When the pony and trap bringing James and Harry Jenkins from the station in town drew up outside the front steps, Annabel stood in the doorway to greet her husband. James had not been able to get leave for Christmas, but on explaining to his commanding officer that his wife had written to say that she was with child, special compassionate leave had been granted. He said nothing, however, about the letter he had received from his sister.
James bounded up the steps, but instead of taking her in his arms, he glared down at Annabel. ‘Is it true? Are you expecting a child?’
‘Yes, oh yes, James. Isn’t it wonderful? I do so hope it’s the son you want.’
For a moment, his face worked as if he was grappling with some inner conflict. Then he grasped her arm, his fingers biting painfully into her flesh as he almost dragged her in through the front door held open by the butler.
‘Good afternoon, my lord,’ John began, but he was ignored as James hurried Annabel through to the morning room. He thrust her from him, almost making her overbalance and fall before he slammed the door behind them.
‘A son, you say. Of course, I want a son. But’ – he jabbed his finger towards her as he said crudely, ‘whatever you’re carrying in your belly isn’t mine, is it?’
Annabel gasped and sank into a chair, her legs giving way beneath her. She stared, wide-eyed at him. ‘James,’ she said in a strangled whisper. ‘I swear to you that this child is yours. How can you possibly accuse me of such a thing?’
James paced the room, stopping every so often to tower over her. ‘Dorothea says you’ve been spending most of your time down in the village. The father could be anyone, but it’s most likely Jackson’s. And even after I asked you – most specifically – not to go anywhere without the company of your maid.’
Annabel was trembling from head to foot. She felt sick, not with pregnancy sickness now, but with revulsion. ‘I – I have taken her with me – most of the time – but when your mother was so ill, she was needed here.’
‘You should be here,’ he raged, ‘tending to your duties in this house, not running around the village consorting with the yokels.’
Now anger surged through her. ‘Is that how you view your tenants? Is that how you think of them? And as for accusing Ben—’
‘Oho, Ben, is it? How very cosy! And he comes here almost every morning, I hear.’
She stood up suddenly. Her head reeled but she steadied herself against the chair. ‘You’ve no right to accuse me of infidelity when you keep a mistress in London.’
They glared at each other and then he shrugged. ‘So, what of it? It’s the done thing in my class of society.’ There was no mistaking the accent on the word ‘my’.
‘Well, it isn’t in mine,’ Annabel snapped. ‘I have been and always will be utterly faithful to you and if you choose to listen to the evil tongue of your sister, then—’
‘Are you calling my sister “evil”?’
‘You’re twisting my words. I said she’s got an evil tongue. She’s obsessed with Theo being your heir and she’ll do anything – anything – to bring that about.’ I’d better watch out, Annabel thought, though this she did not voice, or I’ll be finding myself lying at the foot of the stairs and when my baby’s born – she shuddered – if it ever is, I’ll fear for its life.
Now, James stood very still, deep in thought. Then he came very close to her, looking down into her upturned face. ‘You know,’ he murmured, ‘you are far too beautiful for your own good. I promised Dorothea that I would not consummate the marriage, but on our wedding night, when I saw you looking so lovely and willing to please me, well, what man could resist? Certainly not me. So, I broke my vow.’
‘So you did marry me just for my money?’ Annabel said bitterly, feeling the tears start behind her eyes. She blinked hastily, determined not to cry in front of him.
He hesitated. Stated so baldly it made him look and feel like a heel. ‘It’s – not uncommon.’
‘In your world, no, I guess it isn’t. Actually,’ she added, trying to be rational now instead of emotional, ‘I don’t blame you so much as I do my father. His ambition to see his daughter and his future grandson with a title overrode any affection he might have had for me, though,’ she added sadly, ‘I doubt he has any.’
They stood close together for what seemed an age and then he sighed so heavily, she felt his breath on her face. He held her shoulders, though more gently now. ‘Do you swear on your child’s life that it is mine?’
There was no hesitation as she said solemnly, ‘I do. James, I fell in love with you in London and I still love you – but that’s my tragedy, isn’t it, because it’s obvious that you don’t love – or trust – me.’ His face twisted with conflicting emotions. Did he love her even just a little? she wondered, staring up into his brown eyes, trying to read the truth there. If not, then why was he so jealous? Didn’t that arise from love? Unless, of course, he regarded her as his ‘possession’, or he was angry because it was she who was receiving all the praise for the improvements on the estate and, it had to be said, the undying gratitude – and yes, even love – of his tenants. Even Eli Merriman smiled at her now when she passed by his shop. And as for Jabez Fletcher, from being so vindictive towards her, he was now her most ardent supporter.
But James was a soldier, she reminded herself. He was the sort of man who probably thought sweet words and declarations of love were unmanly. Even his proposal had been stilted and awkward. She’d given him the chance now to tell her he loved her but when he remained silent, she whispered brokenly, ‘I swear to you, James, I have been faithful to you. This child is yours.’
He stepped away and turned and strode towards the door. ‘Then we’ll say no more about it, but Jackson goes. I’ll tell him myself.’
Annabel opened her mouth to protest, even took a step forward to plead with him, but then she stopped and bit down hard on her lower lip. Protest would be futile and dangerous; he would begin to doubt her once again. She sank back down into the chair. Poor, poor Ben. Dismissed – and no doubt without any kind of reference – because of her jealous, possessive husband and Dorothea’s wicked scheming that had taken advantage of it. What could she do to help Ben? With a small groan she buried her face in her hands and she was still sitting like that when Dorothea came into the room.
‘Mourning the loss of your lover?’ she said nastily.
Slowly, Annabel stood up and faced her enemy, for that was what her sister-in-law was.
‘I have no lover, Dorothea, only my husband.’
‘Well, you might have won him over with your pretty face and your wheedling ways for the moment, but you don’t fool me. And I promise you this, your child – if it is a boy – will never inherit the title nor the estate. That belongs to Theodore.’
Whatever tentative understanding had been growing between Annabel and Dorothea was gone in an instant.
That evening after dinner as darkness settled over the village, James strode across the courtyard to Ben’s rooms above the archway, righteous anger in every step. Ben Jackson had been born in and had grown up in Thorpe St Michael, working on nearby farms since the age of twelve. At fifteen he had come to work on the Fairfield Estate for James’s father, Charles, and had worked his way up until he had been appointed to the post of estate bailiff. He had once courted a girl in the village, but when she had died of consumption, he had devoted himself to his job and the people of Fairfield. It had devastated him to see the estate fall into decline and the lines on his face, which that worry had brought, made him seem older than his years.
James climbed the stairs and entered Ben’s quarters without knocking.
‘Jackson,’ he called. ‘Are you here?’
Ben hurried from his sitting room to greet his master with an anxious question. ‘M’lord? Is something wrong?’
‘You’re dismissed.’
The colour drained from Ben’s face and he stared at James open-mouthed. ‘M’lord?’ he stammered. ‘Why? What have I done?’<
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James’s glowering frown deepened even more. ‘You’re spending too much time in the company of my wife. Every day, I hear, you’re across at the house supposedly consulting her about the running of the estate.’
‘That’s it exactly. I—’
‘You shouldn’t need to ask for a woman’s advice. Now that you have all the tenants back in place, you should be able to run the estate. Certainly there should be no need for you to see her every day and I won’t have it.’
‘Then I won’t go into the house at all. I—’ Even as he said the words, the sorrow at not being able to see Annabel swept through him.
‘You most certainly will not, because you won’t be here.’
Still staring at his lord and master, Ben shook his head slowly. ‘I still don’t understand why.’
‘My wife is pregnant and rumour has it that it could be yours.’
Now Ben’s face was stricken. ‘How could you even think that? Lady Fairfield has always behaved with utter decorum and so have I.’
‘I’ve only your word for that,’ James snapped.
‘So – that’s not good enough?’
‘You expect me to take the word of a servant over that of my sister.’
‘Your – sister! She’s accusing me of this?’
‘She has brought it to my attention that my wife has been spending far too much time with you. In the office at the house and driving around the estate, completely unchaperoned. I don’t like it and I won’t have it. You will leave my employment by tomorrow morning.’
Ben was stunned, yet his care for the estate still surfaced despite the dreadful shock. ‘And Home Farm? Who is to manage that?’
James laughed wryly. ‘Since my dear wife is so keen to involve herself in the management of the estate, she can run that herself.’
‘And you think she won’t come into contact with workers then?’ Ben said bitterly, understanding now exactly what had brought this about. James Lyndon was irrationally jealous. ‘With other men?’
‘That’s not your concern any more,’ James snapped. ‘Just mind you’re gone by first light tomorrow.’ He turned on his heel to leave, but Ben, who now had nothing to lose, said boldly, ‘You don’t deserve Lady Annabel. She’s rescued your home and your estate and yet you treat her like this. How can you believe such wicked lies? Your sister’s only saying such terrible things out of spite. She wants Fairfield for her son – we all know that – and she’ll stop at nothing to get it.’
For a moment, James stood very still and Ben thought he was in for a sound beating. James was taller and younger than he was and, whilst strong from his life of hard work, Ben would be no match for an army-trained officer. But James only turned and glared at him for a long moment before saying quietly, ‘I should have let you burn on the night of the fire at Nancy’s cottage.’ With that he left, closing the door quietly behind him.
Forty-Eight
When he was sure his lordship had left, Ben sank down into a chair trying to come to terms with what had just happened. He had nowhere to go, no relatives left alive to whom he could turn in his dire need. Nor could he go to any of the tenant farmers; he knew they would help him if they could, but it wasn’t fair to involve them in this trouble. And trouble it certainly was.
‘Oh Annabel, I’m so sorry,’ he whispered aloud to the empty room. ‘I wouldn’t harm a hair of your beautiful head and yet I’ve brought this upon you.’ He dropped his head into his hands with a loud groan. Now he allowed the feelings that he had held buried deep in his heart to surface. There was truth in what James had accused him of; Ben had fallen in love with her, but he was sure he had never betrayed such feelings in her presence. In fact, he had denied they existed until this moment. He only knew that he’d looked forward to the times when he could be with her, when he could see her smile, her violet eyes twinkling at him with mischief, and when he could hear her delicious laughter. And he remembered every single thing about her from the moment he had met her. He had admired her compassion for the villagers, marvelled at her determination and her courage in saving the whole estate and with it, undoubtedly, people’s lives.
And this is how the Lyndon family repaid her.
Slowly he rose to his feet with a heavy sigh. He must spend the night packing. He would ask only one favour of one of the farmers; Jim Chadwick, he thought. He needed to borrow a farm cart to drive himself out of the village, but where he could go, he had no idea.
It was gone midnight when he heard a soft tap at the door. A light still burned in his bedroom as he sorted through his belongings. Fearful that James had sent someone – possibly Harry Jenkins – he went to the door but did not open it at once until he heard a woman whisper softly, ‘Please open the door.’
Hope and fear in equal measure flooded through him. If she had come to see him, it thrilled him and yet, James’s reprisal would be catastrophic. He opened the door slowly and was relieved and yet in the same moment disappointed to see who stood there. ‘Jane – come in.’
The young girl stepped inside. Drawing her near to the fire, he said, ‘Whatever are you doing here?’
‘Miss Annabel sent me.’ Her teeth were chattering with the cold and quickly, Ben poured a measure of whisky into a mug and added hot water from the kettle on the hob. ‘Drink this. It’ll warm you.’
Gratefully, the girl sipped the liquid. ‘She’s so worried about you. She asked me to come and tell you to go to her grandfather’s and to tell him what’s happened. He’ll help you.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I don’t want to involve him.’
‘She was adamant, Mr Jackson. At least, call and see him. And, she said, you’re to tell him everything. Everything!’
Ben stared at her. ‘You – you all know up at the house.’
Grimly, Jane nodded. ‘Lady Dorothea’s seen to that. She’s telling everyone that the child Miss Annabel’s expecting isn’t his lordship’s – it’s yours.’ She looked up at him, meeting his gaze steadily. ‘But we all know it isn’t, Mr Jackson. At least –’ She hesitated and dropped her eyes.
‘Go on,’ Ben said softly. ‘There’s some that think it’s true, are there?’
‘Only Annie, but she’s always been Lady Dorothea’s maid. She obeys her in everything. You heard about the gravy when Miss Annabel first came?’
Ben shook his head and Jane recounted the incident, adding, ‘Lady Dorothea told her to do it, so she did.’
They were silent until Ben said, ‘Tell your mistress that I will call and see her grandfather, but that I don’t want to do anything that might hurt her further. Tell her not to worry about me –’ He hesitated, wanting to send more messages, but not daring to do so. He was certain of Jane’s loyalty to Annabel, but he didn’t want her to be in more trouble than she already might be for coming here so late. Maybe, he thought fearfully, she’d be the next to be dismissed. ‘I’ll be fine.’
Jane rose and handed him the now empty mug. ‘I’d best get back before I’m missed. I share a bedroom with Annie and she’d be only too happy to tell Lady Dorothea I was missing half the night. And if she knew I’d come cross the yard to see you . . .’ She said no more but her meaning was obvious.
Jim Chadwick was only too happy to help Ben Jackson, but saddened by the news that he was leaving. ‘This is a bit sudden, ain’t it, Ben? Has summat happened?’
‘Yes, it has, Jim, and you’ll no doubt hear all about it soon enough. The Fairfield grapevine will be hard at work, I don’t doubt,’ Ben said bitterly. ‘I’m saying nothing, but I’d just like to think you’ll believe that I am innocent of what I’ve been accused and – more importantly – so is the other person. Because we are, I promise you.’
‘Sounds very mysterious.’ Jim started to laugh, but his mirth died when he saw how distraught Ben was. The man hadn’t slept at all; he’d spent most of the night packing up his belongings that were now being loaded onto Jim Chadwick’s farm cart and the rest of the hours of darkness worrying about Annabel. But there was noth
ing he could do to help her; he might only make things worse. The best thing he could do to safeguard her would be to get out of her life, but the thought that he would never see her again devastated him.
‘Where will you go?’ Jim asked.
‘I’m going to Meadow View Farm – Edward Armstrong’s place – first. I’ll leave your cart there. I’m sure Edward will have one of his men bring it back for you.’
‘No need,’ Jim said, climbing up onto the front of the cart. ‘I’m coming with you. You’ve been a good friend to us, Ben, and I’ll not desert you in your hour of trouble, ’cos I can see by your face, it is trouble.’
The two men set out as the first fingers of dawn crept across the fields.
‘I’m sad you’ll not be here to see the first lambs born, the first crops begin to show. It’s not fair.’ Jim sighed. ‘But that’s how that family are, I’m sorry to say. They just think about themselves.’
‘Not Lady Annabel. Please don’t include her in this.’
‘No,’ Jim said swiftly, ‘I wouldn’t, because she hasn’t got Lyndon blood in her, has she?’
They spoke very little for the remainder of the journey, each busy with their own thoughts. The yard at Meadow View Farm was already busy with the sounds of the morning milking coming from the byre. At the sound of the cart’s wheels, Edward appeared.
‘’Morning, what brings you here so early?’ he greeted them and then his face clouded. ‘Is it Annabel? Is owt amiss?’
‘Ben’s been sacked,’ Jim said bluntly as he climbed down.
‘Eh?’ Edward was obviously startled and as mystified as Jim. ‘I can’t believe it. Annabel wouldn’t do that. She relies on you completely. I thought—’ He stopped as he saw Ben shaking his head.
‘His lordship dismissed me himself last night and told me to be gone by this morning. I had no choice even though I’m not guilty of what he’s accusing me of.’
‘And what is he accusing you of?’
Ben too had climbed down from the cart, but was now leaning against it as if he could hardly stand. Shock, disappointment and a terrible fear for Annabel had taken their toll, besides which he had not slept during the night nor eaten since the previous dinnertime. James’s bombshell had robbed him of any appetite. He raised tired, red-rimmed eyes to look into Edward’s concerned face. ‘Have you heard from your granddaughter?’
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