Abigail Moor (18 page)

“I almost
cringe at the thought of asking this question, but Abigail, have
you any idea where your mother is living or ‘if’ she is still
living?” Joshua stopped the gig; they braced themselves against the
wind which swept in over the sea. Although he spoke to her, his
attention was taken by the headland. He stared back at the raging
water, watching the relentless pounding it gave the rocks.

“We could try
the inn?” she offered as a suggestion.

He let out a
sigh, looked at her for a moment then smiled. “Excellent idea, I
should have thought of it myself.”

As they moved
toward the inn a man stepped out of one of the nearby cottages. He
was a tall man, smartly dressed, and greeted them politely. “Good
morning. Can I help you?”

“Yes, thank you
for asking. Few people around here are disposed to even look at
us,” Joshua answered frankly.

The man
laughed. There was a warmth to his nature that Abigail sensed. “You
are strangers to these parts, which automatically makes you
something to be wary of.”

“Actually, we
are looking for a lady called Grace,” Abigail answered, as Joshua
glanced down at her, a little lost as to what to say.

The man looked
at her, stopping what he was doing instantly. “And what would you
be wanting a lady called Grace for?” he asked.

“I may be
related to her,” Abigail answered honestly, as his eyes studied her
carefully, to widen as he came nearer to her. Previously, he had
paid more attention to Joshua.

“What is
Grace’s surname, miss?” he asked, staring at her from only three
feet away. He was even taller than Joshua.

“That I do not
know, sir. Do you think you can help me to locate her? It’s
important…Please?” Abigail could barely hide the sense of
desperation and frustration that she was feeling inside.

He did not
answer at first. “How old are you, miss?”

“That is an odd
and personal question, sir,” Abigail replied, not wanting to admit
the truth in front of Joshua and this stranger.

“Perhaps so,
but if you are wanting me to help you find Grace then I would
strongly suggest that you tell me honestly.” He folded his arms and
waited for her reply.

“I am nearly
one and twenty,” Abigail answered, and saw the look of surprise on
Joshua’s face.

The man sat
down on a small bench outside. His eyes gazed beyond them. At first
Joshua and Abigail both looked at each other, wondering if he was
in shock or something, but then they turned and saw the figure of a
woman, leaning against the doorway. Her hand was placed against her
stomach as she stared intently back at Abigail who could not
prevent her mouth from dropping open, for it was like the
reflection of a looking glass that returned an image of herself,
some twenty years older.

“Grace?”
Abigail asked. She walked slowly towards the woman.

The woman’s
trembling hand covered her mouth. For a moment Abigail thought she
would turn and run from her.

“Don’t go,
please,” she pleaded. “I mean you no harm, I just wanted to meet
you and find out who you are ... if you really are my mother.”

Grace was
obviously shocked, as Abigail had instinctively guessed correctly
about who she was and what she had been thinking of doing. The lady
stood straight, composing herself. Abigail could see what Martha
had meant when she said it had been a name that fitted her bearing
well.

“I do not know
what to call you... miss.” Her voice was shaky, but had the air of
gentility about it.

“Abigail.”

Grace’s lip
almost trembled. “My mother’s name!” she said, struggling to
control the emotions that were clearly baffling her senses as she
stared back at Abigail.

“Martha Napp
has been my lifelong maidservant; you know her I believe,” Abigail
added and noted the change in her mother’s countenance as the name
was spoken.

The woman’s
face hardened. It was as though a cloud shadowed it at the mention
of Martha. “She kept you for herself!” the woman said bitterly and
with an incredulous tone in her voice.

As if walking
in a dream Grace came over to Abigail and gently stroked her cheek
with her delicate hand. A tear ran down her face and Abigail did
not know whether to laugh or cry with her. “It really is you - my
baby, all grown up. Able... look, my child, it did not die, they
lied to me,” she looked into Abigail’s eyes, “she didn’t die. All
these years she lived and I never knew.” Then the tears fell free,
no longer controlled as they escaped. Both women hugged each other
for all their years lost.

Able put a hand
on Joshua’s shoulder and led him outside. “They need some time.” He
looked at Joshua. “Come with me and I’ll make you a drink. They’ll
join us when they’re good and ready.”

Able took
Joshua inside the back room of the inn opposite. “So tell me, sir,
where has that babe been all these years?”

“I will be glad
to if you could tell me what really happened the night a mother was
told her child had been lost to her and a lord took in an
orphan.”

Able nodded and
both listened to the other with great interest.

Abigail stared at her mother, who appeared to be caught somewhere
between total shock and pure joy. She hugged her one minute then
sat back as if she had acted improperly, but then gave in to the
irresistible urge to hug her again.

“I feel like I
know you, yet at the same time you are a stranger to me.” She
cupped Abigail’s face in her hands and stared at her through moist
pale green eyes.

“Abigail, that
is such a pretty name, and like my mother, it suits you,” she said
quietly.

“What would you
have called me…? Mother?” Abigail asked, and felt a lump rise in
her throat as she swallowed back her emotions.

“Mother, I like
the sound of that. I would have called you Lizzie, after the old
queen Elizabeth. She was strong and clever, but I think it is
better that you are your own person and have your own name. It
really suits you well.” She placed her hands delicately in her lap
as she sat down on one of the chairs. “Did Martha Napp choose your
name for you?”

“No, my father
did. They told me I was rescued from a life at the poorhouse after
being found in the abbey grounds by him, and Martha was employed as
my nurse, then maid. But, that’s not true either, is it? None of
the stories I was told are. Until I departed from Beckton, with my
maid, I had believed that I was from such a life. Frederick
believed me to have been found in the grounds of Whitby Abbey, so
he must have had more knowledge of what really happened than I. It
is most probable that, rather than being found there, I was taken
there after being separated from you.” Abigail watched as her
mother stared at her in disbelief.

“Child, who is
this man you call your father?” There was a sobriety about her
voice that surprised Abigail.

“Lord Hammond,”
Abigail answered, and watched the other woman’s face pale once
more.

“Edmund, Lord
Hammond?” she asked, gripping Abigail’s arm firmly. “He had you all
these years?” She stood up and paced up and down, as if anger
filled her being.

Abigail nodded,
not understanding the weight of the words she had spoken. Grace
hugged her sides and bent over, sobbing uncontrollably. Abigail
returned the embrace and wished with all her heart she could remove
the years of pain, replacing them with ones of pure joy.

“You know my
father?” Abigail asked, although the answer was apparently,
yes.

Grace
straightened her back and wiped away her tears. “I’m sorry,
Abigail. You did not come all this way to find me, just to see a
gibbering wreck. However, this has all been quite a shock.” She
forced herself to smile, and Abigail saw a flicker of life in her
mother’s eyes that filled her heart with hope that they would be
united in their joy, but it would take time to heal the years
apart.

“Yes, I knew
Edmund, but not as well as I believed I did. We have a lot to talk
about, my dear Abigail. Let us join the men and have a warm drink
to calm our nerves before we discuss matters further. It looks as
though Edmund has kept much from both of us. I pray one day that I
shall be able to forgive him his cruel deception.”

Abigail stood
up as the men rejoined them in the small and homely cottage, by a
warm and comforting fire.

“You must
forgive my manners, sir. I have not properly introduced myself to
you.” Grace smiled at Joshua and offered him her hand.

“Nor I you, but
under the circumstances, ma’am, that is perfectly understandable.”
He smiled warmly at her. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am
Captain Joshua Rusk, your daughter’s chaperone for this
journey.”

“He is a
gentleman, mother,” Abigail added.

Grace smiled
warmly at him then side-glanced at Abigail, almost as if she sensed
the close bond that had built up between her and Joshua.

“I am pleased
to meet you.” Grace looked at Abigail. “My dear child,” she sighed
and smiled as if she was at last feeling the love held within those
words, “I shall introduce myself properly to you. I, dear Abigail,
am Miss Grace Hammond, your adopted ‘father’s’ youngest
sister.”

Abigail swayed
slightly. Her head felt strange. She looked at Joshua but he moved
sideways, then at Able; his strong features seemed blurred. She
tried to focus on the beautiful face of her own mother who was also
falling, then blackness came as she lost all consciousness and fell
into Joshua’s arms.

Martha and Molly returned back to the bakery as the light faded
from the sky after another day of completing the deliveries. Biddy
was waiting for them. She’d been drinking and was sitting in the
chair by the open fire.

“So you decided
to come back at last. Scaring me to death yer were.” She hiccupped
then belched loudly.

“I think we’d
better get her to bed, Ma,” Molly said, looking tired and strained
herself.

“This is more
than we needed.” Martha and Molly together took her through to her
room.

“Come on,
Biddy. Get yerself to sleep and have some sweet dreams for all of
us,” Martha said, as they tucked her in.

“Sweet
nightmares more like it,” Molly muttered and received a gentle clip
on her head from Martha. Then they returned to lock up the shop
door and stood at the bottom of the rickety wooden stairs side by
side, neither placing a foot upon the step.

“She’s always
been one for a drink ‘as Biddy.” Martha shook her head. “That’s why
I didn’t expect to find her still ‘ere when I came back after all
these years.”

Martha linked
arms with the girl and started ascending the steps to the room
door.

Martha sat on
the chair. “I don’t think I can cope with this. Not on top of what
I’ve done in the past. I’ve kept such secrets, Molly. Abigail will
hate me when she finds out the truth.”

Molly ran over
to her and knelt by her lap. “Whatever you kept from her, Martha,
you did it for her own sake.” She smiled warmly at her friend and
tilted her head on one side. “So what is it that’s so terrible a
secret anyway? Tell me, Ma.”

“She was never
‘found’ in the abbey grounds, nor taken to the poorhouse. No babe
would survive those temperatures on All Souls’ Eve. No, it was
where Lord Hammond had told me to fetch the babe after Lady
Isabella Fenton-Grange had told me to ‘lose it’.” Martha stared
vacantly into the room as if seeing all the ghosts of yesteryear
haunting her, shadows of wrong.

“Lose it?”
Molly repeated, her face contorted at the thought and the
implication of the words.

“Aye, lose it.
She’s a bad ‘un that bitch is, for sure.”

“So how did
Lord Hammond get involved with it?” Molly asked.

“A year or so
earlier, Lord Hammond found a place for his runaway young sister as
governess to Lord Fenton-Grange’s son, Georgie. The man was a
business partner of Lord Hammond and a good friend. Anyhow, Grace,
Abigail’s mother, had refused her parents’ choice of husband. They
threatened her with all sorts of punishments and hardships if she
did not agree to the match they had chosen but she wouldn’t have
it. She had a strong will. In the end she decided to run away. She,
like Abigail, had no knowledge of the world outside Beckton Manor,
so she told her brother, Edmund, who she loved and trusted equally,
and was always close to, of her plans. He had a wife and a boy of
his own; he was a good man in those days. So he helped her. Her
father had said he would cast her off, throw her to the streets if
she refused the marriage one more time. He would have, too. He was
a real brute of a man. I think that’s where Frederick gets it
from.” Martha shook her head.

“So what
happened to change it all?” Molly asked, obviously fascinated by
the whole story.

“Two things
happened within a year of each other. Firstly, Lady Georgiana died
giving birth to their stillborn daughter, then Lord Hammond learned
that his beautiful, innocent Grace was about to give birth to Lord
Fenton-Grange’s bastard.” Martha placed her head in her hands.
“Such a beautiful, loving creature, ruined.”

“How on earth
did he hear about that?” Molly asked wide-eyed.

“I told him. I
knew that Lady Isabella was barren and bitter, that they had no
heir. Georgie had died of the pox and Lord Fenton-Grange had taken
advantage of poor Grace. Lady Isabella had told her they would look
after her and the baby and see them right. What Grace didn’t know
was that, if the child was a girl, it would be ‘lost’ and who knows
what would have happened to Grace? - disgraced, penniless and
wanton. If Abigail had been a boy then it may well have been
legally adopted, or at least recognised in some way. It was too
horrible to think about, so I helped her to get a message to her
dear Edmund. But he, too, had changed; he’d become a dishonourable
and bitter man himself. He had sought to improve the fortunes of
his estate by ill dealings. He grieved for his wife and had dearly
wanted their daughter. Instead of rescuing his fallen sister and
her child, he saved them, but at a price. I was sworn to help him
keep them apart. Only I knew the truth of it, but he threatened me,
Molly.