched her arm. “ Come – I’ll take you home,” he said flatly.
“No, no!” She shrank against the stones. “ I can’t – go back – there,” she whispered, hoarsely, brokenly.
“No – I know. I’ll take you to Lynwood Hall.”
Chapter Six
There was nothing else either of them could do. Lynwood could not desert her now, for his own remorse told him he could have prevented this tragic occurrence if it had not been for his own blind, jealous stupidity in allowing bitter memories from the past to overshadow the present and this innocent girl.
How she had been made to suffer for things past which were none of her doing! Her grandfather would not even see her, would not even acknowledge her existence because of the hurt her mother had inflicted upon him. Her relative – Martha Langley – could show her no kindness because Adelina represented a threat to the fortune so nearly within Martha’s grasp. And Lynwood himself – the bitterness of a boy forced to face reality and disillusionment had grown like a cancer to warp the mind and twist the heart of the grown man.
He could not desert her, but daily he still fought the battle to obliterate the images of Caroline and see only Adelina. Still she was to continue to suffer because of this conflict within him.
“I’ll take you away,” he told her. “ To London. Perhaps there we can both forget what has happened.” But, sadly, they both knew it could not be so. Abbeyford and all that had happened would for ever be a dark shadow between them.
Dazedly, her spirit crushed, Adelina allowed Lord Lynwood to organise her life. He persuaded his mother to accompany them to London as chaperon for Adelina, and their journey, which took two days, was uneventful and uninteresting, for a steady drizzle fell the whole time.
At last, travelling through the heart of fashionable London, St James’s Street, Piccadilly, they passed numerous elegant carriages, the dandies fastidiously dressed in their close-fitting trousers and high st
arched collars, strolling up and down.
“They’re on their way to one club or another to play cards at the green baize tables – whist, faro, hazard – far into the night,” Lord Lynwood leaned forward, trying to rouse Adelina’s interest. “Fortunes can be won or lost in a single night.” But her eyes were dull and unseeing as she stared out of the carriage.
Their vehicle turned into a residential square in Mayfair and drew to a halt in front of a white terraced house. There were small cast-iron balconies outside each long window at first-floor level, and railing along the front bordering the pavement.
Lord Lynwood helped his mother from the carriage and then he led Adelina up the steps to the round-arched doorway. Inside, the comparative plainness of the exterior of the house gave way to opulence and luxury. The carpeted staircase, with white cast-iron balusters, arose from the centre of the hall and then divided into two separate flights from the first floor to the other floors.
Lord Lynwood led Adelina into the spacious drawing-room with its high arched ceiling. The decorations were in white but this austerity was offset by the vividly coloured carpet and rich, wine-coloured velvet drapes at the huge bay window. Brightly patterned silk covered the gilt sofas and chairs, and elegant spindly-legged tables and sideboards were set here and there. In one corner there was a harp, and a Chinese screen stood behind one of the sofas. Above her head hung two crystal chandeliers.
Abbeyford Inheritance Page 7