Fairfield Hall

by Margaret Dickinson

  Annabel swallowed painfully. ‘My father has fair hair and your mother told me she used to have fair hair too before it turned grey. And her eyes are still blue.’

  ‘I understand my mother is enamoured of the child whom she believes is her new grandson,’ he drawled, his tone heavy with sarcasm.

  ‘He is her grandson – and your son, though I presume from the way you are acting that you are still doubting it.’

  He shrugged. ‘How can I not? You can’t deny that you spent a lot of time in Jackson’s company. And alone, which is not the actions of a devoted wife or’ – he added with a sting – ‘of a lady.’

  ‘It wasn’t my ladylike qualities you were interested in when you married me, was it, James?’ she retorted heatedly. She was getting very tired of his jealous accusations. Giving birth had left her feeling emotional and vulnerable. And her disappointment in her husband that he had taken so long to come home to see his son was the final humiliation.

  ‘James – for the last time – he is your son. Are you going to believe me or your sister’s lies?’

  ‘Are you calling Dorothea a liar?’

  ‘I’m sure she believes what she’s telling you,’ Annabel said magnanimously, though she didn’t feel any understanding for the woman who was doing her best to oust Annabel and her son from their rightful place. ‘But she has no grounds for such wicked tales. Ben Jackson was a true gentleman the whole time. Yes, we spent time together working for the good of the estate – your estate, which you put second to your army career. It should be you here looking after your lands and your people, not left to a bailiff. James,’ her tone softened and she crossed the space between them to stand close to him and look up into his face, ‘won’t you consider leaving the Army and coming home to look after everything?’

  He looked down into her upturned face, meeting her steady violet gaze, the pleading in her eyes as she went on huskily, ‘There’d be no need for me to see anyone outside of this house, if you didn’t want me to. I’d be willing to live like a virtual recluse, if that’s what it takes.’

  His expression hardened. ‘You should have thought about that before, my dear. It’s a little late now, don’t you think?’ A righteous indignation rose up in Annabel and overflowed as he added, ‘Besides, you’re only saying this so that you can secure the inheritance for your son.’

  ‘So you really won’t believe me?’ she said. ‘Is there nothing I can say that will make you believe the truth?’

  His glance went again to the baby lying in its crib. ‘Not now I’ve seen him – no. He so obviously does not take after me or the Lyndon family.’

  ‘And you’re an expert on hereditary hair and eye colouring, are you?’ she snapped. ‘Don’t you know that all new-born babies have blue eyes?’

  James’s lip curled. ‘That’s an old wives’ tale.’

  ‘You’re wrong—’

  ‘But I am an expert on who should inherit the Fairfield Estate and let me tell you now, Annabel’ – he jabbed his forefinger towards the cradle – ‘it won’t be him.’

  Annabel gasped and stared at him, thunderstruck, robbed finally of any retort. She could not speak and as her legs gave way beneath her and she sank to the floor, James made no effort to help her. Instead, he turned and left the room.

  That night for the first time since her marriage when James had been at home, Annabel slept alone in the big bed they had once shared and where, she thought with bitter irony, their son had been conceived.

  The following morning, whilst Annabel was washing in the bathroom across the landing from their bedroom, she heard a cry from the cradle that stood at the foot of her bed. She hurried back into the room to see Dorothea standing over Charles.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Annabel demanded.

  ‘Just looking at the cuckoo in the nest,’ Dorothea remarked with a slow smile.

  ‘He’s no cuckoo,’ Annabel said moving closer. ‘And you know it.’ She gazed at her sister-in-law and asked softly, ‘Dorothea, why are you doing this?’

  The woman thrust her face close to Annabel’s. ‘Because,’ she hissed, her spittle raining on Annabel’s face, ‘no one is going to take away my son’s inheritance. No one. You hear me?’ With that she spun round and stalked out of the room, leaving Annabel gazing after her but with her hand protectively on the side of her son’s crib.

  Annabel didn’t see James until the evening. She heard from Jane that he had been out around the estate all day, visiting the outlying farms and talking to the shopkeepers and residents in the village.

  ‘He even visited Nancy Banks,’ Jane whispered. ‘Harry’s just come back for his tea and he told us.’

  ‘Perhaps he’s thinking about what I said; that he should come home and run the estate.’

  Jane snorted with laughter. ‘Him? Run the estate? I don’t think so. I could make a better job of it than him, miss.’

  In the early evening, James came to their room, to change for dinner, so Annabel thought. But it seemed that he still had other matters on his mind. He stood in the doorway, his hand resting on the doorknob. With no preamble, no warning, he said harshly, ‘I want you gone from this house. Now – tonight. You and – your child.’ Annabel turned slowly to face him, the colour draining from her face as he continued cruelly, ‘I neither care nor want to know where you go. You can go to your lover, for I’m sure you know where he is.’

  That, Annabel could not deny. Had James found out where Ben was? Had Jane let it slip? Surely not.

  ‘You don’t mean it. You can’t mean it?’

  ‘I do. You may take whatever you can carry of your own belongings.’

  She could see there was no arguing with him. Dorothea had won. He believed her wicked lies and he was turning his wife and son out into the cold, wet night.

  ‘And another thing. I have seen each and every one of my tenants today and if anyone gives you shelter tonight, they will be evicted too. Do you understand? If you’re so concerned about their welfare, you will ask for help from no one.’

  ‘But the baby? I—’

  ‘If you really think I care what happens to him, then, my dear, you don’t know me.’

  The door closed behind him with a slam and Annabel realized bitterly that no, she didn’t know him at all.

  It was raining heavily by the time Annabel had wrapped Charlie, as she had come to call him, warmly in shawls and tucked him as best she could inside her cape. She packed a small bag with essential baby items, thankful that at least she was feeding him herself; he would not go hungry. The only other thing she took with her was the ledger where she’d kept a faithful record of every penny she’d spent on the tenants of the Fairfield Estate. She didn’t want that information falling into Dorothea’s hands. There was no knowing how the ruthless woman might try to use it.

  No one came near her – not even Jane, which surprised her – and she left by the front door alone and friendless. She was giving up without a fight – she knew that and it was so totally unlike her – but she had the welfare of her child to think of and she couldn’t risk him staying in this house another night. Her maternal instinct was at its strongest; she hardly cared what happened to her, but she must keep Charlie safe.

  Unbeknown to her, a solitary little figure at a box-room window on the top floor of the house watched her go, tears running down his face.

  Fifty-Five

  By the time she reached the village street, she was soaked to the skin and cold and Charlie had begun to whimper. He was hungry; it was almost four hours since he’d last been fed. She dared not knock on anyone’s door to seek help; she was sure that James’s threat was real enough.

  The church! She would take refuge in the church for the night, then tomorrow she would walk into town and somehow get to Meadow View Farm.

  She had passed by the shops and one or two cottages and the church gate was in sight, when she heard a voice behind her calling, ‘M’lady, m’lady, wait.’ Annabel shrank against the low wall in front of one of the c
ottages, hoping that, through the rain, whoever it was who was coming after her would not see her. But the figure came on, hurrying towards her. And then she saw that it was Nancy.

  ‘Oh m’lady, we’ve been watching out for you. His lordship told us what he was doing and we won’t see you put out into the night like this. Not you and your baby. Come back with me. You stay with us tonight and then tomorrow, Jabez has said, he will drive you to your folks’ place.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Annabel said, the rain now mingling with the tears running down her face. ‘He will evict you all if you help me. I mustn’t involve anyone from the village – or the farms.’

  ‘We’ll worry about that later, m’lady, but for now, you’re coming back with me.’ She took firm hold of Annabel’s arm. ‘You really think that after what you’ve done for all of us, any one of us wouldn’t lift a finger to help you?’ And then, strangely, Nancy echoed James’s words. ‘If you do, begging your pardon, m’lady, then you don’t know us at all.’

  Without the strength to resist any longer, Annabel allowed Nancy to lead her back along the street towards the rooms above the grocer’s shop. Not only were Agnes and Bertie waiting for them, but also Jabez and Josh were there and so, too, was Ozzy Greenwood, the grocer and owner of the rooms now occupied by Nancy, her mother and son. And, much to Annabel’s consternation, Harry Jenkins was standing behind them, an anxious expression on his face.

  When Annabel had been settled near the blazing fire and Agnes had taken Charlie from her arms and was now crooning to him, Nancy went to Harry and put her hand on his arm. ‘You go now, love, and remember, you haven’t seen any of this.’

  Harry frowned. ‘I don’t like being disloyal to the captain, but . . .’ He stopped and sighed heavily. ‘I can’t understand why he’s done this. He’s not a bad man – not an unkind man – usually. He must really—’

  ‘Just go,’ Nancy said softly, but firmly. ‘And please don’t say a word. Not to anyone. If they do find out and there’s trouble, we’ll all say you left afore Lady Fairfield got here. All right?’

  ‘I suppose – but I don’t like it.’

  ‘Nor do any of us,’ Nancy said grimly.

  Once the door had closed behind Harry and they heard his footsteps clattering down the stairs, everyone’s attention turned to Annabel. Nancy knelt in front of her. ‘Now, m’lady, you come into my bedroom and get out of them wet things. You’ll be catching your death if you—’

  ‘Charlie! Is Charlie—?’

  ‘Your babby’s fine. Mam’ll see to him.’

  ‘He needs feeding.’

  ‘Then as soon as you’re warm and dry, Mam’ll bring him in to you and you can feed him in there. Come along now.’

  As if she were leading a child, Nancy shepherded Annabel into her bedroom, helped her strip off her wet clothes and wrapped her in a warm dressing gown. ‘It were a present from the vicar’s wife. They’ve all been so good to us – everyone in the village – since we lost all our belongings. And you brought all that about, m’lady, so don’t you worry about a thing. Jabez and Josh will take you wherever you want to go tomorrow and Jim Chadwick and Adam Cartwright have offered too. And the Broughtons, would you believe?’

  Annabel’s eyes filled with tears. She could hardly believe it, but she was touched by their generosity and their daring. They were all risking losing their homes and livelihoods to help her.

  That night, as Annabel readied herself for bed, though she doubted she would sleep a wink, there was a soft knock at the bedroom door. She opened it to find a wide-eyed Bertie standing there with the train which Theo had given him in his hands.

  ‘I thought your little boy might like to play with this.’

  ‘Oh darling.’ Tears started in her eyes. ‘How sweet of you, but he’s too little to play with toys.’

  ‘That’s what Mammy said.’ He was thoughtful for a moment then said, ‘Wait a minute,’ before darting into his tiny bedroom. Annabel waited, mystified as she heard him rooting through drawers and opening and shutting a cupboard door. In a moment, he was back holding out a knitted rabbit. ‘Perhaps he’d like this. Grandma knitted it for me when I was born. I was holding it when – when Uncle Harry carried me out of the fire. It’s the only toy I have left from before. His name’s Hoppy.’

  Annabel squatted down so that her face was on a level with his. ‘But it’s yours, darling. Surely, you don’t want to part with it, especially—’

  ‘I’d like your baby to have it, m’lady. Truly.’

  Unseen by either of them, Nancy had come up quietly behind Bertie. ‘Please take it, my lady. We’d really like Master Charlie to have it. I know it’s nothing special, but it’s been washed and mended since the fire.’

  Gently, Annabel took the proffered toy and stood up slowly. ‘That’s where you’re wrong, Nancy,’ she said, with a catch in her voice, ‘it’s very, very special. Charlie will love it and I will tell him when he’s older what a very special little boy gave it to him. Thank you, Bertie.’

  After Annabel had spent a restless night in Nancy’s bed at the young woman’s insistence, she was roused by a loud knocking at the back door of Ozzy’s premises – the door that led up to Nancy’s rooms. She trembled with fear. Had James come to turn them all out? She scrambled out of bed and ran to the window, but in the yard below she saw a gathering of people: Jim Chadwick, Adam Cartwright, William Broughton and his mother, Lily, and several of the folk who lived in the cottages lining the village street. Swiftly, she put on the dressing gown and hurried into the living room.

  ‘They mustn’t come in. If James finds out, he’ll—’ she began, but it was too late. Footsteps were already on the stairs and as many as could do were crowding into Nancy’s parlour.

  ‘This is a right how-d’you-do, m’lady,’ Jim began. ‘Whatever is yon man thinking of? Now, is there owt we can do to help you?’

  With panic in her voice, Annabel said, ‘You can’t – you mustn’t – you shouldn’t even be here. He’ll do what he threatened. He—’

  ‘Don’t you worry about us, m’lady. We just want to get you to safety. To your grandfather’s farm, I take it?’

  ‘I –’ Annabel began, but then she stopped. What else could she do but accept their offer? She nodded miserably. ‘I shouldn’t let you.’

  ‘After all you’ve done for all of us, it’s the very least we can do. Now, before anyone’s likely to come down from the big house, as soon as you’re dressed and have had some breakfast, we’ll be on our way.’

  ‘Jabez said he’d take her,’ Nancy put in.

  ‘Did he? Oh right, then, Nancy, I’ll not interfere if it’s all arranged. But you just let me know if there’s owt I can do. Owt any of us can do, ’cos we’re willing.’

  ‘There is just one thing,’ Annabel said hesitantly.

  ‘Just name it,’ Jim said.

  ‘I’m concerned about Jane. I – I saw no one before I left. And I just want to know that she’s – she’s all right.’

  ‘We’ll find out for you, m’lady. I expect she’ll want to come to you and if she does, then I’ll bring her.’

  A little later, after Charlie had been fed and Annabel had struggled to eat a little breakfast, they set out, with Josh driving and Jabez sitting beside Annabel in the pony and trap that she had bought for all the villagers. But she had never envisaged it would be put to such a use.

  When the trap drew into Edward’s farmyard, she almost fell out of it in her haste to see her grandparents. Tenderly, Jabez handed her baby to her and then climbed down himself. Josh stayed with the pony, whilst Jabez went to the back door of the house. His knock was answered by Martha, who smiled widely when she saw Annabel. ‘Oh how lovely! We were only saying yesterday that we ought to—’ She stopped mid-sentence as if suddenly realizing that something was very wrong. She frowned. ‘What’s happened?’

  Leading them into the kitchen, she held out her arms for her great-grandson and soothed his whimpering. ‘There, there, my little one.’ Then she t
urned back to Annabel and Jabez, a question in her eyes.

  Annabel sat down in the chair by the fire and sighed. She leaned her head back against the chair and closed her eyes, suddenly overcome with a dreadful weariness. She felt as if she were in a bad dream – a nightmare. Had it really happened? Had James really turned her out?

  Jabez was already explaining to a shocked Martha. ‘I take it you already know about the accusations that have been levelled against Ben Jackson and Lady Fairfield?’

  Wordlessly, Martha nodded.

  ‘Well, it seems that when his lordship saw the little chap with his fair colouring, he didn’t believe it could possibly be his son – his family are all dark-haired and brown-eyed, y’know. Well, yesterday, he came round to all of us – every single person in the village – to tell us that he was turning her out – her and her babby – and that if any of us had owt to do with her, he’d evict us an’ all.’ Jabez sniffed contemptuously. ‘Let him try, that’s all I can say.’

  Martha was glancing from Jabez’s face to Annabel’s and back again, still unable to believe what she was hearing. ‘And you mean he’s done it? He’s – he’s turned her – you – out?’

  ‘Last night – in the pouring rain,’ Jabez went on. ‘Luckily, we were watching out for her and Nancy and her mam took her in. She spent the night with them and this morning we all rallied round to bring her to you.’

  Martha stared at him for a moment before saying quietly and sincerely, ‘Thank you, Mr Fletcher.’

  ‘You’re more than welcome, Mrs Armstrong.’ He looked down at Annabel’s white face. ‘She don’t deserve that sort of treatment. But for her –’ He gestured with his hand as he added, ‘Well, you know.’

  ‘I do, Mr Fletcher. I do, but you need worry no more. She’s safe with us now. We’ll look after her and –’ She looked down again at the round little face of her great-grandson. ‘Do you know, I don’t even know his name. When Annabel wrote to us to tell us of his safe arrival she said she was still waiting for James to agree to a name for him.’