Fairfield Hall

by Margaret Dickinson

  ‘Still on his own?’

  Nancy nodded and bit her lip.

  ‘He’ll make friends when he goes to school,’ Annabel said with a confidence in her tone that she wasn’t feeling inside. These villagers had long memories and their youngsters would have overheard the gossip.

  A few moments later, Nancy ushered Bertie into the room. Shyly, he came to stand in front of Annabel and, obviously coached by his mother, he said, in a clear, piping voice, ‘Good afternoon, Lady Fairfield.’

  ‘Hello, Bertie. I’ve brought you some books. Would you like me to read a story to you?’

  The boy blinked and, above his head, Annabel saw Nancy and her mother exchange a startled glance. Bertie put his thumb in his mouth and nodded, sidling a little closer to Annabel. As she opened one of the books she had brought, he leaned against her knee, following her finger moving along the line of printing as she read and looking at the pictures in the illustrated book. When she closed the last page, she looked down into his upturned face and found herself staring into his huge soft brown eyes. She smoothed the flick of dark brown hair back from his forehead. There was no doubting whose family this boy belonged to; he was a Lyndon and no mistake.

  ‘I’ll come another day and read to you again,’ she said softly as, with an impetuous gesture, she dropped a kiss on his forehead. ‘But now I must be going. It’s getting dusk.’ She didn’t add that she was hurrying home to read to his cousin.

  As she left the cottage, Annabel didn’t notice two men lurking behind the hedgerow of the field opposite.

  ‘That’s ’er,’ whispered Sid. ‘That’s me fine lady what spoilt our Friday evening’s bit o’ fun. What I wouldn’t like to do to ’er . . .’

  ‘Too dangerous, Sid. We’d best take our revenge on Nancy and her brat. Villagers won’t miss them, I can tell ya.’

  ‘Aye, mebbe you’re right. We’ll think about it, plan it careful, like. But tomorrow night, we’ll be back. They won’t be expecting us on a Saturday night, now will they?’

  As the darkness closed in around them, the two men crept away.

  Thirty-Eight

  ‘James! How lovely!’

  When Annabel arrived back at the house, it was to find James striding up and down the hall, a deep frown on his face. Private Jenkins was standing to one side watching his superior officer, whilst Dorothea was standing in the doorway into the dining room, a satisfied smirk on her face.

  Annabel ran towards her husband, her arms wide, decorum forgotten in her pleasure at seeing him. But instead of enfolding her in his embrace, he caught her by the shoulders and held her fast, glaring down into her face.

  ‘Where have you been until this hour?’ he demanded harshly.

  Annabel gasped. ‘James, you’re hurting me.’

  He released her quickly, almost throwing her off-balance by the sudden movement. She resisted the urge to rub her arms where his strong fingers had bruised her flesh. She faced him calmly, but defiantly. ‘I’ve been down in the village,’ she began, but then stopped. She didn’t think James would be pleased to hear where she’d been for most of the afternoon and she certainly didn’t want Dorothea to know.

  ‘On your own?’

  ‘Why, yes. Oh James, you should see how things are taking shape. We have livestock back on the farms, the fields are being ploughed and two of the shops are open again. Even Jabez Fletcher has given his notice in at the place he works in town and is to reopen his smithy. There’s only . . .’ She had been about to say that there was only Eli Merriman to come round and everything would soon be as it once had been, but James was still glowering.

  ‘If you still insist on involving yourself in running the estate, you will oblige me by taking your maid with you everywhere you go. Everywhere, do you understand? A lady would never dream of going anywhere without her maid and she certainly wouldn’t be seen in the company of the estate bailiff without a chaperone.’

  Annabel was about to burst into laughter at the veiled suggestion that lay beneath his words. It was a preposterous notion, but she could see that her husband was deadly serious. She stared up at him as she said softly, ‘I will do as you ask, James, because I respect your wishes, but I promise you, you can trust me implicitly. And Jane has been busy helping care for your mother.’

  His expression seemed to soften a little. ‘I am thinking of your reputation, my dear.’

  Annabel inclined her head and said, ‘Of course,’ even though she didn’t think that was the case at all. James was unaccountably possessive, but, strangely, the thought that he cared enough about her to be jealous warmed her.

  ‘And besides,’ he went on, ‘Mama is much improved now. And I –’ he hesitated before saying stiffly as if words of thanks did not come easily to him, ‘I do realize that we have you to thank for that.’

  ‘Please,’ Annabel smiled up at him and linked her arm through his, ‘don’t let’s mention it again. I have so much to tell you. Will you come up with me while I change for dinner?’

  ‘Of course.’ As they moved towards the staircase, James glanced back over his shoulder. ‘I won’t be needing you again tonight, Jenkins. I’m sure you can find something to amuse you, though I’m sorry the pub hasn’t reopened yet.’ He smiled mockingly. ‘Obviously, it is not one of my wife’s priorities.’

  Annabel glanced back too, an anxious frown on her face. She couldn’t say anything, but she fervently hoped that Private Jenkins would not go to Nancy’s cottage. Once in the privacy of their bedroom, however, all thoughts of the soldier and even of Nancy were driven from Annabel’s mind as her husband lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

  ‘And now, how about a proper welcome home for your husband?’

  There had been no time left for her to relate everything that had taken place since he had last been home before it was time to dress hurriedly for dinner. And at the table, Annabel had no intention of talking about estate matters in front of Dorothea, but it seemed that Theo had other ideas. He had been allowed to dine with the grown-ups as a special treat because his uncle was home and also because it was the first time his grandmother had come downstairs since her illness. But the child did not know that Annabel had had a hand in all the improvements; he only knew the changes he had seen.

  ‘Uncle James, we’ve got horses in the fields and cows and sheep. And Aunt Annabel says they’ve got pigs at the farms and hens. Oh, all sorts! Isn’t it wonderful? And the farmers are ploughing their fields. Next year, Aunt Annabel says, there’ll be all sorts of crops growing.’

  James raised his eyebrows and glanced at his wife as the boy continued excitedly, ‘And yesterday, we went out in the new pony and trap. Luke took us and we drove all around the estate. Aunt Annabel pointed out all the farms. I know all their names and who lives there now.’

  ‘Then you know more than me, Theodore. But a new pony and trap, you say? How has that come about, then?’

  There was silence around the table until Dorothea was obliged to say, grudgingly, ‘Annabel bought it for the household to use. It will save having to use Jackson’s.’

  ‘I’m delighted to hear it,’ he murmured and Annabel knew at once that he was pleased because she would not be calling on Ben any more to take her wherever she needed to go.

  ‘And,’ Dorothea went on, taking a deep breath, ‘your wife has offered to employ a tutor for Theodore until he is old enough to go to boarding school. The school both you and Albert went to, of course.’

  James turned his head slowly to look at his sister. ‘I think you should get in touch with your errant husband to ask him to support his son’s education. It shouldn’t fall to either me or my generous wife.’

  Annabel kept her eyes firmly on the plate in front of her but the revelation had startled her. She had assumed – obviously incorrectly – that Dorothea was a widow. She glanced at the woman beneath her eyelashes, to see that Dorothea had blushed scarlet.

  ‘James,’ Dorothea hissed, ‘how could you? Not in front of the boy, pl
ease.’

  James shrugged, unfazed by her anger. ‘He’s got to know the truth one day. The younger he is, the better he will deal with it.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ she whispered so that Theodore, sitting further down the table near his grandmother, could not hear. Though Annabel’s sharp hearing could pick up the gist of what was being said, she was careful to give no sign that she was aware of what they were saying.

  ‘There’s no need for him ever to know,’ Dorothea went on sotto voce. ‘Henry Crowstone is out of our lives and I want it to stay that way.’

  James smirked. ‘You know, I can’t help feeling rather sorry for Crowstone. You used him, Dorothea, to get what you wanted, a son and possible heir for Fairfield, and then you made the poor fellow’s life such a misery that he found solace elsewhere. One can hardly blame him.’

  ‘Oh, in just the same way as you have used your wife, you mean? You’ve got what you wanted out of her, haven’t you? Her money!’ James face darkened. Dorothea was treading on dangerous ground, but she carried on heedlessly, picking up on what was dearest to her heart. ‘And what do you mean a possible heir? Theodore is your heir. You promised me.’

  ‘If I don’t have children of my own – or if I only have daughters – he will certainly be my heir. But if I do have a son –’

  Two bright pink spots still burned in Dorothea’s cheeks. ‘But you promised. You swore to me that your marriage would be in name only.’

  James gave a wry laugh. ‘I grant you that, originally, that was my intention, but I had reckoned without the delectable young woman I have married.’

  They were carrying on the quarrel in such low voices, confident that Annabel could not hear what was being said, but as their anger grew, they both became unguarded and now Annabel could hear every word quite plainly, though still she gave no sign and pretended to involve herself in Theo’s chatter with his grandmother.

  ‘So, what about your marriage vows? What about the “forsaking all others” bit? Have you given up your amour in London?’

  Annabel could detect that her remark angered James. ‘That, my dear sister, is none of your business.’

  Now it was Dorothea who, feeling she had the upper hand, leaned back in her chair with a smug smile. ‘It is, if I choose to make it so, my dear brother.’

  But James was to have the last word. As he rose from the table he said, nonchalantly, ‘There’ll be no need for Theodore to have a tutor here. Until he’s ready to go to boarding school – which I will agree to – he can attend the village school.’

  With that, he turned and left the room, leaving Dorothea gaping after him.

  Thirty-Nine

  The next day, Private Jenkins was sporting a blackening eye and a bruised nose.

  ‘What happened to you?’ James asked as he passed him in the hallway on his way to breakfast.

  ‘Village louts,’ the man muttered morosely. James roared with laughter. ‘Protecting their village whore, were they?’

  Unobserved, Annabel came up behind them. This time she did not hide the fact that she had overheard their conversation. ‘If you mean Nancy, she has changed her ways. There will be no more visits from gentlemen callers unless, of course, their intentions are honourable.’

  James opened his mouth, but it was Jenkins who said quickly, ‘My intentions are honourable, m’lady. I know what she is – or rather was – but I still like the look of her. I’m no angel but I’d like to court her proper-like, though no one would listen to me.’

  ‘Was that your intention last time you tried to visit?’

  The man hung his head and mumbled, ‘Well, no, m’lady, it weren’t, but’ – he lifted his head – ‘it is now, I swear.’

  Annabel looked into his hazel eyes. ‘I believe you,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ll talk to Nancy and see what she says. The only thing is, you’ll have to be chaperoned at all times – at least to start with. She’s making a great effort to be accepted back into the village, but if the villagers see a man visiting her cottage, they won’t believe her.’

  Later that afternoon, as dusk gathered, James and Annabel, wrapped up against the winter’s chill, walked down to the village.

  ‘I need to see for myself what’s happening,’ James said. ‘Jenkins, you come too. We’ll let the villagers know you meant no harm.’

  They came to a halt in front of the two shops that were now open when Jabez appeared from the smithy. He touched his cap to James and murmured, ‘M’lord.’ His tone was deferential, but there was a coolness and a wary look in his eyes. His expression softened as he turned towards Annabel. ‘My lady.’ Then his glance went to the soldier standing a pace or two behind. ‘Bit o’ trouble last night, then, was there, young feller? Well, I’ll say one thing, you look to have come out of it better than the other two.’ He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘Young Josh is battered black and blue and they say Adam Cartwright ain’t much better.’ The old man chuckled. ‘’Spect you know a few more moves than they do, what with you bein’ a soldier and learnin’ to fight.’

  ‘Jenkins got the message,’ James said curtly.

  ‘Good,’ Jabez said. ‘We’re trying to help that lass and her young ’un be accepted back into the community and it dun’t help if fellers still think they can – use her.’ His eyes hardened. ‘’Twas that what brought her down in the first place.’

  James met the older man’s steadfast glare and it was his lordship who looked away first with a brief, ‘Quite.’ There was an uncomfortable pause until James cleared his throat and changed the subject abruptly. ‘I understand you’re reopening the smithy.’

  ‘Aye, m’lord. If you remember – but p’raps you won’t as you were only a young ’un then – my father ran the smithy and joinery business here.’ He jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the buildings behind him.

  James frowned. ‘Vaguely. He was a wheelwright too, wasn’t he?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And you aim to do the same?’

  ‘I do, m’lord. God willing.’ His glance went once more to Annabel and a slow smile spread across his mouth. ‘And with her ladyship’s help.’

  James’s mouth hardened and he seemed about to retort, but Annabel squeezed his arm and, reading his thoughts, said quickly, ‘Mr Fletcher – and everyone else – is keeping careful accounts.’

  ‘Oh aye,’ Jabez said, catching on. ‘Every penny she lends us will be repaid. You need have no fear of that. Once we’re on our feet.’

  ‘Mm,’ was all James said, but there was doubt in the sound.

  ‘Any development with Mr Merriman?’ Annabel knew that his neighbours were doing their best to encourage the man to reopen his shop.

  Grimly, Jabez shook his head. ‘A’kward old cuss. Begging ya pardon, m’lady, but he is.’

  ‘Perhaps if he was told he’ll be given notice if he doesn’t buck his ideas up – that might spur him into action,’ James said, with deceptive mildness.

  Annabel bit her lip. She would have liked to have denied such an action, but realized that it would be belittling her husband in front of his tenants.

  Immediately, Jabez’s tone was hard once more. ‘Would you like me to relay that message to him?’

  James shrugged and said ironically, ‘I’m sure her ladyship will bring him round eventually. She seems to have the rest of you wrapped around her little finger.’

  For a moment, Jabez stared at him and then chuckled, ‘You’re right there, m’lord. We’d do owt for her ladyship.’

  Annabel blushed prettily, but her husband was far from pleased by the compliment. Instead, he nodded curtly and turned away, forcing Annabel, who still had her arm tucked in his, to do the same. She glanced back over her shoulder and gave Jabez one of her dazzling smiles. Her action did not go unnoticed by her husband and his frown deepened. ‘It’s getting dark,’ he said, ‘we should go back.’

  The three of them were about to turn and retrace their steps, when a flash of light at the end of the road caught Annabel’
s eye. ‘Wait! What was that?’

  They stood a moment, watching as the light turned into flames licking the night sky.

  ‘My God! It’s a thatched roof on fire,’ James muttered and, wrenching himself free of Annabel, began to run towards the blaze.

  ‘It’s Nancy’s,’ Jenkins exclaimed and ran after James. Then he shouted back, ‘Get help. Get all the villagers to come and help.’

  Galvanized into action, Annabel picked up her skirts and ran the few paces back towards the smithy. ‘Mr Fletcher! Mr Fletcher! Come quickly. Nancy’s cottage is on fire.’

  Jabez was still in his backyard. Hurrying out of the gate, he glanced just once down the road and saw what was happening. ‘I’ll get Josh. We’ll bring buckets. Get the others.’

  Quickly, she banged on the neighbouring doors, bringing both the grocer and the butcher out of their shops. Word spread down the village street as quickly as the fire on Nancy’s roof and soon most of the men were running towards the burning cottage carrying whatever they’d been able to find that would hold water to douse the flames. Annabel ran to the vicarage, the nearest house to the cottage. Swiftly, she explained that they needed water and soon a chain of villagers had formed from the back door of the vicarage passing heavy buckets from hand to hand.

  ‘We can’t get up to the roof,’ James said, taking his place in the line. Annabel stood beside him, making one more pair of hands. ‘If only—’

  ‘Will this help, m’lord?’

  James and Annabel turned with one accord to see Eli Merriman standing behind them, carrying a long ladder.

  ‘Good man,’ James said and reached out to take one end of the ladder. Together they began to carry it towards the blazing cottage.

  ‘James – do be careful,’ Annabel cried. ‘Where’s Private Jenkins? Let him help you.’

  James turned briefly. ‘He’s gone into the cottage to get them out.’

  ‘Oh my God – are they still in there? Don’t they know?’

  At that moment, Ben appeared at her side. He had run all the way from the Hall and was panting hard. ‘What happened?’ he asked, taking the place in the line vacated by James.