Fairfield Hall (39 page)

Her mind veered to thoughts of James and Cynthia Carruthers. What a strange world they lived in, she thought, where a married woman – one who was supposed to have been in love with her
husband when she’d married him – not only took a younger lover but was also willing to marry him off to another. But that, it seemed, was the way things often happened in their circles.
She wondered what had happened in previous generations of the Lyndon family. And thinking of that, the dowager countess came into her mind. Slowly, she rose and went upstairs to Elizabeth’s
room.

‘Annabel!’ Her mother-in-law’s face lit up at the sight of her. ‘I’m so glad you’ve come. How is the progress on my garden?’

Annabel smiled as she sat down beside the bed. Elizabeth looked much better now than when Annabel had first met her. Her eyes were brighter and her skin was a much better colour. She
couldn’t blame the frail lady for her first thought being about her garden rather than how the estate fared and the welfare of the villagers. Elizabeth would doubtless never have been
involved in such matters, even when her husband was alive.

‘We’ve re-employed the man who used to be head gardener here, Thomas Salt.’ She explained to Elizabeth what had transpired, the new appointments that had been made and the work
that was being done. ‘They’ve already cleared the ground, cut the grass and dug over the beds. We’ll need you to tell us what you’d like planted.’

Elizabeth leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes. ‘I want it to be just like it used to be.’

Ben’s face came at once into Annabel’s mind. He had been able to remember the garden as it had once been. He would have advised them, but now Ben was no longer here. How she would
miss his guidance and help in so many ways. Now, she would have to rely on Thomas Salt’s memory to recreate the garden for her mother-in-law.

Elizabeth seemed in the mood to reminisce and Annabel was happy to listen; she might learn more about this strange family into which she had married.

‘Charles had the garden made for me when I came here as a bride,’ the dowager countess murmured. ‘We were so much in love and he’d have done anything to make me happy
– then.’

‘So yours was a love match,’ Annabel said softly. ‘Not a marriage of –’ She stopped, unwilling to say the word that might upset the dowager countess and prevent her
from saying more. Annabel wanted her to go on; she wanted to hear more about the family. But Elizabeth did not seem to have heard her; she was lost in her memories. Annabel had caught the brief
pause before she had added ‘Then’.

‘You were happy?’ she prompted.

‘Oh, so happy. The estate was prospering. Charles’s grandfather – the second earl – had been a good manager – a good
farmer
.’ She smiled. ‘They
called him Farmer Bert. His name was Albert.’ Her face clouded. ‘That’s why we called our firstborn “Albert” after him. And Charles’s father – Theodore
– carried on the good work.’

She paused for what seemed to Annabel an age, but Elizabeth was not to be rushed. It was as if she was speaking to herself more than to anyone else. Annabel hesitated to interrupt her; it might
break the spell and halt the reminiscing.

‘We were so thrilled at our Albert’s birth; an heir for the title and the estate at the very first go. And he was such a handsome little boy. Always merry, always laughing, but a
little rascal,’ she added fondly, ‘even then. And then came Dorothea. She was always a surly child, sulky and jealous of her elder brother’s position. She was the ambitious one,
whilst Albert just wanted to enjoy life. It would have been better if she had been born the boy and born first.’ She sighed and lapsed into a long silence again, but this time Annabel
whispered, ‘And James?’

‘All James ever wanted was to be a soldier. It had always been the tradition in the family that the second son – if there was one – would go into the Army, but it was what
James wanted to do anyway. He didn’t need persuading. So, as soon as he was old enough, off he went. He’s hardly lived at home since.’ Now her face clouded; she was remembering
unhappier times. ‘James had no interest in the estate; he had no need. It was unlikely that it would ever pass to him, but he’d reckoned without Albert’s wild ways –
behaviour that killed his father.’

‘Killed him!’ Annabel exclaimed. ‘How?’

‘Albert got into a lot of trouble drinking, living the high life and – well, you know. Charles paid his debts time and again to keep him out of serious trouble. My husband’s
health deteriorated because of it. I’m sure of it. And then there was the business of Nancy Banks. She was a sweet girl – a
good
girl – but my son charmed her and –
and . . .’

She paused and ran her tongue around her lips. Annabel reached for the glass of water on the bedside table and handed it to her.

‘It made matters so much worse because she was our housekeeper’s daughter. Mrs Banks was the best housekeeper we’d ever had, but, of course, when it all came out, they both had
to go.’

Annabel was tempted to ask why, but she kept silent.

‘I think that really finished my husband. He died only months after we heard that the child had been born. The last thing he did was to give Nancy and her mother the cottage at the end of
the village.’

‘Your husband did that? I’d thought it was Albert.’

Slowly Elizabeth turned her head to look at Annabel. ‘That’s what everyone thinks, but no, it was my Charles. Albert didn’t lift a finger to help the poor girl he’d got
into trouble, but Charles gave them the cottage and settled a small annuity on them too. They’d started a dressmaking business and they’d have been all right if –’ She
passed a hand wearily over her face and Annabel murmured, ‘Don’t talk any more if it’s tiring you.’

‘No, no, I want to tell you. This family has treated you shamefully and for that I’m sorry, but I want you to understand
why
.’

Now Annabel said nothing; she wanted to hear it all. Perhaps it would help her deal with the life she had been handed through no fault of her own. And more importantly, perhaps it would help her
to understand her complicated husband.

‘When Albert inherited the title, we all thought – believed – he would come to his senses and recognize the responsibilities of his new position. But no, he continued with his
riotous life and cared nothing for the estate. He ruined it. He borrowed a huge sum of money and raised the rents for the tenant farmers to such a ridiculous amount that they couldn’t
possibly make a living. And then he died and James inherited.’ She paused and whispered, ‘Poor James.’

‘Why do you say, “poor James”?’

‘Because he’d always lived in his brother’s shadow – in Dorothea’s too, if it comes to that. She was always the stronger one – the strongest of the three, if
I’m honest.’

‘How did Albert die?’ Annabel asked gently.

Elizabeth was silent for a moment before saying brokenly, ‘In mysterious circumstances in London. It was all hushed up and even I never knew the truth, but I suppose I can guess,’
she added bitterly. ‘I believe he died in a debtors’ prison.’

Annabel took her hand and held it. There was a long silence now before Elizabeth went on more strongly, ‘James never sought or wanted the title and the responsibility that came with it,
but he knew he had to do something to try to save the estate.’

‘Marry money,’ Annabel said, striving to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

‘Yes,’ Elizabeth whispered. ‘It’s what we do.’ She turned her head on the pillow and looked straight into Annabel’s eyes. ‘And now you are to give us a
son and heir. You can’t know how happy that makes me. And I want you to know, my dear, that
I
do not believe what Dorothea is saying. I
know
that you are carrying my
grandson.’

‘Jane – I need to go down to the village and you’ll have to come with me if I’m to avoid more tales being spread.’

‘I’ve given that Annie a piece of my mind, but she’s under Lady Dorothea’s thumb.’

Annabel sighed. At least my mother-in-law believes me, she thought. Aloud she said, ‘What about the others? Do they believe the lies?’

Jane shook her head. ‘No. Mrs Parrish is so grateful to you for bringing her mother out of the workhouse, she won’t hear a word said against you. Luke and the other youngsters, well,
all they’re concerned about is doing their work and going to The Lyndon Arms now it’s opened up again. I’m not sure about Mr Searby, though. I think he’s sitting on the
fence to safeguard his own position whatever happens.’

Annabel laughed. ‘I can’t blame him for that. And now, we’ll be off. Ask Luke to harness the pony and trap and to drive us.’

Jane frowned. Annabel usually walked to the village. ‘Are you feeling all right, miss?’

‘Fit as a flea, but I’ve a lot to do today and I may decide to go on into town later and possibly even to see my grandparents.’

‘Then I’ll tell them downstairs we won’t be in for dinner – sorry, luncheon, I’m supposed to call it.’

The village shops were all open now. As they drove along the street, women came out of their cottages to wave and smile and as they passed out of the village, Annabel saw the
children playing in the schoolyard. She smiled to see their happy faces as they laughed and shouted. And her smile broadened when she saw Bertie right in the centre of the games. The children had
kept their promise to her and now he was accepted as one of them.

Luke drove on to visit each of the tenanted farms in turn. Dan and William were busy in the fields, but Lily made them welcome with buttered scones and a cup of tea. In some of the poorer
households, tea was still classed as a luxury but now, every housewife in the village kept a packet of Horniman’s tea – just in case Lady Annabel should call!

‘You must keep your strength up, m’lady. We’re that pleased to hear your wonderful news.’

At Sparrow Farm, Betsy shyly congratulated her and said, ‘You’ll make a lovely mother, m’lady. See how Eddie’s growing now.’

Annabel smiled and nursed the baby, who had been so close to death only a few months ago. Now, he chortled happily and gazed up at Annabel with bright blue eyes.

But when Jim Chadwick helped Annabel down from the trap on their arrival at Blackbird Farm, his first question – when Luke was safely out of earshot – was, ‘What’s to
happen to Home Farm, m’lady?’ He had no need to guard his tongue in front of Jane; he knew she was utterly loyal to Annabel, but he couldn’t – as yet – be so sure of
Luke.

‘That’s partly why I’ve come to see you,’ Annabel said. ‘I wondered about appointing a manager. I can oversee the estate, but I won’t be able to manage the
day-to-day running of a farm.’ Especially, she thought, as I’ll soon have a child to care for.

‘I’ll talk to Dan and Adam,’ Jim went on. ‘See if we can come up with an idea. Of course, we could’ – he went on as if speaking his thoughts aloud –
‘manage Home Farm between us. The three of us, I mean.’

‘Could you?’

‘I don’t see why not, m’lady, with your guidance and instructions, of course. There are a couple of good labourers working there already and a wagoner. You don’t really
need anyone else. I mean, Ben didn’t spend much time there. He just made sure things were running all right.’

Tears prickled Annabel’s throat as she thought about Ben. If only her jealous husband hadn’t been so hasty. Now, he had made her life even more difficult.

After seeing all the farms and completing her business in town, Annabel said, ‘Now we’ll go on to Meadow View Farm. I want to see my grandparents.’

‘Do you think you should, miss?’ Jane whispered. ‘
He
might still be there and I’m not quite sure where Luke’s loyalties lie.’

Annabel shrugged. ‘It’s a risk I’ll have to take.’

As they pulled into the yard at Meadow View Farm, Annabel drew in a sharp breath. Her father’s carriage was standing there. She felt a moment’s panic; her mother
rarely visited her parents and she’d been to see them only recently. Was something wrong? Was one of her grandparents ill?

‘Jane, run in and see what’s happening.’

The girl jumped down from the trap and ran to the house whilst Luke helped his mistress alight.

As she went inside, Jane met her at the door, saying in a hushed voice, ‘They’re all in the parlour, miss.’

Annabel raised her eyebrows. Martha’s best room was only ever used on special occasions. She frowned. Something must be wrong. ‘Are they all right?’

Jane nodded but she was clearly anxious. ‘Your dad’s here an’ all and they look – angry.’

‘All of them?’

‘Well . . .’

‘It’s all right.’ She touched Jane’s arm. ‘I’ll see for myself.’

As she entered the room she saw at once what Jane had meant. It looked as if she had stepped into the middle of a big family quarrel. Her father was on his feet, standing with his back to the
fire. ‘What’s this I hear?’ he demanded harshly, without a word of greeting to his daughter. ‘You’re pregnant with another man’s child?’

‘How could you, Annabel?’ Sarah put in. ‘You’ve brought shame on us all. And after all your father has done for you.’

Before Annabel could even open her mouth, Edward stood up. ‘It’s the pair of you who ought to be ashamed. How can you even think such a thing of Annabel? Of course the child is her
husband’s.’

‘That’s not what his sister said in her letter.’

Annabel gasped and held on to the door for support as her legs threatened to give way beneath her. ‘Dorothea? She – she’s written to you?’

‘Well, I don’t suppose you were likely to tell us, were you?’ Ambrose said sarcastically.

‘Because there’s nothing to tell except that she’s to have a child,’ Edward boomed. ‘The grandchild you wanted.’

‘Only if it’s a boy. I don’t want another blasted
girl
.’

There was a moment’s shocked silence before Edward, his voice menacingly soft, said, ‘D’you know, Constantine, I’ve never liked you. I knew you for the ruthlessly
ambitious man you are, but I never thought until this moment that you were actually evil.’

The two men glared at each other, but it was Ambrose’s glance that fell away first.