Lydia Trent (6 page)

The
servants, in mourning, now advanced amongst the crowd with trays of
ale and cold meats, and the girls left the throng there assembled to
toast the virtues of the dear deceased and drink the health of the
survivors. They retired to the parlour, where the more genteel
mourners were being regaled with sherry, port, and ham.

Being
disengaged for a moment, Mrs Trent pulled the butler to one side.

“
What
wine is this?” she sharply enquired, indicating that functionary's
tray of glasses.

“
Why,
Ma'am,” stammered the butler in some confusion, “There were
almost a full bottle left in the decanter, and such a fine old port,
that it seemed a shame to waste it, being as you ladies don't drink
it...” and he trailed off under the force of the lady's glare. She
opened her mouth briefly as if to say something, then, as if deciding
against it, she pressed her lips tightly together.

“
Very
well.” she snapped, adding to herself, 'They cannot drink more than
a glass or two apiece – it can't do much harm.'

After
these polite ceremonials, those mourners who lived locally made their
departure, leaving the principal persons concerned – Mrs Trent,
Adeline, Lydia, John Trent, and Mr Elkwood, Mr Trent's solicitor, to
assemble in the pleasant book-lined room that had been Mr Trent's
study.

The
will was a simple one, Mr Elkwood explained, and had been drawn up at
the time of Mr Trent's second marriage. No later will was believed to
have been made.

There
were some sundry small bequests to the servants, and to old friends
for the purchase of mourning rings, amounting to some few hundreds
altogether. Lydia had inherited from her mother the sum of
two-and-a-half thousand pounds, and William had settled a like amount
on Adeline, 'for I do not wish any difference to be made between my
two daughters'. Adeline could barely repress a sob as this sentiment
was read out in the laywer's calm, quiet voice. These fortunes were
left in the trust of his brother, John Trent, who was also appointed
guardian to the two girls, should they not be of age.

The
remainder of William Trent's fortune, amounting to some
forty-thousand pounds, as well as the lease on the house - a long
lease, for it still had some seventy years left to run - was left
absolutely to his wife, to use as she saw fit. This was a matter of
some surprise to Mr John Trent, who was quietly perturbed, not having
the same faith in that lady, as his brother evidently did, that she
would consider his children in the slightest. He kept his thoughts to
himself on this occasion, however, only noting with disgust the look
of evident satisfaction that lady barely troubled herself to hide.

Mr
Elkwood went back to London by that evening's train, but Mr John
Trent remained some few days longer, in hopes he could be of service
to the young ladies. In truth, the old bachelor felt an unexpected
happiness in the company of his two nieces, finding that their
father's best bequest to them was an uncommon amount of sense and
goodness, which he was not used to find in the generality of young
ladies, those representatives of the species which he had encountered
in fashionable life being set down by him as invariably silly,
shallow and selfish. Not so his nieces.

Lydia,
in particular, was capable forming sound opinions and conversing
sensibly and intelligently on any number of topics. Under her good
father's guidance she had read deeply as well as widely, and formed
enquiring habits of thought that made her as interesting a companion
as the best-educated young gentleman. She could not be accused of
being a bluestocking, however. She had not neglected the softer arts
in the pursuit of dry knowledge, nor lost her femininity through
contact with the harder truths of life.

Adeline,
though less lively and less thoughtful, was the sweetest and gentlest
of girls. Though mourning deeply herself, she did not forget that
those around her had also suffered loss, and her sympathetic smile as
she drew up a chair for him, supplied him with tea and the choicest
dainties from the tea-table, and sat down to play her softest and
sweetest old songs, was like some little taste of heaven in this
weary world.

So
it was with heavy heart that the venerable stockbroker betook him
self to his elegant but lonely townhouse at the heart of the great
metropolis, wishing he had such daughters to cheer the solitude of
that bachelor hearth.

The
days that followed their uncle's departure were uneventful. Winter
snows had set in, making outdoor exercise impossible, and of course
they accepted no invitations, though Evelyn sometimes went out to the
quieter sort of tea party, always providing, of course, that there
were no such frivolities as dancing or cards involved. The widow kept
to her own chambers, except for at mealtimes, and so the girls were
left to cheer each other as best they might, occupying the short dark
days with reading and needlework, answering the letters of condolence
which came from far afield, and teaching young Maisy to read and
write, as the income of the poor girl's extensive family had not
stretched sufficiently to send any of the numerous brood to school.
They looked forward each morning to the near-daily visits of Alfred,
who always brought some offering of books or fruit or village gossip,
and formed the one bright spot in their day.

There
was one small, odd occurrence toward the end of that dreary month,
which puzzled Lydia exceedingly. It was the custom of the house for
the butler to collect the post-bag, and distribute the family's
letters at breakfast. This morning there were several for Evelyn,
who, running her eye quickly over the directions, and believing them
to be all letters of condolence from her husband's many friends,
commenced opening them and carelessly glancing over the contents.

One
of them caused her to start, however, and then her hard mouth curved
in a grim and triumphant smile. The letter was an unusual one,
comprising in it's entirety but a single short sentence of three
words, without date, direction, or signature. It merely read:

'It
is done.'

Unnoticed
by Mrs Trent at first, a small slip of newspaper had fluttered out of
the envelope, and landed before Lydia's plate. Now the widow espied
this fragment of paper, and held her hand out toward her stepdaughter
peremptorily.

“
I
believe that is mine. Give it to me, if you please.”

Lydia
readily complied, but the item was so short that it had taken her but
a moment's glance to master the contents. It treated briefly of an
unfortunate accident in a London street, where a nameless gentleman,
'of address and origin unknown', had apparently fallen from the
window of an hotel, of which establishment it was averred he was not
a guest, and had been taken up lifeless.

Why
this should be of any interest to her stepmother she could form no
conjecture, and she satisfied herself that there must have been an
advertisement or story on the other side of the paper, which was the
true object of interest.

Though
Alfred and Adeline had understood one another a full month, as yet no
positive word of love had passed between them. They had been thus far
content to speak in looks rather than words, and to read the sweet
story in one another's eyes, not in
billets-doux
. Adeline felt
that hers was too great a love to be spoken in words, and Alfred was
all too conscious of how recently his beloved had been bereaved.
There could not decently be any talk of love and marriage just yet.

The
subject of the girl's future however, was painfully obtruded on them
one morning, when Evelyn enquired blandly of Lydia what that young
lady's intentions were.

“
Mamma,
I do not quite understand you.”

“
My
dear Miss Trent, I do feel that, as that sad event at Christmas has
in some way dissolved all relationship between us, you may now
dispense with the useless form of calling me 'Mamma'. It was only
done to please your father, you know. 'Mrs Trent' will be sufficient,
I think.”

Lydia
was too shocked by this to reply.

“
As
to my remark, I merely wished to ascertain your intention in regards
to remaining in this house. My daughter will, of course, remain with
me, certainly until she is of age.”

“
But
Mamma!” interjected Adeline, “of course Lydia will remain here,
this is her home, her father's house!”

“
Which
is now
my
house.” said Evelyn flatly. “Of course it does
not suit me to have Adeline thrown entirely on my hands, at this
time, so if you wish to remain as her companion, you will be most
useful to me. Of course I can not offer you any salary, but as you
have your own fortune that would be unnecessary in any case.”

Lydia
made no reply. Her surprise and dismay were too great to allow the
formation of any coherent answer. To be offered a place as hired
companion, to be given a place on sufferance, in the home that was
hers by all natural right and custom! Adeline, too, looked on with
eyes round with dismay. Silence prevailed for some minutes, during
which time Mrs Trent, unperturbed, finished her cup of coffee, and
the last genteel fragments of thin, crust-less, buttered toast.

“
I
beg you will think on it, and let me know at your earliest
convenience.” she said smoothly, and passed out of the room.

Great
was the consternation that remained in her wake, and the girls were
still talking the matter over, without reaching any useful
conclusion, when Alfred entered, shaking the last few flakes of
February snow from his hat, which he placed on the mantelpiece to
dry.

“
Here,
ladies, look what treasure I have found you!” he cried, proferring
two small nosegays of snowdrops.

“
Oh
Alfred, how perfectly lovely,” dimpled Adeline, “But what do you
think?” and in indignant tones she poured the whole into her
lover's ear, while Lydia blushed redder every minute with offended
embarassment. Alfred was surprised as they.

“
I
did not think a lady could be so insolent to one so nearly connected
with her.” (And here Alfred betrayed how limited his acquaintance
with ladies really was.) “What will you do, Lydia?”

“
I
am so surprised, I do not know myself. Of course it would be hard,
very hard, to be parted from my sister, yet my heart rebels at
submitting to such an insult.”

“
I
shall not remain in any house in which my sister is not full as
welcome as I.” proclaimed Adeline stoutly. “But where we are to
go, and what we are to do, I know not.”

At
this Alfred was moved to speak the thought that had been in his mind
these three months or more.

“
Adeline,
my dearest, you have a home with me that will receive you at a word.
And of course your home will be your sister's home, for her own sake
as well as yours, for she is the kindest and the best of women, save
one, and I love her second best in all the world. Do say you will
come, darling, and be my wife.”

Adeline's
eyes filled with bittersweet tears.

“
Oh
Alfred, I don't know what to say”

“
Say
yes, my sweetest girl, and make me the happiest man on Earth. I know
- “ thinking of that dear departed gentleman, “I know we cannot
be married
very
soon, but in a few months, surely we can
become man and wife without upsetting any proprieties, and then you
both can come home.” and so saying he put out his hands and drew
both girls to him. Lydia merely placed a hand on his shoulder, saying

“
I
could not wish for a kinder brother.”

Adeline
somehow ended up with her face hidden on his breast, unable to give
him any answer but to caress and kiss his hand, which she now held
captive between both of hers.

“
I
had better speak to your mother. I shall be back soon, dear, and then
we can settle how it is all to be.”

The
settling had to wait some time longer, however, as Mrs Trent merely
referred Alfred to her brother-in-law.

“
Adeline
is my daughter, but I am not her legal guardian, it seems. Of course
you seem a good kind of young man, and I have no objection to her
marrying you, in due course, if her guardian does not object. Of
course she has no expectations beyond the two-and-a-half thousand
pounds settled on her by her stepfather.”

“
That
surprises, but does not deter me, Madam. I have an income – not
great, but sufficient to maintain a wife.”

“
I
do not see why you should be surprised. My husband wished no
difference made between the girls, and I do not wish the world to say
I favoured one above the other. Of course, should I predecease her,
she may inherit a very pretty fortune, but that is not to be counted
on. For instance, I am not yet fifty, older women than I have married
again, and in that case my money would belong to my husband.”