Fairfield Hall (18 page)

‘All the villagers have been fed too. There’s no need for anyone to feel guilty.’

‘But how did you manage it?’ Nelly was wide-eyed with disbelief. ‘How did you get the townsfolk to supply you?’

‘I paid them what they were owed.’ She laughed. ‘Then they were falling over themselves for new orders.’

‘How did you pay them?’ Nelly asked.

‘That’s hardly our business, Mrs Parrish,’ John Searby said swiftly before Annabel could reply. ‘Let’s just be grateful that Lady Fairfield has at least provided us
with some food for the moment.’

‘It won’t be just for the moment, Mr Searby. I mean to get this estate back on its feet.’ She was still standing with her arms around the weeping Annie’s shoulders. She
gave the girl a little squeeze. ‘But I’m going to need help. From all of you.’

Annie sobbed all the harder. ‘Oh m’lady, I’m so sorry. Please – forgive me.’

‘Whatever for?’ Annabel said, pretending innocence.

‘For spilling gravy on your dress. I – I did it deliberately, because Lady Dorothea told me—’

‘Annie!’ the butler said warningly and the girl shot him an anxious look.

‘Think no more about it,’ Annabel said. ‘Now, Mrs Parrish, have my mother-in-law and Lady Dorothea had dinner?’

The cook, still mesmerized by the mound of food she now had at her disposal, shook her head.

‘Then something simple for all of us tonight. Luke, could you carry coal up to the morning room and Annie, would you see that the fire is still alight in there, please? And tomorrow, I
shall want you to light fires in all the rooms.’

Galvanized into action by her requests, the two younger ones hurried to obey.

‘And Jane, will you please help Mrs Parrish prepare dinner? In the meantime, I’d better have a word with my sister-in-law.’

She found Dorothea as she had found her the previous evening; in the morning room bending towards the dismal fire. But the coal scuttle was now empty.

Annabel sat down in the same chair she had sat in previously. What a lot had happened since then, she thought.

Dorothea didn’t even bother to look up as she said, ‘What do you want now?’

‘Luke and Annie are bringing coal up for the fire and dinner will be served in about an hour.’

She watched as the woman turned her head slowly to look up at her. But her eyes were still filled with bitter resentment; there was not even the tiniest flicker of gratitude. ‘What on
earth are you talking about? We’ve no coal, no food, nothing!’

Annabel smiled. ‘We have now. The tradespeople have all been paid and new orders placed and a great deal of goods have already been delivered to us all – with more to
follow.’

Slowly Dorothea straightened up. ‘What have you done?’ Her tone was harsh with accusation. ‘The money? Have you interfered with the money that was paid to James? Surely Mr
Hoyles hasn’t allowed you to divert any of the—?’

‘Of course he hasn’t,’ Annabel interrupted. ‘I have spent my own money. Money over which I have complete control.’

Dorothea’s eyes gleamed. ‘You have more money?’

Aware of the grasping woman’s thoughts, Annabel said swiftly, ‘I have, but not to spend on paying off the loan on this house. Fairfield Hall is safe for the moment, but what I do
intend to do is to make the estate a paying concern again.’

Dorothea’s lip curled disdainfully. ‘Then you’ll need to find new tenants to replace that idle lot we’ve got. Why on earth my brother didn’t give them all notice
months ago when he knew how badly things were going, I don’t know. But of course,’ she added with a sneer, ‘he was too busy finding himself an heiress to marry.’

Annabel ignored the barb. Instead, she felt a sudden spark of hope. Maybe her new husband wasn’t quite so heartless after all, if he had held off giving notice to his tenants just because
they could no longer pay rent.

Annabel got to her feet. ‘No one will be given notice. No one is going anywhere.’

‘Then you’ll soon run out of money however much you’ve got supporting that feckless lot.’

‘I would like to see your mother.’

‘You can’t. She’s not well.’

Annabel turned away determined to ask no more. She was anxious about the dowager countess; she looked weak and ill as if all the spirit had drained out of her, making her look much older than
her fifty or so years. Annie, she thought. Annie will tell me where she is.

‘She’s in her room, m’lady,’ the maid told her a few moments later when Annabel met her coming to mend the morning-room fire. ‘She’s in bed. She’s not
well. In fact, she hasn’t been herself for a few days.’

‘Has the doctor been called?’

‘They can’t afford his fee.’

Annabel clicked her tongue in exasperation. ‘Where is her bedroom?’

Moments later, Annie was opening the door of Elizabeth Lyndon’s bedroom on the first floor at the back of the house and ushering Annabel inside. It was the biggest bedroom in the house
with a four-poster bed. A single candle burned on the bedside table. In the dimness of the room, Annabel could see the elderly lady lying in bed, the covers pulled up to her chin. There was no fire
in the grate and the room was cold and had a musty dampness to it.

‘Lady Fairfield,’ she said softly.

Lady Elizabeth opened her eyes and stared at her, but she did not speak. She tried to pull herself up but as she did so, she began to cough, a harsh, rasping sound that wracked her thin
frame.

‘Annie,’ Annabel said. ‘Please light a fire in here at once and ask Mrs Parrish to prepare some nourishing broth.’ As the girl turned to hurry away, Annabel added,
‘Ask Luke to find Mr Jackson and tell him, when he goes into town tomorrow morning, to ask Dr Maybury to come as soon as possible to see Lady Fairfield. Tell him, it’s
urgent.’

Annie scuttled away, but Annabel fetched more pillows and blankets from her own bed. She raised Elizabeth into a sitting position against the pillows and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders.
Her breathing was laboured and her cough tight and painful.

A little time later, when Annie had got a warm fire blazing in the grate, Jane came into the room carrying a tray with two bowls of thick soup and crusty new bread. ‘I brought yours
an’ all, miss. You must be hungry. Luke’s been across to see Mr Jackson like you asked and given him the message.’ She grinned. ‘They’re all down there now eating like
they’ve not eaten for weeks.’

Annabel smiled thinly. ‘I don’t think they have, Jane, not properly. Thank you. Now you go back down and get yours. I’ll be fine.’

‘If you’re sure, miss?’

‘I’m sure. I’ll ring if I need you.’

Annabel took a few spoonfuls of her own soup and then turned her attention to Elizabeth. Gently she spooned the warm liquid between her mother-in-law’s lips, but progress was slow, for
bouts of coughing interrupted her. When the bowl was only half empty, Elizabeth fell back against her pillows and shook her head.

‘Just a little more,’ Annabel coaxed, but Elizabeth’s eyes were closed. With a sigh she sat back to finish her own soup and then set the tray on the dressing table. The room
was warmer now and Elizabeth had fallen asleep. Annabel dozed by the warm fire and when she was roused by the sound of the bedroom door opening softly, she was unaware of how long she had slept.
She looked up to see Dr Maybury standing there.

‘Oh, I didn’t mean for you to come out again tonight.’

‘Mr Jackson said it was urgent and I guessed it was the dowager countess, even though’ – he smiled briefly – ‘he only said “Lady Fairfield”.’

‘She does seem very poorly, so I am relieved you’ve come. Would you like me to fetch her daughter?’

‘No need, as long as you don’t mind staying while I examine her.’

When he was done, Stephen said soberly, ‘I’m sorry to say, she has pneumonia.’

‘Oh dear.’ Annabel knew how serious this was especially in someone of Elizabeth’s age and weakened state of health.

‘Now, I do need to see her daughter.’

Dorothea took the news surprisingly calmly; Annabel would have said ‘callously’. She was still sitting in front of the now roaring fire in the morning room and made
no effort to go at once to her mother.

‘Perhaps I ought to send for my brother,’ Dorothea murmured, but there was a strange note of reluctance in her tone.

‘It might be wise. She is frail through lack of nourishment and warmth, though those two things are being rectified.’

Dorothea arched her eyebrow and glanced at Annabel. ‘Oh, because of Lady Bountiful here, you mean?’

Stephen frowned, but Annabel, despite her concern for James’s mother, smiled. At Dorothea’s next words, however, even Annabel’s smile faded. ‘I won’t deny that her
money is welcome, though why on earth she wants to waste it on those idlers in the village, I don’t know. Still, it’s her money, though I think James will have something to say about it
all when he comes home.’

The next morning, Annabel rose early once more and caught Ben in the courtyard just as he was setting out to take the two men from the village to their place of work.

‘While you’re in town, Ben, I need you to send a telegram to Lord Fairfield. This is the address and I’ve written the message.’

Ben glanced over the words.
Your mother ill. Pneumonia. Please come home asap. Annabel.

‘I presume they’d deliver any reply?’ she asked.

Ben nodded as he climbed into the trap and set off at once.

It was too early to start calling on the people in the village she intended to see that day, so Annabel went back inside. On entering the dining room she found Theodore sitting at the table
eating his breakfast. Annabel helped herself to bacon, sausage and scrambled egg from the sideboard and sat down opposite him. The boy was eating milky porridge, but he eyed her plateful
hungrily.

‘I’m pleased to see you again, Theo.’ The boy merely stared at her sullenly for a moment and then carried on eating as if she wasn’t there.

‘Your grandmother’s rather poorly. Did you know?’ Annabel was determined to make him speak to her somehow.

He nodded, still eating.

‘Are you feeling quite well?’

Again, just a nod.

She began to eat too.

‘Do you go to school?’

He shook his head, but volunteered no information. He finished his meal and set down his spoon neatly in the empty dish. Then he folded his arms and sat back in his chair and stared unblinkingly
at her. He had the ‘Lyndon colouring’, Annabel mused. James, Dorothea and her son all had brown hair and brown eyes. And she remembered the portrait on the landing of Charles Lyndon; he
had the same-coloured hair and eyes too.

Theo was undoubtedly a rude, sullen little boy of about five years old, but Annabel’s overriding feeling for him was one of sympathy. It couldn’t be much fun being shut away in this
great house with his bad-tempered mother and a frail grandmother. Visits from his uncle James would be infrequent and fleeting. And recently, he can’t have had much to eat either; no one
had.

‘Would you like to go to school or have a tutor here?’

Now he blinked in surprise and at last he spoke. ‘Mama teaches me.’

‘Do you enjoy your lessons?’

He shrugged. ‘She’s teaching me to read and write and do arithmetic. And about my ancestors. She says that’s all I’ll need to know.’

‘Oh, and why is that?’ Annabel asked, although she rather thought she knew the answer already.

‘For when I inherit the title and the estate from my uncle. It’s my destiny.’

The last words were straight out of Dorothea’s mouth. The idea had been drilled into him all his young life and it was all he knew. She didn’t blame the young boy; she blamed his
mother.

She gazed at him across the table. If he had been older, she would have told him that he would not inherit anything if she had a male child, but she thought he was too young to understand the
laws of hereditary titles.

‘Your uncle will no doubt be home very soon. We have sent word that your grandmother is ill.’

‘He won’t come home just for that.’

Annabel stared at him in surprise. ‘Of course he will. It’s what they call compassionate leave in the Army, isn’t it?’

The boy seemed lost for a moment. Perhaps because he was so young, Annabel thought, he didn’t understand the seriousness of Elizabeth’s condition. But his next words shocked her,
especially coming from one so young. ‘He’ll come home for her funeral, if she dies. It’d look bad if he didn’t.’

As he pushed back his chair and left the table, Annabel stared after him, the fork she was holding halfway between the plate and her mouth, suspended in mid-air.

After she had finished her own breakfast, she went in search of Dorothea and was heartened to find her with her mother. ‘I’ll be out most of the day,’ Annabel
told her. ‘Is there anything you need before I go?’

Grudgingly, as if it pained her to do so, Dorothea said, ‘No, but I must thank you for sending for the doctor.’

‘He’ll come again today and I’ve organized a telegram to be sent to James. He’ll be home soon.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Dorothea said flatly. ‘Not unless . . .’ Her words were left hanging between them, but now Annabel understood their meaning.

As she turned away to begin what was to be another busy day, she shook her head in disbelief. There was so much about this family she had yet to learn and, so far, she didn’t like what she
was finding out.

Annabel went first to the vicarage. A smiling Richard Webster opened the door. After an exchange of greetings with him and his wife, Annabel said, ‘Now, let’s get
down to business. Today, I shall be asking Mr Jackson to take me to visit the farms. He, I understand, runs Home Farm on behalf of the Lyndon family, but the other three farms are tenanted. Is that
correct?’

Richard and Phoebe Webster glanced at each other before the vicar cleared his throat and said, ‘Two of the three tenanted farms are vacant and the third is likely to be so very shortly. Mr
Jackson will fill you in.’ He seemed reluctant to say more.

Annabel was puzzled but she nodded and accepted the offer of a cup of tea before going in search of Ben.