Fairfield Hall (35 page)

Annabel asked Ben to organize a Christmas tree to be erected in the schoolyard. ‘I’m hoping it will ease the children into going back to school in the New Year. And can you get me a
tree suitable for the drawing room at Fairfield Hall?’

‘Of course. I’ll see to it. Have they appointed a new teacher, then?’

‘He’s coming for an interview tomorrow.’

Mr Porter arrived ten minutes before the appointed time and rang the bell at the vicarage.

‘We’d have held this meeting in the school, but we haven’t had time to get it ready,’ Richard Webster told him as he ushered the candidate into the dining room where the
members of the school board were ranged round three sides of the table. ‘Please sit down here where we can all see you. I hope we don’t look too daunting, Mr Porter,’ Richard
smiled as he took his seat on the opposite side and in the centre as chairman.

Douglas Porter sat down. He was tall and thin and fair-haired. There was sadness in his pale blue eyes, but that was probably because of his recent loss. He looked a little nervous, Annabel
thought, and no wonder, with Dan Broughton staring solemn-faced at him and Jabez Fletcher frowning. And no doubt it was important to him to secure this job for the sake of his motherless children.
Annabel smiled at him with what she hoped was encouragement. Douglas blinked and stared at her, mesmerized for a moment by her beautiful eyes and her dazzling smile.

Richard cleared his throat, rustled some papers and the interview began.

‘So, what do you think?’ Richard said, as the interview ended and he’d shown Mr Porter out to wait in the hall whilst they discussed his merits.

‘He’ll do,’ Jabez said. ‘If we’re only offering him a temporary place, we can see how he shapes up.’

‘I agree.’ Richard nodded and a chorus of ‘ayes’ sounded round the table. ‘Shall I call him back in, then?’

Ben rose. ‘I’ll do it, Vicar.’

Moments later, Douglas Porter was being offered the post of teacher at the school in a temporary capacity at first. ‘You understand,’ Richard explained to him, ‘that if you prove satisfactory, there’s no reason why your appointment should not be made permanent.’

‘Better the devil you know,’ Jabez muttered.

‘Thank you,’ Douglas said, and Annabel could hear the heartfelt sentiment in his tone. ‘I’ll not let you down. I love teaching and I will do my very best for your
children.’

‘As we explained, they’ve had no schooling for the last few months and may take some settling back into a classroom routine,’ Richard explained.

‘There’s a meadow behind the school where the children used to play sport,’ Ben said and glanced at Annabel. ‘Will it be all right to use it again?’

‘Of course,’ she agreed as Richard stood up.

‘If you’d like to come with me, Mr Porter, I’ll show you the school, though please be assured that by the time you come in January to start the new term, it’ll be in a
lot better shape than it looks at present. We’ll get it cleaned up and any repairs done.’

‘I’d like to come over before then and help,’ Douglas Porter offered. ‘If – if that would be acceptable. There aren’t many days left before term
starts.’

‘We’d be glad of your help and we’ll all make sure it’s ready in time,’ Richard said.

‘Well, you’re not afraid to get your hands mucky then, young feller,’ Dan said, shaking Douglas’s hand firmly. ‘I like that.’

‘Anything that will get the children back to school as soon as possible,’ the new headmaster said.

There were murmurs of agreement and nods of approval as they all left the dining room and moved out of the vicarage to take a look at the school.

The rooms were cold and damp, dusty and neglected. ‘Now everyone is feeling better,’ Richard said, ‘I’m sure all the villagers will lend a hand.’

‘I’ll repair the gate and the fencing,’ Jabez said.

‘William and me’ll paint the walls in the classrooms,’ Dan said, and the offers of help went on.

As they parted they all shook Douglas’s hand, wishing him well in his new post. Annabel was the last to say ‘goodbye’. ‘What about your own children, Mr Porter? Are they
of school age?’

‘The eldest one is, yes, but he will go to the school in the town. We are living with my late wife’s mother and father and they are quite happy to look after them. Their care
won’t encroach on my duties here.’

‘Oh, that’s not what I meant, Mr Porter. Please don’t think it was. I just wondered if you’d be bringing them here to school.’

Douglas shook his head. ‘I’m not comfortable with a teacher’s children being in the same school. I know it can’t be helped sometimes, but when there is an alternative, I
believe it’s the best for all concerned.’

‘I see,’ Annabel conceded and once more bowled the young man over with her dazzling smile.

There was a definite feeling of optimism and a quiet joy pervading the church on Christmas morning. Lady Fairfield, Dorothea and Theodore attended the service, sitting in the
family pew with Annabel alongside them. Annabel was amused to see Theo swivelling in his seat to catch Bertie’s eye. She saw the two boys grin at each other and hid her own smile, hoping that
Dorothea wouldn’t notice.

At Annabel’s request, Richard did not include gushing thanks in his sermon directed at her for all that she had done for the Fairfield Estate and its people, though to one of the prayers
he added his own wording: ‘We have come through a time of great suffering and hardship and we give thanks for that deliverance’, and a fervent ‘Amen’ rippled through the
congregation. Annabel kept her head down and her eyes firmly closed as she sent up her own silent prayer of thankfulness that she had been able to restore the estate and its people to what would
soon be a thriving community once more. As the Lyndon family left the church, the villagers now stood in respectful silence. One or two women even dropped a curtsy, though each time their gaze was
upon Annabel as they did so. It was obvious to everyone – including Dorothea – where their gratitude lay.

But it seemed that the Christmas spirit touched even Dorothea and she unbent a little to join in parlour games with Annabel and Theo after the superb luncheon, which Mrs Parrish had cooked and
John Searby had served. Four new members of household staff had been appointed just before Christmas – a kitchen maid, a parlour maid to help the butler, a second housemaid and a boot boy.
Two gardeners were also to start work in the New Year. Thomas Salt had gladly accepted the post and had also recommended Eli Merriman’s thirteen-year-old son be given a trial as his
under-gardener.

‘Gregory’s coming back to live with his dad though, sadly, Mester Merriman’s wife is not. The lad’s very interested in the land, m’lady, though he’d prefer
gardening to working on a farm. He wants to grow fruit and vegetables – and flowers – he says. He’s been work-ing away, but I reckon his coming home will be the making of his
dad.’

‘He sounds ideal to work alongside you,’ Annabel smiled, happy to think that perhaps the return of his son would lift Eli’s spirits too, ‘let’s give him a
try,’ and she remembered to add tactfully, ‘if Lady Dorothea’s agreeable.’

The house was running smoothly now, with all the staff well fed and eager to please the new Lady Fairfield. After the family had eaten, the servants enjoyed their own Christmas dinner in the
servants’ hall and, unbeknown to her, they all raised a glass to their benefactor and gave thanks for Annabel’s arrival in their midst.

If only James could have come home for Christmas, Annabel thought as she played a new board game called Snakes and Ladders with Theo, and if Bertie could have joined them too, the day would have
been perfect.

It was just after Christmas that Annabel began to feel unwell. It was nothing, she told herself, just a faint feeling of nausea first thing in the morning that usually
disappeared by the time she’d had breakfast.

‘I haven’t time to be ill,’ she told herself as she hurried to her office on the ground floor to the left of the front door. From here she conducted the running of the estate
with Ben’s help. He came most mornings and they talked about what needed to be done on Home Farm and also discussed the progress of the other three farms on the estate.

‘Everything’s going very well – thanks to you,’ he told her. ‘January’s the time for mending fences and hedges – all the tasks we don’t get time
to do once spring is upon us.’ He smiled at Annabel. ‘But why am I telling you all this? You know the farming year as well as I do.’

She returned his smile as she added, ‘When do you expect lambing to start?’

‘Early March. But, another year, it’d be nice to have some a bit earlier, say mid-February.’

‘Ah,’ Annabel murmured. ‘Early lambs to get the best prices at market.’

‘That’s right, m’lady.’ He gazed at her, unable for a brief moment to take his eyes off her lovely face. How knowledgeable she was as well as being undeniably
beautiful.

‘Oh, and one more thing, Ben. What time of year is the best to plant trees?’

‘Trees, m’lady?’

‘Yes, if his lordship and his sister are agreeable, I was thinking how nice it would be to have the driveway lined with trees. Limes, perhaps. What do you think?’

‘I’ll – er – find out.’

‘Good. In the meantime, I’ll write to his lordship and seek his approval.’

In due course, a reply came back from James. ‘Whatever Mama would like. She’s the gardening expert.’ So, to Elizabeth’s joy, Annabel arranged with Ben that at the
appropriate time of year, lime trees should be planted to border the drive.

The school had opened at the beginning of January. The classroom was now clean, warm and freshly painted. The children would take a little time to settle down. Douglas Porter
was firm, but understanding. Dorothea was still dithering as to whether she should send Theodore to the village school, whilst the boy himself daily pleaded with his mother to be allowed to go.

Annabel kept silent on the matter, but there was one little boy she could perhaps help. Walking down to the village on the morning after the school term had begun, she knocked on the door
leading to the rooms above the grocer’s shop. She had an excuse to visit. It was Bertie’s fifth birthday and she was carrying a bag full of toys and books. When he had opened the
parcels and exclaimed delightedly over them all, Annabel asked, ‘Would Bertie come for a walk with me? I thought I might take him down to the school. It’s high time he met some of the
other children and there might even be a place for him. He’s a bright child. I’ll talk to Mr Porter, if you like.’

‘Oh, I – er – I don’t know whether . . .’ Nancy began, flushing with embarrassment.

‘It’ll be all right,’ Annabel said gently. ‘I promise.’

‘Aren’t you going to read these new books to me, Aunt Annabel?’ She was amused to hear his adoption of her as an aunt – which indeed she was. She liked to feel that he
thought of her in that way, even though he was probably unaware of his true relationship to the Lyndon family. Perhaps, she mused, one day when he is older he might question why his name is Albert
Lyndon
Banks. ‘Not today, Bertie, we’re going for a walk down to the school.’

At once, his face clouded. ‘I don’t want to. The other children call me nasty names.’

‘They won’t any more,’ Annabel told him firmly. She held out her hand. ‘Come along.’ Reluctantly, he took it and together they walked along the village street; past
the cottages and beyond the church until they came to the school gates. Just beyond the school lay the blackened ruins of his former home. Annabel noticed that the boy kept his glance averted from
the sight. He scuffed the toes of his shoes and hung his head and when the children clustered near the fence surrounding the playground, he tried to hide behind Annabel’s skirts.

‘Good morning, children.’ Annabel smiled at them. ‘I’ve brought Bertie Banks to meet you.’ She glanced around the inquisitive faces and recognized Simon Cartwright,
Adam’s eldest son. No doubt he would consider himself too old at ten to befriend a five-year-old, but Annabel had reckoned without the gratitude of the Cartwright family. Simon stepped
forward. ‘Is he starting school, m’lady, ’cos if he is, we’ll look after him, won’t we, lads?’ He turned and fixed his classmates with a look that brooked no
argument.

‘That’s kind of you, Simon, and if Mr Porter says there’s a place for him, then he will be coming.’

‘He can come an’ play with us anyway, missis,’ a younger boy piped up and was quickly nudged.

‘It’s her ladyship,’ Simon hissed. ‘You call her “m’lady”.’

Annabel laughed. ‘It’s all right, Simon. I haven’t got used to the title yet, either. You can all call me Miss Annabel, if you like. It’s much more friendly, don’t
you think?’

Several heads nodded enthusiastically and one of the boys opened the gate for them to step into the playground. ‘We’ll look after him while you speak to Mester Porter. Come on,
Bertie, we’ll play football. Mester Porter has given us a real football to play with.’

When Annabel was satisfied that the children really were playing with him in a friendly manner, she entered the school and sought out the teacher.

‘He’d be one of the youngest,’ Mr Porter said, when they’d greeted each other and Annabel had explained the purpose of her visit, ‘but if you think he’d
benefit from being with other children . . .’ They glanced out of the window to see that Bertie was the centre of attention; the children clustered around him, encouraging him to kick the
ball. He was not being teased or called names now.

‘I do, and there’s someone else who would too. My sister-in-law’s son, Theodore Crowstone. He’s five and a half now and really ought to be having proper tuition, though
whether I will ever be able to persuade his mother to allow him to attend the village school, I don’t know.’

‘Perhaps she doubts my suitability to educate the future earl,’ he said, an edge of sarcasm to his tone.

‘Possibly, but I think it has more to do with him mixing with the village ruffians.’

Mr Porter glanced at the clock above the blackboard. ‘Time I blew the whistle for the end of break. Look, perhaps you’d like to leave Bertie here for the rest of the morning and
we’ll see how he copes and if I think he’s ready.’