Mellington Hall Read online

  Mellington Hall

  By Meredith Resce

  Text Copyright © 2011 Meredith Resce

  Mellington Hall is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to characters living or dead, other than those specifically acknowledged as historical figures, is a coincidence.

  Golden Grain Publishing

  PO Box 880

  Unley, South Australia, 5061

  Australia

  http://www.facebook.com/MeredithResceAuthor

  http://twitter.com/MeredithResce

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior written permission.

  Cover design and layout by Stephen Cooling

  ISBN: 978-0-9775927-5-3 (ebook)

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR’S

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  AUTHOR’S THANK YOU

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Other books by Meredith Resce:

  The Heart of Green Valley Series

  Book 1: The Manse 1997 - 4 editions inc. UK & USA

  Book 2: Green Valley 1998 - 3 editions inc. UK & USA

  Book 3: Through the Valley of Shadows 1999 - 3 editions inc. UK & USA

  Book 4: Wallace Hill 2001

  Book 5: Beyond the Valley 2002

  How Sweet the Sound 2004

  The Schoolmaster’s Pair

  The Schoolmaster’s Bride 2006

  The Schoolmaster’s Daughter 2007

  For All Time 2009

  Cora Villa 2010

  Mellington Hall 2011

  AUTHOR’S THANK YOU

  No book is ever produced without the assistance of many people.

  Thank you Ed Darwood and Pat Mayfield who have been part of my editing team for thirteen years now. Also love and thanks to my daughter, Elisa, who is one of the toughest manuscript critics I know, and I never feel quite confident until she’s given me her strong and considered opinion. The work is always so much better after she’s handed in her edit suggestions.

  Thank you to the team at HSM Publishing, John Muys and Stephen Cooling, for their input into design and marketing, and for showing so much confidence in me as an author.

  Thanks to the rest of the family, Nick, David, Micheal (no it’s not a spelling error, there is a story behind that), Jennette and Jim Bishop (Mum and Dad). Really the show would not be on the road without their continued support and belief in the project.

  Thank you to God our Father who loves us, keeps us and guides us through all the ups and downs of life.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Over the last fourteen years, I have written several novels that have been inspired by historic buildings. ‘Mellington Hall’ is one of those novels.

  In January 2009, my husband and I were at the end of a thirteen month stay in the UK. Just before we returned to Australia, we were invited to Newtown, mid-Wales, to speak to a church group there. We had known the minister for a number of years, and he told us that we would be staying in a hotel some miles from the town of Newtown, a hotel called Mellington Hall.

  When driving in the UK, we found that we were absolutely lost without our Satellite Navigation system, and were quite used to punching in the postal code address and following the instructions. But on this occasion, the Sat Nav seemed to be leading us further and further away from any town, and along some narrow and very pretty roads and lanes. Having been led astray before, we began to wonder if we were getting more and more lost. Eventually we saw a sign that said Mellington Hall Hotel. We had only just crossed the border from England into Wales, and it seemed to be in a sheep pasture. As we drove up the long roadway, my husband said, ‘Where on earth has Alan put us?’

  It was perplexing; sheep to the right of us, melted snow and trees to the left, and no sign of any village, let alone a town. Then, as we drove past a tall grove of trees, a magnificent sight opened up to us, and we approached the majestic Mellington Hall Manor House. I remember breathing the words, ‘Oh my goodness!’ Being a great fan of historical houses, I never dreamed I would ever stay in one quite as beautiful as this one that emerged before us.

  We had been booked in for three nights, and the magic of the stay only increased when we discovered that for two of those nights, we were the only guests in the hotel, as it was mid-winter. Well, didn’t I feel like lady of the manor! The household staff were working as normal, but as if they were there just for us. We sat in the large foyer before a log fire, and the concierge came out to us with the dinner menus, and told us to choose what we would like to eat, and they would call us into the dining room when it was ready. Can you imagine? Well, my imagination began to riot in all sorts of directions, and as I chatted with the staff, I said to them that I felt quite sure there was a novel brewing, and that this time, there would be a murder mystery involved. I’d never written a murder mystery before, but this house seemed to inspire one.

  As with all the other novels I have written, there is nothing in my novel, ‘Mellington Hall’ that is supposed to be historical account. In fact, the actual manor house was built in 1876, and I’ve set my story in 1838. This is just a work of fiction inspired by my very enjoyable stay at Mellington Hall Hotel. I have also used the names of surrounding villages as the surnames for a number of my characters.

  If you ever go to the UK, I’d recommend a trip to mid-Wales, and a stay at Mellington Hall. It is near the English town of Shrewsbury and the Welsh town of Newtown.

  I’d also recommend a trip to St Fagan’s National Welsh Museum, not far from Cardiff. St Fagan’s is a brilliant property with many houses and cottages from the different time periods in the past, and having walked through these buildings and observed the ways of days gone by really helped to paint the Montgomery’s farmhouse in my imagination.

  In the meantime, I do hope you enjoy the story.

  Blessings

  Meredith Resce

  The English Welsh Borderlands - 1838

  lan stamped his feet against the frozen ground in a vain attempt to get blood to circulate in his feet again. They had actually gone numb while he had been standing about waiting for this person to turn up. He had called himself several sorts of fool in the last half hour, each time on the point of abandoning this clandestine appointment, but something about the wording in the anonymous letter drove his curiosity to an all time high, so he stayed, chafing with impatience, waiting for the writer of the note to appear.

  It was 6.30am and late winter. The sun had not yet risen, though there was a dull pre-dawn light that gave Alan enough visibility to be able to see where he was going without a lamp.

  Don’t tell anyone about our meeting, the note had said. I believe your life is in danger, and I have evidence of those who would try to get hold of your fortune.

  Alan had never had any reason to fear for his safety. Even since he’d inherited the entire Mellington estate upon his father’s death, there had never been anyone who had challenged his right as heir. He was really quite doubtful that the note meant anything at all, but on
the other hand, the way it was written made him wonder. It was in the even hand of someone who was well educated, and the wording and grammar indicated that it was certainly not someone of low class who could barely speak properly. Who of his peers would write such a warning, and why?

  It was while Alan’s thoughts were engaged trying to answer some of these questions that he heard the sound of someone moving behind him. He was standing outside the stable area, just away from the massive archway that led into the yard. When he turned around to see, there was a figure in the dark area beneath the archway, but he couldn’t make out who it was in the poor light.

  He was about to open his mouth to ask a question, when he felt a searing pain rip through his shoulder, and then another through the top of his left leg. Simultaneously, he saw two flashes from the end of two pistols held by the stranger, and heard the echoing report of gunfire. He didn’t have time to think of anything else as he crumpled to the ground. He wasn’t unconscious, but the pain was so severe he could focus on nothing else. He hadn’t even heard the person approach. Then a brief moment before it happened, he saw the person standing over him, the butt of the pistol raised over his head. For a split second, he was annoyed that he couldn’t even tell who it was because of the mask covering their face. Then with an explosion of pain in his head, everything went black.

  Sarah Montgomery finished picking up the parcels of meat from the butcher’s counter, and packed them neatly in the basket she held over her arm.

  “Is there anything else I can get for you, Miss Montgomery?” the butcher asked her, sounding much too eager for Sarah’s comfort.

  “No, thank you, Mr Straun!” she said firmly. She didn’t want to linger as there were no other customers in the shop, and she knew that Timothy Straun, the butcher, was keen on her, and he often took the opportunity to try to keep her attention.

  “I hear your parents will be going away,” Timothy said quickly, trying to make the most of the seconds before she would leave his shop.

  “Yes.” Sarah nodded politely. But she didn’t give any more information.

  “And you will be home on your own? Will you be quite all right?” He asked, showing genuine concern.

  “Mr and Mrs Allyson are very close by, and they will look in on me often. There isn’t anything to do that I cannot manage.”

  Timothy looked doubtful. “If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know,” he offered in a caring tone.

  “That is very kind,” Sarah returned, “but I am quite sure my parents have seen to everything. It will be perfectly all right.”

  She didn’t want to continue this conversation, so she quickly nodded her head, and slipped through the door.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t like Timothy Straun, but she was quite sure that he was not the sort of man she wished to encourage. He was hardworking, and passable to look at, but Sarah couldn’t quite bring herself to imagine living as the wife of someone so awkward and ridiculous. Of course she did admit that she might have been judging a bit harshly, but then sought to justify herself. Surely, if she was constantly irritated by his bumbling attempts to gain her interest, then encouraging his friendship and possibly courtship would prove a torturous trial. She wasn’t so desperate at the age of twenty that she felt she had to accept the first man that showed an interest in her. Of course that didn’t account for the opinions of others in the village who felt that her father should have come to some agreement with the butcher months ago, and that the pair should be safely wed by now. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

  She walked across the street to wait for her father who had gone to fetch the horse and cart. As she was standing there, she saw a young woman, not much older than herself, and Sarah thought she recognised her as one of the servants from Mellington Hall.

  “Good morning,” she said in a friendly tone, and lifted her hand in greeting. However the young woman didn’t lift her head to acknowledge her at all, but quickly walked by.

  “Sarah, my dear,” Mrs Susannah Allyson had come right up next to her, taken her arm and begun to walk her in the opposite direction to that which the servant girl had taken. “You must not show any interest in the likes of her,” she whispered in her ear almost fiercely.

  “Why, if you please?” Sarah asked, fully aware that Mrs Allyson was referring to the young woman who’d just passed by.

  “She is not a decent woman,” Mrs Allyson whispered behind her hand.

  Sarah didn’t really want to know any more. Apart from the fact that she’d heard Mrs Allyson’s reports of the ‘disgraceful behaviour of certain people’ many times, she knew that her neighbour would take great delight in telling it yet again. She sometimes wondered if some of the ‘facts’ might not have been embellished as Sarah couldn’t imagine that there were such dreadful goings on in her own village.

  “You know who that woman is, I suppose, don’t you?” Mrs Allyson went on, oblivious to Sarah’s thoughts.

  “No, indeed!” Sarah wished that she could think of something to change the subject, anything to divert her neighbour’s thoughts from the unfortunate young woman.

  “That is Lucinda Maddock!”

  “Oh!” Sarah tried to sound as if that explained everything, when in fact it told her nothing at all.

  “Her mother is the housekeeper at the Lydbury estate, you know that, do you not?”

  Well that practically seals her guilt! Sarah thought sarcastically, without really understanding the connection.

  “If it were not for her mother, she would not dare show her face in this village. She’s been shown far more grace than she deserves!”

  Even though Sarah’s interest had been piqued, she was really quite glad to see her father drive up in the cart. She really didn’t want to be caught up in the web of intrigue that Mrs Allyson was always trying to weave.

  “Good day to you, Mrs Allyson,” Phillip Montgomery called out, tipping his hat as he did so.

  “Mr Montgomery.” She dipped her head politely. “You’re all set for your trip away then?” she asked, and Sarah wondered if she might not have heard a tinge of disapproval in her tone.

  “I believe we have just about tied all the loose ends.”

  “It would be more sensible if you sent your girl over to stay with us while you were away!”

  Phillip nodded his head. “I thank you very much for the kind offer, but Sarah feels quite confident that she will be all right, and being in the house will make it easier for her to attend to the animals morning and night, to be sure.”

  Mrs Allyson had a look of disapproval, but said nothing.

  “I do appreciate Mr Allyson offering to check on her every few days,” Phillip continued. “That is a load off our minds!”

  “It’s the least we can do,” Susannah Allyson said, her lips in a thin line. “But mind you, Miss Sarah, if you have the smallest worry, you pack a few things and come right to us straight away. I won’t have it said that we wouldn’t do our Christian duty by looking out for you properly, indeed.”

  “Thank you, Mrs Allyson!” Sarah politely nodded her head, and allowed her father to hand her up into the cart.

  As they drove out of the village, Sarah took a deep breath of the cold brisk air.

  “Now are you quite certain you will be all right while we are way?” Phillip Montgomery asked his daughter once more, as he set the horse in motion down the road out of the village. Despite the assurances he’d just given his neighbour, he did have reservations, but he was not prepared to share them with the all and sundry.

  “I am not worried about anything at all,” Sarah said with a smile, “and neither should you be, father.”

  “I’m not sure how long we will be away,” he said, obviously not as much at ease about the situation as she was.

  “Father, please think of Mother. It is a miracle that her father has called for her. It is her last opportunity to reconcile with him. Take all the time you need.”

  ‘It is a miracle’. Sarah’s words
echoed in Phillip’s mind. It was indeed a miracle. If there was one thing that had tormented him these years, it was that he had married his wife without her father’s consent. The impetuosity of youth had justified it at the time, but Phillip had always been one who had revered the teachings of the church, and since his marriage, had often felt that he’d done wrong in going against the wishes of Claire’s father.

  “If I need any assistance, I know that Mr and Mrs Allyson will be only too willing to help.” Unaware of her father’s thoughts, Sarah continued to reassure him.

  Phillip smiled. Mrs Allyson had made it very clear that she saw the situation as unsuitable, and was ready to jump in at any moment to set it right. Phillip had certainly been uneasy about the plan, but this opportunity finally to assuage his conscience was a Godsend, and his daughter’s confidence with the house and farmyard chores meant that he could leave those responsibilities without worry. But was it right to leave Sarah alone? That was the question that kept intruding on his thoughts.

  Sarah would not have admitted it to her parents, but she was actually happy to have some time to herself, and right up until the time they left at first light the next day, she had to keep reassuring her mother that she was not afraid, and quite confident that she would manage.

  “Do you think we are doing the right thing?” Claire Montgomery asked her husband, possibly for the tenth time.

  “Mother, please... ” Sarah complained.

  “I have confidence in our daughter’s common sense, and we both know she is very capable.” Phillip said, firmly dismissing his own doubts. “It will be all right, dear!”

  “You just set your mind on your family,” Sarah added. “You have an opportunity to reconcile with grandfather. You don’t need to worry about me.”

  Claire turned troubled eyes to her husband.

  “She will be all right,” he said again, not showing any sign of impatience.

  “Please be very careful, dear,” Claire eventually said, taking Sarah in an affectionate embrace. “If there is any sign of trouble, make sure you... ”