Lydia Trent (21 page)

What
could I do? I could not return to my husband, and the man who ought
to have been my husband was out of reach. Mr Hawkeshurst gave me some
money, and this I used to establish myself cheaply as a young widow
at a bathing place in the South of England, as far away from my home
and from the Hawkeshursts as I could manage. There I met Mr Trent,
who had brought his little girl to enjoy a short holiday by the sea.

In
the pathetic character of widow with an orphaned baby, I was soon
able to bewitch him, and, before much time had passed, we were
married, and I was established as your stepmamma. Fortunately Mr
Trent was able to afford to employ a nurse, and later to send you to
school, so I was not overburdened with the care of you children. It
would have been unreasonable indeed to expect me to care for two
children not my own.

I
cannot pinpoint when exactly I began to feel that Mr Trent knew my
secret – only in time his looks betrayed him, and so I had to
silence him – I spent ten years in a prison – I could not go back
there on a charge of bigamy. Likewise Mr Wade, who inconveniently
reappeared at the precise moment when it looked as if I was free at
last. Fortunately I could call upon my brother Nathan to take care of
him
. As to William, I did not know what I should do until I
happened to call at the doctor's house on a minor matter. He was out,
but as I waited I happened by chance to take up a volume of the
Lancet. By complete good fortune, it opened at an interesting article
on the problems in detecting certain vegetable poisons. A thrill of
joy ran through me as at last I saw my way clear of my difficulties.
But, oh, what agonies of suspense I suffered as I waited on the
chance of success! I do not believe I slept a whole night those long
months, and my nerves and appetite were almost destroyed.

I
had thought that getting these two men out of the way would silence
my fears – but it made them worse. Oh, what I have suffered in
suspense all this time! I feel everyone can see my guilty secret.
Everyone is against me, as they have been all my life. Those who
ought to have been my most devoted friends have turned out to be my
deadly enemies. How I have been watched and beset, day and night, I
hear their muttering about me. They creep into my room at night, the
fiends, and plot to poison me in my turn. How cruelly I am used, but
yet I shall not submit.

Superadded
to my torments, you have set two spies on me, but they shall be
evaded by

Evelyn
Wade'

Lydia
was shocked at this letter – not just by the contents, but at the
almost delusional arrogance and self-interest betrayed in every line.
The letter displayed not an ounce of affection or sympathetic feeling
for any person other than herself. How could she peak so of her own
agonies, while she was slowly poisoning the man who had married her
in compassion and good faith?

She
could not let Adeline read Evelyn's callous and self-pitying letter –
it would shock her too much. Instead, she distilled the main points,
and told Adeline that Evelyn had confessed to murdering their papa.

Lydia
did, however, share the letter with her Uncle, who was as shocked as
she was. They discussed the propriety of handing the confession over
to the police, along with the other evidence they had uncovered.

“
But
it is difficult to think of sending one's stepmamma, even one who has
wronged one so cruelly by her crime, to the gallows,” said Lydia at
the end of that conversation. “Though my heart cries out at my
father's murder, the spirit of revenge is not strong within me. Is
she not as confined now as she would be in prison? And will not a
greater power than Earthly justice judge her in time?”

The
time for Evelyn to meet her judgement occurred sooner than anyone had
expected. Within but a few days of receiving the letter, they had
news that the house at Allingham had burned to the ground. The fire
was thought to have started in Mrs Trent's dressing room, where one
of the nurses slept every night, so as to be within call.
Fortunately, Mrs Gage awoke in time to save herself, but found she
was unable to coax Evelyn from her room. That lady had locked herself
in, and resisted any attempt to make her stir. One would-be rescuer,
Mr Scott the butler, who had scaled a ladder to her window, found
himself dangling over a frightening drop by one hand, when Mrs Trent,
screaming in in almost incoherent tirade against schemers and
traitors, pushed him forcefully from the frame.

The
door was broken down, and Mrs Trent was forcibly removed from the
building, but too late. She had succumbed to the smoke, and never
regained consciousness. She died later that day.

She
was buried under the name of Evelyn Wade, that being the only name
she had the shadow of a legal claim to, and thus ended her colourful
career.

And
so our little tale draws to a close. The mystery has been elucidated,
the villain disposed of, and so nothing is left for me to do but to
marry off the principal characters. Unfortunately, unless I press the
good Detective into service, I find myself at least one gentleman
short. As useful as Mr Richard Dodds has made himself, I feel we can
let him off this particular service, unless he should take it into
his head to make up to Bessie, who, being out of her place following
the razing of the Allenham house, is living with her sister in Maida
Vale. However, that would not solve our particular problem, and so I
find I must do the best I can with what I have.

One
late-autumn evening, some months after Evelyn Wade's funeral, Lydia
was sitting in her room, her feet propped on the hearth, alternately
knitting and staring into the fire, which gave a cosy, cheerful light
to the room, keeping far at bay the foggy chill outside. After the
alarms and excitements of the past couple of years, life had seemed
singularly uneventful in the last few months. Adeline had come of age
and taken possession of her fortune, but this had presented little
change in the now peaceful household. Adeline gave away more in
charity, and indulged her taste for music freely, but the event of
her twenty-first birthday had not hurried on her marriage – indeed,
the subject had not been mentioned, though the engagement still
stood.

Lydia
was musing on Adeline's possible future, when there was a shy scratch
at the door, and that young lady herself crept in. The strains of the
past two years had not been kind to her – she had been in poor
health for some time, and the doctor said she 'lacked tone',
recommending change of air as soon as the winter was over. She was
still as bewitchingly lovely as ever, but her eyes were less
changeful, and there was a touch of hollowness about her cheek. She
looked rosy enough in the firelight, the only source of light in the
room, but at midday she looked pale and wan. Her figure, once so
slender and blooming, was somewhat gaunt, and had lost much of its
energy, though none of its grace.

Just
now, she seemed a little troubled and uncertain. She hovered between
the hard chair at the table, and the other easy chair by the window.
After a few moment's hesitation, she seated herself on the hearthrug,
and rested her head against Lydia's knees.

“
Lyddy,
may I speak to you?” she murmured, but though Lydia readily
assented, Adeline remained silent for some time, gazing into the fire
as Lydia knitted. Eventually she broke her silence, though the words
came as if they cost her a great effort.

“
Lyddy,
dearest, I wish you would advise me, I don't know what to do.”

“
Why,
Adele, I will give you any advice in my power – but perhaps Uncle
James can advise you better, he is so wise.”

“
No,
dear, I cannot speak to Uncle, it is not a matter for... In short, it
is about Alfred.”

Lydia's
heart sank within her breast. In general, she could believe she had
bested her unhappy love, and banished it to a forgotten corner of her
heart, but to be asked to give impartial and sisterly advice! She
managed to maintain her composure, however, and indicated to Adeline
that she might continue.

“
I
am so confused, Lyddy, I begin to wonder if perhaps Alfred or I were
mistaken in our feelings.” she struggled for composure a moment,
and then carried on, in a more restrained tone, “It has struck me
more and more lately that Alfred and I have less of the ready
sympathy with one another's hearts and feelings than we did formerly.
I am more apt to be cross and pettish to him, he seems more distant
every day. I begin to feel that perhaps marriage would not be for our
mutual happiness...” and her voice faltered, and she buried her
face in her sister's lap and wept.

Lydia
allowed her to have her cry, gently stroking the soft chestnut head
that lay in her lap, until all at once Lydia spoke again.

“
I
think he would be better a brother to me than a husband.”

Lydia
lifted Adeline's tearstained face and looked steadily and tenderly in
her eyes for some moments. The truth burst in on her, and she could
not restrain her own tears as she gasped -

“
Oh,
Adeline, you have guessed all, and you are trying to sacrifice
yourself for me!”

“
And
have you not almost sacrificed your life – twice or more, in my
service? The truth is, I am not good for Alfred, you are. I am a
clinging vine, you are a growing tree. My tendrils would suffocate
him, you would lift him high in your boughs.

“
I
idolise him – I see nothing but perfection. You see, and forgive,
his faults, and so help him to overcome them. Look at when we first
came to London – I daydreamed aloud with him about what we should
do when he started his literary career, I longed for him to begin,
but I was so happy to be with him that I did not tease him about it,
trusting to his own sense of duty to make a beginning, and not
discouraging his visits. You, however, gave him one rousing speech
about not making you ashamed of him, and off he goes, to start at
once.”

You
are right that I see Alfred's faults,” replied Lydia, “But I see
that they are not serious ones, and would not endanger a wife's
happiness.”

“
Not
if he had a strong, intelligent, active wife, a woman like you, that
is true, but what can such a fragile clinging thing as I do?”

“
Adeline,
this is serious indeed, and I feel I am the last person in the world
who can - who should - advise you in this matter. Alfred is a man of
honour, and, as his wife, would make you as happy as he could. All I
can advise is that you look deep inside yourself, with no reference
to me, or to anyone else but yourself and him, and if on sober
reflection you truly do feel that such a marriage would not be for
your happiness, then you should ask Alfred to release you from your
promise. But I beg you will ask anyone's advice but mine.”

Adeline's
only reply was to hug her sister's knees, and the girls sat in
silence together until bedtime.

The
painful subject was not raised again for several weeks, until one
morning when they were all sitting together. Mr Trent, who happened
to be free from business that day, looked kindly at the two
acknowledged lovers, who were standing together by the window,
looking out, and exchanging desultory remarks in a low voice.

“
So,”
he said, in a hearty tone, “what are you too plotting over there?
Naming the day for your wedding, hey?”

At
this, Alfred and Adeline, who had merely been discussing the chances
of rain later in the day, looked embarrassed and confused – as, for
a moment, though thankfully unobserved, did Lydia.

“
To
be quite honest, sir,” said Alfred, after a few moment's
uncomfortable silence, “I have not so far pressed Miss Wade to
hurry on the day which would make her Mrs Denham, and me the happiest
of men. When first I asked her to honour me by allying her fortunes
with mine, she had no fortune, or prospects of such, whatsoever. Now,
however, she is the possessor of eighteen thousand pounds. This, with
her personal recommendations of grace, goodness and beauty, would
enable her to look far higher than me for a husband, and so if she
should wish to be released from her promise, I am not the man to
stand in her way. I consider myself bound, but feel it would be wrong
to bind her to a promise made under very different circumstances.”

“
Why,
Alfred!” exclaimed the young heiress, in surprise, “As if that
makes the slightest difference! All that matters is that you love
me.”

“
Why,
of course I love you.” Alfred assured her, after but a slight
hesitation. “I should indeed be less than human if I did not!”

Adeline
was thoughtful for a moment. Her face was as gentle and placid as
ever, but her head was proudly erect and there was a new edge to her
voice as she replied in a low, steady tone.