Fairfield Hall (11 page)

‘Is there anything I can do to help you, Mrs Parrish?’ she asked, approaching the woman, who was now sitting at the table. Nelly looked up, startled. Then she said bitterly,
‘There’s nowt to do, not unless you fancy dusting the morning room and lighting the fire in there for the old lady. She feels the cold, even in summer. That’s if,’ she added
bitterly, ‘you can find owt to light it with. There might be a few logs left since Luke last went scrounging in the woods, but I doubt it. Poor lad hardly has the strength to go
now.’

‘I’ll do whatever I can to help you and Annie,’ Jane said gently. Annabel was right in her assumption; there was something very strange in this household and very wrong too.
And as Annabel had asked her, she’d do her best to find out what it was and tell her mistress. At that moment, John Searby appeared.

‘Who’s this?’ he asked sharply, nodding towards Jane.

‘The new Lady Fairfield’s maid. And,’ Nelly added with a note of bitterness, ‘she’s staying.’

The butler raised his eyebrows as the two of them exchanged a glance. ‘Oh well, I expect things will be better very soon now. No doubt the master left instructions in the town this
morning.’

Mystified, Jane glanced at the cook, but Nelly was avoiding her questioning gaze.

‘So, you’d like me to clean the morning room, would you? Anywhere else?’

‘You’d better speak to Annie. I don’t want you treading on her toes and upsetting her.’

‘Where is she?’

‘Upstairs in Lady Elizabeth’s bedroom helping her get ready to come downstairs for dinner.’ Under her breath she added, ‘If you can call it that.’

Jane bit her lip. Four o’clock in the afternoon seemed very early to be getting ready for dinner and there were certainly no food preparations going on in the kitchen. Only the large pan
of soup sitting on the range.

‘In that case, I’ll go and find Miss Annabel.’

Jane left the kitchen, pleased to escape from the dour atmosphere. She found Annabel in her bedroom on the first floor. ‘You’re right, miss. There is something very odd here. I
don’t think your parents would like it if they knew.’

Annabel smiled wryly. ‘I think my father would want me to stay no matter what – for the sake of the title “Lady Fairfield”.’

‘Well, your grandfather certainly wouldn’t,’ Jane said firmly. ‘If things don’t improve, we’re going there.’

Annabel smiled at Jane’s fierceness, but she was heartened to feel that at least now she had someone on her side.

Dinner was the same watery soup that had been served at luncheon. There was no main course to follow but tonight there was a pudding of sorts – a selection of what looked
like wild berries. Annabel recognized small strawberries, and blackberries that had been picked before they’d scarcely had time to ripen properly. The meal passed in total silence. Dorothea
and Lady Fairfield hardly acknowledged Annabel’s presence at their table and there was no attempt at any conversation, polite or otherwise.

The following afternoon, Annabel walked across the yard to the rooms above the archway where she had learned that the estate bailiff, Ben Jackson, lived. She knocked on the door, but there was
no answer. Annabel bit her lip. She didn’t know what to do. If only James were here or even if Dorothea would talk to her.

Instead of going back into the house, she crossed the courtyard and went through a gate on the left-hand side of the stables to the garden, hoping to find a kitchen plot, but the area that
obviously once had been cultivated was neglected and overgrown. Some beautiful and colourful flowers were doing their best to bloom, but were being choked by long grass and weeds.

Once again, the meagre dinner – the same as the previous day – passed in silence. The only time Dorothea addressed her was to say, ‘Mama and I go to church in the morning.
Please be ready at ten-thirty when Jackson will take us in the pony and trap.’

So, Annabel thought, at least they still have a pony and trap. She guessed that the villagers had worked together to feed the one animal that was so vital in a rural area. ‘Very
well,’ she said and went on, ‘Dorothea, might I have a word?’ But the woman had turned away to help her mother up from her chair and out of the room towards the stairs.
‘Goodnight,’ was the only word she said. The elderly lady didn’t speak at all.

‘What did you all have to eat downstairs?’ Annabel asked Jane later. The girl grimaced. ‘Just the same weak soup you had, but no bread for us.’

‘You must be starving. I know I am.’

‘It’s not half so bad for us as them poor folks down there. I don’t reckon they’ve eaten properly for weeks.’

‘What about a pudding?’

‘Some bits of fruit which were small and hard. The best had been sent upstairs, but even that’s all gone now.’

‘What is going on here, Jane?’

The maid shook her head. ‘I don’t know, miss, and they won’t say owt in front of me. They just keep saying they’ve been promised things’ll get better very soon. Oh,
and the butler thought the master would have left “instructions” in the town yesterday.’

‘What sort of instructions and to whom?’

Jane shrugged. ‘They didn’t say.’

‘Well, I intend to get to the bottom of all this. I don’t expect I’ll be able to do much tomorrow, being Sunday, but, first thing on Monday morning, we’ll find
out.’

But Annabel was to find out a great deal the following day.

Sunday morning dawned bright and clear. Jane woke her mistress with a cup of black tea and a piece of dry bread.

‘There’s just no food in the place, miss. Nothing. I’ve never seen anything like it. There’s not even anything growing in the gardens. At least, nothing that’s not
been picked already.’

‘I know. I went to look yesterday. You know, we’ve been lucky,’ Annabel said soberly. ‘I’ve been brought up in a wealthy household and you, living on a farm even
before you came to us, have never gone short of something to eat.’

‘My mam always kept a good table, even though we did go through some hard times. But this . . .’ Jane shook her head as if she couldn’t believe it. ‘It’s not what I
expected in a place like this. I thought lords and ladies were rolling in it.’

‘Obviously not,’ Annabel said dryly as she got out of bed and began to wash and dress in readiness for going to church.

At ten-thirty, she and Jane were waiting in the hall with the butler when Dorothea and her mother joined them.

‘Your maid will walk to church with the rest of the staff,’ Dorothea said shortly, without even a greeting. ‘There’s barely room in the trap for the three of us as well
as Jackson.’

Pointedly, Annabel said, ‘Good morning, Dorothea – Lady Fairfield. Of course, that’s no problem.’

Taking the hint, Jane dipped a curtsy and disappeared back to the kitchen as they heard the sound of a trap pulling up. John Searby opened the door and assisted the three women into the trap,
which was driven by a stocky man, with fair hair, blue eyes and sideburns. He was dressed in a check jacket and trousers and Annabel judged him to be in his thirties. No introductions were made,
but she assumed this must be Ben Jackson, the estate bailiff. He tipped his cap to them, murmuring a deferential greeting, and, when they were comfortable, he flicked the reins and the pony began
to walk down the hill.

There was no one in the church when they arrived, so they settled themselves into the front pew to wait. A tall, pale man, with thinning fair hair and dressed in a surplice, appeared from the
vestry and came down the steps towards them. After a courteous greeting to Lady Fairfield and Dorothea he turned to Annabel, his light blue eyes gazing into hers. ‘And you must be Lord
Fairfield’s bride.’ He held out his hand. ‘I can’t tell you what this will mean to all of us. Your coming will save—’

‘That will do, Mr Webster,’ Dorothea snapped and the poor man looked startled and flustered. ‘I’m sorry, I thought—’

‘Then you’d do best not to think too much, Mr Webster.’

He gave a little bow and turned away just as the organist began to play softly. The door at the back of the church opened and the villagers began to file in. Annabel was surprised to see so many
people; where on earth had they all been hiding? Why had she seen no one before today? After some time, she saw, out of the corner of her eye, the servants from Fairfield Hall take their places in
the pew directly behind where she was sitting. The service lasted about an hour and at the end, Lady Fairfield, Dorothea and Annabel rose and made their way down the aisle. As she passed the
villagers, Annabel smiled to right and left. But there were no answering smiles, no little bows from the men or curtsies from the women. They stared back at her in stony silence, their faces glum
and resentful.

The vicar was waiting at the door to shake hands with each of them. He bowed courteously once more and held Annabel’s hand a little longer than was necessary. ‘My lady,’ he
whispered, ‘might I have a word with you?’

‘Of course.’ She turned to see Ben Jackson helping Lady Fairfield and Dorothea into the trap. Then he climbed up and, at Dorothea’s instruction, flicked the reins. He glanced
back towards her, apologetically, she thought, but then the trap moved away.

‘Oh miss, they’re going without you,’ Jane cried and made as if to run after the trap to stop it, but Annabel put her hand on Jane’s arm. ‘No matter,’ she
murmured. ‘I can walk.’

The villagers were filing out now, but no one spoke to her. They walked down the path and dispersed to their homes, walking slowly, their heads bent. A small, thin man emerged. He was hunched,
yet she didn’t think he was any older than about fifty. He was dressed in what were obviously his Sunday best clothes and yet they were ill fitting and shabby. He paused and glared at
Annabel. Then quite deliberately he spat, the globule of spit landing on the hem of her dress. Annabel stared back at him in horror, but she said nothing.

‘Oh my lady, I’m so sorry. Mr Fletcher,’ the vicar turned to the man, ‘how could you? It’s the new Lady Fairfield who will be the salvation of us all.’

The man’s eyes were filled with hatred. ‘Aye, an’ I’ll believe that when I see it, an’ all. She’ll be just like them selfish buggers up the hill. Living in
luxury whilst we all starve in the village. God – how I wish the old man were back. At least, he cared about his tenants.’

‘Mr Fletcher – please . . .’ Richard Webster said, but the man turned away and hobbled down the path. Lastly, the servants from Fairfield Hall appeared, Nelly Parrish leaning
heavily on John Searby’s arm. Behind them, Annie walked alongside Luke, her arm through his. Annabel was concerned to see that the cook looked white and ill. She moved towards her. ‘Why
don’t you wait here and Luke can ask Mr Jackson to bring the trap back for you?’

‘Oh no, m’lady. That would never do. I’ll manage – with Mr Searby’s help.’

Annabel frowned. The poor woman looked as if she could scarcely take another step, never mind climb the slope back to the house. The cook glanced around her and, seeing the trap disappearing
along the street, added, ‘Have they gone without you, m’lady?’

‘Yes, they have,’ Jane said indignantly before Annabel could answer.

Annabel touched her maid’s arm. ‘You go with the others, Jane. I want to speak to the vicar.’

‘I’d rather stay with you, miss. I’ll keep out the way if you and the vicar want to talk private, like. But please let me stay with you.’ The girl glanced over her
shoulders at the other servants making their way along the street and shuddered.

‘Very well.’ Annabel turned back to the vicar. ‘Now, Mr Webster, will you please tell me what is going on here? There’s something very wrong in this village and I want to
know what it is.’

He sighed heavily. ‘I’ll likely lose my living here if I do.’

She eyed him quizzically. ‘From what I can see, that would be no bad thing.’

He shook his head and his glance followed the last few villagers walking slowly to their homes. ‘I wouldn’t leave all these folk. They need me. There’s not much we can do, but
my wife and I have been doing what we can. But even our resources,’ the vicar went on sadly, ‘are running out now. The villagers have been scouring the fields and hedgerows for anything
edible, but I have been so afraid that someone – particularly a child – would eat something poisonous by mistake or in ignorance.’ He shrugged and added, helplessly, ‘And
I’m sure there’s been poaching going on, but what could I do to stop it? I can hardly blame them.’ He was silent for a few moments, then he shook himself and said, ‘Would
you come to the vicarage, m’lady? You can meet my wife.’ Mrs Webster, who had played the organ for the service, was a small, wiry woman, her dark hair streaked with grey. Her hazel eyes
were filled with an unfathomable sadness. She’d paused only to glance at Annabel as she’d passed her when hurrying away as soon as the service had ended. ‘We can at least make you
a cup of tea this cold morning, but we’ve no milk.’

Annabel was shocked; the day was warm and bright, not cold to her at all. She nodded, accepting the vicar’s invitation. She was anxious to learn more. They walked towards the vicarage,
Annabel obliged to match her step to his slow pace. They’d only gone a short distance down the path before Mr Webster began to wheeze, his breathing laboured.

‘Here, take my arm,’ Annabel offered.

‘Oh m’lady, that wouldn’t be right.’

She looked up at him, her mouth a firm line. ‘I seem to be getting told “that wouldn’t do” or “that wouldn’t be right” far too frequently. I don’t
care a jot about propriety or etiquette. You need an arm and I’m young and strong. Please – let me help you.’

Though the vicar was no longer young, he was not old either and Annabel was troubled by what she was seeing; the villagers – all of them – looked thin and ill and the sight of the
few children, who had been at the church service looking pasty-faced and so solemn, had tugged at her heartstrings. None of the youngsters had raced out of church to play in the street. It was
unnatural. As they passed out of the gate to walk the short distance to the vicarage – Jane hovering beside them – a man ran out from one of the cottages opposite.