Abbeyford Inheritance (8 page)

“The way he looks at you,” Emily was saying. “He used to look at me like that – but not any more. I know what he's waiting for. For Lord Royston to accept you and then – then Wallis will marry you.”

Adelina gasped. Emily had half guessed Adelina's hope, but she had added far more to it than had ever entered Adelina's mind. Emily turned and ran from the room. Adelina sank back into the chair, feeling as if Emily had struck her. She closed her eyes and moaned softly. She hated being the cause of Emily's distress, but she could not give up – not yet!

The days seemed to pass so slowly, but finally Christmas came. On Christmas Eve the wassailers trudged through the village, singing their carols and stamping their feet to keep warm. At the Vicarage, even Martha Langley seemed touched by the spirit of Christmas sufficiently to unbend enough to make the revellers welcome.

Leaving the Vicarage the villagers disappeared up the lane their lusty carols echoing through the frosty night.

“Where are they going now?” Adelina asked Emily.

“To the big barn behind the Manor. The Trents always entertain the villagers at Christmas. The merrymaking goes on for days. Tonight they'll be drinking spiced ale from the wassail cup and …”

Adelina gripped Emily's arm, her eyes shining. “ Couldn't we go too, Emily?” She was eager for a little fun and laughter. The days spent at the Vicarage were depressingly dull.

“Oh, no, Adelina – not tonight. They get a little – well – merry, you know. But Wallis has promised to fetch us the day after Christmas Day. The villagers will be putting on their usual mummers' play then, and there will be plenty to eat and drink, beef and plum pudding. And dancing. No doubt you're hoping Wallis will dance with you,” Emily added bitterly. “I'm sure you won't be disappointed.”

“Emily, please …”

But she would not listen.

The Christmas services at church seemed to bring the whole village community together – with the notable exception of Guy Trent and his love-child, Evan Smithson.

Adelina was surprised to see in the church the village girl whom she had seen with Evan in the abbey ruins, kneeling to pray and bowing her head with every semblance of piety.

Her name, Adelina had learned, was Lucy Walters.

A few pews behind the Langleys, on the opposite side of the aisle, sat Sarah Smithson and with her a man whom Adelina had not seen before. Most of the villagers were known to her now, but not this man.

Adelina nudged Emily. “Who is the man in the check coat and cap, with Mrs. Smithson?” she whispered. Emily took a hurried, furtive glance over her left shoulder.

“Henry Smithson – her husband,” she murmured.

Adelina turned to stare at him. So this was the man who had been obliged by his family to marry Sarah to hide her shame and give Guy Trent's son his name. There was bitterness written upon Henry Smithson's face and a wild anger in his eyes as his glance rested upon Lady Louisa Trent and her son Wallis, sitting in the Trent family pew.

There was a stir as the church door flew open, letting in a cold blast of wintry air. Adelina's heart skipped a beat as Lord Lynwood strode purposefully down the aisle. He stopped beside their pew and bowed to Mrs Langley and the two girls.

“Your servant, Miss Adelina,” he murmured, and almost reluctantly went to his own pew.

The service ended and Adelina found Lord Lynwood by her side. “I shall not be thwarted this time, Adelina.” Without giving her chance to refuse, he took hold of her hand and placed it, possessively, through his arm and led her down the aisle. Adelina was aware of the gasps which ran like waves amongst the congregation.

Outside the church, Wallis, frowning heavily, faced them. “My lord, I shall escort Miss Adelina home.”

“I think not tonight, Trent,” Lynwood said softly.

“Have you asked Mrs Langley's permission?” Wallis persisted, still glowering.

“Have you?” countered the Earl.

“It's understood that I escort the young ladies home from church, Lynwood,” Wallis drew himself up, his broad shoulders seeming massive.

“I'm sure Mama would not object – for once,” Emily put in coyly, aware that for once she could have Wallis to herself.

“Oh, very well,” Wallis said with bad grace and marched away, almost dragging Emily along with him. Lynwood laughed aloud.

“Shh,” Adelina tugged at his arm. “He'll hear you.”

“So?”

“Well …” then she began to smile too.

They wandered down the frosty lane and for a few moments they were alone in the dark night. He slipped his arm about her waist and drew her close to him. “Adelina!” he whispered.

“No, my lord, no,” she said pushing him away, and yet her senses were reeling at his closeness, at his touch.

“Would you reject Wallis Trent's advances, Adelina?” Lynwood asked harshly.

“I – of course.” Then anger made her forget caution. “There's only one thing in the world I want at this moment.”

“What's that?”

“To meet my grandfather.”

She heard Lynwood sigh, but he said nothing. How could he tell her that he had asked Lord Royston repeatedly to meet her, but the stubborn old man steadfastly refused. Lynwood took her hand once more and led her towards the front door of the Vicarage. There, beneath the light of the lamp, he turned to face her and looked down into her upturned, lovely face. He took her gently by the shoulders. “Don't put your hopes too high, but if you like, I'll speak to him again.”

“No – Wallis said – I mean …” The words were out before she could stop them.

Lynwood frowned. “Trent? What did he say?”

“He – he sees Lord Royston once a month. He said he would speak to him on my behalf.”

“Really?” Lynwood drawled. “You're sure it was on
your
behalf and not his own?”

Abruptly he left her, his strides taking him down the path to his waiting carriage. She saw him climb into the vehicle and slam the door, making the horses shy in fright.

“Drive on!” he shouted irritably.

During the early evening of the day after Christmas Day, the Trents' carriage drew up in front of the Vicarage. The two girls, warmly wrapped in their cloaks, were helped into the carriage by Wallis and, in only a few minutes, they arrived outside the barn at the Manor. Adelina gasped as she went in. The huge barn had been transformed. Holly and mistletoe wreaths decorated the walls and beams, and the light came from rushlights. At one end a makeshift stage had been erected and the floor was covered with rushes. As they entered the handbell ringers were playing a carol and from the onlookers – all the villagers, it seemed to Adelina – there came a soft humming.

At the opposite end of the barn to the stage a ladder led up to a hayloft and Adelina's eyes widened as she saw Evan Smithson and Lucy sitting at the edge of the open hayloft, their legs swinging over the side, watching the proceedings below them. When the bellringers had ended their carols, a motley selection of instruments was produced – drums, trumpets, pipes and fiddles – and suddenly a surprisingly tuneful, merry jig filled the barn. But amongst the rest of the villagers there was a strange reluctance to begin the dancing. They stood in small groups occasionally glancing with sullen eyes towards Wallis Trent.

They don't want us here, Adelina knew suddenly, intuitively. Wallis Trent – and those with him – were unwelcome intruders.

Wallis ignored their hostility. “Would you care to dance, Adelina?”

“Why – I'm not sure I know how.”

Wallis bowed. “As you wish.” He turned to Emily and led her on to the middle of the floor instead. Gradually, almost with a sullen belligerence, the villagers joined in.

Adelina watched the dancers and tapped her feet and swayed in time to the music. The rafters rang with the noise and the dancers whirled and spun, but there was no spontaneous gaiety, no laughter.

“May I have the pleasure of this dance, Miss Cole?”

Evan Smithson stood before her, his startlingly blue eyes challenging her. Adelina glanced up towards the hayloft to see Lucy pouting moodily because Evan had left her to seek out Adelina.

“I can't dance …”

“Of course you can. Come on,” Evan said and put his arm about her waist and before she could stop herself, she was amongst the dancers.

“You see, you can dance. Was that merely an excuse to avoid dancing with the likes o' me?”

Adelina laughed. “Of course not.”

He swung her round, almost sweeping her off her feet, so that she was obliged to catch hold of him for support. He laughed aloud, his eyes glinting dangerously, warningly. “ I can be a good friend, Miss Adelina, but a dangerous enemy.”

Adelina arched her left eyebrow. “ Really?” she remarked drily, all her old instincts aroused by his threat.

“You know,” Evan said softly in her ear as the dance finally came to an end. “ You know, Miss Adelina, I like you. You're different. You're not afraid of me.”

“Afraid of you?” she laughed. “ The very idea, Mr Smithson.”

Evan gripped her wrist and his handsome face was close to her own. “Don't tempt fate, sweet Adelina.”

There was menace in his words and in his tone. But Adelina adroitly twisted her wrist from his grasp and dropped a mocking curtsy. “ Thank you for the dance, Mr Smithson,” and moved away from him to rejoin Emily and Wallis.

When the music began again, Wallis said, “ Since you seem to have learnt the steps remarkably quickly, Miss Adelina, perhaps you will dance with
me
now?”

Inwardly, Adelina sighed. What a web of bitterness and tension and hatred existed in this village, she thought, and she seemed unwittingly to be caught in the middle of it. Wallis danced in silence, a frown upon his forehead. Adelina was aware of the eyes of the villagers upon them, and when, several times during the evening, Wallis demanded that she dance with him, she found herself increasingly embarrassed by his obvious attention to her. He danced only once with Emily, but Adelina was often in his arms.

“I shall be seeing your grandfather tomorrow, Miss Adelina.”

“Oh, Wallis, thank you. You will – let me know what he says?”

“Of course.” She felt his arm tighten about her and Adelina was acutely aware of Emily's face scarlet with misery. “I'm sure we shall have much to discuss – after I have seen him.”

Before Adelina could reply, the music ended and Wallis led her back to Emily. As the noise died away, a voice rang out. All eyes turned to see Evan Smithson standing, none too steadily, at the top of the ladder leading to the hayloft, waving a tankard of ale in his right hand. Lucy, standing at his side, was pulling at his arm vainly trying to stop him.

“My friends,” he shouted, his words a little slurred. “I give you a toast. To our lords and masters – our employers – our landlords – the Trents – my – my
family
! May they rot in hell!” He ended with a flamboyant gesture with his right hand, spilling beer. Suddenly he lost his footing. Lucy tried to catch hold of him, but he slipped from her grasp. Lucy and several of the women shrieked as Evan toppled, head first from the loft to the floor below. Luckily, he fell on a thick heap of straw and lay there laughing drunkenly.

Wallis clenched his fists and took a step forward towards his half-brother, his face contorted with rage. Boldly, Emily grasped his arm.

“No, Wallis, no, please. Look at your father. See how distressed he is. And the Smithsons. Please – don't make it any worse.”

“Very well, since you ask it, Emily,” Wallis muttered. “ But one of these days that fellow will go a step too far … Come, we're leaving.”

Vividly Adelina remembered the animosity which had flared between the two half-brothers when face to face.

As they threaded their way through the revellers, Adelina saw Sarah Smithson sitting in a dark corner, quietly sobbing into her hands. Nearby was Henry Smithson, an expression of hatred and resentment on his face. His hands, resting on his knees, were tightly clenched. Adelina stood on tiptoe, searching for sight of Squire Trent. He was standing on the opposite side of the barn, his shoulders slumped, his eyes steadfastly fixed upon the weeping Sarah, helpless misery etched into every line of his face.

Adelina passed the days following Christmas in a fever of anticipation, but Wallis did not come near the Vicarage. New Year came and went and still there was no word from him.

At last, towards the middle of January, Adelina could stand the waiting no longer. She must go in search of Wallis.

So one wild January day, when the clouds were black and threateningly low, Adelina slipped away from the Vicarage towards Abbeyford Manor. The wind whistled and blew her skirts. Her heart beat faster – she hated this kind of stormy, blustery weather and yet her desire to see Wallis overcame her fear.

First she went to the Manor stables. Thomas, the head stableboy, told her his master was out in the fields on Jupiter.

Minutes later she left the Manor yard, riding Stardust up the lane, through the woods and out on to the hillside. She rode towards the abbey ruins, once more in the hope of being able to see Wallis from there. The wind blew with the force of a gale, the black clouds scudding overhead. Near the ruins she paused and looked about her. Then she saw him below her, down the hill on the far side of the stream, a dark figure on his black stallion. A group of farm labourers stood in a semi-circle around him – though keeping a respectful distance from the tossing head and stamping hooves of the temperamental horse. As she drew nearer, Adelina could see that Wallis Trent was shouting at the men, his face as dark as the storm clouds overhead. The men stared back at him – sullen obstinacy on their faces. Amongst them Adelina recognised Henry Smithson and beside him, Evan.

The young man's face was set in lines of bitterness and his eyes glittered with hatred.