Fairfield Hall (20 page)

‘We’re getting things sorted out gradually, though Lady Fairfield has pneumonia. Dr Maybury has promised to come every day and we’ve sent word to James.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Edward said. ‘That’s serious in someone so frail.’

‘I must go up and see how she is,’ Richard put in, rising from his seat.

‘And we’ll be bringing the Broughtons home from the workhouse as soon as we can, but their farmhouse is in a dreadful state. We’ll need to get it cleaned and aired. I’d
ask Jane to help, but she’s helping out at the house. There are plenty of women in the village who I know would help, but they’re weak from lack of food. I don’t like
to—’

‘I’ll do it,’ Lizzie said at once. ‘If Mrs Webster doesn’t mind.’

‘Thank you, Lizzie, but you can’t do it on your own. It’s a daunting task, I don’t mind telling you.’

‘The workhouse,’ Edward said. ‘You mean to tell me that Dan Broughton and his family are in the workhouse?’ He shook his head sadly. ‘I wish I’d known that,
Annabel. I’d’ve done summat about that ’afore now. Tell you what, my lovely,’ his face brightened. ‘I’ll ask my workers if their wives’d help out. They can
come over in the cart.’

‘That would be wonderful, Gramps. And now we’re on our way to Sparrow Farm. It’s been empty for some time.’

‘I’ll come with you. Your gran isn’t expecting me back till tea time.’

Strangely, though it had been deserted for some months, Sparrow Farm was not in as bad a state as the Broughtons’ farm.

‘Just a good clean, that’s all it needs,’ Edward said looking around. ‘And there are implements in the barns. All that’s missing is folk to run it and a couple of
horses.’

‘We’ve being thinking that Adam Cartwright might like to take on the tenancy. Do you know him, Gramps?’

Edward wrinkled his brow for a moment, before his face cleared and he said, ‘The one who’s baby was so poorly? Oh aye, I know who you mean. He used to work for Jim Chadwick. Nice
young feller.’

‘That’s him,’ Ben said. ‘Jim thinks he’d do all right, with a bit of guidance.’

Edward nodded. ‘Be grand for his young family. How’s the babby doing now?’

‘We’ll call when we get back to the village.’

As the three of them climbed back into the trap, Annabel sighed as she looked about her. ‘Isn’t it a sad sight, Gramps? Deserted, neglected fields; no crops, no livestock. It breaks
your heart.’

Edward put his arm around her shoulders. ‘You’re doing a grand job, my lovely. Now, ’tis time I was on my way home and you can go back to the village and give Adam the good
news.’

‘Come in, m’lady,’ Adam greeted Annabel and Ben. ‘I don’t know how to thank you for what you’ve done . . .’

Annabel smiled. ‘I wanted to see how little Eddie is, of course, but we’ve come about something else too.’

‘Oh.’ The young man’s face clouded. ‘You – you want us to leave because we haven’t paid the rent?’

Annabel shook her head, ‘No – nothing like that. Hello, Betsy. How are you?’

‘Fine, m’lady. And babby’s doing grand. The doctor still calls in every day.’

‘Good.’ Now Annabel turned to Adam. ‘You know that Sparrow Farm has been empty for some time, don’t you?’

He nodded.

‘We wondered if you would like to take on the tenancy?’

Adam’s mouth dropped open and he stared at her. ‘Me?’

‘Yes, you. Mr Chadwick – and Ben here – think that with a little help, you’d be the ideal person. And the farm would be a good place for your family to grow up. I
understand that your eldest boy will be able to help out a little and, when he’s a little older, there’ll be permanent work for him.’

Adam sat down suddenly in a nearby chair as if his legs had given way beneath him. ‘Oh m’lady, do you really mean it?’

‘Of course I do, Adam.’ She chuckled. ‘You’ll find that I never say anything I don’t mean. Now, what do you think?’

Adam turned to look at Betsy, who was staring at her husband, her hand to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears of joy.

‘D’you think we could do it, love? It’d be a lot of hard work and a big responsibility.’

‘We’ll give you all the help and support you need, Adam,’ Annabel said softly. ‘I promise.’ She could see that the young man longed to say yes – she could see
it in his eyes – but that the prospect was daunting.

Betsy put her arms around her husband and leaned down to put her cheek against his hair. ‘It’d be wonderful,’ she whispered.

Slowly, Adam stood up and held out his hand, his voice husky as he said, ‘I’m honoured at your trust in me, m’lady, and I’d like to accept your kind offer.’

Annabel put her small hand into his work-worn paw and smiled up at him. ‘You won’t be paying any rent until the farm starts to prosper, Adam, so don’t worry about that. Mr
Jackson will draw up the tenancy agreement and you can move in as soon as you can, though the house does need a little cleaning.’ She turned to Betsy. ‘And don’t you go overtiring
yourself doing that. We’ll get you some help.’

With a sudden movement, Betsy flung her arms around a startled Annabel and sobbed against her shoulder, but now she wept tears of joy.

‘Oh m’lady, how can we ever thank you?’

‘Seeing the baby – and all of you – thriving at Sparrow Farm, will be thanks enough,’ Annabel said, patting Betsy’s shoulder.

‘Now, there’s one happy family,’ Ben said as they left the Cartwrights’ small cottage and walked down the street together. ‘What now, m’lady?’

They came to a stop in front of the three empty shops and, beside them, was the building that had once been the village smithy and wheelwright’s business. All were closed and shuttered.
Annabel stood in the middle of the road with her hands on her hips. ‘Tell me about these premises, Ben.’

Ben pointed to each of them in turn. ‘They’re all tenanted properties, just like all the houses. That was the grocer’s run by Ozzy Greenwood. He took it over from his father.
Made a good job of it an’ all, but when folks stopped buying, there was no point in trying to carry on. He was losing more money than he was making. He’s still in the village. He never
married and he lives with his widowed mother in the first cottage this side of the church. The rooms over the shop were occupied by the dressmaker –’ He hesitated before adding,
‘That was Nancy Banks and her mother before Albert Lyndon gave them the cottage. I don’t know whether you know, m’lady – I don’t think I said before – but Mrs
Banks used to be the housekeeper up at the big house and Nancy was a housemaid. When the – um – trouble happened, they left and came to live here for a while. Nancy had the babby here,
but then when things started to go wrong for the whole estate, the dressmaking business failed. It was then Albert gave her the cottage. At least they had a roof over their heads, but nothing else.
And – well – you know the rest.’ He cleared his throat and went on, ‘So this shop premises is completely empty. The next one was the butcher’s. Percy Hammond and his
wife still live above the shop.’

‘No children?’

Ben shook his head. ‘All grown up and left home.’

‘And the one next to that?’

‘The general store. Sells anything and everything – or, rather, it used to.’

Annabel moved closer to peer through part of the window that wasn’t shuttered. ‘I can’t see much, but there still looks to be some stock in there.’ She stepped backwards
and glanced up at the windows above to meet the eyes of a man staring down at her. Ben followed the line of her gaze. ‘That’s Eli Merriman. He lives above his shop an’ all. Once
he was a happy-go-lucky bloke with a smile and a bit of banter for everyone. Just like his name implies, but not any more.’

‘And that, I suppose,’ Annabel went on, turning her attention to the final business premises, ‘used to be the smithy and wheelwright’s?’

‘Run by Jabez Fletcher and his apprentice, Josh Parrish. He closed it down and they both found work in the town.’

‘That reminds me, don’t be late meeting them from work.’

‘Jabez said this morning they’d walk home,’ Ben began, but Annabel shook her head firmly. ‘No, you fetch them. That poor lad isn’t fit enough yet to walk all that
way. A couple of meals won’t have got him back to full strength yet.’

‘Very good, m’lady.’

She stood a moment longer, eyeing the shops and the smithy. ‘Do you think they’d be prepared to open them up again?’

‘I’m sure they’d be delighted, but how? I mean, what with? They used to get a lot of their supplies from the local farms.’ He didn’t need to explain further;
Annabel knew full well that there was nothing coming from the farms just now, nor would there be for several months. ‘And most of Jabez’s work came from the farms too.’

‘I’ll talk to Gramps. There might be a way.’ As they moved away, Annabel avoided meeting the gaze of the forlorn man at the window; she didn’t want to give him false
hope.

‘I ought to go home and see how things are at the house and it’ll soon be time for you to set off to town. Thank you, Ben, for all your help. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Ben tipped his cap politely and, as she walked away from him and began to climb the slope towards the house, his gaze followed her.

‘There’s been a telegram come, m’lady,’ John informed her when, as she had been advised, Annabel rang the front door bell. ‘But it was addressed
to Lady Dorothea.’

‘Thank you, Mr Searby. Where is she?’

‘In the sitting room on the first floor.’ He smiled. ‘It’s a lovely room, now we can afford a fire in there again. And please, m’lady, won’t you call me just
“Searby”?’

‘I can’t, I really can’t. If Mrs Parrish is “Mrs”, then your position within the house deserves the title “Mr”. Besides, I really can’t bring
myself to address anyone by their surname only. The younger ones, I’ll call by their Christian names, but the older and more senior staff – well, I just can’t. I’m sorry if
it offends your sense of propriety, but there it is.’ She smiled up at him. ‘You’re just going to have to put up with me being exactly what I am. No “lady”.’

John was chuckling as he preceded her upstairs and opened the door of the sitting room for her.

‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’ Dorothea was on her feet the moment Annabel entered the room. ‘Interfering in the business of the estate. You have no
right.’

‘I have every right,’ Annabel said calmly, moving towards her. ‘In James’s absence, he agreed I could help with the running of the estate.’

Dorothea gasped. ‘He did no such thing. You’re lying.’

‘Dorothea, I may be many things, but I am no liar.’

‘Well, we shall see.’ Dorothea waved a piece of paper in her face. ‘He’s coming home, so we’ll see what he has to say about your interference.’

‘Good. I’m glad he’s coming to see his mother.’

The other woman’s lip curled. ‘Oh, it’s not because of her. I sent a telegram of my own and told him about your meddling and that if he wanted to save his estate, he should
come home at once. He’ll be here tomorrow.’

‘Good,’ Annabel said again. ‘And now I’ll go up and see your mother.’

‘She doesn’t want to be disturbed.’

‘Who’s looking after her?’

Dorothea shrugged. ‘The maids, I suppose.’

Annabel was appalled by the woman’s callous attitude towards her own sick mother. She had already been disappointed – though not surprised – that Theodore was rarely seen. She
knew that children were kept in a nursery or schoolroom for most of the time. And yet there was no nanny or governess that she knew of. His brief appearance at the breakfast table no doubt was
because there were not enough members of staff to take his meals upstairs to him. Though she said nothing, Annabel resolved to find out more about how the boy was living. For the moment, though,
Lady Fairfield was her main concern.

She left the sitting room and crossed the landing to enter the master bedroom opposite. Elizabeth was alone, propped up against the pillows, her eyes closed. Her breathing was still rasping and
it seemed as if every breath she pulled in was painful. At least the fire was being kept built up and the room was much warmer. A glass of water stood on the bedside table, though Annabel doubted
Elizabeth had the strength to reach out and lift it to her lips. She didn’t want to wake her so she sat down beside the bed until the dowager countess should stir. A coughing fit roused her
and Annabel held the glass of water for Elizabeth to drink. Then the sick lady sank back exhausted against the pillows.

‘How are you feeling?’ Annabel asked gently. Elizabeth opened her eyes but could only shake her head.

Annabel watched her for a few moments more and listened to her breathing. Then she glanced around her. Three doors led out of the bedroom. One opened on to the landing, but Annabel didn’t
know what lay behind the other two. Dorothea’s room was through the one to the right, Annabel discovered, and the other led into what she guessed had been a gentleman’s dressing room.
Thoughtfully, Annabel sought out Dorothea once more.

‘She’s still very poorly. I think we should get a nurse to live in for a week or so until she improves.’ Without waiting for Dorothea’s agreement, Annabel went on,
‘I’ll see Dr Maybury first thing in the morning and arrange it.’

‘And who do you suppose is going to pay for the luxury of having a live-in nurse?’

Annabel shrugged. ‘If you can’t afford it, then I will pay.’

‘And why should you concern yourself in keeping an old woman alive?’

Annabel shook her head in wonderment; she’d never met anyone like Dorothea before and wondered briefly if the woman was quite right in the head. ‘I don’t want to see anyone
suffering. She needs expert nursing. And besides, she’s not old. She’s just ill and frail. And whilst we’re on the subject of your family, what about your son?’

Dorothea’s interest sharpened. She frowned. ‘What about him?’

‘I understand he doesn’t go to school.’

‘What – with those urchins in the village? He’ll go to boarding school when he’s eight. James promised me that.’

‘And in the meantime, you teach him. Is that right? Are you content with that arrangement?’

Slowly and with deliberate emphasis, Dorothea said, ‘We – can’t – afford – a tutor.’