Free Abigail Moor by Valerie Holmes Page B

of her turns
if she knew you was being fed food like this.” She picked up the
plate and took it over to Abigail. “Can’t be fussy now, lass. Best
be eating something, you need to get used to eating what we can
when we can. Once Mr Frederick has realised we’re missing the first
place he’ll look is around the estate, then at the stagecoach
routes. If he figures out the coaches thereabouts he’ll look to
Newcastle or York. He knows folks here, so this would be the
easiest place for him to ask questions, or should I say, to have
questions asked. We had best eat, do your business, then rent a
chaise to go elsewhere.” Martha took a large bite of the pie and
chewed away merrily on it.
    “Why not go to
London? We’d never be traced there, would we?” Abigail asked as she
opened the Bible and removed the two letters that were hidden
inside.
    “London?
Whatever would we do there? That’s miles away, that is, with its
dens of… well, places no decent folk would go, and their strange
ways. No, besides it’s far too obvious.” Martha shook her head
dismissing the option.
    “Where is the
other one?” Abigail lifted out two letters. ”There were three
before.”
    “That one has
already been delivered.” Martha took another big mouthful of the
pie. “Bit stale but not too bad. Here, try some.”
    “To whom?”
Abigail asked, not going to be side tracked.
    “To Ezekiel of
course... about our escape.”
    Martha was busy
munching nervously away at the pie. “But how did he know I would
need to leave like that?” Abigail asked.
    “Oh, I expect
he covered the option, just in case, like,” Martha continued
quickly. “One of them is for Mr Ashton and the other ‘un is for
you.” She gulped down some ale. “Now might be a good time for you
to read it, then if you have any questions you want to ask me, I’ll
answer what I can, lass.”
    Abigail put the
one addressed to Mr Ashton into her purse and then opened the other
one addressed to her.
    My Dearest Abigail,
    The fact you
are reading this means I am either incapacitated or dead. In either
case, I beg you to be strong and be happy for your own sake as well
as for mine.
    You have
brought me many years of joy at a time when I grieved for my dear
Georgiana, who left me earlier than I could have ever imagined. I
found you one terrible night, All Souls Eve, not a night to be
caught out in a storm, by Whitby Abbey. However, it was a place I
returned to from time to time as Georgiana and I used to visit the
church and Abbey. God has His plans for us and our paths were
destined to cross. You looked pathetic and half starved but even
then you had a natural beauty about you and a will to survive. You
still have that will and I beseech you to use every ounce of it to
carry you through this difficult time.
    I hope by the
time you read this you will have a husband of your own by your side
and little ones running around you, as you did with me. I have been
greedy and jealous of your time, dear Abigail, and should have let
you ‘come out’ sooner. Forgive me my selfishness and enjoy each
moment of your life as you live it.
    I understand
your mother was a good lady who succumbed to the charms of a
manipulative man. Do not blame her as love is a powerful emotion,
it can build or destroy. Love is undoubtedly the greatest gift
anyone can have and you have a heart that has given me something I
thought was lost to me forever – unreserved love.
    Abigail, think
not of what we have lost in our separation but of what we shared in
life. Shed no tears. I pray we meet once more in heaven.
    Your loving father,
    Lord Edmund
Horatio Hammond.
    Abigail swallowed, choking back the tears that were threatening to
overwhelm her tired eyes.
    “This still
does not tell me who I am. My mother was a good, yet fallen, woman.
Who was my real father, other than a manipulator and deserter of
innocence? So who am I, Martha? You know, I can sense it, you still
do not tell me the truth. How did I come to