Authors: Margaret Dickinson
Recovering her composure and filled with an unexpected calmness, Annabel closed the door quietly behind her and stepped further into the room. She glanced at each of them in turn; her
parents’ faces were thunderous, her grandfather’s angry and distressed, and poor Martha looked close to tears.
‘First of all, I have now learned the full extent of your – machinations, Father, to marry me off to a title. It would never have happened if the Lyndon family had not been in such
desperate need for your money.’
‘We all know that,’ Ambrose muttered. ‘How else would an earl have looked at the likes of you?’
‘Quite,’ Annabel said with asperity. ‘But the huge sum of money you gave him – ten thousand pounds, I believe – was swallowed up in saving the house and the land.
He – and more particularly his dear sister – thought nothing of trying to save the people on the estate.’
Now, Ambrose had the grace to look surprised. ‘But he told me –’ he began and then fell silent, allowing Annabel to continue.
‘I’m sure he told you that your money would solve everything. That your future grandson would inherit not only the title, but also a thriving concern.’
Ambrose gaped at her and then the realization that he had been misled, duped by James’s fine promises, sank in. ‘Go on,’ he said flatly.
‘When I arrived there, the farms were run down and neglected. Two were deserted. One family had left, the other was in the workhouse in Thorpe St Michael, along with one or two other
villagers. The shops were closed, the public house and the school too. With Gramps’s and Granny’s help we took food to them and I have spent my own savings to help them. The villagers
were on the point of starvation.’
‘There was a little babby on the point of death when she got there,’ Edward put in. ‘Annabel saved its life and several more too, I shouldn’t wonder.’
‘But who’s this Jackson fellow?’
‘He was the bailiff and he was a great help—’
‘I bet he was!’
‘– in getting the estate back on its feet.’
‘And your child is his, is it?’
‘No, it is not. This is James’s child.’
Ambrose glared at her. ‘How do you expect me to believe you? Your past behaviour has not exactly been exemplary. Running around the countryside, meeting an employee of mine in secret. It
cost me five hundred pounds to be rid of him.’
‘Nothing happened between Gilbert Radcliffe and me, nor with Ben Jackson. That’s the truth, but I can’t help it if you choose not to believe me.’ She sat down beside
Martha and took her hands. ‘I’m so sorry you’ve had to hear my news this way, Granny, but I swear to you—’
Martha gripped her hand as she looked into Annabel’s eyes. ‘You’ve no need to swear anything to me, my love. I never doubted you for a moment.’
‘Oh Gran.’ And now Annabel did dissolve into tears.
Annabel couldn’t be sure whether or not her mother and father believed her. All Ambrose would say as they left was, ‘Well, if the child is Lyndon’s, mind you
stick it out and stay there. You hear me?’
‘I hear you, Father,’ Annabel said with admirable composure, though she was seething inside.
As the carriage rolled out of the farmyard and disappeared up the lane, Edward put his arm around Annabel’s shoulders. ‘Never mind what he says, my lovely, if you’re unhappy at
Fairfield Hall, you come to us. There’s always a home for you – and your little one – here.’
Annabel looked up at him and smiled sadly. ‘The only thing that would make me leave is if I felt my child was in danger. If it’s a girl, she’ll be quite safe, but if it’s
a boy –’ She left the words unspoken, but there was no need to say more, for her grandfather understood only too well. As they walked back to the house together, Annabel asked softly,
‘Did Ben come here?’
‘He did. Jim Chadwick brought him.’
Annabel looked up in surprise. ‘Jim? I saw him this morning. But he never said anything.’
Edward chuckled. ‘He wouldn’t. He knows how to keep his own counsel, does Jim Chadwick.’
‘Do – do you know where Ben’s gone?’
‘To Joe Moffatt’s place. He’s got a job there.’
‘Jane’s dad? Does she know?’
‘I shouldn’t think so, but be careful who you tell, my lovely.’
‘Oh, I can trust Jane with my life, but I’m not sure about the other members of staff at Fairfield.’ She sighed as she dropped her voice almost to a whisper. Luke was a good
distance away across the yard, but she didn’t want him to catch even a word of their conversation. ‘It must be difficult for them. They’ve got divided loyalties now.’
‘Just tread carefully.’
Life at Fairfield Hall settled into a routine. Annabel conducted the business of the estate from her office and if she needed to go into the village or to visit the farms, she
always took Jane with her, even to the school, where she delighted in reading to the children, Bertie amongst them. But Dorothea had still resisted Theo attending the village school.
‘He’ll be going to boarding school when he’s eight – to the school James and Albert attended. I hope James will keep
that
promise.’
‘Of course,’ Annabel said smoothly. ‘If you really think that’s best for Theodore.’ Annabel still read to her nephew most nights. She had grown to love the little
boy and enjoyed the precious time she had alone with him. She had begun reading to the dowager countess too. Elizabeth loved books but her eyesight was failing and the print blurred on the page,
she said. Secretly, Annabel thought that it was an excuse to have someone sit with her. Not that she minded. She became very fond of the dowager countess and was looking forward to the day when the
walled garden would be ready almost as much as Elizabeth was herself. Daily, she asked, ‘How is my garden progressing?’
The estate began to prosper. Lambs were born early in March, but Annabel was sad that she couldn’t be there to see it. The pigs, too, farrowed in March and calving came
in May. And the crops began to grow. There was a feeling of optimism throughout the whole village. There was work for everyone from the children leaving school as soon as they reached twelve to
Grace Parrish who, now back in her own home, undertook to clean the school every night after the children left. ‘It’s something I can do,’ Grace told Nelly when her daughter
protested it’d be too much for her. ‘Don’t try to stop me, lass. I can manage it and I need to be occupied.’
The shops thrived now that there was more money about and Jabez Fletcher’s smithy was busy from morning until night with either blacksmith’s work or carpentry. He was the first to
come to the Hall one morning to present Annabel with the first repayment on his loan. Others soon followed and the money trickled back into Annabel’s bank account. She was pleased, not
because she needed the money but because she knew it was giving the villagers back their pride.
The day came in late June when Thomas Salt asked to see Lady Fairfield. John Searby led him to Annabel’s office. The man, so used to being out of doors, was ill-at-ease as he stood in
front of her desk, twirling his cap between gnarled fingers.
‘Mr Salt, how are you?’ Annabel looked up from her papers. ‘Please sit down.’
‘I’m well, thank’ee, m’lady, but I’ll not sit down. I’m in me workin’ clothes. I’ve just come to tell you that her ladyship’s garden is
coming on nicely and I think she’d like to see it now.’
‘Oh how wonderful.’ Annabel said, clasping her hands together. ‘We’ll arrange it. When would it suit you?’
‘It’d be nice on a warm, sunny day, m’lady.’ He glanced at the windows. ‘It’s going to rain this afternoon, so best leave it until tomorrow. I reckon
it’ll be nice tomorrow.’
Annabel hid her smile. She marvelled at how the country folk seemed to be able to foretell the weather, and invariably, they were right. ‘Tomorrow afternoon it is, then. His lordship is
due home tomorrow morning, Mr Salt, for a short leave, so we’ll arrange a picnic in the walled garden in honour of its reopening. I’ll see Mrs Parrish about it.’
The following afternoon was sunny and warm – just as Thomas had predicted. He and Gregory Merriman worked all morning, cutting and trimming in a last effort to make
everything just perfect. James, with Harry Jenkins in tow, arrived mid-morning, no doubt, Annabel thought sadly, after a night or two in London with Cynthia Carruthers, but she fixed a welcoming
smile on her face. Harry disappeared to the village as soon as he could. Over luncheon, Annabel told James, Dorothea and Theo of the proposed picnic for the afternoon.
‘Such excitement won’t be good for Mama.’ Dorothea pursed her lips. ‘She’s talked about nothing else since you told her last night. I doubt she hardly
slept.’
To Annabel’s surprise, James agreed with his wife. ‘She’ll be fine. I’ll get Searby to bring down the bath chair from the attics and clean it. It’s one my
grandmother had years ago,’ he explained to Annabel. ‘We can push her to the garden. It’s high time she got out a bit. She’s been acting like an old lady for too long
now.’
‘She’s a sick woman, James.’
‘Nonsense,’ he snapped. ‘Only because you make her think she is. Keeping her shut away in her room. You’ve made her old before her time.’
Dorothea gasped. ‘Well, if you don’t like the way I run the household, perhaps your dear wife had better take over my duties. She’s taking everything else from me.’
‘Oh Dorothea, don’t say that,’ Annabel protested. ‘You run the house beautifully. I wouldn’t know where to start. Take no notice of James, but please let us take
Lady Fairfield to the garden.’ Now she turned to her husband. ‘Your mother was very ill, James, and it has taken her a long time to feel well again, but the garden has given her an
interest and something to get better for. She so longs to see it.’
‘And so she shall,’ James declared and now, even Dorothea did not argue.
That afternoon, it was like an expedition setting out. Nelly, Annie and Jane spent most of the early afternoon preparing a lavish picnic and when John Searby and the new footman had carried it
across to the garden, everything was ready. The bath chair awaited Elizabeth in the courtyard near the side door and James himself wheeled her across towards the gate at the side of the stables
leading into the gardens. Thomas and the young gardener stood watching, taking off their caps and giving a little bow as the party approached. Even Dorothea had condescended to come and Theo was
capering around them like a caged animal let loose.
It was like a grand opening ceremony and when the gate swung open, Elizabeth gave a little cry of delight. As James pushed her into the garden, she looked around her in wonder. ‘I never
thought I’d see it again and looking like it used to do. Oh, just look at the roses! How hard you must have worked, Salt, you and your colleague.’ She smiled at the two men standing
together.
‘It’s been our pleasure, m’lady, and to see you enjoying it will be our reward,’ Thomas said and added, with a catch in his voice, ‘It’s good to be back
working here.’
Annabel glanced down to the ground, avoiding meeting anyone’s eyes, but she could feel Dorothea’s resentful gaze upon her.
The afternoon was a great success. James played an impromptu game of cricket with Theo on the stretch of lawn at the back of the house, inviting the two gardeners to join in.
Playing in shirt sleeves, with his brown hair ruffled, James looked relaxed and the happiest Annabel had ever seen him. That night he made love to her tenderly and by the time he left the following
morning, no mention had been made either about her pregnancy or about Ben Jackson.
Through the summer months, Elizabeth visited the garden every day when the weather was fine. After her afternoon nap, she would go down to the side entrance where Thomas would be waiting with
the bath chair. He would wheel her to the garden, where she would sit and read, or just gaze around her at the transformation from an overgrown wilderness back to its former glory.
‘Help me up, Salt, if you please. I want to walk.’ Each day she grew stronger and, just like the garden, in time she was restored to full health. But Elizabeth never forgot the
person who had made all this possible.
The summer was a busy and exciting time for the estate too. Farmers had always been used to coping with Britain’s changeable weather and the summer of 1897 was no
exception, but they managed to bring in good harvests of both hay and cereal crops. From her bedroom overlooking the front of the house, Annabel was able to watch the workers in the fields. How she
longed to be with them, dressed in old clothes, her hair tied back as she helped to stook, but her advanced pregnancy kept her close to home.
‘You can’t go down to the village like that.’ Dorothea was appalled to see that Annabel was preparing to be driven down to the village one warm August morning. ‘You can
no longer hide your condition.
Ladies
wouldn’t dream of being seen in public like that.’
Annabel smiled and said smoothly, ‘But we all know that I’m no lady, Dorothea. Oh, and just to let you know, I’ve requested that Nurse Newton should come back for my
confinement. She’s an experienced midwife too.’
Dorothea turned away, sick at heart. Because Annabel’s money paid for everything, she could no longer argue about any expense. She was daily fighting a conflict of emotions. She knew that
Annabel’s dowry had saved Fairfield Hall and her money had also restored the estate. She had cause to be thankful to Annabel, but her consuming jealousy would not let her admit such a thing.
And now there was the coming child. She hoped – prayed – that it would be a girl. For, if it was a boy, even she didn’t know what she might be capable of.
Late in the evening of 8 September 1897, just over a year after her marriage, Annabel felt the first contractions. Luckily, Nurse Newton had arrived the previous week and had
set up a bedroom on the top floor for the confinement. Annabel was fortunate that her labour moved swiftly and her child was born in the early hours of the following day. The baby’s lusty
cries woke the household, most of whom were awake anyway, awaiting its arrival. Dorothea lay rigid in her bed, determined not to leave her room. She would know soon enough, but the bedroom door
opened and Theo stood there, his sturdy frame illuminated by the soft light from the landing.