Abigail Moor Read online

  ABIGAIL MOOR

  By Valerie Holmes

  Illustrated cover design by Jan Marshall

  ABIGAIL MOOR

  Copyright 2012 Valerie Holmes

  Smashwords Edition, 2012

  All Rights Reserved

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ABIGAIL MOOR

  Abigail Hammond has been raised as a lady by her guardian, Lord Edmund Hammond. However, her sheltered life ends when he falls ill. His heir, Frederick, returns to force her into a marriage of convenience. Abigail has to flee to York with her lifelong maid, Martha, at Lord Hammond’s insistence. Captain Rusk, an injured rifleman, helps her and together they discover love and who she really is.

  REVIEWS

  “Valerie writes intriguing romantic adventures written with warm and interesting characters.”

  --Author: Trisha Ashley

  “Valerie Holmes writes warm-hearted, romantic, exciting stories in which you will meet many delightful heroes and heroines - perfect for quality leisure reading.”

  --Author: Margaret James

  “Valerie Holmes gives us feisty, compelling heroines and romance shot through with adventure.”

  --Sarah Quirk, Publishing Manager F.A. Thorpe Publishing: Ulverscroft Large Print Book Ltd.

  Chapter One

  Abigail looked the man straight in the eyes. Simpson was her brother’s manservant and therefore should be obeying her orders. Standing defiantly in her delicate white muslin gown, which unfortunately served only to accentuate the flushed pink of her embarrassed cheeks, she tried one final time to have him do her bidding.

  “I wish to see my father. I have been kept from him ever since my brother returned home. Why?” Abigail picked nervously at the fine embroidery on her long sleeve. The high-waisted dress was one of her prettiest and she knew it suited her slender figure. She hoped that the man would be touched by her predicament and let her inside the room for a few precious moments. Her father was ailing and her exclusion from his presence was becoming as intolerable as it was worrying.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Hammond, but Lord Hammond is not to be disturbed. I have my orders.” He bowed his head slightly, apologetically even, but his vision never left hers as he stared defiantly back. He stood a head and shoulders higher than Abigail. She found him to be intimidating in stature, which annoyed her still further. She was his better, and he should not be so bold with her. Abigail held her head high, her pride dented. She had been turned away by a servant. How could he have been given authority over her, in her own home? The situation was simply wrong.

  “Then please go and inform Mr Frederick that I have no appetite today and shall not be taking dinner with him tonight.” Abigail glared at him, challenging him to defy her second command.

  He glanced at the locked bedchamber door behind him, seemingly considering this request, and thankfully, Abigail thought, he decided it was safe to leave his post for the few moments it would take to deliver her message.

  Abigail smiled fleetingly as she watched him walk down the long carpeted corridor. He looked like a peacock, she mused, dressed in the livery of a fool. She bent down and reached behind the chair that the manservant, Simpson, had been standing next to. Her father always kept a spare key there in case he forgot his own. Lord Hammond was a private man, who took care to keep his doors locked against the prying eyes of any but his most trusted manservant.

  She raised the key to the lock, when she heard Frederick and his man talking on the stairs. Abigail opened the door opposite and hid for a few moments, leaving the tiniest of gaps between the door and the surround for her to peep through.

  “Go to the kitchens now whilst I speak to Lord Hammond and next time, Simpson, do not dare to leave your post unless ‘I’ have ordered it!” Abigail saw the manservant bow low, his teeth seemed gritted, his eyes cast down to the floor before he walked away. No wonder he had not given in to her gentle appeal; he feared the power which her brother had over him, on which his position relied. Frederick was showing a sterner side to his nature than she had seen previously.

  Frederick walked purposefully along the corridor and entered her father’s bedchamber. Once he was inside, she crept across the landing and listened silently by the door.

  “Father, I am glad to see you are awake and looking somewhat better. I travelled up from York as soon as I received the sad news that you have been laid low by the fevers. Abigail’s letter was understandably emotional and poorly written, but I realised that this situation required my presence and therefore came in haste. I hope you are not in too much pain?” Frederick’s voice was always clear. As a senior partner in his own law firm, he was never at a loss as to what to say. His confident manner had impressed Abigail for many years, until he had returned to Beckton Manor earlier in the week. Then, with Lord Hammond still ill abed, his attitude towards her had been different, distant even. At eleven years her senior, he had been a somewhat aloof figure whom she had looked up to, and she loved him dearly as a brother.

  Abigail could not hear Lord Hammond’s reply. His voice was too weak and low.

  “Good. Now that I am here, you have no need to worry about a thing…”

  There was a pause, but still Abigail could not make out the words spoken by her father.

  Frederick laughed, but it was a laugh of cold mockery rather than of warm humour. “Dear Father, your concerns are oh so predictable. Always Abigail, isn’t it? What of her future? I believe I have told you many a time; the one mistake that many people make in this life is regarding their final arrangements and yet you are no exception. If only you had listened to my advice – but then when have you ever? People think themselves indestructible, leaving until tomorrow what they should have done yesterday. So, now you are reaching your time of few tomorrows and you have left issues undone and unsaid.”

  There was a moment of relative quiet, whilst her father answered.

  “No, don’t upset yourself, sir. I have had a lifetime to adjust to it, and to patiently prepare for such a time. Fret not, for Frederick’s future, Father. Don’t you think on that, for it is secure, although I do not think you have given it much thought since I chose the power of the written word over the blow of a sword. Not quite the hero you hoped to raise, am I? Never mind your disappointment, it means little to me now. Success can be found away from the battle fields. I am your son and heir and I shall claim my birthright. Do not worry yourself about your dear Abigail. I shall see she is suitably matched to someone who will give her all she needs. Mr Ignatius Blackman is arriving to meet his future. Now if you’ll excuse me, I am expecting a visitor. Your tray will be brought to you soon.”

  One word formed on Lord Hammond’s lips, “No!”

  Frederick half-smiled and bowed low, before turning and walking away.

  Chapter Two

  Abigail ran back inside the room opposite as Frederick left, locking the door behind him.

  Once he had walked away, she slowly turned the spare key to release the ornate handle of the door before Simpson repositioned himself outside. Silently, she tiptoed over to where the figure of Lord Hammond lay motionless on the bed.

  Abigail’s chest tightened as the fear grew within her that he might have already slipped away after the harshness of Frederick’s outburst.

  “I wondered how long it would be before you found your way to me once more.” Lord Hammond’s voice was low and hoarse but he managed to speak so that she could make out his words. “You will have to be brave, dear Abigail. Now Frederick is here, and my worst fears have been confirmed, you shall have to leave. I knew he would come home soon. I’m sorry, I...”

  “Father, it is all right now, for Frederick is here to take care of things. You shall be well, you will...” He shook his head slowly. It appeared to take a great deal of effort. “Father, are you..? Will you..? I mean, Frederick will send for the best physician...” Abigail tried to reassure the man she loved dearly that his care was in safe hands, trying not to reveal the desperate feelings of hurt which were festering inside her. Hearing Frederick’s cold admissions and bitter resentment of her, and knowing her father’s health was so fragile, she was dealing with an intensity of emotions and fears which her sheltered life had, to date, protected her from. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you had more than a chill, Father.” She squeezed his hand gently. “I sent for Frederick because I thought he would have brought a man of medicine with him from York. Father, are you…?” she could not find the words to express her fears and finish the unanswerable question which filled her head with even more dread.

  “If you are asking me if I am very ill, then I should have to answer yes.” His voice was no more than a whisper. He coughed and swallowed with some difficulty. “My dearest Abigail, I shall die, as we all must, but when, that I do not know. No one does. I am sorry to tell you this so bluntly, but it will not be overly long now before my time on this earth has passed by.” He sighed heavily and Abigail could see for herself how tired he was, as if her eyes had been forced open wide to acknowledge what they had not previously wanted to see.

  Abigail silenced herself. She could not come to te
rms with either her father’s situation or her own. Life had always been so simple. Filling her days with organising the house and servants, occupying her time with riding, reading, embroidery and happy hours spent in her father’s company or visiting, occasionally, neighbours’ houses. Now, everything precious to her was under threat.

  Lord Hammond slowly turned his head to her. “My beautiful Abigail, there is so much I should have told you. I realise now, lying here, how blind I have been. I thought Frederick would look after you but I have seen him in his true light, for he has shown his bitterness to me also. I have been blinkered by my own love for him. I have let him down in some way. He thinks I am disappointed in him, and he bears resentment. I should have been more open with him as I have been with you. Forgive an old fool his folly.” He coughed and Abigail looked to the door nervously in case Frederick’s servant, who might have returned, should enter. “Listen, you must be strong. You must leave us. This is no longer a place of safety for you. I cannot oversee future events. Take your maidservant, Martha, with you, for she knows something of where you came from, and I realise that it is also time that you were told the truth.”

  “Father, I cannot leave you. You are ill and I have no money of my own. What would I do and where would I go? Why should I have to? Frederick will see me well enough.” She paused, realising after eavesdropping on the previous conversation, there was little hope he would have her best interests at heart. She swallowed, forced a smile upon her lips, and tried to reassure an ailing man’s heart. “He would not turn me out,” Abigail said as lightly as she could manage.

  “Listen!” The one word was forced out with a great deal of effort. “You are naive. Frederick is jealous of you. It is a dangerous and longstanding hurt he has carried with him for years, over the time when he has lived away from our presence. It will have festered and distorted his judgement of you. He would marry you off. I would not see you go with anyone who was not a suitable match of which you were in agreement. Mr Ignatius Blackman is a hard man, wealthy, and gaining more money as his mills take up more land. He is not for you. Child, you must go to my study.” His voice was heavy with emotion and breaking as he spoke to her.

  “Father…”

  “Listen. Remove the Bible from the shelf to the left of the windowsill. It is a false book.”

  Abigail looked at him.

  “Not the Bible itself, my dear,” he added as he saw the shock on Abigail’s face. “The Lord has been protecting some treasured secrets for me these last few years. Take it, please. Go to York. Martha will keep you safe, and then follow the instructions inside the letter addressed to you.” He stopped to catch his breath and closed his eyes; his face held a greyish tinge to the skin.

  “Father, please say I can fetch Reverend Hardiman. He will sort out this misunderstanding. He can bridge the gaps between us and Frederick; surely he would listen to him.” Abigail was trying to find the correct responses to his comments, and hide the panic which was replacing her previous feelings of hope when her brother had returned so promptly.

  “No! I’m in no state for that, and Frederick is not to be seen as my enemy. He may be yours, though, but he is still my son and my heir. I must try to be strong so that I can put right the wrong I have done to my two children, in so very different ways. He is angry with me, not evil, Abigail. This is family business and nothing to do with anyone else. Time is short; you need to see to your own safety first. Take the money from my bottom drawer in that cabinet over there and go tonight. Think not of me, but of yourself.” He fell silent once more.

  She kissed his cheek and held his cold hand. “I cannot leave you, Father… not like this…”

  “Obey me this once, child, for I shall not be able to watch over you if you stay here. I gave you a chance to have a good life, but foolishly I did not safeguard your future as well as I hid your past.”

  As his breathing became shallower, Abigail flushed with emotion. “Hid what of my past? I don’t understand.”

  “You must leave whilst you can….” He did not open his eyes but Abigail saw the moisture seep from his closed lids. “Look after yourself, Abigail, unless you wish to obey your brother’s wishes.”

  Abigail removed the money from the drawer. She gasped at the amount she discovered. “Father, there is so much more here than...”

  “Take it all with my blessing and be safe and happy again. Go to Mr Joseph Ashton, of Scrimshaw, Bushy and Ashton in York, and arrange for him to come here forthwith with a good and trusted doctor or physician, as I would like to try to correct my mistake with legal representation... with a person who has no blood relationship to me. I will try to put my affairs in order. Do this, and leave Frederick to me. I have created such bitterness in him. Now go, I beg of you.”

  Abigail swallowed hard, hugged her father and kissed his cheek then left to return the key to its hiding place fortunately before Simpson had returned, and quietly entered her own bedchamber.

  She wasted no time in hiding the money and made straight for her father’s study. It seemed strange entering the room without him being seated behind his large desk or seated in his favourite chair by the fireside. It was as if the room had no soul – just books and ledgers. She reached up for the Bible as she had been instructed and hugging it closely to her made her way across the hallway. She intended to return unnoticed to her room so that Martha could pack a few belongings for her. It made no sense to her. Why should she have to leave her home, the lovely Beckton Manor in such a clandestine way? However, her father was adamant and she was scared by Frederick’s outbursts. Abigail took comfort thinking Martha would know what to do, she always did.

  “Abigail, my dear, you are feeling better I see. Perhaps you will now join us for our meal.” Frederick’s voice surprised her and she nearly dropped the Bible on the main oak staircase.

  “What do you have there, that you would cling to so desperately?”

  “I’m afraid I still feel unwell, that is why I sought solace in Father’s Bible.” Abigail looked around. “What do you mean, Frederick, by ‘us’?”

  A stout figure appeared in the doorway of the drawing room. Abigail shivered involuntarily. He smiled broadly at her and bowed low.

  “Let me introduce my good friend and business associate, Mr Ignatius Blackman.”

  Abigail could not find the words to express her revulsion of the man as a possible marriage match.

  “It is with great pleasure that I make your acquaintance, Miss Hammond, and equal sadness because we have not met under happier circumstances than your poor father’s ill health.”

  Abigail looked directly at the man’s chubby features. There was something about his eyes that made her feel ill at ease, no matter what honeyed words slipped off his tongue.

  “I thank you for your concern, sir. If you will excuse me, I have much to ask our Lord. I am sure Father will return to full health once more.”

  “Of course, but it is right that you should believe that. Anything less would never do.” Frederick gestured with his hand to her to return upstairs and she breathed deeply, relieved that she was dismissed. “Then, when you have finished your devotions, you can thank the good Lord that this very day your prayers have been answered,” he added.

  “How so?” Abigail turned around to face him. She did not want to understand what Frederick was inferring.

  “I have found you the perfect suitor, and he is most anxious to meet you properly. He is a man of maturity, means and ambition, indeed a man after my own heart.” He looked at the man next to him. “I give you Mr Ignatius Blackman. You will make us both very happy - your future is secure, as I promised Father it would be.” Both men grinned broadly at her openly shocked expression.

  Abigail felt as though she was frozen in time. Her feet were rooted to the stair on which she stood as she looked from her brother’s deep brown eyes to Mr Blackman’s balding head.

  “I could not possibly even think of such a thing when my father lies ill abed,” Abigail protested, forcing herself to break free of the abominable situation she had been faced with.