Abbeyford Inheritance (3 page)

“'Ere, ain't you no other dress but that 'un?”

Adelina grinned up at him. “ I'm afraid not. He'll just have to take me as I am.”

The tinker sniffed and rummaged in a box behind him. He pulled out a pale blue silk dress, high-waisted with puffed sleeves and a low neckline. “Will this fit you?” He pushed it at her.

She held it up before her, her eyes sparkling. It was crumpled and had a small tear at the hem, but it was a vast improvement on the garments she wore. “Yes – but I've no money.” She held it out to him. “ I'm sorry – I can't pay you.”

“G'arn,” he sniffed. “You'm been company on the road here from Liverpool. Tek it.”

“Are you sure?” Adelina said doubtfully, but still holding the garment, secretly longing to keep it, but the tinker looked scarcely any wealthier than herself!

He grinned toothlessly at her. “ Well, I ain't no use for it, an' folks round here won't buy it, it's a sight too fancy for country women.”

“Well – if you're sure – thanks a lot.”

The dry dust rose in little puffs as she walked along the meandering lane and Adelina was thankful to reach the shade of the wood. She was so hot and sticky and thirsty. She dropped down into the grass, leant against a tree and closed her eyes, but her mouth and throat were so dry. In the quiet of the wood she listened intently.

Amidst the birdsong and the rustling of scurrying little creatures through the undergrowth, Adelina could hear the sound of water. She licked her dry lips and swallowed, her throat sore. The sound seemed to come from her left so she rose and followed the narrow, winding path through the trees until the way fell steeply downwards. The noise of the waterfall was louder now. Eagerly, Adelina slipped and slithered down the path and gasped with sheer delight as she came upon the waterfall and the rocky pool.

Scrambling feverishly over the rocks, she cupped her hands beneath the sparkling water and drank and drank. Then she splashed it over her hot face. Thirst satisfied, she sat down upon a rock and watched the waterfall in fascination. It was cooler here, beside the water and beneath the shade of the overhanging trees, but she still felt hot and dirty. She spread out the dress the tinker had given her on a rock and eyed the deep, inviting pool longingly. Without really making a conscious decision, she peeled off her clothing and jumped into the water. She gave a little squeal of surprise and pleasure, the water was colder than she had expected, but lovely, deliciously cooling! She splashed and dived and shook her head like a playful puppy, enjoying the freedom, the freshness.

Riding through the wood on his way home, Francis Amberly, seventh Earl of Lynwood since the death of his father twenty-three years earlier, heard faintly Adelina's squeals of delight. Quietly, he swung down from his horse and leaving the trustworthy animal, he ran softly between the trees until he came out at the edge of the rock face overlooking the pool. For some moments, he watched the lovely naked water nymph splashing in the water. In a patch of sunlight filtering through the trees, she raised her wet face to the warmth, hair plastered darkly to her head, eyes closed, lips parted in sheer ecstasy.

Lynwood felt a strange constriction in his chest, the scene reeling before his eyes. He grasped hold of the branch of a tree to steady himself.

No! No – it wasn't possible!

He passed his hand across his eyes as if in disbelief. But when he looked again, she was still there. This girl – was real!

Caroline had come back!

No – no, he told himself firmly, half angry with himself for such whimsical thoughts. That was twenty years ago. This was a young girl – but so like Caroline it was hardly credible.

He watched as she climbed from the pool, her lovely body glistening, her long hair wet and shining. He watched as she dried herself with her shawl, and dressed. He saw her stand, half clothed in her chemise, holding the blue dress up, inspecting it critically. To Lynwood's eyes it was a poor rag of a gown, but the girl seemed pleased by what she saw, and a small smile curved her lips as she slipped the garment over her head and wriggled into it. Still he watched as she found a rock to sit on where the sun shone warmly through the trees, and began to rub her hair dry. Unable to move, he gazed in fascination, knowing even before it happened, that as the seemingly black, wet hair dried, it would become the lovely auburn colour of Caroline's hair!

The nymph stood up and, as if feeling his eyes upon her, she turned and slowly surveyed the edge of the rock face above her.

As soon as she saw him, her lips parted in a gasp and the colour slowly crept up her neck and suffused her face. Then embarrassment was replaced by indignation. Hands on hips, she demanded, “How long have you been standing there?”

Her voice was not Caroline's, though everything else about her, from her auburn hair, her green eyes, now sparkling angrily, to her lovely, curving body was Caroline. It was incredible! Not possible!

But the voice was different. Caroline's had been high-pitched, rather affected. This girl's was low and husky and her speech held the faint drawl of the Americas.

“Quite some time,” he said.

They stared at each other. Adelina – in spite of her discomfort – noticed that he was a handsome man, obviously a gentleman with a broad brow and a long, aquiline nose. He wore a short riding-jacket, with a high-collared shirt and a casually tied neckcloth, close-fitting breeches and black, knee-high riding-boots. His tall hat was set at a jaunty angle and as he stood looking down at her, a sardonic smile curving his lips, he idly slapped his riding-crop against his boot.

“Well, if you've quite finished?” she said drily, smoothing down the skirt of her recent acquisition, and picking up the bundle of her old clothes, “I'll be on my way.”

She climbed up the path and as she made to pass, close by, he reached out and his fingers closed about her arm.

Her green eyes flashed contempt into his blue, mocking gaze.

“Don't run away, my lovely water-nymph,” he smiled.

“How
dare
you?” she cried, knowing now that he had most certainly observed her bathing. Against her will, her blush deepened.

“Where are you going, anyway?”

She flung back her head and retorted, “To Abbeyford to meet my grandfather – the Earl of Royston,” she added grandly, hoping to impress him.

His grasp upon her arm tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh. He pulled her closer to him. Looking down into Caroline's eyes, Caroline's face – and yet it was not Caroline – he demanded harshly, “ Who
are
you?”

“Adelina – Adelina Cole.”

Although he was half expecting such an answer, the shock still showed in his face.

“Her daughter!” he muttered.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing!” he snapped and released his hold on her abruptly. He seemed about to turn away from her, but hesitated saying, “You'll find no welcome at Abbeyford Grange.”

Adelina waited, the questions tumbling about her mind, but something about this man's attitude silenced her – almost frightened her. He seemed to be battling with some inner conflict.

She watched him, her head on one side then said quietly, “You know him?”

“Yes. Yes, I do. And he'll not want to see you. You're too like your – mother!”

Adelina's eyes shone and she asked eagerly, “My mother? You knew my mother?”

Lynwood glanced at her and then looked quickly away. “ Oh, yes – I knew her.” There was bitterness in his tone.

The sight of Adelina – so like Caroline – had brought back a tumult of emotions Lord Lynwood had thought buried along with his boyhood. It was as if a ghost stood before him, the object of his boyhood affections, the subject of his adolescent dreams – the one who had, by her cruel deceit, destroyed his adoration, and his belief in women. And yet he could not turn away from this girl, so obviously alone and impoverished. She was Caroline's daughter – he should turn and flee! Grudgingly, half knowing as he did so that he was lost, he said, “Look – I'd better take you home with me, to Lynwood Hall, for the time being. Perhaps my mother will know what's best to do with you.”

“Lordy me, Francis, what on earth have you picked up here? A scarecrow?” Then Lady Lynwood peered more closely at the girl her son had brought into her luxurious sitting-room. The same surprise Adelina had seen in Lynwood's eyes was mirrored in his mother's, but this time there was no pain accompanying it. “ I don't need to ask who
you
are!”

The old lady's eyes appraised her from head to foot. Adelina held her head defiantly high and met Lady Lynwood's gaze boldly. She seemed, to Adelina, to be incredibly old – a tiny figure dressed entirely in black with a wide, voluminous skirt, a jet necklace and ear-rings. Her hair was completely white and her olive skin very wrinkled, but her eyes were bright and alert and now twinkled with sudden mischief as she looked at her son. “I dare say she'd be quite presentable properly dressed. Has he seen her?”

Lynwood shook his head.

“My word – he's in for a shock! What's your name?”

“Adelina Cole.”

The old lady nodded slowly and murmured, “Named after her mother – Adeline.”

“I beg your pardon?” Adelina was becoming tired of being the subject of their musings which she could not understand. Impatiently, she said, “I've come from America to find my grandfather. My parents are dead and …”

The old lady gasped and Lord Lynwood twisted round to face Adelina. “What?” they both cried together.

Adelina looked from one shocked face to the other.

“Er – m-my parents are – dead,” she repeated.

Lynwood gave a groan and sank down into a chair. His face turned a deathly white. As for Lady Lynwood, she seemed to accept Adelina's news more calmly, but there was a sadness in her eyes that had not been there a few moments ago.

“You'd better ride to Abbeyford Grange and see Lord Royston, Francis,” Lady Lynwood murmured, her gaze still upon Adelina. “Tell him – tell him what has happened and …” She paused and directed her question at Adelina. “When – and how – did your mother die?”

“About ten years ago,” was Adelina's husky reply. “In childbirth. The baby died too.”

“And your father?” There was gentleness in Lady Lynwood's tone.

“Just before I came to England.” Adelina lowered her head, not wanting to tell them the sordid details of her recent life, of her father's death. Thinking her reluctance to say more stemmed from the newness of her grief, Lady Lynwood probed no further.

“Go to Abbeyford, Francis, and see him,” she told her son.

“I'm sorry,” Lord Lynwood told Adelina on his return from Abbeyford. “ But – Lord Royston cannot bring himself to see you.” Pain flickered briefly in Lynwood's own eyes, as if he understood her grandfather's feelings only too well.

Adelina said, “May I ask why not?”

Lynwood's shoulders lifted fractionally. “He has not forgiven your mother, I suppose.”

“Forgiven her? What for?”

He looked at her then, fully. “Don't you know what happened here twenty years ago?”

Adelina almost laughed, but the hurt in his eyes stopped her. “ I didn't even know of Lord Royston's existence until a few months ago. I found this locket.”

She opened the locket at her throat and Lynwood bent forward. The miniatures were faded but still recognisable. He straightened up.

“Lord Royston gave that to his daughter – your mother. He held a grand ball at Abbeyford Grange in honour of Guy Trent's marriage, but, in the midst of it, she slipped away and eloped with the bailiff on the estate – one Thomas Cole!” The bitterness was back in his tone. “ I presume he was your father, since you bear the same name.”

Adelina nodded.

“Afterwards – Lord Royston became a recluse. He never forgave them. Nor does he want to see you now!”

“I see.” Sadly, Adelina turned away.

“But he's not a vindictive man. He realises that what happened is no fault of yours,” Lynwood was saying, whilst Adelina waited, her back still towards him, her head lowered. “ He has asked me to see Martha Langley – Caroline's cousin – to see if she will take you in. Her husband is the Reverend Hugh Langley, Vicar of Abbeyford. They live at Abbeyford Vicarage.”

Adelina twisted round, her green eyes flashing. “I don't want charity!” she snapped. “I can take care of myself. I've done it for the past few years …” The words were out before she could prevent them.

Lynwood's eyebrows lifted fractionally, but he did not question her. One glance at her clothing told him that life could not have been one of ease and comfort for her.

“Give Lord Royston time. My news was a shock. He may – I'm not saying he will – but if he knows you're close at hand still, he may relent.” Lynwood smiled. “His curiosity to see his only grandchild may work in your favour, Miss Cole.”

“Very well, but only for a short time. I'll not stay where I'm not wanted,” she told him determinedly.

“I don't see why we must take her in,” Martha Langley muttered as her own daughter, Emily, ushered their unexpected guest from the room and took her upstairs.

“Oh, come now, Martha my dear,” Hugh said. “It was a shock for you, I know, seeing her and so like your poor, dear cousin.”

“‘ Poor, dear cousin', my foot!” countered Martha. “ I'll not deny her daughter's sudden arrival out of the blue has caused me considerable unease. But not,” she added vehemently, “ in the way you mean.”

Leaning towards her husband, she said, “You realise what this means, don't you?”

Agitated, Hugh Langley clasped and unclasped his womanish hands. “ I – I don't understand you, Martha.”

“She's a threat to Emily's inheritance.
That's
what I mean!”