Fairfield Hall (15 page)

Ben shook his head. ‘He’s an army man. He has no interest in farming or the estate. He’s left it to me and I’m afraid I’ve failed to pull it round. Lord Fairfield
told me to see his sister about matters I couldn’t handle, but she flatly refuses to release any money to help the estate. They – the family, that is – need it, she says and I
suppose in a way she’s right. The big house is crumbling around their ears. But she has no thought for all the folk in the village.
Their
village.’

‘What do you mean? “Release any money”? I thought you said there was none left?’

Now Ben was ill at ease. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

‘The only thing the master could do was to marry into money, m’lady.’ Annabel gasped and her eyes widened, but she said nothing as Ben continued. ‘We all thought your
dowry would be the saving of us all, but it seems it’s not to be.’

‘Ah yes, my dowry?’ This was the second time it had been mentioned. ‘Tell me about it.’

He blinked at her. ‘Don’t you know, m’lady?’

Annabel shook her head.

‘I shouldn’t be telling you all this,’ Ben murmured worriedly.

Annabel recovered enough to say, ‘I won’t let you down, Ben, but I would like to know everything.’

He sighed and went on, albeit reluctantly. ‘It seems a mutual acquaintance of your father’s and the Lyndon family – a Lady Carruthers – introduced James Lyndon to you.
She knew that he was in desperate straits and needed to marry an heiress and she also knew that your father –’ he paused briefly before taking a deep breath, for he was finding this
deeply worrying – ‘was anxious for you to marry into the nobility. He wanted you to have a title and for his future grandson one day to become a lord and a wealthy landowner. The
rumours say that your father was prepared to give his lordship ten thousand pounds upon his marriage to you.’

‘I see,’ Annabel said quietly – and she did. Her quick mind was leaping from one thing to another and soon she had pieced it all together. How naïve and gullible she had
been. Hurt by Gilbert’s desertion, she had been vulnerable to James’s undoubted charms and blind to her father’s schemes. She wondered again, briefly, if Ambrose had been
instrumental in Gilbert’s disappearance too. And now – after everything that Ben was telling her – nothing would surprise or shock her.

Ben had fallen silent and sat with his head bowed. Annabel felt sorry for the man and tried to put him at his ease. ‘I will keep my promise to you, Ben. No one will hear from me what you
have told me, but I am going to need your help.’

Slowly, he raised his head. ‘My help, m’lady? How can I help you?’

‘Because, Ben, you and I are going to revive the fortunes of this estate, the village and everyone in it.’

‘I don’t see how you can. If what I’ve heard is true, that money has been used to pay a substantial amount off the loan on Fairfield Hall and the estate. I heard a whisper that
the bank was about to foreclose and the Lyndons were going to be –’ he ran his tongue around his lips in embarrassment – ‘evicted.’

‘But you see, Ben, I have money of my own. My grandfather taught me to buy and sell shares, which I still do. I seem to have an intuitive sense of what will make money and what will lose.
I have built up a rather nice little nest egg for myself and have been able to invest some of that money in secure stocks, which give me a steady income.’ She smiled. ‘I still like the
thrill of playing the stock market, but I certainly don’t ever risk a huge amount at any one time.’

‘But why should you spend your money on folks who are nothing to do with you and who probably won’t appreciate it anyway?’

‘Whether they like it or not, Ben – in fact, whether I like it or not – they are now
my
people. And, as you rightly say, if I am blessed with a son, he will one day
inherit.’

Ben began to smile slowly, but then his face clouded. ‘Then beware of your new sister-in-law, m’lady. She is adamant that her son, Master Theodore, will one day inherit. She
didn’t want James to marry you – or anyone else, for that matter. But she had no choice. The way things were going there would have been nothing to pass on to the lad anyway –
except perhaps a worthless title. She was forced to give in – and she did – but certainly not gracefully.’

‘That explains a lot,’ Annabel murmured as she got up. ‘I’ll let you rest now, Ben. You’ve had a busy day. But I would like to go into the town first thing tomorrow
morning.’

He rose too. ‘I’ll take you, m’lady.’

Annabel shook her head. ‘No; if you harness the trap, I’ll drive myself, because I’d like you to stay and help my grandfather when he returns. And now,’ she said with an
ironic grimace, ‘I’d better go and face the lioness in her den.’

When Annabel entered the house by the side door and went down to the basement kitchen, Jane ran to her at once, tears flooding down her face.

‘Oh miss, thank goodness you’ve come.’

‘Whatever’s the matter? What’s happened?’ She glanced beyond Jane to see the grim faces of John Searby and Nelly Parrish. Even Annie and Luke seemed subdued.

‘We don’t want a thief in our midst, m’lady,’ Nelly said.

‘A thief?’ Annabel was shocked, even though, since Ben’s revelations, she’d thought that nothing could surprise her again. ‘Whatever are you talking
about?’

‘Her!’ Nelly Parrish pointed an accusing finger at Jane. ‘Where’s she got soup and bread from, I’d like to know?’

‘She’s pinched ’em, that’s where,’ Annie said spitefully. ‘Taken ’em from folks who’re already starving, I’ll be bound.’

‘You may certainly know, Mrs Parrish. Please sit down – all of you – and I’ll explain.’

‘I tried to tell them, miss, but they wouldn’t listen.’ Jane was still sobbing. ‘They wouldn’t believe me.’

‘Wait till Lady Dorothea hears about this. You’ll be out on your ear, girl.’ Nelly was still vitriolic, but the four servants sat down grudgingly at the table to listen to what
Annabel had to say.

‘The food has all come from my grandfather’s farm . . .’ Annabel began, and she went on to explain the events that had taken place down in the village since all those from
Fairfield Hall had gone home after church.

‘And he will be back again tomorrow with more supplies and, first thing in the morning, I am taking the trap into town. I shall visit all the tradesmen and get them to start delivering not
only to this house, but to all the villagers too.’

‘They’ll not do that, m’lady.’ John shook his head. ‘They’ll all want paying before they’ll supply any more goods to anyone in Fairfield and that
includes us.’

‘Then they’ll be paid,’ Annabel said promptly.

‘What with?’ Annie smirked. ‘Fresh air? ’Cos that’s all we’ve got.’

‘I shall pay them.’

‘How?’ Nelly asked. ‘Your dowry’s been swallowed up rescuing this place.’ She cast her eyes to the ceiling. ‘You’ll not be able to touch it.’

Annabel thought quickly, anxious not to let Ben down. She had given him her solemn promise. But she was on safe ground for the moment. It seemed they all believed she knew about the dowry that
had come with her marriage to Lord Lyndon.

Airily, she said, ‘I have some money of my own I intend to use.’

‘Then you’d best not let Lady Dorothea hear about it,’ Nelly warned. ‘She doesn’t think the dowry was enough anyway. If she hears you’ve got more –
she’ll want it. She dun’t care about the villagers. All that matters to her is her precious son’s inheritance; this house and the estate.’

Annabel rose. ‘Then I think it’s high time I had a conversation with my sister-in-law. In the meantime, please use the food which Jane brought. It has been obtained honestly, I
promise you.’

Without another word, Annabel turned and left the room. She hoped the servants would have the grace to apologize to Jane, but she doubted it. They were a surly lot and no mistake. But, the
kindly young woman told herself, they had good reason to be after the hardships they had endured recently.

Annabel found Dorothea alone in the morning room, crouched in front of a dying fire, a thick shawl round her shoulders. She looked up malevolently as Annabel entered.
‘What do you want?’

Annabel crossed the room and sat down in a chair on the opposite side of the hearth to her sister-in-law, suppressing a shiver as she did so; the room was undeniably cold for the time of
year.

‘I want to talk to you, Dorothea. There’s something very strange going on here and I want to know what it is.’

‘It’s none of your business.’

‘I think it is,’ Annabel said softly, but there was a hint of steel in her tone. Dorothea must have noticed it, for she looked up and met Annabel’s steady gaze.

‘You’d do best to go back to your folks,’ she snapped and then added grudgingly, ‘at least until James comes home again.’

‘My place is here now and I intend to stay, but I also intend to help you and your son, and your mother and the villagers.’

Dorothea’s thin mouth curled in a sneer. ‘And how do you propose to do that? Unless you’re a millionairess, you won’t be able to do anything.’ She gazed into the
sorry fire that glowed, but gave out little warmth. ‘We had logs to burn for a while, but none of the men have the strength to cut down any more trees now.’ Her tone hardened.
‘Though I expect those idle beggars in the village could, if they wanted to. Still, they’ll all be gone soon. We’ll get new tenants who can pay their rent and work the land
again.’

‘And how are you going to do that?’ Annabel asked, copying Dorothea’s own wording. She kept her voice level and calm, though inside she was seething at the woman’s
callousness.

Dorothea’s eyes narrowed. ‘Jackson should already have given them all notice.’ She held Annabel’s gaze but the latter said nothing in response. She rather thought that
Ben Jackson had not carried out those orders; if he had done so, Annabel would have heard about it today. She smothered a smile. Jabez Fletcher would have been the first to say something, she was
sure.

‘Your dowry,’ Dorothea’s tone was scathing, ‘such as it was – has helped us secure the bank loan on this house and the estate, but it wasn’t enough’
– her tone became accusatory now – ‘to cover the rents that haven’t been paid for months.’ She sniffed. ‘Still, my son’s inheritance is secure for the
moment and, once we get some new tenants, things should improve.’

Annabel, with her head on one side and being careful not to give too much away, eyed the woman. ‘What do you mean – your son’s inheritance?’

‘Theodore will inherit after James.’

Annabel frowned. James had told her he wanted a son of his own. He had been adamant about it. And their wedding night – and her first night at Fairfield – had seemed to bear out that
fact. For the moment Annabel decided to hold her tongue; she would ask no questions. It seemed, however, that Dorothea could not keep silent. She wanted to plunge the knife into Annabel; she was
determined to be rid of James’s unwanted bride. The family had her money now; that was all any of them had needed or wanted.

Dorothea’s eyes gleamed with spite as she said, ‘James may have told you he wants a son, but he has promised me that
my
son will be his heir. He swore he would not consummate
his marriage to you and – after an appropriate interval – he will have the marriage annulled on those grounds.’

Annabel was appalled and, even though she had quelled her anger thus far, now she could not suppress a shocked gasp. She bit her lip, deliberately holding back any retort. She was not even going
to try to score points against this manipulative woman. Only time would prove that already James had broken his promise to his sister. With great dignity, Annabel rose and looked down at the woman
still kneeling in front of the fire.

‘Despite what you obviously feel about me and your plans for me, Dorothea, I am not a vindictive person. Everyone in this house – including you and your son – need my help. And
you shall have it.’

Before the woman could make any further comment, Annabel turned away with a swish of her skirts and left the room.

Annabel spent a restless night and awoke early the following morning. She dressed quickly and crept down the stairs to the kitchen where she helped herself to a drink of milk
before letting herself quietly out of the side door. Ben was near the stables, just finishing harnessing the pony into the shafts of the trap.

‘’Morning, m’lady. Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?’

‘I’ll be fine, Ben, really. I’d sooner you were here to help my grandfather.’

For a moment, Ben leaned against the side of the trap. He looked weak. Annabel sighed inwardly, but decided to say nothing. She climbed into the back and, as Ben moved away, she picked up the
reins and urged the animal forward, calling out, ‘I don’t know when I’ll be back, but don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Give Grandfather my love – and
thanks.’

Ben nodded and raised his hand as she pulled away. She drove at a steady pace down the slope, through the village and past the lonely cottage on the outskirts. Once more the solemn-faced little
boy was alone in the front garden, kicking a ball. Annabel waved and smiled at him, but there was no response. He just stood very still and stared after her until she rounded a corner and
disappeared from his sight. It was the first time anyone from the village had even acknowledged his existence.

The pony picked up speed of his own accord and soon they were bowling along the country lanes. Annabel lifted her face to the early morning sun. Ahead of her she saw the figures of two men
walking towards the town. One she recognized as Jabez Fletcher and the other one, though she did not know his name, had been in church sitting beside Jabez. As she drew level with them, she pulled
on the reins and the pony slowed its pace.

‘Good morning, Mr Fletcher. Are you both going into the town? May I take you there?’

Jabez stopped and squinted up at her against the early morning sun. ‘Now, why should you want to do a thing like that,
my lady
?’

The man beside him stopped, too, and after a quick glance at Annabel he sank down onto the grass verge and dropped his head into his hands.