Abbeyford Inheritance (10 page)

His rage was spent, worked out upon Evan. As he looked down at her swollen, bruised face, at her torn clothes and drenched hair, all that was left was an infinite sadness, a desperate longing for what might have been and now could never be!

He bent down and touched her arm. “ Come – I'll take you home,” he said flatly.

“No, no!” She shrank against the stones. “ I can't – go back – there,” she whispered, hoarsely, brokenly.

“No – I know. I'll take you to Lynwood Hall.”

There was nothing else either of them
could
do. Lynwood could not desert her now, for his own remorse told him he could have prevented this tragic occurrence if it had not been for his own blind, jealous stupidity in allowing bitter memories from the past to overshadow the present and this innocent girl.

How she had been made to suffer for things past which were none of her doing! Her grandfather would not even see her, would not even acknowledge her existence because of the hurt her mother had inflicted upon him. Her relative – Martha Langley – could show her no kindness because Adelina represented a threat to the fortune so nearly within Martha's grasp. And Lynwood himself – the bitterness of a boy forced to face reality and disillusionment had grown like a cancer to warp the mind and twist the heart of the grown man.

He could not desert her, but daily he still fought the battle to obliterate the images of Caroline and see only Adelina. Still she was to continue to suffer because of this conflict within him.

“I'll take you away,” he told her. “ To London. Perhaps there we can both forget what has happened.” But, sadly, they both knew it could not be so. Abbeyford and all that had happened would for ever be a dark shadow between them.

Dazedly, her spirit crushed, Adelina allowed Lord Lynwood to organise her life. He persuaded his mother to accompany them to London as chaperon for Adelina, and their journey, which took two days, was uneventful and uninteresting, for a steady drizzle fell the whole time.

At last, travelling through the heart of fashionable London, St James's Street, Piccadilly, they passed numerous elegant carriages, the dandies fastidiously dressed in their close-fitting trousers and high starched collars, strolling up and down.

“They're on their way to one club or another to play cards at the green baize tables – whist, faro, hazard – far into the night,” Lord Lynwood leaned forward, trying to rouse Adelina's interest. “Fortunes can be won or lost in a single night.” But her eyes were dull and unseeing as she stared out of the carriage.

Their vehicle turned into a residential square in Mayfair and drew to a halt in front of a white terraced house. There were small cast-iron balconies outside each long window at first-floor level, and railing along the front bordering the pavement.

Lord Lynwood helped his mother from the carriage and then he led Adelina up the steps to the round-arched doorway. Inside, the comparative plainness of the exterior of the house gave way to opulence and luxury. The carpeted staircase, with white cast-iron balusters, arose from the centre of the hall and then divided into two separate flights from the first floor to the other floors.

Lord Lynwood led Adelina into the spacious drawing-room with its high arched ceiling. The decorations were in white but this austerity was offset by the vividly coloured carpet and rich, wine-coloured velvet drapes at the huge bay window. Brightly patterned silk covered the gilt sofas and chairs, and elegant spindly-legged tables and sideboards were set here and there. In one corner there was a harp, and a Chinese screen stood behind one of the sofas. Above her head hung two crystal chandeliers.

Lady Lynwood took complete charge and soon her household staff had made ready a room for her guest. It said much for her generous spirit that Lady Lynwood had demanded no explanations for the sudden arrival of Adelina – dishevelled, weeping and homeless – upon her doorstep.

Adelina was taken upstairs to a sumptuous bedroom. All the furnishings were in the Chinese style, from the carpet and wallpaper to the small table and chairs which were bamboo. Even the bed coverlet was richly patterned with oriental motifs. The whole effect was unusual and delicate. Hardly noticing her surroundings, Adelina fell into bed and closed her eyes, completely exhausted and wishing she might never wake up!

For three days Adelina kept to her room, listlessly picking at the dainty trays of food set before her, or idly lying in bed just staring at the ceiling. She neither washed her face nor brushed her hair, nor even looked into the mirror.

On the fourth day, Lady Lynwood entered the bedroom, her stick tapping determinedly on the floor. She stood at the end of the bed and regarded Adelina for several moments.

“Well, you do look a poor creature,” she said briskly, not allowing even a hint of the sympathy she felt for the girl to show in her tone. “ I don't know what happened in Abbeyford – and I don't want to,” she added swiftly. “ But, whatever it was, it doesn't warrant you moping your young life away. Now, come along, my girl. Out of that bed!”

Adelina made no move.

Smartly Lady Lynwood rapped her stick upon the end of the bed. The sudden and unexpected noise made Adelina jump and she sat up, her green eyes flashing, her auburn hair tumbling in a tousled mass about her shoulders.

“Ah – that's better,” the old lady laughed her cackling laugh. “Some response at last!”

“Go away!” Adelina muttered. “Just leave me alone.”

“Don't give me orders in my own house, my girl,” Lady Lynwood snapped, and inwardly congratulated herself to see a spark of anger flash again in Adelina's green eyes.

“Come along, get up. I'm taking you shopping.” Lady Lynwood eyed the torn, stained riding-habit, the only garment Adelina now possessed. “ You have need of some new gowns, I believe,” she added wryly, and turned to leave, her cackling laughter ringing in Adelina's ears.

Within three weeks Lord Lynwood had established the unresisting Adelina in an apartment of her own – only a short distance from his own London home – and had provided her with a staff to run it, including her own personal maid. With Lady Lynwood's help, Adelina now possessed a wardrobe of fashionable gowns and accessories.

Slowly, life began to flood back into Adelina's frozen veins and the nightmare of Abbeyford receded a little – but never, ever, could it be obliterated.

A few weeks passed before Adelina began to regain her vitality and her beauty, for so deep were the emotional scars inflicted upon her. During this time Lynwood was kind and solicitous, taking her to small, select supper-parties where she did not have to meet too many people at once. But as winter gave way to spring and spring to early summer and the London Season began, Adelina was fully recovered.

Her new life in London began to intrigue and excite her.

“Well, Adelina my love,” Lynwood smiled. “ I think it is time I introduced you to the high life of Society. I shall take you to visit the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens.”

Her excitement mounted as she dressed. From among her new gowns Adelina chose one of emerald green silk, its neckline daringly low. Diamonds clustered about her snowy throat and shone in her hair, dimmed only by the sparkle in her shining eyes. Jane, her maid, dressed Adelina's hair high upon her head with a profusion of curls framing her face.

It was masquerade night and the gardens were illuminated with hundreds of lamps. Adelina, on Lord Lynwood's arm, strolled down the long avenues lined with trees. To her eyes, all of Society seemed to be here this night. Laughter rang through the still, early summer evening air. Adelina took a deep breath, savouring the scent of the trees, marvelling at the sweet air.

“It scarcely seems credible,” she remarked to the Earl, “ that we are in the heart of the city of London.”

Lord Lynwood's eyes were upon her, admiring her beauty, trying desperately to blot out the memory of that other face so like Adelina's. She did not seem to notice, for she was still eagerly drinking in the scene around her, her lips slightly apart, her lovely face vibrantly alive. Almost against his will Lord Lynwood felt his pulses quicken and he put his hand over hers where it rested, lightly, on his arm.

At his touch she looked up at him. “ Oh, my lord, this is so wonderful. I've never – ever – seen anything like this?” she murmured, entranced. Her hand tightened on his arm in a gesture of gratitude. “Thank you for bringing me, for making it all possible. I …” She stopped in mid-sentence and put her head slightly on one side, listening intently. “ Is that music I hear?”

“Most probably.”

“Oh, do let's find it.”

Smiling indulgently at her sudden childlike enthusiasm, Lord Lynwood led the way to the orchestra pavilion. He found that Adelina's lack of sophistication, such a contrast to her mother, helped to erase some of the memories.

They found quite a crowd mingling around the pavilion, listening to the musicians or merely engaging in conversation in select little groups.

“I say, Lynwood!” a voice greeted him out of the shadows. Adelina turned to see an elegantly dressed young man approaching.

“Eversleigh!” Lord Lynwood greeted him with genuine delight. He turned to Adelina. “This is my good friend, Lord Peter Eversleigh.” Lynwood laid his hand upon the shoulder of the young man as he made the introductions. Lord Eversleigh bowed over Adelina's hand.

“The pleasure is all mine, ma'am.”

He was very tall, lanky rather, for he was a little too thin for his height so that he appeared to stoop slightly. He was dressed fashionably. His hair was black and curled crisply. His skin was dark and his eyes a deep azure blue. His tailed coat and trousers were of the finest material and the silk waistcoat was cut low to show a frilled shirt. He was aristocratic and elegant.

“Look, will you join me for supper?” He turned towards Lynwood.

“Well …” Lynwood hesitated.

“Oh, come on, Lynwood. Don't keep this lovely lady all to yourself.”

For an instant a shadow crossed Lynwood's face, but resolutely he smiled and allowed his friend to lead them to one of the small supper-boxes arranged amongst the trees. Gallantly, Lord Eversleigh helped Adelina to seat herself comfortably.

“Now don't run away, Miss Cole, I beg you,” and so saying he hurried away again and was soon lost amongst the throng.

“Where has he gone?”

Lynwood sat down beside her. “To find refreshment for us, I suspect.”

They sat in companionable silence, watching the young dandies strolling by with languid elegance and the young ladies flirting outrageously.

Lord Eversleigh returned with a manservant carrying a tray of glasses of punch and dishes of sillabub laced with wine.

“Oh, this is heavenly,” Adelina enthused as she tasted the sweet concoction.

“Indeed it is, ma'am,” Lord Eversleigh concurred, his eyes upon her face with open admiration, as if he would agree with anything and everything she said.

“Careful, my friend,” Lynwood murmured. “ You're in danger of poaching upon my preserves.”

Lord Eversleigh laughed good-naturedly.

“Oh,
there
you are, my lord!”

Adelina looked up sharply to see who had spoken. Standing close by their table was a young woman, pretty but in an overdressed, vulgar way. Her gown was revealingly low and so tight that her ample bosoms were pushed unnaturally high. Her face was heavily powdered and rouged, and her throat, arms and hair seemed covered with cheap jewellery.

“Ah, yes – Harriet. Here I am.” Lord Eversleigh rose to his feet – reluctantly, Adelina thought – and invited the girl to sit down.

“I ran into my old friend Lynwood here.”

“And decided to desert me in favour of them?” the girl snapped, her eyes smouldering. Adelina sipped her glass of punch and regarded the girl with amusement.

Colour crept slowly up Eversleigh's neck and he shuffled his feet in embarrassment. “ No – no. Of course not. I was but spending a few moments with my friends and then I was coming back to you. I thought you were happily enjoying the music.”

“I was,” the girl countered swiftly, “until I found you were no longer at my side.”

There was an awkward silence in which Harriet transferred her resentful gaze from Lord Eversleigh to Adelina. The two girls eyed each other speculatively.

“Well,” Harriet said petulantly, “aren't you going to make the introductions?”

A small sigh escaped Lord Eversleigh's lips, and he said swiftly and without courtesy.

“Miss Cole – this is Harriet. Miss Adelina Cole, from America.”

“America? Heavens!” The girl had the grace to look impressed. “I thought I hadn't seen you before and I know everyone there is to know,” she added smugly.

“I guess you do,” Adelina drawled, her left eyebrow raised fractionally, her eyes never leaving Harriet's face. She recognised her at once for what she was. There had been plenty of girls like Harriet in the waterfront taverns, but despite their desperate straits, Adelina had refused to become one of them.

Obviously, Harriet was Lord Eversleigh's mistress.

Adelina was motionless, the colour suddenly creeping up her neck and over her face. She swallowed and laced her fingers together tightly in an effort to still their shaking.

That is what everyone here would think of her! That she, Adelina Cole, was Lord Lynwood's mistress. The realisation hit her with such force, left her feeling as if she stood – helpless – at the edge of a precipice, unable to take the step back to safety.

Unaware of her anguish, Lynwood watched the crowd passing back and forth before them, lost in his own brooding thoughts.

The following evening they were to attend a grand ball and Adelina dressed with supreme care. She chose an evening gown of pale blue crape over a slip of white satin. The neckline was cut square and very low. The hemline was heavily decorated with crape bows and frills.