Lydia Trent (14 page)

“
Applying
to the rector of that church (and that was no easy task, for he had
the cure of three other parishes besides, and whichever one I was in
he was bound to be in another) for information about those missing
pages, he seemed somewhat discomfited, but told me that the old
churchwarden, one Matthew Thwaite, had kept copies. However, he did
not know where the old man was.

“
Asking
round the village I finally found someone who believed that, finding
himself of increasing infirmity, old Matt had gone, some years ago,
to live with his son, in another village twenty miles distant.
Arriving at that village, what should I find but Matt Thwaite in the
churchyard, and his son emigrated to America.

“
I
believe I talked with every fool in that village before I finally
found one who had an inkling of what the younger Mr Thwaite's address
may be, and then of course I had a long, uncertain wait while a
letter found him.

“
Find
him it did, and in reply to my query as to what had happened to the
old man's papers, particularly the copies of the parish registers –
for I had represented myself as the curate of Thwaite's old parish,
and acknowledged that the original registers had been damaged – he
politely begged to inform me that they had been sold to a
paper-merchant in Leeds. The young gentleman, requiring money for his
passage, had sold everything of his father's that had the least
monetary value.

“
To
Leeds, then, I turned my steps, and let me tell you, a manufacturing
town in late August and early September is no joke! Having located
the paper-merchant, I immediately took lodgings nearby, and set about
trying to find out if the registers were in his posession. I had a
suspicion, as Yorkshire folk are said to drive a hard bargain, that
if I had revealed my purpose and motive, I may have found the leaves
of those dirty old books to be worth more than the paper issued by
the old lady in Threadneedle Street. I therefore set myself to watch
the man, and find out his habits.

“
I
soon found out that he was a gentleman of a sporting persuasion –
in other words, he could never resist a wager. Within a week I had
struck up a friendship with him in the local public-house, and by
studying the sporting papers by day, was able to improve the
acquaintance rapidly, by discussing such improving topics as which
horse might win the 3.30 at Doncaster, or the prospects of the latest
pet of the ring.

“
It
was not long before he invited me to enjoy a sociable evening,
involving the consumption of an indifferently boiled leg of mutton
and a great quantity of brandy-and-water, at his home – or should I
say his warehouse, for he seemed to live amongst his stock, the great
drifts of paper having encroached so as to almost swamp the humble
lodging attached to his shop. Having finally exhausted the subject of
the relative merits of the runners at Doncaster the next day, we
finally fell to amusing ourselves by making friendly wagers between
ourselves.

“
This
gentleman took great pride in his memory, at least so far as his
stock was concerned, and I declared I would put it to the test. I
began to make wagers that he could not lay his hand upon certain
types of paper article within a given time. Having lost five pounds
by his being able to produce, within five minutes, a love-letter, a
playbill, and a newspaper dated precisely three years ago, I proposed
double-or-quits upon him being able to show me a parish register.

“
'Then
tha 'ad better get thy ten pounds out, ready, for I can show you
three on' them articles, and much sooner than five minutes – try
five seconds!' and so saying, he pulled out the very books I had been
in search of – from underneath the chair on which I was sitting! I
had been so close to my goal and had not known it.

“
'Here
is your ten pounds, friend' says I, 'I had better not make any more
wagers of
that
kind. Perhaps you might give me one of the
articles as a reminder not to challenge you to such a contest again –
a sort of souvenir of a most entertaining and agreeable evening.'

“
'Take
aught tha wish,' says he, rather the worse for the brandy by now, and
in the hail-fellow-well-met phase. 'Though what tha 'ould want wi
such as that I know not.'

“
'Then
I shall take one of these volumes, if I may – it will look well on
my bookshelf, and serve me a daily reminder never to tangle with an
expert.' and with the air of a man choosing at random, I secured the
volume covering the dates in which I was interested.

“
How
feverishly I did examine that mouldering old book the instant I got
back to my lodging! And how certain names did jump out at me when I
read the pages that had been missing from the original! Here are
those names, and the events in their lives which were recorded in
that parish church.”

And
the detective laid a slip of paper before them, on which he had
copied the relevant entries.

The
first, dated some thirty years previously, recorded the marriage of
Malcolm Wade, bachelor, to Adeline Cottrell, spinster of this parish.
It was some time, it seemed, before this union was blessed with
fruit, for the announcement of the baptism of Catherine Anne Wade
came four years later. It was full another six years before her
younger sister, Adeline Elizabeth Wade, was baptised, but then just a
few short days before the burial of the unfortunate mother, Adeline
Wade nee Cottrell.

The
widower proved not inconsolable, however, and within a year of his
first wife's death came the register of his marriage to Evelyn Mary
Spence.

To
Adeline, this was joyful confirmation that she had an older sister,
but it was Lydia who, in a moment, grasped the full significance of
what was there written.

“
Don't
you see?” she gasped, “Evelyn is
not Adeline's mother!
”

The
walk back to the house was silent, all being busy with their
thoughts. The detective's discovery had stunned them all. Adeline,
indeed, could not even think, let alone speak. Lydia's first thoughts
were for her sister, while Alfred was guiltily conscious that though
he was tenderly concerned for Adeline, uppermost in his mind was
anxiety for Lydia. He struggled to repress this thought, and to place
concern for his fiancee above thoughts of how the news would affect
the woman he loved.

Having
been gone about two hours, they arrived home to find the house in an
uproar. Maisy met them at the door.

"Oh,
Miss Lydia, Miss Adeline!" wailed the distracted girl, "Thank
goodness you are here! The mistress has taken on so - such screaming
and hollering and ranting as turns my blood cold! She has been
screaming as how everyone is against her, and was scheming and
plotting to get rid of her, and now..." Maisy's face was a
picture of frantic misery, "now she's locked Bessie up with her,
and says as she's the chief plotter, and must be watched."

Though
the girls could not entirely understand this garbled account, they
grasped the main point, and ran upstairs to Mrs Trent's rooms.

"Who
is there?" screeched a wild voice. "More spies and
traitors, I'll be bound. Be off, I want none of you." and the
door was shaken as some heavy object was flung against it.

"Mamma!
It is I, it is Adeline!" called the younger girl, though her
blood ran cold at that moment. "Is Bessie there? I need to speak
to her about something."

"Oh
miss, miss!" came a second voice. "She has got me tied up
to a chair, and is so wild-like! I'm frighten...mmmf" and the
voice was suddenly muffled.

"Alfred,
quick, run for the doctor." called Lydia, "And bring James
or Mr Scott, if you can find them (both manservant and butler being
absent that morning, having business in the village) - or if not,
some other man you can trust. Go, quickly, for a life may depend on
it!"

Alfred
did not waste an instant. Without even stopping to snatch up his hat,
he was off as fast as his legs would carry him.

"Mamma,"
said Adeline softly, "Won't you let me in? It is almost dinner
time, you know. Shall I come and help you dress? Or perhaps you are
not well - shall I fetch you some tea, and a little buttered toast?"

There
was another crash as some glass object splintered against the back of
the door.

"Get
away!" came a great wild screech. "Viper! Traitress! None
shall enter this room! None shall leave this room!"

There
was a muffled scream from the terrified housemaid, and Adeline was
beyond measure alarmed.

"Oh
Lyddy!" she sobbed, "What shall we do? Poor Mamma, poor
Bessie! How can we get in? How can we stop some terrible act of
violence being committed?!"

Lydia
made no reply - she was walking quite composedly into her own room!

"Lyddy!
Where are you going?" wailed Adeline, not divining her purpose.
"Oh, do not desert us!"

Lydia
reappeared, carrying with some effort a heavy old-fashioned
wash-stand from her room. This she dashed with all her strength
aginst the locked door - once, twice, three times. At the third blow,
the washstand came to pieces in her hands, but her object was
achieved - the lock of the door was splintering. With almost
superhuman strength, Lydia flung herself at the door, which suddenly
gave way with a crash and pitched Lydia over a pile of broken glass
and splintered furniture onto the floor of her stepmother's sitting
room.

With
a scream of rage, Evelyn snatched up a paper-knife from the table,
and advanced on Lydia, who, somewhat stunned from her fall, was
picking herself up from the floor.

"Lydia!
Look out!" cried Adeline from the doorway.

With
a sudden spring, Evelyn pounced on her stepdaughter, but the girl had
moved quick as a flash, and Evelyn stumbled as her knife met no
resistance. Lydia saw her advantage, and stepped forward, pinning
Evelyn's arms to her sides.

The
crazed woman fought with all her strength, and as they grappled it
became apparent that Lydia was doomed to lose the contest. She
struggled valiantly, the minutes seeming like hours, and at one point
it seemed she had the advantage, but with a sudden, spasmodic jerk
Evelyn slipped from her grasp, flinging the heroic girl to the floor
and raising the knife. Lydia rolled, managing to slide partly out of
the way as the knife descended once, then was raised again. Helpless,
she shut her eyes and waited for death, knowing all was over, but the
second blow never came, and Lydia opened her eyes to see Alfred and
the Captain, pinning the struggling madwoman between them. Quickly,
she snatched up a pair of stockings from the litter on the floor, and
as the men pulled Evelyn's hands behind her, she bound them tightly.

"Curse
you all, meddlers! Spies!" screamed the frantic Evelyn. "Enemies
wherever I look!" and she sank to her knees with a cry of
despair.

The
cry was echoed by Adeline, who suddenly saw the sleeve of Lydia's
gown, stained and dabbled with crimson.

"Oh,
my poor Lydia, she is hurt, she is bleeding!" moaned Adeline,
and, turning white, promptly fainted.

Alfred
rushed to Lydia's aid, the Captain to Adeline's, while Maisy, her
mouth a round o of surprise and horror all this time, had crept in
and liberated the unfortunate Bessie, who was found to be unhurt,
though very much frightened. A minute later the doctor arrived, and
within a very short time had sedated the raving Evelyn, who now lay
in a heavy stupor upon her bed, and bandaged Lydia's arm.
Fortunately, the cut, though a deep one, was only a flesh-wound.
Adeline he promptly sent to bed, with Maisy to look after her, while
poor Bessie he prescribed copious sweet tea and a seat by the kitchen
fire.

The
Captain, having seen all the ladies safe, departed, feeling that at
such a time the family would wish to be left to themselves. Alfred,
having been upstairs and exchanged a few words with Adeline, now
descended to the morning-room, where Lydia sat, staring into the
fire. She had not yet rung for candles, though the evening was
growing dark. She did not look up as Alfred entered.

“
How
is your arm, Lydia?” the gentleman enquired in a brisk tone, then,
giving her no time to respond to that question, his voice softened
and changed, and the words fell in a rush as if they were being
forced from him.

“
Oh,
Lydia, how I honour you for your bravery this evening! How I admire
you – how I...” and his voice faltered, but still he must speak,
“How I love you. You must know it. I have struggled in vain, I
thought I had conquered this passion, I had almost resigned myself to
living comfortably, if not happily, with the woman to which my honour
is pledged, but today, coming so close to losing you altogether...