Abbeyford Inheritance

by Margaret Dickinson

  Early on the morning of the duel, when it was still dark, she slipped from her warm bed and, shivering, for the maid had not yet lit a fire in her bedroom so early was the hour, she began to dress herself. Lynwood had forbade her to attend the scene of the duel, but Adelina could not keep away. She was so afraid that Francis would be hurt, perhaps even killed, that she could not sit at home, waiting for the dreadful news. She just had to be there. She pulled the hood of her black velvet cloak well down over her face and left her apartment. She hurried along the deserted streets until she came to Lynwood’s house. Slipping down the stairs to the servants’ entrance, she rapped on the kitchen door. It must be five o’clock already and she knew Francis would have left. The servants were already about their early morning tasks, so she was soon able to despatch a young footman to have Lynwood’s phaeton brought immediately to the front door. Adelina paced the pavement in a ferment of anxiety. She planned to drive herself and yet she was not quite sure how she should get to the Heath. As the young footman assisted her into the phaeton, she grabbed him by the arm.

  “You’ll have to come with me to show me the way. If I get lost, I’ll never find my way through this maze of streets, and I’ll miss the whole thing.”

  “But, madam,” stammered the unfortunate young man, “ my duties – I have work to do – I can’t come …”

  “You can and you will. I’ll explain later,” she replied hastily, almost pulling him into the phaeton.

  Eventually they arrived on the Heath just as the first pale fingers of dawn stretched their way over the grass. The Heath, partially shrouded in morning mist, appeared to be deserted.

  “Are you sure this is the right place?” Adelina asked worriedly.

  “Yes, ma’am. This is where they normally hold the duels.”

  Adelina shuddered. “ You make it sound like a regular occurrence?”

  The young footman shrugged. “ It seems to be, madam, amongst the dandies who have naught better to do.”

  Adelina cast him a severe, disapproving glance and the man apologised hastily. “I beg your pardon, ma’am.”

  She nodded. “I should think so, too. It’s not for you to judge your master.” Then she added, “ Look, we’re right out in the open here. Isn’t there somewhere we can conceal ourselves? I don’t want to be seen if I can avoid it.”

  The footman pointed. “Over there, there’s a clump of bushes. They’ll just about hide the phaeton.”

  “Fine.” Adelina manoeuvred the horses until the vehicle was standing behind the bushes, hidden, she hoped, from view from the duelling place. She alighted and found a place amongst the bushes where she was concealed from view and yet she had a good view of the scene.

  Scarcely had she settled herself before she saw a carriage and pair loom out of the mist and come to a halt some distance away. Though she strained her eyes to see through the mist, she could only see two figures light from the vehicle and stand talking together. A second, smaller carriage appeared, but only one person got down, and he too, remained near his vehicle and made no move to speak to the other two.

  The footman, who had come to crouch amongst the bushes beside her, whispered, “ That fellow on his own, that’ll be the surgeon.”

  “Surgeon!” Adelina squeaked and then clapped her hand to her mouth, fearful that her voice would be heard and she would be discovered and sent away. She lowered her voice to an urgent whisper. “What do you mean – surgeon? Do you mean someone always gets hurt?”

  “Or killed,” the young footman replied nonchalantly.

  Adelina bit her lip hard. At that moment yet another carriage drew up not many paces from her hiding-place. She drew breath sharply as she recognised the vehicle and saw, a moment later, Lynwood and Lord Eversleigh step from its interior. They were so near she could hear their conversation plainly.

  “This is a fool’s errand you’re on, Lynwood,” Eversleigh said. “He’s reputedly an expert with an épée.”

  Lynwood remained grimly silent.

  The minutes ticked by and Adelina began to wish they would get on with the wretched duel if there was to be one. She was becoming very cramped, squatting in this undignified position in the bushes. The dank morning was seeping through her cloak and making her shiver and the mist had dampened her hair, plastering tiny curls around her face.

  At that moment the surgeon moved out to the centre of the field and the protagonists’ two seconds stepped forward, to converse with him.

  “He’s acting as referee,” whispered the footman in Adelina’s ear. “He’s asking them to settle the matter without bloodshed. It’s only a formality of course, no one ever does when it’s got to this stage.”

  In confirmation of his words, she saw Lord Eversleigh and Mr Dalton shake their heads.

  Moments later the two duellists stepped forward and faced each other. The thin blades glittered and shivered as, on guard, they circled each other warily. De Courtney lunged but Lynwood parried by dropping the point of his épée down sharply and holding off his opponent’s weapon. Again on guard they circled. Each lunged and parried alternately, and this gamesmanship seemed to Adelina to go on interminably.

  “I think they’re enjoying it!” she muttered, impatiently.

  She shivered and blew on to her frozen fingers in an effort to warm them.

  Suddenly Adelina saw Francis lunge and the point of his rapier disappeared into de Courtney’s chest. The latter gave a cry of pain which rent the still morning and startled the onlookers, even though they were half expecting it. Thomas de Courtney sank to the ground, Lynwood’s rapier still embedded in his body. The surgeon rushed forward and immediately took hold of Lynwood’s weapon. Gently he eased the blade from de Courtney’s chest and threw it to one side. Then he dropped to his knees beside the still form. Eversleigh and Geoffrey Dalton ran forward, one to stand at Lynwood’s side while Dalton fell to his knees beside his friend.

  From her position, Adelina could not hear what was said, merely a low murmuring of voices.

  “We should go now, madam,” whispered the footman. “’ Tis over and his lordship is unharmed.”

  “No – they’ll hear us – I don’t want Lord Lynwood to know I was even here – you understand?” She pressed his arm wamingiy.

  “Of course, madam.”

  They remained hidden until Lynwood and Eversleigh had crossed the grass towards their carriage. Their faces were grim and neither of them spoke to each other. They climbed into the vehicle, which, seconds later, moved away. The prostrate form of Thomas de Courtney had not moved, and both the surgeon and Mr Dalton were still bending over him.

  “Oh God,” Adelina whispered. “ I think he really has killed him this time.” She stood up, easing her aching limbs, and pulled her cloak closer around her. Her teeth were chattering with cold. “Come on, let’s get away from here before we’re discovered!”

  She had not expected Lynwood would visit her apartment immediately, but she had only managed to take off her damp cloak and rough dry her long hair with a towel when she heard the sound of a carriage in the street below, his footsteps pounding up the stairs and the door of her apartment flung wide open.

  Lynwood strode into her bedroom and then stopped in surprise. “Awake already, my love?” Though his tone was bantering, Adelina could detect the tension beneath the surface. She seated herself before the mirror and began to brush her long, shining hair. They each seemed to be waiting for the other to speak.

  “So,” Adelina remarked with apparent indifference, even though her heart was thudding and her hands were wet with sweat, “you managed not to get yourself killed this morning.”

  Lynwood came to stand behind her, watching her through the mirror. “You don’t seem very concerned, madam?” The cynical smile twisted his mouth.

  “Well – you’re here, aren’t you?” she raised an eyebrow.

  “Don’t you want to know what happened to de Courtney?”

  “Did you – kill him?”

  “To be ho
nest – I don’t know. He was still breathing when I left the field, but the injury was – severe. In any case,” Lynwood bent down, putting his face close to hers, though they still looked at each other through the looking-glass, “ it would be better if I were away from town until the scandal has died down a little. We shall be leaving tonight for Lynwood Hall. My mother, too, since, this time, you will have to stay at the Hall.”

  Adelina’s mouth fell open and her eyes widened with horror at his statement. “ Oh, no, Francis, I can’t go back there. It’s too near Abbeyford. Don’t ask me to!”

  “Well,” Lynwood muttered, “we have no choice!”

  The last thing in the world Adelina wanted was to return to the vicinity of Abbeyford and all its bitter memories. She cringed at the thought and closed her eyes and groaned.

  “You promise we’ll come back to London once the scandal of the duel is all over?” she begged him.

  “Yes, yes,” was his impatient reply, anxious to put distance between himself and his victim’s family and friends, who, he knew, would shortly be howling for his blood in revenge for the injury he had inflicted upon de Courtney.

  Lynwood Hall was every bit as beautiful as Adelina remembered it. But now, having tasted the exhilarating, busy life of Society London, she soon found her life at Lynwood Hall, though comfortable, was dull and tedious.

  Lynwood was withdrawn and moody. He went out most days on his own, shooting on his estate, leaving Adelina with only Lady Lynwood, his mother, for company.

  “So, Miss Cole, I suppose you think you have progressed in the world since you were last here?” Lady Lynwood gave a short cackle of laughter, her bright eyes sharp and perceptive. Adelina raised her left eyebrow. She enjoyed the verbal sparring with Lady Lynwood, for beneath the surface there was a good deal of respect for each other’s strength of character.

  “That’s a matter of opinion. Mrs Langley would not agree with you.” Nor Adelina thought sadly to herself, would her grandfather.

  Lady Lynwood’s piercing eyes scanned Adelina’s face. “Have you any regrets about becoming a courtesan, miss?”

  Adelina winced, startled by Lady Lynwood’s bluntness. “ I’m not exactly that,” she bridled, “though I’ll not deny being your son’s mistress.”

  “Is he – kind to you?” The sharp, all-knowing eyes were boring into her very soul. Adelina felt the colour creeping up her neck.

  “Yes,” she said, determinedly shutting her mind to the times when Lynwood’s dark, brooding moods overshadowed both their lives. “ Yes – of course he is!”

  Lady Lynwood eyed her, shrewdly disbelieving. “ Poor Francis,” she murmured. “I wonder if he can ever hope to find real happiness? He was badly hurt by – a woman a long time ago.”

  “Who?”

  “Oh, I can’t tell you that,” Lady Lynwood said. “ He was only a boy. A boy’s first love. It can be very painful, you know.” The old eyes, still bright and vital, regarded Adelina.

  “I – guess so,” the young girl said. Then with sudden understanding, “And you mean it – it still hurts him now?”

  Lady Lynwood nodded. “I mean that it has affected his whole attitude towards women and – love.”

  “I – see,” Adelina murmured. “Perhaps I can help him to forget her.”

  “I doubt it. I think it most likely you are a constant reminder.”

  But Adelina, deep in her own thoughts of Lynwood, of her love for him, remembering his many kindnesses to her, the many times when his lovemaking had been tender and joyful, failed to question the full meaning behind Lady Lynwood’s words.

  Lord Lynwood arranged a Meet of the local Amberly and Abbeyford Hunt as a little diversion for Adelina.

  “I am Joint Master with Wallis Trent,” he told Adelina, “but he declined to join us this time.”

  She felt Lynwood’s eyes upon her, watching her face for any sign of emotion at the mention of Wallis Trent’s name. Still the memory of her meeting Wallis Trent on the hillside above Abbeyford haunted him, fusing in his mind with that other meeting of so long ago.

  The Hunt met at Lynwood Hall. Adelina was the only woman to ride with them, though there were several ladies in their carriages from neighbouring estates who came to watch the Hunt, following as best they could along the narrow lanes and rough cart-tracks.

  The morning was bright and cold and Adelina was ready early, determined to enjoy the new experience despite Lynwood’s black mood. She wore a new emerald green riding-habit which she knew suited her to perfection, contrasting as it did with her rich auburn hair and making her eyes a brighter green than ever. The long skirt billowed out as she rode, the tight-fitting jacket accentuating her tiny waist.

  Lynwood looked extremely handsome in his Master’s coat. He greeted Adelina with his half-mocking smile, yet she could see the desire leap in his eyes. “ That habit becomes you, my love.”

  “Thank you, kind sir,” she laughed and was surprised to find how much his casual compliment meant to her.

  The horses and hounds moved off and, gathering speed, they pounded across the countryside. Suddenly a fox broke cover, and the hounds, barking shrilly, were in pursuit, the huntsmen hotfoot after them. Adelina felt the thrill of the chase. The fox was well ahead, running across Lord Lynwood’s estate and on to the Trents’ lands, through the woodland across the brow of the hill and past the abbey ruins and on yet farther. Then the hounds were gaining ground as the poor, harried creature began to tire.

  The huntsmen’s blood-thirsty cries echoed across the valley. Then the hounds were upon the fox, brutally ravaging, their sharp teeth tearing the animal limb from limb. Adelina reined in and sat upon her horse watching in horrified silence. She had not imagined the kill would be so nauseating.

  Beside her she heard one of Lynwood’s neighbouring landowners remark languidly, “ Lynwood – don’t forget we have a new member of the Hunt with us. I think she should be bloodied.”

  Cries of assent arose from the other men.

  Lynwood laughed. “Not satisfied with the day’s sport, gentlemen?” he said with sarcasm. “Very well.”

  He dismounted and with another huntsman went amongst the hounds to return a few moments later with the decapitated head of the fox in his hand, the red blood dripping through his fingers.

  He stood beside Adelina’s horse. For a moment Lynwood hesitated. He was remembering that other time, the occasion of his own initiation. Then Caroline had been watching, smiling with congratulation.

  “You’ll have to dismount, my dear,” he said now to Adelina.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Reluctantly, Adelina dismounted and stood before him. Holding her arm firmly with his free hand so that she could not draw back, Lynwood raised his hand and pressed the raw and bleeding head upon Adelina’s face, moving it across her forehead and once down each cheek, accompanied by cheers of encouragement from the watchers.

  Adelina screamed!

  In that moment she saw Lord Lynwood’s face change from amusement to anger. He put his face close to hers. “How dare you make a sound? It’s a disgrace to be cowardly at this ceremony. And you have humiliated me by being so!”

  Swiftly he turned his back upon her and strode back to his horse. The onlookers were quiet now, watching her with silent disapproval. Without a backward glance at her, Lynwood rode away and, one by one, the huntsmen followed, until she was left alone.

  Adelina rubbed at the blood, drying now, on her face and spattered down the bodice of her lovely riding-habit.

  “What a barbaric custom,” she exploded angrily, but there was no one to hear her. “And to think the British have the audacity to think us Yankees wild and uncivilised. Oh!” she cried and stamped her foot in rage. She remounted and spurred her horse to a gallop back towards Lynwood Hall where, she went straight away to her room to change and clean the blood from her face.

  Jane’s cry of indignation was fuel to Adelina’s own anger and disgust. �
��Oh, madam, your face and your beautiful habit. It’s a disgrace and no mistake!”

  Gently, Adelina sponged the blood from her face, wincing slightly as she did so. Once clean again she stared at herself in the mirror. There, for all to see, was the reason for her screams. Across her forehead and down each cheek were two scratch marks, one quite deep so that even now it oozed blood – her own. The other, fainter scratches, merely marking the surface of the skin.

  ‘Just wait till his lordship sees that!’ Adelina thought, and said aloud, “ Jane, go and find out what is happening downstairs.”

  After a few moments her maid arrived back a little breathless. “His lordship is in the library, madam, with all his guests – the gentlemen, that is. The ladies are in the drawing-room.”

  Adelina nodded, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Regally, she descended the stairs and went towards the library. A footman opened the door for her and she stood, just inside the doorway, watching the assembled company.

  One of Lynwood’s guests was the first to notice her standing there. His mouth dropped open at the sight of her lovely face marked by the ugly scratches. He nudged Lynwood, who turned and then, gradually, every gentleman in the room had seen her and everyone fell silent.

  Adelina saw the last traces of anger, which still lingered in Lynwood’s expression, disappear at the sight of her.

  She saw his lips form her name in a soft whisper, saw the mute apology in his eyes. He made a step towards her, but Adelina, satisfied to have proved her point not only to Lynwood but to all his aristocratic friends as well, turned on her heel and walked sedately through the hall and into the drawing-room.

  Later, when all his guests had departed, Lynwood sought her out.

  “Adelina – my love,” his voice was hoarse. “I apologise most humbly. I had no idea. It must have been a sharp piece of bone sticking out.”