Abbeyford Inheritance (18 page)

Adelina smiled, though still a little uncertainly. “ It's good to see you, Francis. And very kind of you to think of Francesca. Please come in.”

She led the way into the morning room. Francis paused in the doorway as his glance fell upon the child playing on the rug. The infant raised her brilliant blue eyes to look at the stranger, then her face broke into a cherubic beam and she gurgled at him, holding out her chubby arms invitingly. Completely bemused, Lord Lynwood knelt before the child. Wonderingly, he reached out his fingers to touch her golden curls and gazed into her blue eyes so like his own. “ But – but she – her hair was –
black
!” he murmured.

“At first – yes. But a new-born baby's hair can change colour,” Adelina laughed, completely unaware of Lynwood's inner conflict. “That black fuzz soon rubbed off. She was almost bald for a time and then her hair grew fair – and curly.”

Francesca reached out and grasped Lynwood's finger, pulling it towards her mouth.

“Mind,” Adelina warned. “ She's cutting teeth – she'll give you a nip.”

Francis said softly. “Oh, we can stand that, my little love, can't we?”

The baby chuckled and chewed happily upon his finger. Never taking his eyes from the child, Francis said, “Ask my coachman to bring in the parcels, will you please, Adelina?”

“Parcels?”

“Yes. Christmas gifts. Didn't you know, it's all the rage in London? The Duchess of York started it. She decorates her dining-room and piles it high with presents and invites not only her family and friends in but all her servants and many local children, and each one receives a gift.”

A few moments later the sofa-table was piled high with boxes of various shapes. With a smile of genuine pleasure, Lynwood reached for some of the parcels and placed them on the rug near Francesca. The baby's eyes grew round with wonder and her fingers touched the boxes.

“I think you'll have to help her open them,” Adelina said.

“There are some for you too,” Lynwood murmured, his attention still wholly upon the child.

Some little time later the room was littered with discarded wrappings and Francesca surrounded by numerous toys.

There was a rocking-horse with baby foot-rests: a doll's house complete with intricately made furniture and three tiny dolls, father, mother and baby each dressed in the fashion of the day. There were two bigger dolls, one a rag doll and one with a wax, painted face attached to a stuffed body. There was a jumping-jack, a ball, a drum and a rattle.

Adelina was still exclaiming with delight over her gifts from Lynwood. Impulsively, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth. “ Oh, thank you, Francis, you are generous.”

He slipped his arm around her waist. “It's good to see you happy, my dear. Adelina …” He seemed about to say more, but at that moment the door opened and Wallis entered the room.

He stopped short as the picture of Adelina and Lord Lynwood in each other's arms met his eyes and Adelina's joy died instantly. In her happiness at seeing Lynwood again she had completely forgotten Wallis Trent!

“Francis has brought some wonderful gifts for Francesca, isn't it kind of him?” she explained. “ He says it's all the rage in London now.”

The two men eyed each other warily, dark anger upon Wallis Trent's face, while the bitterness and jealousy once more flooded through Lynwood's heart.

“You must know, my lord,” Wallis said tersely, “that I cannot allow Adelina to accept your gifts.”

Now anger flared in Lynwood's handsome face too. “I beg your pardon …?”

“You will allow me to be the judge of that, Wallis,” Adelina said boldly. Wallis turned his scowling face upon her.

“Adelina – you have agreed to become my wife in a week's time. You will oblige me by obeying my wishes.”

Defiantly, Adelina raised her head higher and met Wallis's cold, hard eyes, at the same time she was acutely aware of the misery on Lynwood's face.

“When I become your wife – I will obey you. But this once, at least, you must allow Lord Lynwood to give the child his gifts. After all –
she is his daughter
!”

“Madam, by next week, legally, she will be my daughter, and he will have no claim upon her.”

“Married?” Lynwood said softly, turning towards Adelina. “You are to marry Trent?”

Adelina closed her eyes in momentary overwhelming anguish. When she opened them again, Lynwood's face was a closed mask of indifference. “ Then it is as I thought – all the time,” he said bitterly, “and to think I came here today hoping … Ahh!” he let out a groan of utter rejection and dismissal.

As he turned to leave, Adelina stretched out her hands towards him. “Francis!” she cried from the very depths of her being. “
Francis
!”

But Wallis caught hold of her and prevented her from following Lynwood. She heard the front door slam, heard the carriage move away, the sounds of its wheels growing fainter and knew that this time Lynwood would never return.

Adelina tore herself from Wallis's grasp and ran from the room, upstairs, to throw herself on her bed and give way to a paroxysm of weeping.

The marriage of Wallis Trent and Adelina Cole took place at eight-thirty on the morning of the first of January 1819. The only people present were Mr Langley, as officiating clergyman, Squire Guy Trent and his wife, and one or two of the Trents' employees.

There was to be no honeymoon, and Adelina, her child and her maid moved their belongings to Abbeyford Manor that same afternoon. Francesca was taken to the nursery wing to be cared for, along with Jamie Trent, Wallis's son, by the nanny and the nursery maid. Jane was retained as Adelina's personal maid.

At the Vicarage, Adelina had dismissed the indolent servants who had been of little help to Mr Langley in his wife's illness and had persuaded Sarah Smithson to come back, this time as housekeeper. Adelina was sorry for the desperately unhappy, work-worn woman, who had lived her life sorrowing for a love that could not be, living with a man whose bitterness and resentment festered and grew over the years and was carried on by his stepson who had sworn revenge upon the Trents.

Adelina could not help but see that she was perhaps following the very same path as Sarah Smithson, for was not she marrying one man in order to give her illegitimate child a name, while still loving the father of her child? Just as Sarah Smithson had been obliged to do.

So a routine was established at Abbeyford Manor, but it was an existence without purpose for Adelina, a life which held little hope for the future. She found solace in her love for her daughter and her grandfather, but between herself and her husband there was a coldness, a remoteness. They had separate bedrooms and, though he visited her at night occasionally, his lovemaking was accomplished as if it were an act of duty, or a physical need which must be satisfied. No word of love or affection ever passed his lips. There was no tender wooing, no moments of joy and intimate laughter between them.

Lynwood, for all that his jealousy and distrust had overshadowed their complete happiness, at least he had cared for her. Only now, living with the selfish, arrogant Wallis Trent, did Adelina realise how great her loss of Lynwood had been!

Adelina found that there was little, for her to do in her new role at the Manor for Louisa Trent was still the mistress. Wallis entertained occasionally, but not often. From time to time she would accompany him as he rode around the estate, but she found the sullen, hostile stares of the workmen unnerving. Where before she could have been sure of a smile from the village folk, now all sign of friendliness from them was gone, because she had married the man they feared and disliked.

Strangely, her one adult companion at Abbeyford Manor proved to be Squire Guy Trent. Between the lonely man and the young bride of a marriage of convenience there grew an affinity, an understanding born of a mutual loss and loneliness.

“There's a horse-dealer coming this afternoon,” Squire Trent told her one morning. “ Get Wallis to buy you a horse – then we could go for rides together.”

“Oh – I don't know,” Adelina hesitated. “I don't like to ask …”

“Then it's time you did.” His bleary eyes were upon her face. “You're a lovely girl, Adelina. My son doesn't realise how fortunate he is.”

Adelina smiled. “ I'll come and see the horses – I promise.”

That afternoon she found her way to the Squire's study, knocked sharply and then opened the door. A cloud of cigar smoke and the smell of whisky met her. She blinked as the smoke stung her eyes. Two men sat at the huge desk, the Squire and a stranger – a thin, shrewish little man with hollowed cheeks and shifty eyes.

Of Wallis there was no sign.

For a moment the two men stared at her, surprised by the vision of loveliness which had suddenly burst in upon their male domain.

“Ah, there you are, my dear,” Squire Trent, struggling to his feet, held out his hand towards her. “ Now
this
, Trotter, is my new daughter-in-law.”

The thin man smirked, but the smile never reached his eyes. Squire Trent, swaying slightly, crossed the short space between them and put his arm clumsily about her waist and drew her into the room. He kicked the door shut. “ This is Mr Trotter, the horse-dealer I was telling you about.”

“I'm honoured to meet you, ma'am.” Mr Trotter rose and bowed. He was very tall, but so thin that he seemed like a reed wavering in the wind. He was a man of middle age, untidily dressed.

“Shall we go and look at the horses?” the Squire suggested.

“Shouldn't we wait for Wallis?” Adelina said.

“No – no. Come along. Trotter says he has the very horse for you, a lovely stallion …”

At that moment the door opened and Wallis strode in. He stopped short, surprised to find Adelina there. His glance took in his father's arm about her waist and the expression in his eyes hardened and his mouth tightened.

“Ar – hum,” Guy Trent grunted and let his arm fall away. He sat down heavily in his chair, picked up his tumbler of whisky and drained it, his enthusiasm gone with the arrival of his son!

Wallis said brusquely, “Come along, then, Trotter, I haven't got all day.”

“Very good, Mr Trent.” Obediently, Trotter grabbed his hat and followed the long, angry strides of Wallis Trent. Thoughtfully, Adelina followed, leaving Squire Guy alone with his whisky bottle.

A young boy was standing holding the reins of the two horses Trotter had brought for Wallis's inspection. Adelina ran a speculative eye over them both.

“Now this would suit the lady fine,” Trotter said, patting a small brown mare on the neck. “She's gentle and docile but strong, ma'am. She'd cause a fine lady like yourself not a bit of trouble.”

Adelina raised her left eyebrow but said nothing. Now that she had gained confidence on horseback she wanted an animal with a little more spirit than Stardust, who was getting old now. Her glance ran over the other horse. It was a white stallion and, except for its colour, the animal could have been the twin of Wallis's horse, Jupiter. Adelina's green eyes were afire with excitement. She moved towards the horse's head and stroked his nose. The proud beast tossed his head and pawed the ground. Wallis was examining the animal in great detail.

“Isn't he a fine animal, Mr Trent, sir? Now he'd be a valuable addition to your stables, wouldn't he now?”

“He would indeed, but I don't think I have need of another hunter. I'm really looking for work-horses. Have you no shires?”

“Not today, sir, but …”

“Then I'll bid you goodday.” Wallis was turning away as. Adelina spoke.

“Wallis, would you object to me buying the white stallion?”

He turned abruptly. “ You, my dear? I think you'd find him too robust for you to handle. Besides, I cannot spend large sums of money on a horse we do not really need.”

“I – I could buy him myself.”

Wallis's face darkened, his jaw clenched. “Really?” Sarcasm lined his tone. Adelina knew he must realise that any money she possessed of her own must have come from Lynwood or from her grandfather and, either way, the knowledge angered him. But she was determined not to be intimidated. She felt the time was now when – even in this strange marriage – she must assert some individuality. She would not become a downtrodden, pathetic creature. He had married her and had given her daughter his name – and for that she was grateful – but she would not allow him to possess her mind, for her heart he could never hold.

“I am thinking of your safety, Adelina. I wouldn't be happy knowing you were riding this animal. He's too strong for any woman, however competent a horsewoman she may be.”

“I am sure I could handle him, Wallis.”

Wallis shrugged. “Very well, then,” he said. “But mind,” he wagged his finger at Trotter, “the price is fair. I don't want to see my wife cheated.”

Mr Trotter's expression was pained. “As if I would take advantage of a lady, sir!”

“You would, Trotter, you would,” Wallis remarked and began to walk towards the house. Trotter called after him, “ But what about the mare, sir? Aren't you interested in the mare?”

Wallis paused and half turned to call over his shoulder, “Hardly, Trotter, hardly,” and turned away again and moved on.

Trotter shrugged philosophically. “Ah well, one sale is better than none at all.”

“What is the price?” Adelina asked.

“One hundred guineas, ma'am.”

“That's too much,” Adelina retorted sharply. “I'll give you eighty.”

Trotter spread his hands, palms upwards. “ I'd lose on a price like that, madam. My lowest would be ninety-five.”

“Oh, come now,” Adelina purred, flashing him her most winning smile. “ I'm sure you make a handsome profit. Eighty-five.”