Fairfield Hall (13 page)

‘We’ve no milk, Doctor, nor coal to heat it with,’ Adam said heavily. ‘We’ve nothing.’

‘But we have,’ Annabel said. ‘I’ve milk here and my grandfather’s following with more supplies. He’s bringing coal and wood. We can soon light the fire
and—’

They were all staring at her, unable to believe what she was saying – not daring to believe it.

‘Oh, m’lady,’ Betsy said, fresh tears welling in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks.

Annabel smiled. ‘And there’ll be food for all of you – very soon. Now’ – she placed the can of precious milk on the table – ‘I’m going to the
vicarage to see if we can use the kitchen there to make soup for the whole village.’ She turned to Adam. ‘If you could come outside with me, we can get you some wood and coal the minute
my grandfather arrives.’ Then she turned to the doctor. ‘Thank you so much for coming. Will you be able to come tomorrow to see the other villagers?’

‘I’m staying now, Lady Fairfield.’ He glanced down at the baby and his expression softened. ‘I can’t risk not seeing anyone else, who might need me urgently.’
He picked up his medical bag and smiled at Betsy, adding softly, ‘I’ll call again before I leave.’

Outside the low door of the cottage, Ben and Jane were still standing near the pony and trap. All eyes now turned towards the road leading out of the village.

‘Listen,’ Ben said, ‘is that cartwheels I hear?’ They were all quiet, straining their ears.

‘Yes, yes, it is. It’s Grandfather.’ With one accord they all moved forward as if they couldn’t wait a moment longer for the cart to reach them.

‘I’ll go to the vicarage. Mr Jackson, will you direct Grandfather into their driveway as soon as you’ve taken whatever you need for this family off the cart?’

The man nodded and Annabel hurried away and was soon knocking on the heavy front door and ringing the bell at the same time. She couldn’t bear to delay for another moment. Richard Webster
opened the door himself, his face creased with concern. To him, in these dire times, such urgent knocking could only mean one thing. Someone needed his prayers.

‘My grandfather is bringing some supplies – he’s almost here,’ Annabel said at once. ‘Please may we use your kitchen to make soup for everyone?’

‘Oh my dear lady, come in, come in,’ he said, catching on at once and flinging the door wide open. ‘Phoebe – come quickly.’

The vicar’s wife was short in stature, but vigorous in her movements. Once she had been plump, but now the weeks of little food and of hard work in trying to help her husband’s
parishioners had taken their toll. Her smile was warm and when she heard what Annabel proposed, she led the way to her large kitchen where a young girl, who was the maid at the vicarage, was
stoking the fire in the range.

‘’Tis the last of the coal, missis,’ the girl said as they entered the kitchen.

‘There’s more on the way,’ Annabel said, ‘and there’ll be even more tomorrow when I can get into town.’

Startled, the girl, Lizzie, looked up and her mouth formed a silent ‘Oh!’

‘Now,’ Annabel went on briskly. ‘If you could find a large pan’ – she glanced around the kitchen shelves, where there were numerous copper pans of all sizes –
‘we’ll go and bring in the supplies. We’ll soon have some good, thick soup going.’

At the sound of cartwheels pulling up in the vicarage yard outside the back door, they all hurried out.

‘I thought it best to come round to the back, Mrs Webster,’ Ben said as he and Edward began to unload and carry everything into the kitchen. Very soon, Ben looked exhausted and
Annabel took his place.

‘You shouldn’t be doing that, m’lady,’ poor Ben protested, but he was leaning against the wall, panting.

‘I’ve been doing it on Grandfather’s farm most of my life,’ Annabel said cheerfully, tugging at a bag of carrots. ‘Why should I stop now?’

‘But it’s not right—’

As she passed by him again, she patted him on the shoulder and murmured, ‘Don’t worry, Ben.’ It seemed so natural for her to call him ‘Ben’, not even ‘Mr
Jackson’. ‘Just let’s get these poor folk fed.’

At last, all the supplies had been unloaded.

‘Right, my lovely, what next?’ Edward asked his granddaughter.

Annabel glanced around but no one else seemed to have the strength left to do anything. Even Richard Webster was now slumped in a chair, having helped to carry one or two sacks in. He sat gazing
at the piles of vegetables and fuel as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His wife came to stand by his chair and put her hand on his shoulder. He clutched at her hand.
‘’Tis a miracle,’ he murmured.

For the next two hours Annabel, Jane, Phoebe Webster and her maid, Lizzie Harness, peeled and chopped all the vegetables that Edward had brought. Soon the kitchen was filled
with an appetizing aroma. Phoebe tested the soup every so often, adding a little more salt.

‘Is it nearly ready?’

‘Another five minutes.’

‘How shall we do this?’ Annabel asked. ‘Can they eat here or would it be better for them to bring containers from home?’

Phoebe shook her head. ‘It’d be best for them to have it good and hot and since none of them have any coal left at home for warming it up, they’d better eat here. We can use
this table and the one in the dining room and have several sittings. Children first.’

‘What about using the school room?’ her husband suggested.

‘Hasn’t been used for months. It’ll be dusty,’ Phoebe replied promptly.

It was another shock for Annabel. ‘No school for months? Why?’

‘The schoolmaster left when things started to get difficult,’ Richard sighed, ‘and we haven’t been able to get anyone else. I did a little teaching at first, but . .
.’ His voice faded away.

‘It got too much for him,’ Phoebe said briskly. ‘He was making himself ill, what with his church work and trying to look after the villagers. And with little food ourselves
too.’

Annabel nodded understandingly. ‘I’m sure it did.’ She put her hand on his arm. ‘We’ll soon have everything back to normal.’

Richard pulled a face and murmured, ‘If any one of us can remember what normal is.’ He was thoughtful for a moment before saying slowly, ‘Perhaps it would be best if I open the
church again. We could get everyone to come there and then bring them in here as soon as there’s room.’

‘Whatever you think, Richard,’ his wife said, ‘but these two pans are ready now. Right, Lizzie, let’s have those other two you’ve got ready across here to the
hob.’

‘Is there anyone else nearby who could make soup? There’s a mountain of vegetables ready. We just need a range.’

‘No one’s got any coal, m’lady.’

‘Grandfather’s brought some.’

Phoebe’s face brightened. ‘Then any one of the nearby cottages would help out.’

‘What about taking some up to the big house, miss?’ Jane suggested. ‘Mrs Parrish could make a lot of soup on her range.’

‘That’s a good idea, Jane. Mr Jackson could take some supplies up and—’ Phoebe began, but she was interrupted by Lizzie muttering, ‘They’d keep it all for
themselves, that miserable lot up there.’

‘Shush, Lizzie. That’s enough,’ Phoebe said.

Annabel looked questioningly at the maid, but Lizzie blushed and turned her face away. Something very strange had happened in this village to bring the whole community to the edge of starvation
and Annabel was determined to find out exactly what it was. But, for the moment, there were far more urgent matters.

Annabel took charge. ‘Jane, go to the nearest cottages and tell them we’ve fuel and vegetables and ask them if they can make soup for themselves and their neighbours. And then go up
and down the street knocking on every door and tell them all to come down to the church. Everyone in the village must be fed.’

‘Ask them to bring spoons and bowls,’ Phoebe said. ‘We haven’t enough for everyone.’

‘And don’t forget the little cottage beyond the school—’ Annabel began, but she was interrupted abruptly by both Phoebe and Lizzie saying together, ‘No, not
her.’

‘But there’s a little boy. I saw him in the garden.’

‘They’ve no need of our help,’ Phoebe said shortly, but she would not meet Annabel’s gaze. Then she felt Ben touch her arm and say softly, ‘Leave it for now,
m’lady. I’ll explain later.’ Annabel frowned but did as he asked. It seemed that there was another mystery to solve.

‘What about the outlying farms on the estate?’ Annabel asked Ben as they stood watching the villagers begin to drift in ones and twos into the church. To her
surprise, not one of them asked questions; they merely glanced at her as they passed. There were no smiles, no words of greeting, just a surly expression here and there; mostly there was
hopelessness in their eyes.

‘I’ll go and tell them.’

‘Not before you’ve had something to eat yourself.’ Ben smiled.

When it seemed that all the villagers had gathered in the church and Jane was back in the vicarage helping Phoebe and Lizzie make yet more soup, Annabel stood on the steps leading up to the
altar. She hesitated a moment, feeling suddenly vulnerable in the face of their belligerent stares. She glanced at the vicar and her grandfather who were standing to one side. Edward smiled and
gave her a little nod of encouragement.

Annabel took a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak, but before she could do so, a man, sitting halfway down the aisle, said loudly, ‘I suppose you’ve come to tell us
we’ve all got to leave – to get out of our homes.’ He paused and with sarcastic bitterness, added, ‘
My lady
.’ Annabel recognized him as the man who had spat at
her earlier that day. His name, she had learned, was Jabez Fletcher.

‘Not a bit of it, Mr Fletcher,’ Annabel said with asperity. ‘My grandfather – Mr Armstrong from Meadow View Farm on the other side of town, whom some of you may
know’ – there was murmuring amongst a few – ‘has brought supplies from his farm. We’re making soup for you all. You’re to go into the vicarage a few at a time
and be served. The children should go first. Now, apart from the outlying farms, is everyone here? The Cartwrights aren’t here, I know that, but they’re being attended to.’

‘Old Mrs Brown in the cottage near the pub is bedridden,’ someone called out.

Annabel nodded. ‘Then I will take her some.’

‘T’ain’t fit for a
lady
to go into her hovel,’ Jabez Fletcher said scathingly.

This time, Annabel chose to ignore him. ‘There’s no one else missing?’

Jabez laughed, but there was no humour in the sound. ‘Only the trollop at the end cottage.’ A murmur ran around the congregation. ‘You’ve no need to feed her and her
bastard. They’re well looked after.’

‘Mr Fletcher, please . . .’ Richard admonished, but Jabez just glared at him sourly.

As Annabel was about to start shepherding the first batch of hungry folk into the vicarage, Dr Maybury came into the church and walked down the aisle towards her. He glanced from side to side.
‘So, here’s where you all are.’ He came to stand beside Annabel and turned to face the villagers. ‘Now, I don’t want to keep you from your hot soup any longer, but I
must warn you all – especially those of you with children – you must not eat too much or too fast. I know it’s tempting, but you’ve been some time without proper food and
your digestive system will need time to adjust. Please, heed what I say, or you’ll make yourselves really ill.’

‘Aye,’ Jabez once again seemed to be spokesman for them all. ‘An’ we can’t pay expensive doctor’s bills.’

Dr Maybury met the cantankerous man’s baleful stare. Quietly, he said, ‘There’ll be no doctor’s bills for anyone in this village for a long time to come, I can assure
you. I know desperate need when I see it and I’ll be happy to help you all back to health.’

But Jabez was not to be thwarted. ‘Oh aye, and can you feed us all, Doctor?’ He spread his hands. ‘We’ve no money. Only two men in the village have jobs in the town
– me an’ Josh – and we have to walk there and back every day. We’ve tried to help, but our meagre wages won’t feed a whole village. And them buggers up the hill’
– he jerked his thumb in the direction of Fairfield Hall – ‘won’t lift a finger to help us. They’d rather see us all in our graves from starvation.’

Annabel didn’t trouble to tell them that the situation at the big house was almost as bad as here in the village. She doubted they’d believe her anyway and, besides, she had to admit
that it wasn’t. There had been meat of sorts on the nights that James had been at home and they’d still been eating watery soup and dry bread, unappetizing though it had been. Instead,
she turned to the doctor. ‘Have you time to stay to—?’ she began but he smiled and said, ‘I’m staying a while longer and then tomorrow – as soon as I’ve
finished morning surgery in the town – I’ll be back.’ He turned towards the villagers. ‘Now, let’s get the youngest children fed first. Come along.’

Clutching their bowls and spoons the smallest children formed a line in the aisle and followed the doctor out of the church towards the vicarage.

‘And the mothers with babes in arms,’ Annabel added. ‘You go too.’ She turned to Richard. ‘I’ll leave you to organize things here and I’ll take some
soup to Mrs Brown.’

‘I’ll go back home and see what else I can bring,’ Edward said quietly. ‘I left Ma baking more bread and pies. Mebbe there’ll be summat ready to bring back. Tell
you what, my lovely,’ he added, as a sudden thought struck him. ‘I’ll get the shops in town stirred up, an’ all, if they’ll answer the door to me on a Sunday
evening.’

‘They’ll want paying what they’re owed afore they’ll let us have owt,’ Jabez said morosely. ‘They’re owed a lot of money by the big house and by us
villagers. They supplied us for a while, but when they could see there was no money forthcoming, they stopped. They won’t even let us have owt if we go in with money. They just take it off
the debt.’ He glared at Annabel. ‘We all thought it’d be better when his lordship married this wealthy heiress, see, but, from what I hear, your dowry –
my lady
– has gone to save the house and the land. There’s not enough left to save us. And soon enough, we reckon, we’ll all be thrown out because we’ve not been able to pay rent
for months.’