Lydia Trent (11 page)

Lydia
was thus thrown much into the company of the Captain. Although in
some corner of her mind she seemed always revolving the conundrum of
the locked desk, she too could yet be happy, and gay, and talk of
everything and nothing. The Captain's health and spirits were
prospering finely - he had put on flesh, filling out his hollow
cheeks if not his form - while his eyes were more wont to sparkle and
his boyish mouth curved upwards into a smile more frequently than
heretofore. The friendship, too, prospered. Lydia loved to hear him
speak of the strange lands he had visited in his years at sea, and
she could happily spend hours questioning him about the habits and
customs of Fiji Islanders and Maori tribesmen, the geography of China
and the politics of Ecuador, and myriad other nations and peoples.
The discourse was of benefit to both - Lydia increased her store of
information, while the Captain learned to be less reserved, and to
organise his ideas - for Lydia asked a good many intelligent
questions which often required reflection before answering.

Despite
all this, the two showed not the slightest symptoms of losing their
hearts - the affection that had sprung up naturally between them was
that of brother and sister, and nothing more.

If
Lydia had had the slightest inclination in that direction, then an
uncomfortable conversation between the two would have nipped it in
the bud.

It
was late May, and the little party had decided to mark Adeline's
twentieth birthday with a picnic, for the weather was more than
usually fine. The Captain had not, as yet, seen the Abbey, and it had
been almost a year since the other two had set foot within it's
once-sacred precincts, so it was that venerable ruin that they made
their destination.

It
was after tea, and Lydia and the Captain were strolling about
together in the shade of the Abbey's remaining walls, whilst Adeline
and Alfred remained under the trees where they had spread their
feast, refurnishing their cottage once more. They had spent the
afternoon rambling about, explaining to the Captain their researches
amongst the old stones, each presenting their pet theory and arguing
in its favour, until Adeline reminded them that they were hungry, and
a basket full of good things awaited them in the shade of a venerable
oak. They had crowned the birth-day queen with mayflowers, and drunk
her health in light sparkling wine, feasted her with cakes, fruit,
and merry laughter. They had brought tribute, in the form of birthday
gifts. Lydia had worked her sister a delicate set of lace collar and
cuffs, over which she had taken many pains, and many a late night,
that Adeline would not see them. Alfred had shyly presented a small
half-hoop ring of diamonds, with the tender hope that she would wear
it for his sake – Adeline scolded him for his extravagance, but
nevertheless slipped it onto her hand immediately, and was immensely
proud of her diamond ring. Even the Captain gave something – a
curious little jade charm for her watch-guard, in the form of an
Oriental lion-dog.

“
They
are symbols of great good-fortune in the Far East, these creatures,
and are found at the entrance of many a temple, being thought to be
their deity's watchdogs. I hope it will watch over you, Miss Wade,
and bring you good luck.”

Now
the sinking sun seemed to put all four in a quieter, more reflective
mood, and at first Lydia and the Captain were entirely silent, though
without awkwardness. After they had taken two or three turns of the
length of the walls, the Captain spoke in a low tone.

"Miss
Trent, I - I do not quite know how to begin the subject with you..."

Lydia's
heart sank for a moment - she hoped he was not going to make a
declaration! There would be an end of all the ease and comfort of
their discourse, the brotherly and sisterly footing on which they had
so quickly found themselves.

"It
has reached my ears that - well, that one or two people are - well,
to put it in the words of the village, they are coupling our names
together. Of course I should pay no regard to village gossip, but it
occurred to me that - though I do not think I have seen any symptom
of it - oh, how vain I must sound! It occurred to me that you may
have begun to entertain certain expectations - I am sure that is not
the case, but, I felt it my duty to explain some portion of my
history, which may make sure matters lie clearer between us, and
ensure no village gossip can disturb us."

Poor
Captain! He was now as shy as the day he first arrived in the
village. He blushed, and stammered, and looked more like an
embarrassed schoolboy than ever. Lydia tried not to show her relief
that no declaration seemed to be forthcoming.

"Of
course I shall listen with pleasure to anything you wish to tell me,
but I assure you it is not at all necessary. I look upon with you
with considerable regard, that is certain, but it is the regard of a
sister toward a favourite brother."

"Then
let me tell you, as a brother to a trusted sister, some little of my
early life." said the Captain, who seemed, having worked himself
up to unburdening himself of some secret, determined to go through
with his confession at all costs. Lydia was silent, and he took her
silence for assent.

"Would
it surprise you, Miss Trent, to learn that I was married at an early
age? Yes, I was - at just fifteen. I did not intend it so, but the
thing was done and so I of course made the best of it I could. You
may well wonder how a child of fifteen can find themselves wed, but
if I tell you I was living in Scotland at the time, that should tell
you all. Many an unwary young lad or lass has found themselves
married without truly intending to be, according to the strange legal
customs of that land. I must assure you, however, that my wedding
came about through no sin or dark design of my own, but that I was in
some measure tricked into it by my father and my spouse.

"At
any rate, I was married, whether I liked it or not, and though
somewhat dismayed at first, made up my mind to be as dutiful and
loving a helpmeet as lay in my power.

“
This
ambition, however, was never to reach fruition. I soon found that I
could neither love or respect the person to whom I was bound for
life. A habitual drunkard, and the companion of drunkards, with all
the brutality and low morals that attend that class of being.
Nevertheless, I persevered, and in the first three years suffered
agony after agony – as I endeavoured to lift the companion of my
life from the gutter, with all that gentle patience could do. But
what can the weakness and inexperience of seventeen do against the
habit of a lifetime (for my spouse was older than me by some ten
years, and had been a drunkard for fourteen of them)? Time and again,
after the commission of some base and bestial act, or some
unexplained absence from home, the begging forgiveness, grovelling at
my knees - the promises of reform, and those promises acted on for a
month, a week, a day – and then the sinking back into the mire of
brutality. In what should have been the brightest and best days of my
youth, sin and corruption were my constant companions.

“
Then
came a new hope. I was blessed with a son, and for a few short hours
I had the prospect of having some creature on this Earth I could
love. But the dream was short lived – the child died a few hours
after his birth, and … his other parent was directly responsible.
After this cruel disappointment, we could live together no longer,
and so we parted.

“
I
have not heard aught of my unfortunate spouse for many years, but I
have not heard of that person's death, either, and so I conclude
myself to be still married – married to one I cannot still think
about without a shudder.” And the Captain did indeed shudder here,
and lapsed into silence, as if recounting this painful tale had
exhausted both body and mind. Lydia quietly reached out and touched
his hand.

“
I
had not expected to hear such a story, but I thank you for trusting
me with it. You may count on my confidence. You have borne much – I
could not add betrayal to the injuries that have been heaped upon
you. And if there is aught a sister can do to erase – not the
memory, but the bitterness of the past, then I pledge myself to do
it.”

The
tears stood in the Captain's eyes at that gentle speech. He
restrained himself manfully, however, and in a few minutes was
composed enough to thank her, though both remained subdued throughout
the remainder of the evening.

Two
or three weeks had passed, and still Adeline and Lydia had got no
closer to their goal, to secure and examine Mrs Trent's papers for
some clue to Malcolm Wade's whereabouts. Lydia passed many a
sleepless night, as she revolved in her mind, and rejected, plan
after plan, stratagem after stratagem.

Then
one dull June day, as she was walking in the garden, in an attempt to
clear her head after a particularly fatiguing session with Cook and
the household account-books, she chanced to look up at the house, and
all at once conceived a bold design.

Mrs
Trent's apartments were inaccessible from inside the house – either
Mrs Trent was occupying them, or else the door was locked, or Estelle
was on the prowl. The sly Frenchwoman occupied a room directly
opposite that of her mistress, and seemed to have almost
preternatural hearing – or else a sixth sense which revealed to her
the presence of anyone approaching the door to her mistress's
chambers. She was all but guaranteed to appear, silent-footed as a
cat, at her own chamber door, should anyone draw near those sacred
precincts, disturbing any would-be watcher or listener with a bland
enquiry as to whether she could assist them, 'Madame not wishing to
be disturbed at this time'. Day or night, the patient spy Estelle
could be counted on as an impassable barrier to the girls' quest.

So,
how to pass the dragon which guarded the door? Why, not to go through
the door at all!

Lydia
drew nearer the house, and began to make a pretty thorough
investigation of the walls of the house. What she saw apparently
satisfied her, for anyone very close to her at that moment would have
heard her say to herself, with a queer little half-smile – part
determination, part excitement, part fear, and part surprise at her
own audacity - “It shall be tried tonight”.

Alas,
that evening it set in to rain, and continued raining heavily into
the early hours. The audacious plan was by necessity postponed.

“
It
is too dangerous in the wet,” said Lydia, grimly. “Nevertheless,
I shall not wait long before trying.”

Fortunately,
Lydia had not told Adeline of what she intended, rightly surmising
that the sensitive girl would be alarmed, and would try her utmost to
prevent the execution of the daring deed. This meant that Lydia had
only her own disappointment and impatience to contend with.

How
long and dreary the next day seemed to Lydia, who watched the weather
with nervous anticipation. To her grim satisfaction, it remained dry
that day, and in the afternoon, the sun broke through the clouds,
drying the remains of the previous night's rain. After tea, Lydia
made the excuse of having some letters to write, but on retiring to
her chamber she did not open her desk, but instead lay down upon the
bed. She had hoped she may be able to snatch a little sleep, but her
thoughts were racing as she anxiously anticipated the dangers and
alarms of the night ahead. Nevertheless, she remained lying down for
an hour, at the end of which time the arose and washed her face,
feeling a little refreshed.

The
gentlemen were to dine with the young ladies that evening, and so
after dinner coffee was served. It was the normal habit of the girls
to take tea after dinner, but this evening Adeline was surprised to
see her take a cup of coffee. She forbore to comment, however, until
the gentlemen had left, and the girls were retiring for the night.

“
Lydia
dearest, I am concerned that you may be feeling unwell. You have
seemed quiet and preoccupied all evening, and you did not brighten up
even when the Captain was telling us all about the Imperial Court of
China, and you took coffee instead of tea - do you feel ill? Is there
anything I can do for you?”

Lydia
was forced to dissemble.

“
Oh,
I have a slight headache, that is all – this muggy weather always
makes me feel a little low, does it not you?”

“
A
little, perhaps. But if you are really ill I beg you will not hide it
from me – take care of yourself, for I could not do without you my
dear. Goodnight.” and with a kiss and a tender little caress,
Adeline passed into her own room, there to go to bed and dream of her
suburban cottage and her Alfred.

Lydia
too retired to her bedroom, but though she removed her dress, she did
not get into bed. Instead she took up some sewing, with which she
remained indifferently occupied for some two hours. I fear the
stitches she set in that anxious time were not so neat as they
usually were, and at one point she had to unpick a seam, having set
in the sleeve of the child's shirt she was making inside out.