Chapter 22
Thea smiled as she watched Annie supervising Frankie writing a plant label in the glasshouse. It was a warm April, and the sun sparkled off the glass and highlighted the tips of the maturing seedlings which seemed to be everywhere. The warmth and the green calmed her, almost without fail.
‘Good morning,’ she said, making her presence known. Annie smiled up at her, but Frankie was intent on her writing.
‘Good morning, Your Grace,’ said Annie. ‘The children are off with Mr Fenwick and Mr Crumpacker, counting tree species in the upper east field.’
Thea smiled. Crumpacker was even starting to warm up to the children, and they loved him because he was so honest and didn’t try to fob them off with children-speak. ‘Excellent,’ she said.
‘How are you, Annie?’ She wondered if she would ever be able to encourage her to open up about the thing with Sanders. ‘Enjoying the spring?’
‘Very much so, Your Grace,’ said Annie, but didn’t elaborate.
‘Mmm,’ said Thea, not sure how to push her further without seeming obvious.
She looked around for something to inspire her.
‘Lord,’ she said, as she spied something slimy atop one of the pots on the raised surface.
‘What on earth...?’ She moved over to have a closer look and motioned Annie to join her.
‘Does this look…?’ She peered closer but then drew back as she realised it was looking at her.
‘Sheep’s eyeball,’ said Frankie, peering over their shoulders. ‘Next on the list of things to try. Got it from the farmer in Grey’s Lane – in fact, I have a few more in the shed…’
Thea thought she might have gone on, but there was a sort of slithering noise and a soft thud, and Annie was out cold on the floor.
Annie wasn’t large by any means, but it had still taken Thea, Frankie and Martha to help her back into the nursery and on to the couch.
They could have called for some of the staff to help, but Thea wanted to ensure they were gentle – just in case.
Frankie mopped Annie’s forehead with a muslin she had just dipped in the pail of water by her side.
‘My word, I am sorry,’ said Annie, bringing her hands to her face as she came around. ‘I hate to be a trouble.’
‘You aren’t,’ said Thea reassuringly. ‘Sheep’s eyeballs would do that to anyone.’ She gave Frankie a slightly admonishing look.
‘Sheep’s eyeballs?’ asked Martha, but quickly stopped when Annie went a little green again and lay back against the arm. Thea gave her a quizzical look, and Annie only turned her head to look at the wall.
‘Lady Foxmore,’ said Thea. ‘I wonder if you would like to take Frankie to the library and perhaps look for a few, more conventional seed treatments?’ She gave Martha a look which she hoped communicated her intent. Martha understood.
‘Excellent idea,’ she said, clapping her hands. But then she scowled at Frankie, remembering her irrational but stubborn dislike. ‘Come on,’ she said grumpily.
‘But,’ said Frankie, looking back at Annie, but Martha had already grasped her upper arm and was manoeuvring her out of the door.
Thea settled next to Annie on one of the children’s tiny chairs. She mopped her forehead with the cool water until Annie gained a little more colour. When she was sure the governess wasn’t going to faint again, she sought to address the subject.
‘Frankie mentioned you had been feeling a little off in the mornings,’ she said gently.
Annie nodded meekly. ‘A little, but I think it’s getting better.’
‘Would you like me to call for Doctor Ennis?’ she asked.
Annie shook her head. Seeing that Annie wasn’t going to voluntarily give up information, she tried a different tack.
‘I was awfully ill in the mornings when I had Samantha,’ she said, watching for Annie’s reaction out of the corner of her eye.
‘And a little with Edward, but it was fine with Abigail. Funny really, with what a menace she is now she’s here.
’ She looked back at Annie and smiled. Annie caught her breath.
‘You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,’ said Thea, taking Annie’s hand and squeezing it. ‘But I am happy to help, and we can get the doctor for you if needed. We could even go up to London to see Doctor Speckle if you don’t wish for it to be known down here, or call for him to visit.’
Annie took a shaky breath. ‘Aren’t you cross?’
‘Of course I’m not cross. This isn’t your fault, Annie.’
Annie looked away again. ‘No, it isn’t.’ There was something in her tone that gave Thea pause.
‘Annie?’ She saw Annie swallow and tears pricked her eyes. ‘Annie,’ she said again, as softly as she could manage given the rising alarm in her throat. ‘You did want… what happened… didn’t you?’ Annie swallowed again, and then so did Thea. ‘I mean, you did agree to it?’
Now Annie managed to shake her head. ‘I didn’t want it. But I am not really in a position to not agree, am I?’ There was a pain and helplessness in her eyes that almost broke Thea.
‘Annie, you can always say no.’
‘You can say no,’ said Annie, dropping Thea’s hand and turning away. ‘But sometimes they take it anyway.’
A rage rose inside Thea that she had rarely experienced. How dare Sanders take advantage of Annie in this way? And after he had apparently kept her sweet and begun to make her fall for him.
‘Where did he do it?’ she asked, quietly.
‘In the stables,’ whispered Annie. ‘Where nobody will suspect.’
‘I see,’ said Thea. ‘Of course.’
She stormed out of the nursery through the door to the kitchen, hearing Annie’s protests behind her.
‘Mrs Phibbs,’ she hollered into the housekeeper’s room as she passed.
‘Please go and see to Annie in the nursery. And take her some brandy.’ She heard Mrs Phibbs hurry to attention through the door.
On the way to the stables – which seemed like as good a place as any to start – she swung into the main house, moving from servant’s quarters to opulence, and passed the library.
‘Martha,’ she shouted through the door. ‘I need you with me.’
She heard a chair scrape and someone hurry to get up, and then Martha was with her, hurrying down the west passage. ‘What is it?’ asked Martha.
‘It was Sanders,’ said Thea, and heard Martha’s step stutter at the venom in her voice. ‘But she didn't agree, Martha, and now Annie is with child.’ The fury was building and as she looked to Martha, she saw it writ in reflection on her face.
‘I would never have thought it of him,’ said Martha.
‘No. And yet, here we are.’
They burst out of the west door, Thea striding with as much purpose as she ever had in her life. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do with Sanders, but she knew he would regret what he had done to her kind, gentle, talented governess by the time she had finished.
‘Where is Sanders?’ she hollered to a groom as she passed. He panicked and backed into a skittish horse causing all kinds of commotion but eventually pointed into the tack room.
They strode over, feeling Martha at her heel and hearing Joan shout to her, but she was done with caution. Sanders turned as she entered the tack room, his eyes widening as he saw the fury coming towards him.
‘How dare you,’ she hissed at him, advancing so he backed up against a saddle. ‘After all these years and the trust we had.’
‘Your Grace,’ she heard behind her, but she was not to be deterred. She brandished a finger at Sanders, causing him to lean back over the leather.
‘I should have your balls on a– ‘
But she was cut off as she felt a hand on her arm.
‘Your Grace, stop.’ It was Joan, and a flicker of doubt pricked. Thea knew Joan wouldn’t interrupt for anything trivial.
‘What?’ she snapped, harsher than she meant to, but the anger was fierce.
‘It wasn’t Sanders, Your Grace,’ said Joan.
Thea blinked, looked at Sanders, and then looked at Joan. She understood immediately that the culprit was her own husband.