Fairfield Hall (22 page)

‘I’ll bid you “good day” for the moment, Merriman.’

James turned away, pulling Annabel with him as he strode towards the trap that Private Jenkins had brought. However, at that moment, they heard the rattle of another pony and trap and turned to
see Dr Maybury driving down the street. Beside him sat a middle-aged woman dressed in a nurse’s uniform.

‘Ah, I’d better have a word,’ James said.

The doctor pulled his vehicle to a halt and climbed down to shake James’s hand. After an exchange of greetings, Stephen Maybury said, ‘This is Nurse Newton. She has come to live in
at Fairfield Hall to care for your mother for a week or so. We’ll then reassess the situation.’

James nodded to the woman and turned back to the doctor. ‘I’ve seen my mother this morning. She seems to be wandering in her mind. She thought I was Albert, my brother. He was always
her favourite.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Reprobate that he was. But she seems very poorly to me. Is there any hope of her recovery?’

‘Good heavens, yes. But she is undernourished and weak because of it. But your wife—’

‘Yes, yes, I know what my wife has been doing.’ Suddenly, James seemed irritated by the compliments being heaped on Annabel’s head. No doubt he felt it reflected badly on him,
she supposed. ‘We’re on our way to inspect the farms now, but I’d like to know what you think of my mother today.’

‘I’ll be in the village for the rest of the morning.’

‘Very well. I’ll see you when we get back.’

Ben Jackson took the reins from Private Jenkins and the four of them squeezed into the trap. As they left the village, they passed the lonely cottage and Annabel glanced into the front garden.
The boy was there again, but this time his mother was standing beside him, her gaze following the occupants of the trap, and Annabel fancied that the young woman’s gaze was fixed on her
husband, James, but he was staring straight ahead and didn’t even seem to see the two people standing in the garden.

There was one other, however, who most certainly did. Even after the trap had passed by, Private Jenkins was craning his neck to stare back at them.

Rebecca Clifton and her helpers had worked hard. A fire burned in a shining black-leaded range in the kitchen at Chaffinch Farm. The walls had been dusted down, cobwebs removed
from the ceiling, the floors scrubbed and all the shelves in the pantry had been washed. In the best parlour, the dust had been banged out of the old sofa and chairs and the curtains had been
washed and rehung. Upstairs, the beds had been made up with freshly laundered linen and the windows cleaned and flung open to air the rooms.

‘You’ve all done a marvellous job,’ Annabel enthused. ‘Thank you.’

‘We’re about finished here, m’lady. We’re off across to Sparrow Farm now.’

Outside again, James asked, ‘Why are you so effusive with your thanks? They’re being paid.’

‘Actually, James, they’re not. They wouldn’t take payment.’

‘How very philanthropic!’ he murmured, but Annabel chose to ignore his sarcasm.

Adam was already at Sparrow Farm, sorting out the rusty machinery in the barns. He doffed his cap as he emerged into the yard at the sound of the trap.

‘Your lordship.’ For a moment, his tone was wary, as if he feared that James might rescind what his wife and Ben Jackson had agreed. But James sprang out of the back of the trap and
held out his hand to the startled young man ‘Cartwright – I’m glad you’ve agreed to have a go at this place. Let her ladyship know if there’s anything you need to set
you on your way.’

Annabel smiled, but said nothing, glad that James now seemed to be approving of what had been done. He could very well have moodily countermanded everything she had set in motion, but he had
not.

‘We’re very grateful, m’lord. We’ll work that hard and Jim Chadwick’s promised his support. I used to work for him, y’know.’

James looked blank for a moment, seeming as if he didn’t even know who Jim Chadwick was, never mind that Adam had worked on Blackbird Farm. Perhaps he didn’t, Annabel thought, seeing
as he’d had little interest in the estate. But James was nothing if not adroit at covering his ignorance. He smiled and nodded.

‘Mrs Clifton and her friends are on their way over to give Betsy a hand in the house, Adam,’ Annabel said, feeling that this would not undermine her husband’s authority.
Cleaning, after all, was a woman’s domain.

‘I’m grateful, m’lady,’ Adam said again. ‘Betsy’s in there now. She’s made a start, but she soon gets tired. Their help’ll be a godsend.’
For a moment his eyes clouded. ‘I can’t pay them, though, m’lady.’

‘No need, Adam. They’re doing it out of the goodness of their hearts.’

They drove back to Fairfield Hall.

‘Sir,’ Jenkins asked, as they climbed out of the trap in the courtyard, ‘would you mind if I took a look around the village?’

‘Help yourself.’ James chuckled and was still smiling as Jenkins turned and began to walk through the archway and back down the hill. ‘Don’t be too late back, though. We
must leave at four.’

‘What are you laughing at?’ Annabel wanted to know.

‘It hasn’t taken Jenkins long to find out exactly who and what Nancy Banks is.’

‘
What!
’

He was still smiling. ‘You know about Nancy, don’t you?’

Grimly, Annabel nodded. ‘Enough, but I mean to put a stop to all that. Call him back, James. I won’t have it.’

But James only glanced after the figure of his batman marching determinedly in the direction of the isolated cottage and shrugged. ‘I’ve no intention of stopping him, my dear. A man
has his needs.’

Dismayed, Annabel stared after Jenkins. There was nothing she could do, but her heart went out to the solemn, lonely little boy who was witnessing such goings on. She berated herself for not
having seen Nancy earlier. She could have stopped it before now, but she had been so concerned with other, more urgent, matters.

‘Come along, Annabel. The doctor’s trap is standing outside the front door. I need to see him.’

Annabel followed him, her mind taken over with sudden anxiety over her mother-in-law. Why was the doctor still there? Was she worse? Fear rose in her throat as she hurried to catch up with her
husband’s long strides.

As it turned out, she need not have worried unduly; although Elizabeth was still very poorly, Stephen Maybury assured both her and James that there was a slight sign of improvement. He had
installed the nurse, had attended one or two patients in the village and had returned to Fairfield Hall briefly before going back to town to hold his surgery.

‘Nurse Newton will be sleeping in the dressing room next door to Lady Fairfield’s room. She’s an excellent nurse. Your mother is in good hands.’

At luncheon there were the two of them and Dorothea.

‘I thought you had two days’ leave,’ Dorothea remarked and Annabel thought she detected a sly note in her voice.

‘I have,’ James replied easily, ‘but now that I see Mama is in good hands, I have business to attend to in London before returning to barracks.’

‘Business, indeed,’ Dorothea murmured, smirking as she exchanged a knowing look with her brother and leaving Annabel feeling excluded from their shared secrets.

Annabel was sorry to see James leave later that afternoon as she stood on the steps to wave him off. She nodded briefly to Private Jenkins, her lips pursed in disapproval, but
when she looked at him more closely, she decided that the young man didn’t look at all happy, certainly not like a man who had just had ‘his needs’, as James had called them,
satisfied.

Annabel promised herself that she would visit Nancy as soon as she could. A ‘house of ill-repute’ was not wanted in the village and she was concerned for the little boy’s
welfare.

As the trap disappeared down the hill, Annabel went down to the kitchen.

‘Mrs Parrish, can you spare me a moment?’

‘Of course, m’lady.’

How different was her reception in the kitchen to what it had been at first, Annabel mused. ‘I expect you know that the Broughtons of Chaffinch Farm are sadly in the workhouse
and—’

Nelly’s face crumpled suddenly and she sat down heavily in a chair.

‘Whatever’s the matter?’ Concerned, Annabel bent over her. ‘Didn’t you know?’

‘M’lady’ – John Searby was at her side – ‘I think I know what has caused Mrs Parrish’s distress.’ Now Nelly was sobbing, covering her face with
her white apron and rocking backwards and forwards. ‘It was you mentioning the workhouse.’

Annabel blinked up at him. ‘Why? Oh’ – a sudden though struck her – ‘was she afraid that she might end up there? Oh, Mrs Parrish, I’d never let that
happen.’ She put her hand on the cook’s shoulder but the woman still shook with distress.

‘It’s not that, m’lady,’ John said quietly. ‘It’s her mother. She’s in there.’

Annabel stared up at him, dumbstruck for a moment. ‘Her mother?’ she repeated stupidly. ‘How? I thought she used to be cook here – before Mrs Parrish.’

‘She did.’

‘Then—’ Now Annabel was angry. How could the Lyndon family let someone who had served them loyally end up in the workhouse? She was appalled and not for the first time since
her arrival here.

‘She lived in the village in a grace and favour house near the smithy. Old Lord Fairfield always used to look after his servants when they retired, but –’ John hesitated and
fell silent.

‘I see,’ Annabel said grimly. And she did – only too well.

She turned back to the cook and put her arm around her shoulders. ‘I’ll bring her home, Mrs Parrish. Get Annie to clean that spare bedroom in the staff quarters and make up a bed.
She can stay here until we can get her back into her own cottage.’

Nelly lowered her apron to stare up into Annabel’s face. ‘You’d do that?’ she whispered. ‘For me? After—’

‘Now, now, that’s all forgotten. Dry your tears because I want you to help me organize some food for the Broughtons when I get them home. Is there anyone else from the village who is
in the workhouse?’

Nelly and John exchanged a glance. ‘There is one,’ he said hesitantly.

‘Who?’

When he still seemed reluctant to say more, Annabel glanced at Nelly.

‘Tell her, Mr Searby. She’ll hear anyway.’

‘Mrs Banks.’

Annabel frowned for a moment and then said, ‘Do you mean Nancy’s mother?’

John nodded, still looking uncomfortable.

‘Why on earth is she in there? I thought – well – that they were all right because of –’ She stopped and shrugged her shoulders expressively. ‘You know.
Lizzie, the Websters’ maid, told me that Mrs Banks had moved away.’

‘It was the shame, m’lady,’ Nelly said. ‘Agnes Banks was devastated when Nancy got pregnant, but she stood by her then.’ She glanced at John. ‘That
wasn’t altogether the young girl’s fault. We were all a bit to blame – we should have protected her more.’

‘She was a maid here, wasn’t she?’ Again, Annabel was careful not to reveal that she’d already heard all this from Ben.

Nelly nodded. ‘Yes, and her mother was the housekeeper. Mrs Banks came here after she lost her husband. Her and my mam were good friends and I was undercook then to my mam. It fair broke
our hearts to see what Nancy’s downfall did to her mother. They left here, of course, and went first to the rooms above Ozzy Greenwood’s shop and later they moved to the little cottage
on the outskirts of the village.’

‘Yes, I’ve seen it and I’ve seen her little boy in the garden. He looks a lonely little chap.’

‘He is. None of the folks in the village will let their children play with him.’

Annabel’s tender heart twisted for the child; whatever his mother was, none of it was his fault.

‘At first, they was all right. The villagers didn’t shun them – they knew full well what was what, if you get my meaning.’

Annabel nodded grimly. She understood how the young girl had been seduced by James’s elder brother.

‘Nancy and her mother set up as dressmakers. Nancy was a good little needlewoman – I’ll give her that – but when things started to get tough and the work dried up, they
had no other income. That was when she – well, you can guess the rest, m’lady.’

‘Thank you for telling me, Mrs Parrish. I wanted to go and see Nancy and now I have an excuse.’

Nelly’s eyes were suddenly wide. ‘Oh m’lady, I don’t think you should go there.’

Annabel chuckled. ‘Then all the more reason why I should.’

‘His lordship wouldn’t like it.’

‘His lordship isn’t here.’

‘But he’ll hear about it, m’lady. Mark my words, he’ll hear about it.’

Nelly did not need to say who the teller of tales would be. Annabel could guess: Dorothea.

The boy was not in the garden when Annabel opened the gate and walked up the path to the front door. She glanced around her. The garden was well tended – the grass cut
short, the borders neat though the summer flowers were dying now. The front door and the windows were freshly painted and Annabel wondered if one of Nancy’s ‘gentleman callers’
had done the work.

She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. It was a while before it opened tentatively and a young, fair-haired woman’s face peered out. Her blue eyes were wide with fear.

Annabel smiled. ‘You must be Nancy. May I come in?’

The young woman gasped in surprise, but opened the door wide enough for Annabel to step inside. Then she led her through to a small, neat front parlour.

‘M’lady,’ she said in a low, sweet voice. ‘You shouldn’t be here. There’ll be such talk.’

Annabel shrugged. ‘So?’

‘Well . . .’ Nancy was lost for words.

‘May I sit down?’

‘Oh – of course. I’m sorry. Would – would you like a cup of tea?’

‘No, thank you. Where’s your little boy?’

‘He’s playing in the back garden. I – I don’t let him go into the front much. He – he gets called rude names.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Annabel paused and then went on, ‘Nancy, it has to stop, you know.’

Nancy’s face flooded with colour and she sank into a chair. ‘You know?’

Annabel nodded. ‘And I also know that a young soldier came to see you yesterday.’