Fairfield Hall Read Free

mere surnames and the butler had long ago given up trying to get her to change. Even her disciplinarian father couldn’t enforce the rule with his wayward daughter.
    Hearing her voice, Ambrose flung open the door to his study and strode into the hall. He was a short, portly man in his early fifties with a florid complexion and bristling sideburns.
    ‘Where’ve you been?’ he barked.
    Annabel turned towards him as she removed her cape, hat and gloves and handed them to Roland Walmsley.
    ‘Out for a drive in the chaise, Father, but I took a wrong turning in the dusk and I got a little lost. I’m so sorry I’m late for dinner.’ She turned back to the butler.
‘Mr Walmsley, please tell Mrs Rowley that it’s my fault Jane is late, not hers.’
    Roland Walmsley bowed and hid his smile. He could guess where his young mistress had been, though wild horses would not drag it out of him, nor would he question Jane. She was utterly loyal to
Miss Annabel, as were all the servants.
    Ambrose glared at his daughter. ‘We’ve held dinner back for half an hour and Mrs Rowley is
not
best pleased.’ Mrs Rowley was the only person who warranted – in
Ambrose’s opinion – a courtesy title. ‘You’d better get changed – and be quick about it.’
    ‘Yes, Father.’ Annabel bowed her head meekly and hurried towards the staircase. Ambrose watched her go, his eyes narrowing. Had his ruse worked? he wondered. Annabel’s
expression gave nothing away. As he watched her climb the stairs, he fancied he saw her shoulders drooping in disappointment. But he couldn’t be sure. His daughter was difficult to read.
He’d interrogate the maid, he decided. She’d give herself away at once.
    But this time, even Jane’s resolve proved difficult to break. After dinner was over, he called her to his study. She faced her master fearlessly with wide, innocent eyes. Pulling herself
up to her full five feet two inches, she straightened her shoulders and explained calmly, ‘We got lost, sir. Miss Annabel took a wrong turning in the dark and then it was difficult to turn
the horse round. By the time we got to the right road again, sir, oh, I reckon half an hour or more had gone by.’
    Ambrose frowned. ‘Did you meet anyone, girl?’
    Her eyes widened even more. ‘Meet anyone, sir?’
    ‘Don’t act stupid with me, girl. You know very well what I mean. Did Miss Annabel have an assignation?’
    The girl shook her head vehemently. ‘Oh no, sir. We didn’t meet anyone.’
    Ambrose stepped close to her so that his bulbous red nose was only inches from her small, well-shaped nose. In a low, threatening tone he said slowly, ‘If I find out you’ve been
lying to me, girl, it’ll be the worse for you. You understand?’
    Jane nodded vigorously. ‘I wouldn’t lie to you, sir. Honest, I wouldn’t.’
    Ambrose grunted as he stepped away. He still didn’t believe her. In his experience anyone who used the word ‘honest’ to emphasize whatever they were saying, was usually
lying.
    Jane scuttled back to the kitchen, her cheeks flaming. She hoped that was the last questioning she would have to face from the master, but there was always the mistress to contend with. She was
almost more fearsome than Mr Constantine.
    ‘
Now
what have you been up to?’ Mrs Rowley frowned. ‘Are you in trouble? Because if you are, I want to know about it.’
    Oh no, not you an’ all! Jane thought. ‘Nothing, Mrs Rowley,’ she said aloud. ‘I was out with Miss Annabel and we were late back. That’s all.’
    ‘Oh aye.’ Even Mrs Rowley’s tone was sceptical. ‘And where were you “out”, might I ask?’
    No, you may not ask, Jane wanted to reply, but she knew that any cheeky retort would earn her a severe reprimand. Instead, she said calmly, ‘Just out for a drive, Mrs Rowley. Miss Annabel
took a wrong turning in the dark.’
    ‘She shouldn’t be out in the dark on her own.’
    ‘She wasn’t on her own. I was with her.’
    Mrs Rowley rolled