Fairfield Hall (8 page)

As she took her leave of the earl and went to her room to change from her travelling clothes, to bathe and dress for dinner, Annabel was thoughtful. If James Lyndon was serious, then no doubt
she could soon expect a proposal. And what would her answer be?

She didn’t know.

The dinner was lavish; Ambrose was determined to impress his distinguished guest. Course after course came to the table and the earl delighted in every one, exclaiming over and
praising every dish. Annabel was amused. His sycophancy was as blatant as her father’s. Though keeping her eyes demurely downcast, she watched him discreetly. He was indeed handsome,
courteous and charming, and over the weeks of the Season when he had been so obviously attentive, she had enjoyed his company. And she’d missed him when he’d been absent for several
days. But was she falling in love with him? She’d thought herself in love with Gilbert Radcliffe, and yet now, when she tried to think of him, she couldn’t remember his face or hear the
sound of his voice. Annabel sighed. Was she really so fickle that she had forgotten him already? For now the only face that filled her waking hours and haunted her dreams was that of James Lyndon.
And the thought that James would leave shortly and she might never see him again brought tears to her eyes and a pain to her heart. So, yes, she believed she was falling in love with him.

After luncheon – as her mother insisted the midday meal should be called – on the second and last day of his visit, James led her into the garden behind the house and to the summer
house at the end of the lawn. Annabel’s heart beat a little faster; she guessed what was about to happen. What she didn’t know was that her parents were watching anxiously from an
upstairs window.

‘Will she accept him, do you think?’ Sarah asked.

‘She’d better,’ Ambrose muttered morosely. ‘But she can be very stubborn.’

‘Perhaps she needs a little more time.’

‘Time? What does she need time for? Doesn’t she realize how much it’s cost me to bring this about?’

Sarah raised her eyebrows. ‘I rather hope not. Our somewhat wayward daughter has strict codes of what she believes is moral behaviour and I don’t think she’d approve of a
suitor being—’

‘I blame your parents for that. No ambition, that’s your father’s trouble. Just content to run his farm and live the life of a country yokel. Thank God you’re different,
Sarah.’

‘You wouldn’t have married me otherwise, would you?’ Sarah remarked.

Ambrose turned to look at her. ‘Nor you me, my dear.’

Sarah laughed drily. ‘That’s true enough.’

‘But together we’ve climbed mountains, haven’t we? And now –’ He turned back to look out of the window. ‘And now there’s just one more summit to reach,
if only . . .’

In the seclusion of the summer house, the young couple sat side by side gazing at the smooth lawn, the well-kept borders filled to overflowing with brightly coloured flowers.

James took her hand and turned to face her. ‘I have spoken to your father and he has given me permission to propose to you. Annabel – dear Annabel – would you do me the great
honour of becoming my wife?’

She looked into his eyes, trying to read his true feelings for her. She ran her tongue nervously around her lips. ‘Shouldn’t – shouldn’t I meet your family first? I
mean—’

‘There’s only my mother, my sister and her son and when I tell them how much I – I love you, they will understand. I want us to be married soon – very soon.’

‘Why? What’s the hurry?’

‘I have to return to my regiment. I’m a soldier, Annabel, and I have been absent for a very long time – with special permission, of course.’

She frowned. ‘You mean that, normally, you’re away from home a lot?’

‘Yes. Until May of last year I was in Singapore, but I’m based in Woolwich for now. But I may be sent abroad again at any time.’

‘Oh!’ This was startling news. ‘I – I thought you would run your estate. I overheard what Lady Fortesque said to you – about – about losing your father and
then your elder brother. She hinted that you might leave the Army. In fact, with all the time you’ve spent in London during the Season, I thought that perhaps you had already done
so.’

‘I’m no farmer. I leave that in the hands of my estate bailiff. The Army is my life, Annabel, you must understand that.’

‘But what if there’s a war? Would you have to go?’

‘Of course.’

Annabel stared at him. She couldn’t understand anyone wanting to leave their farmlands in the hands of someone else whilst they went off to fight in some far-off country. ‘But
– but don’t you at least want us to be married from your home?’ Although the custom was for marriages to take place from the bride’s home, Annabel realized that amongst the
aristocracy, grander weddings than her home could offer were expected.

But James was shaking his head. ‘No, that won’t be possible. My mother is still in mourning.’

Annabel’s eyes widened. If there had been a recent bereavement in the family, she was surprised that James had taken part in the Season. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. Your
father?’

‘No, he died nearly three years ago. My elder brother, Albert, inherited the title, but he died very suddenly last December. It was a great shock to us all.’

‘And so,’ Annabel murmured, ‘you’ve become the sixth earl, but you never expected to be.’

James nodded.

‘And you don’t want to give up being a soldier?’

‘No,’ he said simply and decidedly, ‘I don’t.’

‘Not even,’ she said quietly, ‘to become a husband and father?’

As if sensing that perhaps her answer to his proposal depended on his reply now, James hesitated. ‘Is that what you’d want me to do?’

Annabel gazed at him as she said slowly, ‘I’d never ask a man to give up doing what he loved just to please me. And I suppose’ – she was thinking aloud now –
‘if you never expected to inherit the title and to have to run the estate, it’s only natural that you would want to build your own career.’ She saw the hope spring into his eyes,
felt the gentle squeeze of his hand on hers. She took a deep breath. ‘But if you’re likely to be away for long periods, then there is just one thing I would ask.’

‘Name it.’

‘I would want to help run the estate when you’re away; not to take over from your bailiff, but to work alongside him.’

‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ he began, but she hurried on. ‘James, I cannot be idle. And besides, I love farming. I have learned a lot from my grandfather
and—’

‘But that is just one small farm, it is not an
estate
.’

Annabel laughed. ‘The principles will be the same – just on a grander scale.’

Now she could see the doubt in his eyes. ‘You think your bailiff won’t like me interfering, as he might see it?’

James laughed. ‘Jackson will do as he’s told.’

‘Your mother, then? Or your sister? Do they run things now in your absence?’

James shook his head. ‘No, they don’t involve themselves. They just run the house. At least, my sister does. Since the deaths of both my father and my brother, Mama seems to have
given up and leaves everything to my sister, Dorothea.’

‘Then what’s the problem?’

‘Well, I hope you’ll be a mother very soon. You’d want to devote your time to our son, wouldn’t you?’

‘Or daughter,’ Annabel murmured, but got no response. She sighed. ‘Of course I would. I wasn’t proposing that I should plough the fields myself, but that I should be
involved with the overseeing, the planning and so on.’

James wrinkled his brow thoughtfully. ‘There’s only Home Farm which we are responsible for. The other three farms are tenanted.’ His voice dropped as he added,
‘Usually.’ He was quiet and then he shrugged his shoulders. ‘If that’s what you really want . . .’ His tone was grudging, as if he was unwilling to agree to her
request, and yet felt obliged to do so.

‘It is,’ Annabel said firmly. ‘And I wouldn’t want to offend your sister by trying to take over the management of the house. I suppose we will have our own rooms? A wing
of the house, maybe?’

He looked at her strangely for a moment before glancing away and merely nodding. After a moment’s pause, he prompted, ‘So, what is your answer? Will you marry me, Annabel?’

She hesitated a moment. There had been no ardent declaration of love, of adoration, but perhaps, being a soldier, he found sweet words difficult. And he had shown his affection for her in so
many little acts of kindness and attention during her stay in London. He had become part of her life – a very important part.

‘Yes, James, I will marry you,’ she heard herself saying, almost without stopping to think.

He smiled and leaned forward to kiss her gently on the lips.

A little later, James entered Ambrose’s study and closed the door behind him.

‘Well?’ Ambrose asked impatiently.

‘She has accepted my proposal.’

Ambrose beamed and rubbed his hands. ‘And the wedding?’

‘At first, she didn’t understand the reason for such haste, but when I explained that I have to rejoin my regiment as soon as possible because I have already taken a lot of
leave—’

‘She agreed?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good, good.’ Ambrose picked up a small piece of paper from his desk and held it for a moment, saying, ‘There is just one more thing. I presume you have family pictures hanging
in Fairfield Hall?’

James was puzzled. ‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘It has always been the custom to have a portrait done to celebrate a twenty-first birthday.’

‘So – there’s already one of you?’

James nodded. ‘In the dining room.’ Now he was beginning to understand.

‘I intend to commission an artist from London to paint Annabel’s likeness,’ Ambrose went on. ‘He is able to come at once so that it can be done in time for the wedding.
I’d like to think that a portrait of the new Lady Fairfield will hang in a prominent place in the hall.’ Ambrose raised his eyebrows in question.

James hesitated for a moment, but, glancing at the piece of paper still in Ambrose’s grasp, he murmured, ‘Of course.’

Now Ambrose smiled and held it out towards James. ‘My cheque for ten thousand pounds.’

James took it and gazed down at it. ‘You can’t imagine what this means to me, Mr Constantine. The death duties for both my father and brother have crippled the estate. But
this’ – he tapped the cheque with his forefinger – ‘will save Fairfield. It’s a great deal of money and I can’t thank you enough.’

‘My dear fellow, it’s a small price to pay for my daughter becoming Lady Fairfield.’

The only disappointment for Ambrose was that there was no time to plan a lavish wedding. Because of James’s commitments to his regiment, the marriage took place just over
three weeks later on the last Wednesday in August in the nearest church with only Annabel’s parents, grandparents, Sir William and Lady Cynthia and a few other guests who attended at
Ambrose’s invitation, present. Not even James’s mother or sister and nephew attended, which Annabel found strange and rather worrying. James dismissed their absence with a wave of his
hand, reminding her that his family was still in mourning.

Ambrose had insisted that a wedding breakfast be held in the large dining room at their home, where he made a speech briefly welcoming his new son-in-law into the family but dwelling more on how
proud he was that his daughter was to be Lady Fairfield and that her son would one day be the seventh earl. Sarah nodded her approval and smiled around the table. Only Annabel’s grandfather
shook his head in despair. As the newly-weds were about to depart, Edward took Annabel’s hands in his and, as he kissed her forehead, he whispered, ‘We’re only a few miles from
where you’re going to be living – only the other side of Thorpe St Michael. Any problems, my lovely, come to us. Promise me, now.’

There were tears in her eyes and her voice was shaky as she said, ‘I promise, Gramps.’

And then they were on their way in a flurry of goodbyes and good wishes.

They stayed at a hotel for the night in Cleethorpes.

‘Forty or so miles is too far to travel now,’ James said. He was driving the brougham, which Annabel’s father had lent them. ‘We’d be so late arriving.
Besides,’ he smiled at her, ‘we must make the most of the next two days. I’m afraid I must leave on Friday. I have a very understanding commanding officer, but even he cannot
grant me indefinite leave.’

Annabel tried to smile. She’d understood that the life of an army wife would not be easy but even she hadn’t realized that their time together at the start of their marriage would be
so short.

The room was not lavish, but it was comfortable and a welcoming fire burned in the grate, though it was hardly necessary. The day had been fine and bright and its warmth still lingered into the
evening. Dinner was served to them in their room, though Annabel kept her eyes averted from the huge bed. She was nervous about her wedding night. She knew the basic facts of life – she
hadn’t stayed on her grandfather’s farm without learning them – but all her mother had said to her was, ‘Do your duty by your husband,’ which told her little and left
her feeling naïve and rather foolish.

As they finished their meal, Annabel’s appetite having almost deserted her, James stood up. ‘I’ll leave you for a while.’ Then he turned and left the room. She stared at
the door as it closed behind him. He hadn’t kissed her, hadn’t even smiled, but she was left in no doubt that she was now expected to prepare for bed.

A few minutes later, a manservant brought in a tin bath and two maids followed with hot water. When the man had departed, one of the maids asked, ‘Would you like one of us to help you,
m’lady? We see you’re not travelling with a lady’s maid.’

‘That’s kind of you, but I’ll manage, though perhaps you could just unhook my dress, please.’

Jane was to follow two days later, bringing more of Annabel’s luggage to Fairfield Hall. She was Ambrose’s wedding gift to his daughter and the young girl was happy to go with her
young mistress. ‘I’ll be nearer my folks, Miss Annabel.’ Jane had not added that she would be more than happy to leave the Constantines’ household; she loved Annabel, but
she did not even like Ambrose and Sarah.