Thornhall Manor

Title Page

THORNHALL MANOR

George Benton

Publisher Information

First published in Great Britain in 2014 by

Arthur H. Stockwell Ltd

Torrs Park, Ilfracombe

Devon, EX34 8BA

www.ahstockwell.co.uk

Digital edition converted and distributed in 2015 by

Andrews UK Limited

www.andrewsuk.com

© George Benton 2014, 2015

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright holder.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

LONDON TOWN HOUSE, 1831

“Will my little darling be all right, Doctor?” - plumping up the cushions around Rebecca.

“If she stays in bed for a week or two - plenty of rest, and she'll be back on her feet again.”

If only she could believe these comforting words.

“There you are, my dear - much more comfortable for you. Now you rest. You heard what the good doctor said: you'll be up and about in no time. Now you're presentable I'll tell the children. They're waiting outside to come in.”

Annie opened the door and they were soon at their mother's bedside. Clare, the younger of the two children, kissed her mother gently on the cheek, while Paul held his mother's hand.

The Doctor made his way downstairs. There in the lounge he noticed John staring out of the window.

On hearing footsteps, John turned round.

“How is she, Doctor? Will she be all right? Is there anything I can do?”

“Rest - it's rest she needs, John - plenty of rest, and fresh air.”

“Rose Cottage - would it be possible, Doctor?”

The Doctor put his hand to his chin and stood deep in thought. “I wonder. Maybe, but not at present. The journey would be the problem. In a week or two maybe. Yes, John, I agree, but first things first.” Dr Haywood repeated “First things first.”

John thought to himself, ‘How many times have I heard him say “First things first” over the many years?'

“So I'll be off now, John,” said the devoted doctor, shaking his hand. “I've given Annie instructions regarding dosage of medication for Rebecca. I'll see you tomorrow. Now don't worry. Go up and see her and tell her your plans to visit and stay at Rose Cottage. That will give her something to look forward to.”

Trying to conceal any sign of worry, John began climbing the stairs. He paused outside the bedroom door, then turned the handle very gently and quietly entered the room. It was hard to believe Rebecca was so ill. There was Annie still plumping up the cushions, the children sitting on the bed and Rebecca laughing.

“Good news from the Doctor, my dear: a stay in the country as soon as you are fit to travel.”

The children were beside themselves with joy, for they knew a trip to the country meant Rose Cottage.

“Grandad and Grandma! Goody, goody,” Paul shouted.

Rebecca, seeing the joy on the children's faces, laughingly said, “I'm ready to go now.”

“Now now,” said Annie, “I'm not having you get too excited. Rest and quiet first, my lady, then to Rose Cottage. Now, John, take the children downstairs. It's time for the Doctor's medicine and rest.”

It didn't take long before Rebecca slowly dropped into sleep. The Doctor, the children and the excitement of Rose Cottage had taken their toll.

Annie stood beside the bed with tears in her eyes. Rebecca meant everything to her. She was, in her eyes, her daughter. She had looked after her from a baby, seeing her grow to a beautiful young girl, a young mother. Tears were running down her face. It was hard to believe the terrible secret she shared with John, his parents and the good doctor. A cold shudder seemed to engulf her whole body. She thought to herself, ‘This won't do.'

She quietly shut the bedroom door on leaving.

Chapter Two

ROSE COTTAGE

“Finished at last, Mary. Just in time too!”

Mary was busying herself preparing lunch for the family's arrival.

“What time is the coach due, Mary?”

“Ned, for the last time, twelve o'clock. Did you finish the cushions for the chair, Mary?”

“Yes. Now are you going to let me get on with the family's lunch?”

Mary thought to herself, ‘That rocking chair has kept him busy. I know how worried he's been these past few months.'

“There you are, Mary,” said Ned, placing the chair beside the open fire. “Where's the cushions?”

“Ned, for the last time, let me get on; otherwise I'll not be finished in time.”

“Come on, Mary - try the chair.”

Mary gently sat down in the rocking chair and closed her eyes, gently moving to and fro. It didn't take long before she fell into a deep sleep.

A memory of the past came to her: a man was standing in the doorway drenched to the skin, blood streaming down the side of his face; Rebecca was cradled in his arms.

“Thank God you've found her!”

Dare she ask?

“It's all right, Mary - she's all right.”

“Here, Mary, they've arrived.”

A moment or two passed before she realised she'd been dreaming. Mary soon found herself by the window, from where she could see Ned standing, waiting on the cottage pathway. Any moment now, the children would be running towards their grandfather, who was waiting with open arms to gather them up.

The coachman slowly opened the carriage door and adjusted the footrest. John alighted, turning first to assist Annie, then the children, safely from the coach.

Ned was soon at John's side. The two men embraced each other.

Something was wrong. Mary felt unable to move.

Ned was the first to enter the room. John and the children slowly followed. Ned advanced towards Mary and took her hand firmly in his.

“Sit down, my dear.”

Looking up, she could see tears rolling down his face.

He inhaled a deep breath. Tightening his hand on her hand, he whispered, “She's gone, Mary. She's gone.”

Chapter Three

AT THE GRAVESIDE

John could hardly believe that so much had happened in such a short time.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust . . .”

These words were the only sounds as his thoughts turned towards Rebecca. Tightening his grip on the children's hands, he realised things must go on. The children must come first now. Looking up, he could see Ned, Mary, Annie, Dr Haywood and the many friends who had played a part in Rebecca's life.

Holding Annie's arm, Dr Haywood said, “On such a beautiful day, so much sadness.”

As they made their way along the long, narrow pathway to the coach, Ned placed a firm hand on John's shoulder. “Come on, son - time is a great healer.”

Slowly they walked to the waiting coaches.

“Paul - where is Paul?”

“Way behind as usual, Mother. Don't worry - he'll catch up.”

Paul had stopped because there at the edge of the path, sitting up and looking straight at him was a small squirrel. A few moments passed, then in a flash the squirrel was gone, running between the headstones until it disappeared from sight.

‘I wish he'd stayed longer,' thought Paul.

Looking down, he could see patches of light dancing on the ground as a gentle breeze moved the leaves to and fro in the trees above. He could hear the birds high in the trees singing their spring song.

Now the last coach was ready to return to the cottage.

Paul could hear his father's voice: “Hurry - we are leaving.”

Looking up, he could see his father helping Clare into the carriage. He started to run. What happened next puzzled him for years to come. He was suddenly aware of two great hands lifting him to his feet.

“There you are, young man. You must be more careful.”

“Thank you, sir,” Paul replied, brushing the bits of grit from his sore knees.

“Here - take this.” The man handed him a small handkerchief.

“Thank you once again, sir.”

He turned to return the handkerchief only to find the stranger gone.

Chapter Four

BACK AT ROSE COTTAGE

In the small hall of the cottage, John removed his coat, then he helped Clare and Paul with their coats. How different that day might have been! There was so much sadness, and no Rebecca.

“You must get that knee bathed, Paul,” said John as he hung up the coats.

On entering the lounge, Mary said, “Is everything all right, Paul?” but, before he could answer, added, “What's he done to his knee?”

“A slight accident: running as usual, Mother.”

It was not long before Mary had prepared a bowl of warm water.

“Now sit you down there, young man. It's quite a deep cut. Now, how did this happen?”

“I stopped on the pathway, Grandma, watching a small squirrel - then Father called me and I began to run.”

“How many times have I told you about running?”

‘How strange!' he thought to himself. Then, thinking aloud, he added, “Where did he go?”

“Where did who go?” Mary said.

“The man with the scar.”

Mary stopped bathing his knee and turned quite pale. A silence filled the room.

Early next morning Mary and John were at breakfast.

“So that's agreed, Mother - the children are to stay with you for a week or so. It will be for the best, giving me the time to arrange their schooling and put my affairs in order.

“More rum, John?” - pouring it into his coffee.

“Thank you.”

“There - that will warm you on your journey back to London. It's a fine morning, but very frosty.”

“That reminds me, I must pop in and see Father. His last words to me last night were ‘I must see you before you go.'”

Slowly, but quietly, John walked down the stairs after seeing the children, who were still fast asleep. He was met at the bottom by Mary, holding his greatcoat.

“Now remember, Mother, Annie will help with the children. She is staying at the Coaching Inn until I return.”

Chapter Five

THE COACHING INN

He could hear the hammer blows on the anvil as he approached his father's forge, bringing back to him happy memories of days long gone.

“John, thank God you are here.”

“What's so important, Father, that you couldn't tell me last night?”

Gripping his hand, Ned led John away to the barn at the back of the forge and together they climbed the stairs to a room John remembered from his boyhood days. On entering, he could see the outline of a large man, who slowly turned round. John could not believe his eyes. It was not possible. The two brothers just stood there for a moment before they wrapped their arms around each other.

With tears rolling down his face, John said, “I must be dreaming.” His moment of great happiness turned to fear. “Father, what can we do?”

“I don't know, son, I don't know. I've not even told your mother he is here.”

“He must come back to London with me,” John replied, looking at his watch. “It's too dangerous for him to stay here.”

Chapter Six

BACK AT THE LONDON TOWN HOUSE

Pulling the large curtains together, John turned to his brother, who was sitting beside a roaring log fire.

“I still think I'm dreaming,” he said, handing his brother a large glass of brandy. “I can't believe you are here. I never thought I'd ever see you again.”

William finished his brandy, stood up and placed his glass on a table.

“No, neither did I, John.” After a long pause, he added, “I'd better start at the beginning. The last time I saw you I was in chains, boarding a ship to Australia - do you remember? - with my wrists bound and ankle chains scraping along the gangplank. I stopped for a moment, looking around, trying to find you in the crowd on the quayside, when suddenly a sharp pain cut across my back.

“‘Move along! Stop that!'

“But before I could move I was beaten once again.

“‘Stop that!' I said.

“Looking up, I could see Captain Howard standing by the ship's rails. There was a look of pity in his eyes as the prisoners boarded his ship.

“‘I'll take that. If there's any punishment to be given, it will be by me. You might live to regret your action, Captain. As His Majesty's Prison Officer, these vermin are my responsibility.'

“The Captain smiled, turned away, and threw the cudgel into the sea.”

William stopped pacing the floor, coming to rest by the fireside with his right arm leaning on the mantelpiece. He just stood there, gazing into the fire. John could see sorrow on his prematurely aged and bronzed face.

The long silence was eventually broken by William saying, “The judge said I was to be taken and hung by the neck until I was dead. Thank God for bribery! If the good doctor had not placed a bag of gold sovereigns in the judge's hand at my trial! On second thoughts, the judge said that as no body had been found I should be transported to the penal settlement in New South Wales, Australia.”

Twelve years had passed since those days - twelve long years, and not one day had passed without thinking of Rebecca.

“John, do you remember my last words to you - ‘Promise me you'll look after her'?”

“I kept my promise, William. She never did remember a thing of that dreadful time - never. Not once did she remember. I'm sorry to say, your name never once passed her lips.”

A long silence was broken by William saying, “It was knowing how happy she was with you, John, that kept me going through those terrible hard times. I knew of your wedding to Rebecca and the birth of your two children.”

A look of amazement spread across John's face. “How on earth could you know?”

Before John could say any more, William handed him a crumpled letter which he'd taken from his jacket pocket.

“Read this. This, I think, will answer your question.”

John noticed the address on the envelope: ‘Mr Bradley, c/o Penal Settlement, New South Wales (Letter collection point)'.

Dear William,

Receiving your letter was beyond my wildest dreams. I was living in hope that one day, one way or another, I'd have news of you. But alas! I'd given up, not hearing from you. After three years I was beginning to think you never received my note. To know you are alive and well fills my heart with joy. In answer to all your concerns: after care and attention by Mary and Annie, day and night, Rebecca made a full recovery from her terrible ordeal, and I'm pleased to say she is now married to your brother John. She has no memory of Thornhall Manor or Peter Nesbit. That part of her life now is a complete blank. Thank God. Your mother and father are enjoying good health.

At this point, John stopped reading the letter to glance at the signature at the bottom of the page.

“Your dearest friend, Dr Haywood. Why on earth didn't he tell us he'd corresponded with you?”

“If you had continued reading the letter, you would have seen that I beg him to stay silent. Time is a great healer, John, and I wanted time to lighten the sufferings of my loved ones.”

“I don't understand. Who's Mr Bradley?”

“I would not be here now, John, if it hadn't been for Mr Bradley. The note-

“What note?”

“Let me explain about the note.”