Fairfield Hall (7 page)

After an afternoon of resting and a light dinner – just the two of them – Cynthia and Annabel had travelled to first one ball and then on to this one in a carriage, which had pulled
up outside the grand, four-storey house overlooking St James’s Park. Every window in the house blazed with light and the sound of music and laughter drifted down to them from a terrace at
second-floor level. Annabel’s dance card was almost full already, but at Cynthia’s insistence, she had deliberately left a few lines unfilled. ‘Just in case a young man comes
along with whom you
ought
to dance.’

Receiving a slight nod of approval from her chaperone, Annabel inclined her head and began to write his name on her card.

‘Perhaps I might claim the supper dance?’

Annabel’s eyes widened. She believed that the supper dance, where the partners stayed together throughout the meal, was regarded as something special. It meant that the young man had
serious intentions.

‘I – I think we may be going on to another ball,’ Annabel stammered, for the moment unsure of what was the correct thing to do. Smoothly, Cynthia stepped in as Annabel glanced
at her for guidance.

‘Perhaps Lord Fairfield is heading in the same direction.’ She raised her well-shaped eyebrows and James Lyndon asked, ‘To Lady Fortesque’s?’ Cynthia nodded and
they smiled at each other before she turned to Annabel and advised, ‘One dance here with his lordship and then he may claim the dance just before the buffet is served at Lady
Fortesque’s.’

James Lyndon proved to be an excellent dancer. He held her fingers lightly and guided her through the steps and when the music began for the next dance – a waltz – he put his arm
around her waist and whirled her away before the gentleman, who should have been her partner for this dance, could claim her.

‘We must take leave of our hostess,’ Cynthia said, when the dance came to an end. ‘It’s time we were moving on.’ She turned to James Lyndon. ‘My lord, you may
travel with us, if you so wish.’

James gave a little bow. ‘It will be my pleasure.’

He was courtesy personified, Annabel thought, and found herself charmed not only by his handsome looks but also by his manners and his attentiveness to them both.

Lady Fortesque’s ball was a far grander one than the first two they had attended that evening, but their hostess was charming and effervescent, seeming not to stand on ceremony. She was an
older woman, in her late fifties, Annabel surmised, and no doubt the benefit of age allowed her to break the rules of strict etiquette if she so wished. She greeted both Cynthia and James with
outstretched arms. ‘My dears, how wonderful to see you both, and James, I was so very sorry to hear of your brother’s untimely death. I haven’t seen you since then, have I? Losing
both your father and brother within two years must have put a great strain on all your family. And particularly on you, my dear boy, since you can’t have expected ever to inherit the title
and all the responsibilities that go with it. Will you be leaving the Army to run your estate now?’

James bowed low over the woman’s hand and murmured a greeting, adding, ‘Nothing has been decided yet, but I hope not. I love the Army life and I have a good bailiff to manage the
estate. And, of course, my mother and my sister are always on hand.’

‘Of course, and if you are blessed with good tenants, an estate almost runs itself.’ Then she turned her attention to Annabel. ‘And this must be your protégée,
Cynthia. My dear, you are most welcome.’ To Annabel’s surprise Lady Fortesque kissed her on both cheeks and then linked her arm through hers. ‘Now, let us see what eligible young
men I can introduce you to.’

But it seemed that James Lyndon had other ideas about her meeting and dancing with other young men. When Lady Fortesque had finished parading her around the room and was called away to greet
other guests arriving, she found the earl at her elbow.

‘May I sign your card?’ he murmured in her ear and when she handed it to him, he wrote his name across all the dances so that there were no spaces left for anyone else. Annabel
looked around for Cynthia, but she was engaged in conversation with Lord Fortesque and Annabel didn’t like to interrupt.

Oh well, she thought, what harm can it do, just this once, and he was being very kind to her. And besides, she smiled to herself, he was the best-looking man in the room and she was the object
of envious glances from other debutantes, who were also engaged in the rounds of parties and balls hoping to ensnare an eligible bachelor.

He guided her through the supper buffet and was courteous and attentive, as if there was no one else in the room who mattered. At the end of the evening when the carriages began to line up
outside the door, James Lyndon bent over her hand, his lips brushing her fingers. ‘May I be permitted to call on you tomorrow?’

Before Annabel had time to form a reply, Cynthia, hovering close by, said, ‘We should be honoured, my lord.’

In the carriage on the way back home, Annabel noticed a small smile of satisfaction on her chaperone’s lips.

The Earl of Fairfield was attentive and persistent. He was a guest at Cynthia’s dinner held on the Saturday following Annabel’s presentation at court and had been
placed next to her.

‘Do you ride?’ he asked suddenly as the third of eight courses was being served.

‘Oh yes,’ Annabel replied enthusiastically. ‘But I don’t suppose there’s much chance in the city.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong. A favourite rendezvous during the Season is Hyde Park. You can ride on Rotten Row, or drive in a carriage or just take a stroll, meet with friends,
and, no doubt, many a ball or luncheon or dinner is arranged. But it starts early. May I call for you on Monday morning?’

‘But I haven’t got a mount.’

James chuckled. ‘Leave that to me. One does have connections being in the Army.’

Annabel would never have thought that Hyde Park could be so busy at nine o’clock on a Monday morning. Young women paraded in their finery, meeting and talking with young
gentlemen, but still under the watchful eyes of a chaperone. This morning, however, Cynthia was not with her.

‘I have the most dreadful headache, my dear, and if I am to be well enough to attend the party tonight, I must rest. My maid can come with you, for propriety’s sake. Mind you ride up
and down so that she can see you.’ But once on horseback, Annabel forgot Cynthia’s warning. It was wonderful to be out of doors and in the saddle once more.

‘I wish we could gallop,’ she said, lifting her face to the warmth of the sun.

James laughed, the sun glinting on his brown hair. ‘Not possible, I’m afraid. We would likely trample someone.’ His expression sobered as he looked at her seriously. ‘But
I would love to gallop with you in the countryside, see the wind blowing through your lovely hair and your fine eyes sparkling with excitement.’

Annabel was lost for words; she didn’t know how to respond to his compliments so she merely smiled and urged her horse to go as fast as was both respectable and safe.

From that morning, James Lyndon, Earl of Fairfield, was a frequent visitor at Cynthia’s home. Even Sir William, on the rare occasions when he joined them at a dinner engagement or a
sporting occasion, made the young man welcome.

‘I’m not one for parties and balls,’ Sir William said to Annabel, explaining his absence from such events, ‘but I do like my sport and of course an invitation to dine is
not to be sniffed at.’

Annabel grew very fond of Sir William during the time she stayed in London. She had met him once before when he had paid a brief visit to the Constantines’ home to visit her father.
Several years older than his vivacious wife, he was a kindly, benevolent man who, rumour had it, was a great orator in the House of Commons. And so it was that the four of them – Sir William
and his wife, Annabel and the Earl of Fairfield – were seen constantly together. They attended the annual cricket match between Eton and Harrow, where the Carruthers boys – pupils at
Eton – were playing. Ascot and the Henley Regatta were two events that Sir William never missed, but even when he was absent – Sir William could not be persuaded to go to the theatre or
the opera – James Lyndon seemed always to be present.

She wondered how he managed to get such a lot of leave from the Army, but she thought it would be impolite to ask. Normally, Annabel wouldn’t have given a fig for what anyone thought about
her, but she liked Cynthia and, despite her initial reluctance to be a debutante, she was enjoying the round of parties and dinners. Besides, she thought, it was taking her mind off Gil.

And the person doing that was James Lyndon, Earl of Fairfield.

‘I have to return to my battalion briefly,’ he told her one evening when they were returning home late after another ball, ‘but I’ll come back as soon as I can.’ In
the darkness of the carriage, he felt for her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘May I hope that you might miss me?’

Annabel laughed. ‘Of course I will,’ she said coquettishly. Her reply had not been serious, but, to her surprise, she found that over the next week while James was away, she did
indeed miss him. No one else matched his good looks or his charming manners and his handsome face disturbed her dreams.

Though she danced and flirted mildly with her numerous partners, she longed for James to return and she was sure that Cynthia appeared to be fending off any other would-be admirers. They were
both, it seemed, waiting for James.

‘Do you know,’ she told him with innocent candour when he returned to London. ‘I
have
missed you.’

James smiled and kissed her hand.

When the Season came to an end with the Goodwood Races in late July and Annabel was due to travel home, the Earl insisted on accompanying her to meet her parents – in particular, her
father.

Lady Cynthia was not due to return to Lincolnshire until the following week, so one of her maids accompanied the couple – as they had come to be regarded – on the long train journey
north. They sat side by side in a first-class carriage, while the maid sat discreetly in the far corner, within sight but out of earshot.

James leaned towards Annabel and took her hand in his. ‘My dear, you must know how very fond I have become of you. Might I hope that you return my feelings?’

Annabel turned her head and looked into his eyes. He was indeed handsome and when he smiled, as he was doing now, his brown eyes softened. She had been unbelievably hurt by Gilbert’s
desertion, and James Lyndon’s attentions and his admiration for her were a salve to her wounded heart. To her surprise, she had to admit that she could scarcely recall Gilbert’s
features. How strange, she thought, when she had believed herself in love with him.

Annabel smiled in return but could not bring herself to answer the man sitting beside her. Although she had enjoyed his attentions in London, she had not thought for one moment that the
flirtation would lead to anything more serious. But taking her silence as a ‘yes’, James leaned back in the seat with a small sigh of satisfaction, continuing to hold her hand until,
after a tedious journey, they arrived at the station in Grimsby. He took charge of Annabel’s luggage, calling a porter and seeing that everything was safely loaded onto the waiting carriage.
And then, to Annabel’s surprise, he climbed into the carriage beside her.

‘Didn’t your mother write to tell you?’ he said with a smile as he saw her startled expression. ‘Your parents have kindly invited me to stay for two days.’

Annabel gasped aloud. A lord – an earl, no less – staying at their house on Bargate? She couldn’t believe it. She was by no means ashamed of her background – indeed, she
hardly thought about it; she had never had reason – or the desire – to compare herself with others. She neither looked up to those classes of society regarded as being above her, nor
down to those considered by some to be below her. She knew, though, that her parents had ambitions to climb the social ladder and now she was beginning to realize that she was expected to play her
part.

They wanted her to marry well, to bring prestige to the family and be a credit to her parents’ upbringing of their daughter. Suddenly, it all became clear to her. She was to be but a pawn
in her father’s ambitions. She knew that he had inveigled her presentation at court and her participation in the Season through his business contacts with Sir William. And now, she suspected,
he had asked Lady Cynthia to single out a suitable young nobleman to pay court to his daughter.

But what, Annabel thought, of love? Had that no place in Ambrose’s machinations? With a heavy, disillusioned heart she knew the answer was ‘no’. And now, another dreadful
thought entered her mind.

Had Ambrose caused Gilbert to be dismissed and sent away because he was not a suitable suitor for his daughter? Her grandfather had hinted as much. She shuddered and at once James said,
‘My dear, are you cold?’ Then he laughed and raised his left eyebrow sardonically. ‘Or is it the thought of my visit to your home?’

Annabel turned her violet eyes to look into his brown ones. ‘I have to admit,’ she said huskily, ‘that the news surprises me. I never thought that a person of your social
standing would’ – she smiled as she continued – ‘grace us with their presence.’

He gave a short bark of laughter and muttered, ‘Needs must.’

Annabel frowned; she didn’t understand the meaning behind his words, but now the carriage was slowing and turning into the gateway of her home and conversation between them ceased.

Now that Annabel believed she understood the reasoning behind her father’s manipulations, his obvious fawning over Lord Fairfield sickened her. She was amazed that the
young man didn’t seem to mind. Perhaps, she thought with amusement, he’s used to it. Or perhaps . . .

Annabel was by no means a conceited girl. She was innocently unaware of her beauty – her clear skin, glossy black hair and the unusual colour of her lovely eyes. Her slim, shapely figure
was the envy of other women and the cause of admiration in men. But now she was obliged to think that perhaps the earl was attracted to her and had, as he’d confessed, become fond of her. He
was tolerating her father’s flattery so that he could pay court to her.