Fairfield Hall

by Margaret Dickinson

  ‘Charles had the garden made for me when I came here as a bride,’ the dowager countess murmured. ‘We were so much in love and he’d have done anything to make me happy – then.’

  ‘So yours was a love match,’ Annabel said softly. ‘Not a marriage of –’ She stopped, unwilling to say the word that might upset the dowager countess and prevent her from saying more. Annabel wanted her to go on; she wanted to hear more about the family. But Elizabeth did not seem to have heard her; she was lost in her memories. Annabel had caught the brief pause before she had added ‘Then’.

  ‘You were happy?’ she prompted.

  ‘Oh, so happy. The estate was prospering. Charles’s grandfather – the second earl – had been a good manager – a good farmer.’ She smiled. ‘They called him Farmer Bert. His name was Albert.’ Her face clouded. ‘That’s why we called our firstborn “Albert” after him. And Charles’s father – Theodore – carried on the good work.’

  She paused for what seemed to Annabel an age, but Elizabeth was not to be rushed. It was as if she was speaking to herself more than to anyone else. Annabel hesitated to interrupt her; it might break the spell and halt the reminiscing.

  ‘We were so thrilled at our Albert’s birth; an heir for the title and the estate at the very first go. And he was such a handsome little boy. Always merry, always laughing, but a little rascal,’ she added fondly, ‘even then. And then came Dorothea. She was always a surly child, sulky and jealous of her elder brother’s position. She was the ambitious one, whilst Albert just wanted to enjoy life. It would have been better if she had been born the boy and born first.’ She sighed and lapsed into a long silence again, but this time Annabel whispered, ‘And James?’

  ‘All James ever wanted was to be a soldier. It had always been the tradition in the family that the second son – if there was one – would go into the Army, but it was what James wanted to do anyway. He didn’t need persuading. So, as soon as he was old enough, off he went. He’s hardly lived at home since.’ Now her face clouded; she was remembering unhappier times. ‘James had no interest in the estate; he had no need. It was unlikely that it would ever pass to him, but he’d reckoned without Albert’s wild ways – behaviour that killed his father.’

  ‘Killed him!’ Annabel exclaimed. ‘How?’

  ‘Albert got into a lot of trouble drinking, living the high life and – well, you know. Charles paid his debts time and again to keep him out of serious trouble. My husband’s health deteriorated because of it. I’m sure of it. And then there was the business of Nancy Banks. She was a sweet girl – a good girl – but my son charmed her and – and . . .’

  She paused and ran her tongue around her lips. Annabel reached for the glass of water on the bedside table and handed it to her.

  ‘It made matters so much worse because she was our housekeeper’s daughter. Mrs Banks was the best housekeeper we’d ever had, but, of course, when it all came out, they both had to go.’

  Annabel was tempted to ask why, but she kept silent.

  ‘I think that really finished my husband. He died only months after we heard that the child had been born. The last thing he did was to give Nancy and her mother the cottage at the end of the village.’

  ‘Your husband did that? I’d thought it was Albert.’

  Slowly Elizabeth turned her head to look at Annabel. ‘That’s what everyone thinks, but no, it was my Charles. Albert didn’t lift a finger to help the poor girl he’d got into trouble, but Charles gave them the cottage and settled a small annuity on them too. They’d started a dressmaking business and they’d have been all right if –’ She passed a hand wearily over her face and Annabel murmured, ‘Don’t talk any more if it’s tiring you.’

  ‘No, no, I want to tell you. This family has treated you shamefully and for that I’m sorry, but I want you to understand why.’

  Now Annabel said nothing; she wanted to hear it all. Perhaps it would help her deal with the life she had been handed through no fault of her own. And more importantly, perhaps it would help her to understand her complicated husband.

  ‘When Albert inherited the title, we all thought – believed – he would come to his senses and recognize the responsibilities of his new position. But no, he continued with his riotous life and cared nothing for the estate. He ruined it. He borrowed a huge sum of money and raised the rents for the tenant farmers to such a ridiculous amount that they couldn’t possibly make a living. And then he died and James inherited.’ She paused and whispered, ‘Poor James.’

  ‘Why do you say, “poor James”?’

  ‘Because he’d always lived in his brother’s shadow – in Dorothea’s too, if it comes to that. She was always the stronger one – the strongest of the three, if I’m honest.’

  ‘How did Albert die?’ Annabel asked gently.

  Elizabeth was silent for a moment before saying brokenly, ‘In mysterious circumstances in London. It was all hushed up and even I never knew the truth, but I suppose I can guess,’ she added bitterly. ‘I believe he died in a debtors’ prison.’

  Annabel took her hand and held it. There was a long silence now before Elizabeth went on more strongly, ‘James never sought or wanted the title and the responsibility that came with it, but he knew he had to do something to try to save the estate.’

  ‘Marry money,’ Annabel said, striving to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

  ‘Yes,’ Elizabeth whispered. ‘It’s what we do.’ She turned her head on the pillow and looked straight into Annabel’s eyes. ‘And now you are to give us a son and heir. You can’t know how happy that makes me. And I want you to know, my dear, that I do not believe what Dorothea is saying. I know that you are carrying my grandson.’

  Fifty-One

  ‘Jane – I need to go down to the village and you’ll have to come with me if I’m to avoid more tales being spread.’

  ‘I’ve given that Annie a piece of my mind, but she’s under Lady Dorothea’s thumb.’

  Annabel sighed. At least my mother-in-law believes me, she thought. Aloud she said, ‘What about the others? Do they believe the lies?’

  Jane shook her head. ‘No. Mrs Parrish is so grateful to you for bringing her mother out of the workhouse, she won’t hear a word said against you. Luke and the other youngsters, well, all they’re concerned about is doing their work and going to The Lyndon Arms now it’s opened up again. I’m not sure about Mr Searby, though. I think he’s sitting on the fence to safeguard his own position whatever happens.’

  Annabel laughed. ‘I can’t blame him for that. And now, we’ll be off. Ask Luke to harness the pony and trap and to drive us.’

  Jane frowned. Annabel usually walked to the village. ‘Are you feeling all right, miss?’

  ‘Fit as a flea, but I’ve a lot to do today and I may decide to go on into town later and possibly even to see my grandparents.’

  ‘Then I’ll tell them downstairs we won’t be in for dinner – sorry, luncheon, I’m supposed to call it.’

  The village shops were all open now. As they drove along the street, women came out of their cottages to wave and smile and as they passed out of the village, Annabel saw the children playing in the schoolyard. She smiled to see their happy faces as they laughed and shouted. And her smile broadened when she saw Bertie right in the centre of the games. The children had kept their promise to her and now he was accepted as one of them.

  Luke drove on to visit each of the tenanted farms in turn. Dan and William were busy in the fields, but Lily made them welcome with buttered scones and a cup of tea. In some of the poorer households, tea was still classed as a luxury but now, every housewife in the village kept a packet of Horniman’s tea – just in case Lady Annabel should call!

  ‘You must keep your strength up, m’lady. We’re that pleased to hear your wonderful news.’

  At Sparrow Farm, Betsy shyly congratulated her and said, ‘You’ll make a lovely mother, m’lady. See how Eddie’s growing now.’

  Annabel smiled and nursed the
baby, who had been so close to death only a few months ago. Now, he chortled happily and gazed up at Annabel with bright blue eyes.

  But when Jim Chadwick helped Annabel down from the trap on their arrival at Blackbird Farm, his first question – when Luke was safely out of earshot – was, ‘What’s to happen to Home Farm, m’lady?’ He had no need to guard his tongue in front of Jane; he knew she was utterly loyal to Annabel, but he couldn’t – as yet – be so sure of Luke.

  ‘That’s partly why I’ve come to see you,’ Annabel said. ‘I wondered about appointing a manager. I can oversee the estate, but I won’t be able to manage the day-to-day running of a farm.’ Especially, she thought, as I’ll soon have a child to care for.

  ‘I’ll talk to Dan and Adam,’ Jim went on. ‘See if we can come up with an idea. Of course, we could’ – he went on as if speaking his thoughts aloud – ‘manage Home Farm between us. The three of us, I mean.’

  ‘Could you?’

  ‘I don’t see why not, m’lady, with your guidance and instructions, of course. There are a couple of good labourers working there already and a wagoner. You don’t really need anyone else. I mean, Ben didn’t spend much time there. He just made sure things were running all right.’

  Tears prickled Annabel’s throat as she thought about Ben. If only her jealous husband hadn’t been so hasty. Now, he had made her life even more difficult.

  After seeing all the farms and completing her business in town, Annabel said, ‘Now we’ll go on to Meadow View Farm. I want to see my grandparents.’

  ‘Do you think you should, miss?’ Jane whispered. ‘He might still be there and I’m not quite sure where Luke’s loyalties lie.’

  Annabel shrugged. ‘It’s a risk I’ll have to take.’

  As they pulled into the yard at Meadow View Farm, Annabel drew in a sharp breath. Her father’s carriage was standing there. She felt a moment’s panic; her mother rarely visited her parents and she’d been to see them only recently. Was something wrong? Was one of her grandparents ill?

  ‘Jane, run in and see what’s happening.’

  The girl jumped down from the trap and ran to the house whilst Luke helped his mistress alight.

  As she went inside, Jane met her at the door, saying in a hushed voice, ‘They’re all in the parlour, miss.’

  Annabel raised her eyebrows. Martha’s best room was only ever used on special occasions. She frowned. Something must be wrong. ‘Are they all right?’

  Jane nodded but she was clearly anxious. ‘Your dad’s here an’ all and they look – angry.’

  ‘All of them?’

  ‘Well . . .’

  ‘It’s all right.’ She touched Jane’s arm. ‘I’ll see for myself.’

  As she entered the room she saw at once what Jane had meant. It looked as if she had stepped into the middle of a big family quarrel. Her father was on his feet, standing with his back to the fire. ‘What’s this I hear?’ he demanded harshly, without a word of greeting to his daughter. ‘You’re pregnant with another man’s child?’

  ‘How could you, Annabel?’ Sarah put in. ‘You’ve brought shame on us all. And after all your father has done for you.’

  Before Annabel could even open her mouth, Edward stood up. ‘It’s the pair of you who ought to be ashamed. How can you even think such a thing of Annabel? Of course the child is her husband’s.’

  ‘That’s not what his sister said in her letter.’

  Annabel gasped and held on to the door for support as her legs threatened to give way beneath her. ‘Dorothea? She – she’s written to you?’

  ‘Well, I don’t suppose you were likely to tell us, were you?’ Ambrose said sarcastically.

  ‘Because there’s nothing to tell except that she’s to have a child,’ Edward boomed. ‘The grandchild you wanted.’

  ‘Only if it’s a boy. I don’t want another blasted girl.’

  There was a moment’s shocked silence before Edward, his voice menacingly soft, said, ‘D’you know, Constantine, I’ve never liked you. I knew you for the ruthlessly ambitious man you are, but I never thought until this moment that you were actually evil.’

  The two men glared at each other, but it was Ambrose’s glance that fell away first.

  Recovering her composure and filled with an unexpected calmness, Annabel closed the door quietly behind her and stepped further into the room. She glanced at each of them in turn; her parents’ faces were thunderous, her grandfather’s angry and distressed, and poor Martha looked close to tears.

  ‘First of all, I have now learned the full extent of your – machinations, Father, to marry me off to a title. It would never have happened if the Lyndon family had not been in such desperate need for your money.’

  ‘We all know that,’ Ambrose muttered. ‘How else would an earl have looked at the likes of you?’

  ‘Quite,’ Annabel said with asperity. ‘But the huge sum of money you gave him – ten thousand pounds, I believe – was swallowed up in saving the house and the land. He – and more particularly his dear sister – thought nothing of trying to save the people on the estate.’

  Now, Ambrose had the grace to look surprised. ‘But he told me –’ he began and then fell silent, allowing Annabel to continue.

  ‘I’m sure he told you that your money would solve everything. That your future grandson would inherit not only the title, but also a thriving concern.’

  Ambrose gaped at her and then the realization that he had been misled, duped by James’s fine promises, sank in. ‘Go on,’ he said flatly.

  ‘When I arrived there, the farms were run down and neglected. Two were deserted. One family had left, the other was in the workhouse in Thorpe St Michael, along with one or two other villagers. The shops were closed, the public house and the school too. With Gramps’s and Granny’s help we took food to them and I have spent my own savings to help them. The villagers were on the point of starvation.’

  ‘There was a little babby on the point of death when she got there,’ Edward put in. ‘Annabel saved its life and several more too, I shouldn’t wonder.’

  ‘But who’s this Jackson fellow?’

  ‘He was the bailiff and he was a great help—’

  ‘I bet he was!’

  ‘– in getting the estate back on its feet.’

  ‘And your child is his, is it?’

  ‘No, it is not. This is James’s child.’

  Ambrose glared at her. ‘How do you expect me to believe you? Your past behaviour has not exactly been exemplary. Running around the countryside, meeting an employee of mine in secret. It cost me five hundred pounds to be rid of him.’

  ‘Nothing happened between Gilbert Radcliffe and me, nor with Ben Jackson. That’s the truth, but I can’t help it if you choose not to believe me.’ She sat down beside Martha and took her hands. ‘I’m so sorry you’ve had to hear my news this way, Granny, but I swear to you—’

  Martha gripped her hand as she looked into Annabel’s eyes. ‘You’ve no need to swear anything to me, my love. I never doubted you for a moment.’

  ‘Oh Gran.’ And now Annabel did dissolve into tears.

  Fifty-Two

  Annabel couldn’t be sure whether or not her mother and father believed her. All Ambrose would say as they left was, ‘Well, if the child is Lyndon’s, mind you stick it out and stay there. You hear me?’

  ‘I hear you, Father,’ Annabel said with admirable composure, though she was seething inside.

  As the carriage rolled out of the farmyard and disappeared up the lane, Edward put his arm around Annabel’s shoulders. ‘Never mind what he says, my lovely, if you’re unhappy at Fairfield Hall, you come to us. There’s always a home for you – and your little one – here.’

  Annabel looked up at him and smiled sadly. ‘The only thing that would make me leave is if I felt my child was in danger. If it’s a girl, she’ll be quite safe, but if it’s a boy –’ She left the words unspoken, but there was no need to say more, for her grandfather understood only too
well. As they walked back to the house together, Annabel asked softly, ‘Did Ben come here?’

  ‘He did. Jim Chadwick brought him.’

  Annabel looked up in surprise. ‘Jim? I saw him this morning. But he never said anything.’

  Edward chuckled. ‘He wouldn’t. He knows how to keep his own counsel, does Jim Chadwick.’

  ‘Do – do you know where Ben’s gone?’

  ‘To Joe Moffatt’s place. He’s got a job there.’

  ‘Jane’s dad? Does she know?’

  ‘I shouldn’t think so, but be careful who you tell, my lovely.’

  ‘Oh, I can trust Jane with my life, but I’m not sure about the other members of staff at Fairfield.’ She sighed as she dropped her voice almost to a whisper. Luke was a good distance away across the yard, but she didn’t want him to catch even a word of their conversation. ‘It must be difficult for them. They’ve got divided loyalties now.’

  ‘Just tread carefully.’

  Life at Fairfield Hall settled into a routine. Annabel conducted the business of the estate from her office and if she needed to go into the village or to visit the farms, she always took Jane with her, even to the school, where she delighted in reading to the children, Bertie amongst them. But Dorothea had still resisted Theo attending the village school.

  ‘He’ll be going to boarding school when he’s eight – to the school James and Albert attended. I hope James will keep that promise.’

  ‘Of course,’ Annabel said smoothly. ‘If you really think that’s best for Theodore.’ Annabel still read to her nephew most nights. She had grown to love the little boy and enjoyed the precious time she had alone with him. She had begun reading to the dowager countess too. Elizabeth loved books but her eyesight was failing and the print blurred on the page, she said. Secretly, Annabel thought that it was an excuse to have someone sit with her. Not that she minded. She became very fond of the dowager countess and was looking forward to the day when the walled garden would be ready almost as much as Elizabeth was herself. Daily, she asked, ‘How is my garden progressing?’