Abbeyford Inheritance

by Margaret Dickinson

  There had been no word from Lynwood. Adelina did not know whether he had prevented the yeomanry from being called out or not.

  “I must warn them,” she whispered. “I cannot let this foolishness go any further.”

  She hurried upstairs to dress herself. With shaking fingers she put on her dark riding-habit and black cloak. Pulling the hood well down over her face, she let herself quietly out of the side door and out on to the terrace. She hurried down the steps and through the rose garden and out of the door in the wall. Slipping and stumbling, Adelina ran down the sloping field towards the village.

  As she neared the green, she heard on the still air the sound of many voices and saw the gathering of men, several holding flaming torches. She watched them assemble, form into ranks and begin to march in reasonably orderly fashion out of the village and up the lane towards Abbeyford Manor. Evan Smithson, his torch held high like a banner, led them.

  She began to run after them. “Evan, Evan! Wait! I must tell you …”

  The men faltered and several stopped at the sound of her voice to look around. She moved into the light from their torches and stood facing Evan. Close behind him she could see Henry Smithson, his face grim.

  “Why, if it ain’t the Lady of the Manor hersel’!” Evan said. “And what might you be doin’ out on a dangerous night like this’n? Your dear husband should take better care of you, my lovely Adelina.”

  “Evan – all of you,” she cried, “you must listen to me. Wallis has called out the yeomanry to put down your riot.”

  For a moment there was silence, then Evan laughed. “Tekin’ a tip from the Peterloo magistrates, is he?” He paused a moment as if thinking rapidly. “I don’t believe you. He hasn’t the power. Only your grandfather has that power. Has he …?”

  “No – no, he wouldn’t do such a thing. But we think Wallis may have – may have used Lord Royston’s name to influence those concerned. Lord Lynwood has tried to stop it, but – but I – we haven’t heard from him.”

  “Huh, expect us to believe any of his sort would try to stop it?” Henry Smithson growled. “Tek no notice of her.”

  “Lord Lynwood is a good man,” Adelina said quietly.

  “What about Trent – your husband? Is he ‘a good man’?” Evan asked.

  “I …” Adelina could not speak. She was torn apart. Her shoulders slumped and weariness swept over her. “ I came to warn you. I don’t want there to be bloodshed.”

  Evan moved closer. In the light from his torch she saw again the face of the man who had caused her so much unhappiness. And yet she had been moved to try to save him and his friends. Whatever heartache Evan Smithson had caused her, she could not allow him to walk towards the destruction his own half-brother planned.

  “I think he’s sent you. He’s only using you to save himself. I don’t believe he could call out the yeomanry, though I know he would. So,” he grasped hold of her arm, giving it a vicious wrench and twisting it behind her so that she was obliged to walk in front of him. “ We’ll take you with us, my lovely. Perhaps with you as hostage, he’ll listen more readily to what we have to say.”

  Adelina sobbed with fear and frustration, panting for breath as Evan pushed her in front of him. Every limb in her body was trembling and her heart was thudding painfully.

  With Evan once more leading them but now with Adelina in the very front, the men resumed their march towards the Manor.

  Without warning there came through the night the sound of thudding hooves – but the sound did not come from the Manor stables. It was the noise of many horses being ridden hard. Then Adelina saw them – dark, swiftly-moving shadows emerging from the trees at the top of the hill, swooping, recklessly, down the hillside towards the band of village men carrying torches. For a moment time seemed to stand still. The village men stopped and with one accord looked up at the brigade of yeomanry charging down upon them.

  “My God! He has done it!” Evan muttered.

  The horses came nearer and nearer and the village men, the mesmerism broken, gave wild cries of terror and began to flee in all directions. Torches were thrown aside and the reason for their march upon the Manor forgotten as they fled to save their own lives. Adelina stood quite still, so filled with terror that she could not move. She faced certain death, brought about by her own husband!

  Then she felt herself grasped round the waist by Evan and thrown bodily over a stone wall. He jumped over after her and crouched down for protection. She lay where she had fallen the breath knocked from her body. The horsemen were upon the men, chasing and harassing like huntsmen after a fox. Screams of fear and pain filled the night air as some of the men were trampled upon by the horses or caught by the flashing sabres of the yeomen. The carnage, the screaming, the horses trampling and rearing, seemed to go on for ever. Only Adelina, saved by Evan, and Evan himself, were safe behind the stone wall.

  Then suddenly it was over. The cavalry re-formed and rode back the way they had come, leaving a scene of devastation.

  Evan rose and stood looking at the scene. Adelina, too, pulled herself up. In the moonlight she could see the dark shapes of men lying on the ground, hear their groans and the cries of those badly injured.

  “My God!” whispered Evan.

  Adelina moaned aloud. “ How could he do it? How could he?”

  Grimly, Evan picked up one of the torches still alight, its flame licking the grass. He looked down at her, and now there was no hatred towards her. “I’m sorry. I should have believed you. Stay here and you won’t be hurt …”

  “Where are you going?” Panic rose again. “What are you going to do?”

  “Never mind. Just stay here.” There was a lust for revenge on his face as he turned away.

  “Evan – no – you mustn’t.” She scrambled after him, but he was running now, too fast for her, towards the Manor.

  “Evan – no!”

  Adelina stumbled and fell against a prickly bush, which tore at her hands and face and wrenched at her clothes. Weeping and sobbing with frustration, she struggled to free herself. Then as she stumbled on, she saw the first flames leaping from the stack-yard at the side of the Manor.

  “Oh, no!” she breathed. “ Evan’s setting fire to the Manor. My God!”

  She ran, fear giving her added strength. By the time she reached the yard, she saw Evan silhouetted against the orange glow moving towards the stables.

  “No – Evan – not the horses.” Then she saw Wallis’s tall figure, saw Evan turn to face him, saw them pause, stare at each other. Evan turned and threw his lighted torch upon the stable roof as Wallis leapt upon him, too late to prevent his action.

  They crashed to the ground and rolled over and over. Burning wisps of straw floated everywhere and the air was filled with acrid fumes. The stable roof began to burn, unnoticed by the two grappling men.

  “Wallis, Wallis, the horses,” Adelina cried desperately.

  Then she heard the sound of horse’s hooves and turned to see Lynwood galloping towards her. He threw himself from his horse and ran to her. “Adelina – my darling. You’re safe – thank God.”

  Oblivious to the fact that her husband was close by, Lynwood folded her into his embrace, burying his face against her hair, murmuring, “Adelina – oh, Adelina.”

  For one blissful moment she clung to him, suspended in time, one moment from all eternity when they were locked together in pure, overflowing love for each other, the world forgotten save their own two selves.

  Then brutal reality awoke them, as a roof timber of the stable crashed to the ground, and the horses in the burning building kicked and fought to release themselves from their stalls, the sound they made like screams of terror.

  “The horses!” Adelina made to pull herself away, but Lynwood held her fast.

  “No, Adelina. You cannot help them. You’d be killed.”

  Wallis seemed suddenly to realise what was happening, and pushing Evan Smithson from him he ran towards the burning stable.

&nbs
p; “Trent – don’t be a fool!” Lynwood shouted, but Adelina could utter no word. She could only stand and watch as the tall, broad figure of her husband rushed headlong into the flames towards the stall holding his horse, Jupiter.

  Evan Smithson fled and Lynwood, seeing him go, made a lunge forward to prevent him, but it was Adelina’s turn now to restrain him. “ No, Francis. Let him go.”

  Lynwood looked down at her in amazement. “Let him – go?”

  Adelina nodded. “He saved my life – back there. When the yeomanry charged the men, I was with them – in the very front. Evan saved my life.”

  Lynwood held her face cupped in his hands and kissed her lips gently. “Then – for that alone – he deserves to go free,” he murmured. “Adelina – there’s so much I want to say …” But at that moment Wallis appeared once more, trying to lead out his stallion from the burning stable. The animal was hurt and wild with terror. It reared and plunged and kicked. For a moment Wallis seemed about to master Jupiter, then, as another roof timber crashed down behind the animal and the flames roared with renewed force, the horse reared, standing on its hind legs, a colossal black shape, its hooves flailing, to come crashing down – its full weight upon Wallis.

  Adelina screamed and Lynwood leapt forward as Jupiter, free now, galloped away.

  Wallis lay quite still, his head at a peculiar angle, blood pouring from his head, his eyes open, staring, his mouth gaping.

  Gently, Lynwood felt for his pulse, then his heart. “ I think he’s dead, Adelina.”

  “Dead?” she repeated stupidly.

  Then, quietly and without warning, she fainted.

  Adelina awoke in a strange room– a bedroom at Abbeyford Grange. She became aware of Jane sitting close by.

  “Oh, madam, you’re awake.”

  “The children?” was Adelina’s first question.

  “Quite safe.”

  “And – and,” Adelina raised herself on one elbow. “ Lord Lynwood?”

  “He’s safe. He’s downstairs, ma’am, pacing up and down like a caged lion, waiting for you to wake up, but – but …”

  “Yes?” Panic caught at her again.

  “Mr Wallis, ma’am. He – he’s dead.”

  The panic faded. She lay back and sighed deeply. “ I know. I remember,” she said heavily. “Was anyone else killed?”

  “Three from the village, ma’am, and several badly injured. Henry Smithson – he may not live, but, if he does, he’ll never walk again. Crippled for life, he’ll be.”

  Adelina groaned. “What about Evan?”

  “Oh, he’s gone again, ma’am, as quick as he come. Mind you, they reckon he’s been living in Amberly for quite some time. Married he is, they say, with children. Not that I know him, ma’am, but I’ve heard all the gossip up at the Manor.” She glanced at Adelina. “He’s been planning all this for a long time. He’s used the unrest of the times for his own purpose. To bring revenge on the Trents.”

  “Yes, yes,” Adelina said heavily. She frowned. “And now I remember. I think I saw him once – in Amberly. I saw this man in the shadows and he seemed familiar. But I never thought, never dreamt, it was Evan. I hope this time he’s gone for good!”

  She lay back and closed her eyes and, as the heartache began to recede, the warm and comforting knowledge enveloped her.

  Downstairs Lynwood was waiting …

  Copyright

  First published in 1998 by Severn House

  Originally published 1981 under the title Adelina

  This edition published 2014 by Bello

  an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited

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  ISBN 978-1-4472-9028-5 EPUB

  ISBN 978-1-4472-9026-1 HB

  ISBN 978-1-4472-9027-8 PB

  Copyright © Margaret Dickinson, 1991, 1998

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  author of this work has been asserted in accordance

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