Free Lydia Trent by Abigail Blanchart

in daily fear of the
discovery – impossible! Perhaps this was the source and secret of
the coldness that had long since arisen between her father and her
stepmother. It was like him, his kindness and consideration, to
forbear from exposing the woman he had chosen as his wife, to spare
her the pain of public shame – but still, to compound the sin by
continuing to live with her as her husband! The idea that her father,
the man, of all others, whom she idolised, could have been guilty of
sinfulness and deception pierced her heart. The thought crept like a
dark, chill shadow between her and the sacred memory of him she loved
so well, and seemed to poison all her recollections.

    Happily,
perhaps, the hours in which Lydia was free to dwell on these direful
thoughts were limited. Having asserted her claim to the house and
household, Evelyn seemed content to leave the daily fatigues of
management to Lydia. It was the younger lady to whom the servants
brought their troubles and questions, to her they came for orders.
Evelyn troubled herself very little about the house, exerting herself
only so far as to order her own meals, to look over the household
accounts in a desultory manner once in a while, and to assert her
power by countermanding the occasional order – usually at such a
time and in such a manner as to cause Lydia the most vexation and
inconvenience.

    This
round of household cares, with leisure hours darkened by grim
imaginings, would soon have destroyed both health and character, were
it not for the society of Adeline and Alfred, and a new interest,
which raised itself in the person of one Captain James Woods.

    This
gentleman was a half-pay naval officer who, having been woefully
injured in action on the Indian Ocean, and then spent much of the
passage home in a raging fever, had been invalided out of the
service, and was now trying the restorative effects of English
country air and rustic retirement.

    Alfred,
happening to fall in with the gentleman on one of the long lonely
rambles which constituted his daily dose of physic, soon made his
acquaintance, being a friendly and gregarious young man. He had a
stern battle of it at first, having much to conquer in the
convalescent captain's goodly fund of natural reserve, but he
persevered, and few could stand out long against Alfred's genuine and
frank good-nature.

    The
friendship, having once been established, flourished, and it seemed
but natural that Alfred introduce the Captain to his other friends,
having a strong suspicion that the kind attentions of two gentle
young ladies could do more to restore Captain Woods to health and
spirits than could be achieved by his own unaided exertions.
Accordingly, then, Captain Woods was invited to accompany Alfred on
one of his visits to the young ladies at the first opportunity.

    The
young ladies were surprised and a little perturbed at first to see
Alfred bringing a stranger to the house, but when Alfred had
introduced him and told part of his story in a few simple words, and
after they had looked on the still-young face so clearly marked by
long suffering, they opened their hearts to him.

    The
Captain was a slim, pale young man of around five-and-twenty, quite
small in stature – indeed, he stood only an inch or two higher than
Lydia, who was not markedly tall. His cheeks were clean-shaven, and
somewhat hollow, attesting to his long illness. His voice was soft
and pleasant. His hair was brown, touched with gold, and curling
slightly from a low forehead – he affected neither beard nor
moustache. His hazel eyes, though shaded with great dark circles,
were mild and intelligent. He had something of the look of a sick
child, seeming very little more than a boy, for all that he was older
than the two girls, and had seen action and hardship, and those two
gentle hearts compassionated him at once, and were highly likely to
make a pet of him.

    They
insisted on him taking the seat nearest the fire, for the early
spring days were