Past Love (Part Four of The People of this Parish Saga) Read online

  PAST LOVE

  (Part Four of The People of This Parish Saga)

  Nicola Thorne

  Publishing History

  First world edition published in Great Britain in 1998 by Severn House Publishers Ltd of 9-15 High Street, Sutton Surrey SM1 1 DF.

  First published in the USA 1999 by Severn House Publishers Inc. of 595 Madison Avenue, New York 10022,

  Unabridged Audio Edition Published in 2002 by Isis Publishing Ltd

  This E book edition revised by the author in 2013

  Copyright © Nicola Thorne

  The author has asserted her moral rights.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

  Thorne, Nicola

  Past Love

  I. Title

  823.9’[F]

  ISBN 0-7278-2221-7

  Author website: www.nicolathorne.com

  Cover Illustration by David Young

  Cover design by Ruth Wrixton

  E book preparation Witley Press Ltd, Hunstanton, PE36 6AD

  About the Author

  Nicola Thorne was born in South Africa and, after a spell in New Zealand with her mother who was born in Wellington, came to England as a child where her parents finally separated. She spent her youth in the North of England, where she was educated first at a convent school and then a co-educational school. After completing her education at the London School of Economics she then spent most of her adult life in London. She has made a long career as a writer and is the author of over fifty novels. For a number of years Nicola has been among the top most borrowed authors from public libraries in the UK (PLR statistics) and many of her books have been published in foreign languages apart from English. After fifteen years spent in Dorset, she now lives in Devon.

  By the same author

  Return to Wuthering Heights (also e-book)

  A Woman Like Us (also e-book)

  The Perfect Wife and Mother (also e-book)

  The Daughters of the House (also e-book)

  Where the Rivers Meet (also e-book)

  Affairs of Love

  Pride of Place

  Bird of Passage

  Champagne

  Champagne Gold

  A Wind in Summer Silk, a novel

  Profit and Loss

  Trophy Wife

  Repossession, a novel of psychic suspense (also e-book)

  Worlds Apart

  Old Money

  Rules of Engagement

  The Good Samaritan

  Class Reunion

  My Name is Martha Brown (also e-book)

  In Search of Martha Brown (non-fiction)

  A Friend of the Family

  Coppitts Green (also e-book)

  The Little Flowers (also e-book)

  Rose, Rose, Where are You? (also e-book)

  On a Day Like Today

  The Holly Tree

  The Pride of the School (e-book only)

  After the Rain (also e-book)

  The Askham Chronicles, 1898-1967:

  Never Such Innocence

  Yesterday’s Promises

  Bright Morning

  A Place in the Sun

  The People of this Parish series:

  The People of this Parish (also e-book)

  The Rector’s Daughter (also e-book)

  In This Quiet Earth (also e-book)

  Past Love (also e-book)

  A Time of Hope

  In Time of War

  The Broken Bough Saga:

  The Broken Bough (also e-book)

  The Blackbird’s Song (also e-book)

  The Water’s Edge (also e-book)

  Oh Happy Day! (also e-book)

  The Enchantress Saga

  The Enchantress (e -book only)

  Falcon Gold (e-book only)

  Lady of the Lakes (e-book only)

  Synopsis

  ‘“Bart Sadler ... Bart Sadler...” The whisper echoed round the room as everyone turned to stare.

  Bart Sadler, their looks seemed to say, back from the dead.’

  It is the year 1928 and as Bart Sadler and Sophie Turner gaze at each other across a crowded room, memories come flooding back. Sixteen years is a long time. Pleasant memories for one; terrifying for the other. Sophie tries to avert her eyes but, as he walks towards her, she realises there is no means of escape.

  Bart Sadler has earned himself an unsavoury reputation in the Dorset town of Wenham. Held responsible for the death of a popular citizen, Laurence Yetman, and the ruin of the reputation of Sophie the rector’s pious daughter, there can be little joy now at his unwelcome return. So, when he attempts to manoeuvre his way into Wenham society, the people of the town unite in dismissive contempt.

  All except Deborah, Sophie’s daughter. Disgraced and an outcast like himself, Bart senses a kindred spirit – but can she trust his claim to be a reformed character, or will he be her downfall, just as he was for her mother?

  Meanwhile, having worked so hard to restore Pelham’s Oak, the Woodville family home, to its ancestral glory, young Sir Carson Woodville risks his marriage, family and reputation in pursuit of long lost youth – and a past love which threatens more than one future …

  This is the fourth book in the six part

  The People of This Parish Saga

  Prologue

  May 1928

  “I baptise thee Henrietta Euphemia in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost.”

  The Rector of Wenham held the baby in his arms tenderly as he pronounced the words of baptism, pouring the water over her head. Perhaps because she was conscious of her patrimony Henrietta was as good as gold and smiled round at everyone, a natural scene-stealer. She was already six months old so had some practice in capturing hearts.

  Carson adored her; the longed-for girl. Now the family was complete. He looked lovingly across at his wife who returned his glance, as if she understood. Yes, thankfully, there would be no more. Connie had found childbearing irksome despite its rewards and, a late baby, they had nearly lost Henrietta and the mother as well, which was why the christening was so long delayed.

  Henrietta’s small brothers Toby and Leonard, their hands tightly clasping those of their nurse, looked on in some awe as the baby was carefully restored to the arms of her godmother, her aunt Elizabeth, Carson’s half-sister.

  The church, of course, was full. All the inhabitants of Wenham had pressed in for the occasion. It was Sunday, but even if it had been a weekday every shop in the town would have been shut, only the pubs would have stayed open for the hoped for influx of revellers. The Woodvilles and Wenham were synonymous. So many events concerning the family had been enacted here over the years, solemn as well as happy, that many of the people of the parish, some of whom were now very old, could still recall.

  The marriage in 1880 of Carson’s father and mother, Guy and Henrietta. The christenings of their three children, George, Emily and Carson. The marriage of his sister, Eliza Woodville, and Ryder Yetman whose elopement had scandalised the town. The marriage of Laurence Yetman, Carson’s cousin, to Sarah Jane Sadler and the subsequent christenings of their children. The sad, sad funeral of little Emily, still a child and, later, of her uncle Ryder and cousin Laurence, both tragic deaths. The marriage of Sophie Woodville to Henry Lamb, now Rector of Wenham, and the christenings of their two sons. The funerals of Sir Guy and Lady Woodville, almost state occasions when everyone had worn mourning and shops and buildings were hung with black ribbons.

  More recent was Carson’s grand wedding to Constance Yetman, a woman he had once proposed to only to change his mind and then, years later, change it back
again. And now, happily, the christening of his third child, the much wanted daughter.

  The Woodvilles and the little town of Wenham were inextricably linked. Woodvilles had been Lords of the Manor of Wenham since the sixteenth century when a prosperous burgher, Pelham Woodville, had built a great house on top of a hill three miles or so out of the small town which was visible from its grounds. Over the years, like other noble families, the Woodvilles had known good times and bad. Some had been clever businessmen and managers of money, and the estate had prospered. Others were hopeless and it went into a decline. Unfortunately, two recent holders of the title, Carson’s father, Guy, and his grandfather, Matthew, had been among the less astute and had to be bailed out by marrying rich women.

  But Carson had stemmed the tide. Inheriting a bankrupt property on his father’s death just after he had returned from the war, he had restored the house and turned the many farms, wood mills and small businesses on the estate into flourishing concerns. He had also married a woman of considerable wealth, but for love, and her money remained hers for the benefit, perhaps, of their children in the fullness of time.

  The baptism over, prayers were said, the blessing given and the congregation piled out of doors into the spring sunshine. Everyone gathered around the family who, as all families do, posed for a long time for photographs. There were photos of the parents alone with the baby; they were then joined by the two small sons, then by close members of the family. The numbers swelled to more distant ones, to family retainers and hangers-on and, finally, as many townsfolk who could get a look in, pushing and jostling good-humouredly for a coveted place in the picture.

  And after the family had departed, as so often in the past, a procession set on its way to follow them, a giant caterpillar of vehicles of all kinds – carts, traps, automobiles, even bicycles – which wound along the narrow lanes towards the Woodville family seat where Carson, fourteenth baronet, waited to greet them.

  PART ONE

  The Black Sheep of the Family

  Chapter One

  It was a glorious spring day, the countryside of North Dorset at its best.

  The swifts, returning to their breeding sites, were whirling high in the sky looking for nest holes. Sometimes when they found them, often occupied by other birds, they became quarrelsome and their indignant shrieks pierced the air as territorial battles raged.

  A few bluebells remained in the hedgerows but their hour was almost done and the fragrant cow parsley, ox-eye daisies, red campion and purple mallow flowers were now jostling for room with a scattering of dog roses, their thick buds turning into floppy pink petals. In the fields on either side of the narrow road, the grass was already high, ready for the first cutting.

  Carson’s cousin, Dora Parterre, drove in her open tourer, her husband beside her. In the back seat was her mother, Eliza, and brother, Hugh. Dora flung her head back, her spirits high.

  “It’s so glorious to be back,” she cried glancing behind her at her mother who sat holding firmly on to her hat.

  “I hope you’re going to stay a few weeks,” Eliza Heering said.

  Dora looked at her husband, Jean, always nervous when he was beside her in the car because she drove at such speed. For some odd reason, though he was a builder and a man of action, he had never learned to drive.

  He was a strange, rather taciturn man and he sat ramrod straight, staring in front of him.

  “Jean?” Dora looked quizzically at him.

  “Well, at least you can stay, my dear, as long as you like.” He gave her a pleasant smile and then fastened his eyes again on the road as if he were driving and a moment’s diversion would cause an accident. Dora was used to this and took no notice, putting her foot on the pedal as hard as circumstances allowed.

  “I thought Connie looked tired,” Eliza said after a few moments’ silence. “I don’t think she should have had that last baby.”

  “They so wanted a girl,” Hugh, who was unmarried, said, trying unsuccessfully to light a cigarette in the wind.

  “Well, there won’t be any more,” Eliza said firmly, “that’s for sure. Poor Connie had a horrible time ... and dear little Henrietta ...” She faltered, too upset by the memory of those anxious days to continue.

  “But you couldn’t have a healthier baby now.” As Dora once again looked back at her mother Eliza couldn’t help wondering if her daughter, married now for four years, had any regrets about her own childlessness. It was a subject about which, up to now, they had not spoken.

  They turned into the gates and joined the queue of assorted vehicles slowly making their way along the drive towards the house which had once been Eliza’s home. She was born there and always thought of it as the place where she really belonged.

  As they edged at a snail’s pace towards the house some people passed them on foot and hailed Eliza and Dora, who most of them knew, with a cheery greeting. Jean was not so well known, a man of some mystery who had arrived at Pelham’s Oak soon after the war to renew his friendship with his comrade-in-arms, Carson, and had stayed on to marry his cousin Dora.

  Eventually they arrived at the house where Carson was busy shaking hands. In the old days, when Eliza was young, only the gentry were invited into the house, while the ordinary people – local farmers, tenants, servants, shopkeepers and their families – celebrated under cover of a marquee on the lawn, and instead of drinking fine champagne and eating smoked salmon and quails’ eggs were offered beer, of which there was plenty, and robust country fare.

  Now the situation was very different. The war had changed attitudes and the local people, if not considered the peers of the Woodvilles, in everything else were treated as equals. All sorts of people from all walks of life were there, but they had one thing in common: they were all dressed in their best as they slowly ascended the steps leading to the stately porch to shake Sir Carson’s hand.

  Helping to greet the guests was Carson’s half-sister, Elizabeth, and his brother-in-law, Graham Temple, Elizabeth’s second husband. In the background various youthful Yetman and Woodville cousins milled around, helping to escort the guests into the grand first floor drawing room with its splendid view of the town on the hill.

  Arriving some time later Connie, having fed her baby and put her to rest and had a little rest herself, stood for a while unnoticed at the door watching the throng, some two hundred or so people, though there were really too many to count. It was difficult not to notice Elizabeth and her progress through the room, Carson in respectful attendance as if it was she and not Connie who was the mistress of Pelham’s Oak.

  But Connie knew better than to criticise her sister-in-law, towards whom Carson felt a sense of guilt, and she slowly made her way into the room stopping to greet people, to receive congratulations, to respond to enquiries about the baby and her own health which at the moment was not too robust. Her mother had died in childbirth and, subconsciously, this was something Connie had always dreaded especially as, like her mother, hers was a late marriage and she was a little old for childbearing.

  Carson put out his arm as he saw her and gently drew her towards him.

  “All right, darling?”

  She nodded.

  “Did you manage a little rest?”

  “I rested while I fed baby. She is asleep now.”

  She put out a hand to steady Toby who was racing round the room in the company of several local boys. He shook her off and continued his run, cannoning into the rector, Hubert Turner.

  “Here steady on,” Hubert cried good-naturedly and he looked over to his son, Timothy, who caught up with young Toby and appeared to be giving him a lecture.

  “Where’s Debbie?” Connie asked looking around. “She was at the church.”

  Hubert’s expression grew solemn.

  “She said she had a headache. I imagine she ...” He paused awkwardly, “Well, you know she dislikes crowds. She thinks people are talking about her.”

  “Surely not after all this time?” Connie looked surprise
d.

  “She says people have long memories and perhaps she’s right. I’m afraid my dear step-daughter will never get over her unfortunate experience.”

  Deborah’s sister, Ruth, meanwhile was chatting to Mr Greatheart, the bank manager, Mr Sweeney the grocer and Miss Harvey who kept the haberdashery store that had once belonged to Connie’s guardian, Victoria Fairchild, from whom she had inherited her fortune. Eliza hovered in the background greeting old friends while Dora introduced her French husband to the many people who didn’t know him. Across the room another cousin, Laurence’s son Abel Yetman, a handsome young man of twenty-four who shouldered the family building business, was deep in conversation with one of his contractors, but out of the corner of his eye he was watching Ruth Woodville. Her eyes occasionally caught his and she smiled. They lived very near each other; they had grown up together and the realisation that cousinly affection and friendship had burgeoned into something more profound had made them both shy.

  Carson loved these family occasions and, hand in hand with Connie, he strolled through the room greeting all and sundry and receiving their congratulations, while servants moved around with trays on which there were glasses of champagne or plates of canapés, fois gras, smoked salmon and asparagus which cook and her assistants in the kitchen had spent most of the night preparing.

  However, the rector’s wife, Sophie Turner, was not particularly enjoying the party. She loved family occasions less than the others because her first husband had been George Woodville, Carson’s elder brother and, but for his untimely death, he would now be standing where Carson stood, and herself and their two daughters beside him. George might now be the Rector of Wenham – he had been in Holy Orders when he died – and her elder daughter might not be the mother of a child born out of wedlock to a workman who had deserted her, and thus consigned her to a life of shame.