Fairfield Hall

by Margaret Dickinson

  ‘I see,’ Annabel conceded and once more bowled the young man over with her dazzling smile.

  There was a definite feeling of optimism and a quiet joy pervading the church on Christmas morning. Lady Fairfield, Dorothea and Theodore attended the service, sitting in the family pew with Annabel alongside them. Annabel was amused to see Theo swivelling in his seat to catch Bertie’s eye. She saw the two boys grin at each other and hid her own smile, hoping that Dorothea wouldn’t notice.

  At Annabel’s request, Richard did not include gushing thanks in his sermon directed at her for all that she had done for the Fairfield Estate and its people, though to one of the prayers he added his own wording: ‘We have come through a time of great suffering and hardship and we give thanks for that deliverance’, and a fervent ‘Amen’ rippled through the congregation. Annabel kept her head down and her eyes firmly closed as she sent up her own silent prayer of thankfulness that she had been able to restore the estate and its people to what would soon be a thriving community once more. As the Lyndon family left the church, the villagers now stood in respectful silence. One or two women even dropped a curtsy, though each time their gaze was upon Annabel as they did so. It was obvious to everyone – including Dorothea – where their gratitude lay.

  But it seemed that the Christmas spirit touched even Dorothea and she unbent a little to join in parlour games with Annabel and Theo after the superb luncheon, which Mrs Parrish had cooked and John Searby had served. Four new members of household staff had been appointed just before Christmas – a kitchen maid, a parlour maid to help the butler, a second housemaid and a boot boy. Two gardeners were also to start work in the New Year. Thomas Salt had gladly accepted the post and had also recommended Eli Merriman’s thirteen-year-old son be given a trial as his under-gardener.

  ‘Gregory’s coming back to live with his dad though, sadly, Mester Merriman’s wife is not. The lad’s very interested in the land, m’lady, though he’d prefer gardening to working on a farm. He wants to grow fruit and vegetables – and flowers – he says. He’s been work-ing away, but I reckon his coming home will be the making of his dad.’

  ‘He sounds ideal to work alongside you,’ Annabel smiled, happy to think that perhaps the return of his son would lift Eli’s spirits too, ‘let’s give him a try,’ and she remembered to add tactfully, ‘if Lady Dorothea’s agreeable.’

  The house was running smoothly now, with all the staff well fed and eager to please the new Lady Fairfield. After the family had eaten, the servants enjoyed their own Christmas dinner in the servants’ hall and, unbeknown to her, they all raised a glass to their benefactor and gave thanks for Annabel’s arrival in their midst.

  If only James could have come home for Christmas, Annabel thought as she played a new board game called Snakes and Ladders with Theo, and if Bertie could have joined them too, the day would have been perfect.

  Forty-Five

  It was just after Christmas that Annabel began to feel unwell. It was nothing, she told herself, just a faint feeling of nausea first thing in the morning that usually disappeared by the time she’d had breakfast.

  ‘I haven’t time to be ill,’ she told herself as she hurried to her office on the ground floor to the left of the front door. From here she conducted the running of the estate with Ben’s help. He came most mornings and they talked about what needed to be done on Home Farm and also discussed the progress of the other three farms on the estate.

  ‘Everything’s going very well – thanks to you,’ he told her. ‘January’s the time for mending fences and hedges – all the tasks we don’t get time to do once spring is upon us.’ He smiled at Annabel. ‘But why am I telling you all this? You know the farming year as well as I do.’

  She returned his smile as she added, ‘When do you expect lambing to start?’

  ‘Early March. But, another year, it’d be nice to have some a bit earlier, say mid-February.’

  ‘Ah,’ Annabel murmured. ‘Early lambs to get the best prices at market.’

  ‘That’s right, m’lady.’ He gazed at her, unable for a brief moment to take his eyes off her lovely face. How knowledgeable she was as well as being undeniably beautiful.

  ‘Oh, and one more thing, Ben. What time of year is the best to plant trees?’

  ‘Trees, m’lady?’

  ‘Yes, if his lordship and his sister are agreeable, I was thinking how nice it would be to have the driveway lined with trees. Limes, perhaps. What do you think?’

  ‘I’ll – er – find out.’

  ‘Good. In the meantime, I’ll write to his lordship and seek his approval.’

  In due course, a reply came back from James. ‘Whatever Mama would like. She’s the gardening expert.’ So, to Elizabeth’s joy, Annabel arranged with Ben that at the appropriate time of year, lime trees should be planted to border the drive.

  The school had opened at the beginning of January. The classroom was now clean, warm and freshly painted. The children would take a little time to settle down. Douglas Porter was firm, but understanding. Dorothea was still dithering as to whether she should send Theodore to the village school, whilst the boy himself daily pleaded with his mother to be allowed to go.

  Annabel kept silent on the matter, but there was one little boy she could perhaps help. Walking down to the village on the morning after the school term had begun, she knocked on the door leading to the rooms above the grocer’s shop. She had an excuse to visit. It was Bertie’s fifth birthday and she was carrying a bag full of toys and books. When he had opened the parcels and exclaimed delightedly over them all, Annabel asked, ‘Would Bertie come for a walk with me? I thought I might take him down to the school. It’s high time he met some of the other children and there might even be a place for him. He’s a bright child. I’ll talk to Mr Porter, if you like.’

  ‘Oh, I – er – I don’t know whether . . .’ Nancy began, flushing with embarrassment.

  ‘It’ll be all right,’ Annabel said gently. ‘I promise.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to read these new books to me, Aunt Annabel?’ She was amused to hear his adoption of her as an aunt – which indeed she was. She liked to feel that he thought of her in that way, even though he was probably unaware of his true relationship to the Lyndon family. Perhaps, she mused, one day when he is older he might question why his name is Albert Lyndon Banks. ‘Not today, Bertie, we’re going for a walk down to the school.’

  At once, his face clouded. ‘I don’t want to. The other children call me nasty names.’

  ‘They won’t any more,’ Annabel told him firmly. She held out her hand. ‘Come along.’ Reluctantly, he took it and together they walked along the village street; past the cottages and beyond the church until they came to the school gates. Just beyond the school lay the blackened ruins of his former home. Annabel noticed that the boy kept his glance averted from the sight. He scuffed the toes of his shoes and hung his head and when the children clustered near the fence surrounding the playground, he tried to hide behind Annabel’s skirts.

  ‘Good morning, children.’ Annabel smiled at them. ‘I’ve brought Bertie Banks to meet you.’ She glanced around the inquisitive faces and recognized Simon Cartwright, Adam’s eldest son. No doubt he would consider himself too old at ten to befriend a five-year-old, but Annabel had reckoned without the gratitude of the Cartwright family. Simon stepped forward. ‘Is he starting school, m’lady, ’cos if he is, we’ll look after him, won’t we, lads?’ He turned and fixed his classmates with a look that brooked no argument.

  ‘That’s kind of you, Simon, and if Mr Porter says there’s a place for him, then he will be coming.’

  ‘He can come an’ play with us anyway, missis,’ a younger boy piped up and was quickly nudged.

  ‘It’s her ladyship,’ Simon hissed. ‘You call her “m’lady”.’

  Annabel laughed. ‘It’s all right, Simon. I haven’t got used to the title yet, either. You can all call me Miss Annabel, if you like. It’s much more friendly, don’t you
think?’

  Several heads nodded enthusiastically and one of the boys opened the gate for them to step into the playground. ‘We’ll look after him while you speak to Mester Porter. Come on, Bertie, we’ll play football. Mester Porter has given us a real football to play with.’

  When Annabel was satisfied that the children really were playing with him in a friendly manner, she entered the school and sought out the teacher.

  ‘He’d be one of the youngest,’ Mr Porter said, when they’d greeted each other and Annabel had explained the purpose of her visit, ‘but if you think he’d benefit from being with other children . . .’ They glanced out of the window to see that Bertie was the centre of attention; the children clustered around him, encouraging him to kick the ball. He was not being teased or called names now.

  ‘I do, and there’s someone else who would too. My sister-in-law’s son, Theodore Crowstone. He’s five and a half now and really ought to be having proper tuition, though whether I will ever be able to persuade his mother to allow him to attend the village school, I don’t know.’

  ‘Perhaps she doubts my suitability to educate the future earl,’ he said, an edge of sarcasm to his tone.

  ‘Possibly, but I think it has more to do with him mixing with the village ruffians.’

  Mr Porter glanced at the clock above the blackboard. ‘Time I blew the whistle for the end of break. Look, perhaps you’d like to leave Bertie here for the rest of the morning and we’ll see how he copes and if I think he’s ready.’

  Whilst Bertie stayed at the school, Annabel walked back along the village street to report to Nancy. ‘Simon Cartwright’s keeping an eye on him and the other children seem to follow his lead.’

  Nancy nodded. ‘Simon’s a good lad and the Cartwrights have been kind to us. In fact,’ she added, with a note of surprise in her tone, ‘everybody has. Thanks to you, m’lady.’

  Annabel patted her hand and took her leave before Nancy could say any more.

  Towards the end of January, Annabel realized just what was wrong with her and she ran her hand over her stomach, imagining that she could already feel the new life she was sure was growing within her. She should see Dr Maybury, she decided.

  On the morning she had Luke harness the trap, it was snowing lightly, but Annabel wrapped up against the cold.

  ‘I should drive you, m’lady,’ the young man said. ‘Or is Mester Jackson taking you?’

  Annabel blinked. Oh dear, she thought, is it becoming common knowledge that I am in Ben’s company a lot? James would not be pleased.

  ‘No, no, not today. I’ll be fine, Luke.’

  As she passed through the village, several folk waved to her. She wondered what their reaction would be if they knew the purpose of her journey.

  When Stephen Maybury had questioned her closely and examined her, he smiled and said, ‘I think you might well prepare for a happy event. How pleased his lordship will be.’

  Will he? Annabel wondered. She hoped so, but there was one person who would most definitely not be pleased. In fact, she would be extremely angry.

  Dorothea.

  Forty-Six

  Annabel hadn’t wanted to tell Dorothea – or anyone else – before she had had time to write to James and for him to be the first to hear the news. But at breakfast the morning after her visit to Dr Maybury, she felt so nauseous that she had to leave the table. Luckily, Dorothea had breakfasted earlier and had left the room. Jane, who was helping to serve breakfast, came to her side at once and helped her upstairs to lie down. She hurried down to the kitchen to fetch a cup of weak tea and a piece of dry toast for Annabel, but she could not keep the smile from her face.

  ‘What’s got into you? All smiles this time in a morning,’ Nelly Parrish laughed.

  ‘Miss Annabel’ – Jane still found it hard to use her mistress’s new title – ‘is feeling sick this morning. Just tea and toast – and no butter.’

  Nelly’s mouth dropped open and she stared wide-eyed at the girl. ‘Well, I never,’ she murmured. ‘This’ll put the cat among the pigeons and no mistake.’

  Annie, who had overheard the conversation, sidled out of the kitchen unseen by the other two. She found Dorothea alone in the dining room. A warm fire now glowed in the grate, the shutters were opened and the curtains drawn back to let in the morning light. Outside, Thomas Salt and Gregory Merriman had begun their assault on the overgrown garden.

  ‘M’lady,’ the girl whispered. ‘Before you came down, Lady Fairfield was feeling ill. She’s gone upstairs to lie down and Jane’s fetching her tea and toast. Dry toast,’ she added with a knowing smirk.

  Dorothea, reading the morning paper, didn’t seem to pay much attention. She merely murmured, ‘I didn’t know my mother had started to come down for breakfast. I thought you were still taking it up to her in bed.’

  ‘I am. I didn’t mean your mother, m’lady, I meant Lady Annabel.’

  There was a moment’s silence before Dorothea raised her head very slowly and met the maid’s gaze. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said, it wasn’t your mother, it was—’

  ‘No, no, before that. About her being ill.’

  ‘I’d say she’s got morning sickness, m’lady. I’ve seen it enough times when me mam was having another babby.’ Annie was enjoying herself, eager to impart a bit of information to her mistress and air her own knowledge on the subject. ‘An’ I should know, she had six more after me.’

  Dorothea was very still and, for a brief moment, Annie felt a flicker of fear. She knew only too well that Dorothea was adamant that her son should inherit the title and the Fairfield Estate. If Lady Annabel had a son, that would not happen. Annie trembled, wishing she had kept silent. She’d seen Dorothea in a temper more than once and she didn’t want to be the one who’d made her angry.

  Slowly, Dorothea rose from the table, her mind working furiously. She would have to play this very carefully. With extreme control, she said, ‘I’d better go and see her for myself, but not a word about this to anyone else, you hear me?’

  Annie nodded and bobbed a little curtsy as her mistress swept from the room, outrage in every movement.

  ‘It’s a bit late for that,’ Annie muttered as soon as Dorothea was out of earshot. ‘They’ll all know soon enough downstairs now.’

  Dorothea entered the bedroom Annabel shared with James on his brief visits home without knocking. She approached the bed and stood looking down at her sister-in-law.

  With great forbearance, she managed to say mildly, ‘Annie tells me you were unwell at breakfast. I trust it’s nothing serious. Perhaps it’s something you ate. I was a little suspicious myself of the fish we had for dinner last night.’

  Annabel sat up slowly and reached for the cup of tea, which Jane had placed on the bedside table. ‘I don’t think it’s anything serious at all. In fact, I believe it’s perfectly natural in my condition.’

  She heard Dorothea pull in a sharp breath. ‘What – what do you mean?’

  ‘I am with child, Dorothea.’

  ‘You’re what!’

  ‘I’m expecting a child.’ For a brief moment Annabel felt afraid. She really thought for one fleeting second that the woman was going to attack her. Dorothea’s eyes bulged. The colour drained from her face and then flooded back until she was almost puce. She staggered briefly and reached out to grasp the post at the end of the bed.

  ‘How – how can you be?’

  Annabel frowned. What on earth did the woman mean? But at Dorothea’s next words, it became clear. ‘He swore he wouldn’t touch you. Promised me that it was to be a marriage in name only. He’s got that Carruthers woman for – for that sort of thing. He doesn’t need you at all. Only your money.’ She was glaring at Annabel as if she was wholly to blame and then, suddenly, she seemed to calm down. ‘Oh, I understand now. I see it all. It’s not his, is it? It’s not James’s child. It’s someone else’s. It’s – it’s Jackson’s, I’ll be bound.’

  Now it was Annabel’s turn to be i
ncensed. ‘How dare you? How dare you suggest such a thing – even think it!’

  Now Dorothea was in control of herself again. ‘Oh, I dare and I’ll make sure my brother knows he’s been cuckolded.’

  Annabel turned her head away, feeling a sickness that now had nothing to do with her pregnancy. ‘You’re mad,’ she muttered. ‘Quite mad.’ She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. The tea and toast had worked and she felt much better. ‘Please leave my room.’

  ‘Gladly. I no longer wish to be in the presence of a whore! No wonder you were so keen to help Nancy Banks. You’re two of a kind.’

  ‘Just go, Dorothea.’

  With an angry swish of her skirts, Dorothea left the room. Moments later, Jane came back into the room, her eyes swimming with tears. ‘Oh miss, it’s all my fault. I was that happy for you when I went down to get your breakfast, I couldn’t keep the smile off my face and Mrs Parrish guessed. Annie must have overheard and gone running to tell Lady Dorothea. Even after all you’ve done for them, miss, they still seem to think of her as their mistress.’

  ‘It’s all right, Jane.’ Annabel touched her hand. ‘They’d all have known soon, but now I must write to my husband. I’ll go down to the office.’

  ‘Do you think you ought to stay here, miss? I could bring your writing things up.’

  ‘No, no, I’m feeling much better now. Just stay with me whilst I go downstairs.’

  Reaching the office and reassuring Jane that she was fine, Annabel sat down at her desk and picked up her pen. She would write to James at once to tell him the wonderful news and she would see that it was in the post before his dear sister could write to him. An hour later, safe in Luke’s hands, her letter was on its way to the town. But, unbeknown to her, so was one from Dorothea. Luke, carrying out the instructions of both women, was ignorant of the dynamite the letters held.

  Forty-Seven