Lady Adalyn (The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor Book 1), Sahara Kelly [the best e book reader .TXT] 📗

Lady of Wolfbridge, widow of the late Sir Ridley Wilkerson…true on both counts. But who was Adalyn? The woman who found herself exploring new skills and new experiences every day? Or perhaps the woman already far removed from the lost and trembling woman Giles had first brought to Wolfbridge.

It was a conundrum, but she set it aside, picking up her gloves and leaving her room to meet Giles. It was time to pay her first visit to the church of St. Polycarp, which lay less than two miles away from Wolfbridge to the south-east. She’d learned that the estate often provided sheaves of wheat for the autumn and harvest services and if it had been a good year, they would also send holly boughs for Christmas.

So there was a cordial relationship already established, and she hoped to ensure it continued by upholding the reputation of  Wolfbridge Manor.

She watched Giles with anxiety in her heart as she descended the stairs to where he awaited her.

“Will I do?”

“You are perfect, Lady Adalyn. I am very proud to walk at your side today.”

“Oh goodness, Giles. Stop. You will turn my head.” She chuckled and took his arm as they walked out of Wolfbridge and down the steps to the waiting carriage. “Not the gig?”

“Not for your initial visit,” he replied. “We shall arrive looking as good as we do now, with every hair in place. First impressions matter, and this is your first time at St. Polycarp’s. It doesn’t hurt to take a few extra steps. Besides, I have a feeling that Daniel and Jeremy may attend. They’ll use the gig if they need to.”

She couldn’t possibly argue with his logic, so she settled herself and prepared for the brief journey.

Several other gigs and carriages were gathered in front of the church, so it took a moment or two for Giles and Adalyn to find their way between them and begin the short walk beneath the lychgate and up the path to the entrance. There was a peal of bells summoning the faithful to worship, and Adalyn wondered at the consistency of Sunday services throughout the land. She’d heard that sound every Sunday, no matter where she’d been at the time, and absorbed the fact that there were feet walking paths like these everywhere in England at this very moment.

The heavy wood doors were opened wide and Adalyn recognised the smell of the church as soon as she stepped inside—the distinct odour of incense mingled with the air of slight mustiness, damp wool and faith. It was unique, but easily identifiable. She would have known where she was even had she been blindfolded.

Giles walked her along the nave, a steady progress toward the altar. She glanced around, noting the stone floors, the carved angels and cherubs where the columns met the arched wood ceiling, and the stained glass windows. Large candles flickered on either side of the altar, as did others here and there within the interior.

There were already quite a few congregants gathered, and she caught a slight rustle and murmur as the two of them made their way to the front of the church.

The Wolfbridge pew was so designated by a lovely carving on the outside—a wolf leaping over a river. There was no doubt in her mind that this was where she should sit. Giles led her to the front and she moved the hassock aside to take her seat, noticing that Giles did the same.

The routine of many such mornings returned, and she settled the worn cushion before her, slipping to her knees for a few moments of silent prayer.

Then she eased back onto her seat, wondering how full the church would be this morning and looking around with interest. The windows were eye-catching, many featuring bright and vivid scenes of fire, sometimes surrounding a man with tonsure and halo. She wondered if this might be St. Polycarp himself, and thought she would ask Giles if he knew, once the service was over.

Across the nave was another lovely carving, this one of a house with five prominent fir trees. The Fairhurst pew, of course, but empty this morning as was to be expected.

The rest of the church was filling rapidly, and it wasn’t long before the bells rang for the last time, the doors were closed and the Vicar walked out from the vestry to the altar.

Somewhere behind the marble columns and ageing tapestries an organ cranked to life and the service began with a hymn Adalyn knew well. The similarity of the programme, the music, and even the sermon, was balm to her nerves. She might be a stranger in this area, but she was no stranger to a church.

Settling more comfortably, she allowed the service to drift over her, rising when appropriate, sharing a hymnal with Giles and participating as much as anyone else present. There could be no criticism of the new Wolfbridge Lady’s dedication to observing a morning of worship.

The Vicar, a short man with a wonderful head of silver hair, recognised her presence with a few kind words of welcome, then moved on to more kind words, this time for the family and friends of Sir Amery Fairhurst. His untimely departure was mourned, his soul commended to the Lord, and on behalf of his congregation, the Vicar offered his condolences to the remaining members of his family.

It was nicely done, thought Adalyn, even though there were no Fairhursts present. The rest of the congregation would now know of his passing, if word had not spread far yet, and there was indeed a hushed ripple of murmuring as the Vicar announced the loss to his parish.

With a final prayer and blessing, the service concluded, and everyone rose in unison. Giles gave Adalyn his arm, and turned, watching the crowd as it began to leave the building. She caught sight of Jeremy and Daniel, who had apparently slipped in to catch some of the observances.

She nudged Giles and nodded at them. “Could they not