Abbeyford Remembered Read Online Free Page B

…?”
    â€œNo, no,” the old woman cried sharply. “I cannot speak of it! He – he is not welcome here. People remember. He should not have come back.” Her words were halting and painful to her, Carrie could see. She bit back the words of pleading which sprang to her lips. She could not cause her grandmother more pain by making her relive unpleasant memories, but she longed to learn the truth.
    Some time later Carrie took her leave. The summer sun was warm upon her head, and in the quiet of the valley she felt a peace settle upon her. She wandered along the lane, reluctant to return to the shack she must call home. Her gaze roamed the hills on either side. The mansion to the east called Abbeyford Grange and then opposite the Manor House and above it, silhouetted sharply against the blue sky, gaunt and lonely, stood the abbey ruins. Intrigued to see them, Carrie took the lane leading towards Abbeyford Manor. As she drew level with the house she looked at it with interest. This was where Jamie Trent lived – and it was the house her father coveted. He had vowed to bring ruin to the Trent family because of some deep ill-will he bore them, some revenge he sought. His reasons, buried deep in the past, were a mystery to his daughter.
    Even in the warm afternoon sun Carrie shivered, and moved on up the lane past the gate leading to the Manor’s stables and on up the hill towards the wood.
    Beneath the trees it was cooler and shady and quiet save for the sounds of the woodland creatures. She took off her heavy clogs and delighted in the feel of the long grass on her bare feet. Joyously she skipped along, light-hearted and for once free from the cares of her harsh life.
    As she emerged from the wood she stood a moment looking down on the valley below, her eyes tracing the line her father had suggested to Lloyd Foster that their railway should follow, entering the valley from the north and running alongside the stream directly in front of the Manor and on southwards to the natural pass out of the valley.
    â€œWhy,” she spoke aloud in surprise, “ the line will cut right through his pastures – and his cornfields!” She remembered her father’s bitter words, ‘I’ll ruin the Trents’, and she frowned thoughtfully. Perhaps he had planned the route to come through the Trents’ land intentionally for the very purpose of ruining them.
    She shaded her eyes against the sun. Carrie expected to see men working in the fields, but there seemed a strange lack in numbers. Certainly there were one or two tiny figures in the far distance, moving about their work in the fields. She saw a horseman cantering along the side of the stream and then turn up the hill towards her. As he drew closer she saw the rider was Jamie Trent. He reined in beside her and sat, tall and straight, upon his horse. He wore breeches and knee-boots and an open-necked shirt. His brow glistened with sweat and his shirt was stained darkly with the signs of hard labour.
    Why, thought Carrie in surprise, he’s been working in the fields alongside his labourers.
    He was smiling down at her. “Miss Smithson. How good it is to see you again.” His voice was warm and deep, and Carrie’s heart beat a little faster.
    â€œMr Trent,” she murmured, almost shyly, though her eyes regarded him boldly, taking in every detail of his dark, handsome face, his deep brown eyes and rugged jaw line. He dismounted and stood beside her, the manly closeness of him quickening her pulses.
    â€œI hoped we might meet again, but I had no idea where you came from – or why you came visiting Abbeyford.”
    â€œI – we – came to visit my grandmother, Mrs Smithson.”
    Jamie Trent’s eyebrows rose a fraction. “Oh! I had no idea she had any children, let alone a granddaughter. Where do you live?”
    â€œI – er …” Carrie hesitated. Now she wanted to keep the fact that