The Steward of Blackwood Hall

Chapter eight - The clandestine meeting

It was an unseasonably mild autumn day as Anabelle Latimer strolled along the grassy track with her face tilted to catch the rays of the pale yellow sun. Her gloved fingers trailed over the tips of the tall grasses, sending them dancing in her wake as she strode purposefully towards the stile.

She climbed the obstacle and jumped down from the other side, where one of her boots became temporarily trapped in the mud. Her laughter, when she pulled her foot clear, drifted across the field and caught Fielding's ear as he observed from behind a gnarled oak. He waited a moment until she had passed out of sight and then followed, keeping some distance between them.

Two days had passed since he had last spoken to Miss Latimer and her sister in Haltford. The following day Fielding had ventured into Redburn, hoping the selection in their book shop could improve upon Blackwood's inadequate offerings. While perusing the shelves he overheard two matronly females gossiping about the Latimer family, whose home lay half-way between Redburn and Haltford.

He was most interested by the news that none of the daughters were known to be receiving romantic attentions from any gentleman, although there was speculation that Mrs Latimer hoped to see the eldest as the mistress of Blackwood before the year was out. He had no difficulty guessing that it was the same Miss Anabelle Latimer who was helping her father during his convalescence.

This therefore begged the question: if the Latimer sisters had no known admirers, who did Anabelle Latimer meet with, and why should their assignations be made in such a clandestine manner? Had she lost her heart to someone unsuitable for her position, such as a strapping farm labourer or a burly butcher's boy?

He quickened his pace, wondering, not for the first time, why he should put himself to such trouble when her welfare was none of his business. While Woodside was nothing to Meltham, Mr. Latimer was still a gentleman and Anabelle Latimer a gentleman's daughter. Granted, she was disadvantaged by the attorney uncle Mr. Orton, and her aunt's dubious choice of friends, but even if her dowry was small her pleasing countenance and lively manners would have found her a number of eligible suitors in town. If she could not look too high then at least she did not have to settle for a match that fell far short of the quality she was born into.

He glanced around, realising he had lost sight of her bonnet; tied, as it often was, with a wide yellow ribbon. Fielding continued in the direction she had been walking and within five minutes came to the remains of an old stone barn. The side and corner nearest to him had completely fallen down, along with at least two thirds of the roof timbers, and a sapling grew through the open space. The furthest section and outer wall appeared solid enough and he could hear the faint murmur of voices beyond.

At this point he began to question his sanity. He had left his horse at Blackwood and walked out into the countryside, perhaps to protect the reputation of a young woman who was neither related nor connected to him. If Miss Latimer's beau took exception to Fielding's enquiries he might find himself knocked to the ground with a black eye for his impertinence. A wise man would turn around and leave this matter to those who were responsible for her wellbeing.

Fielding paused, debating the wisdom of intruding upon a private conversation, but then he heard a faint, "No, no," from behind the wall and found himself half way towards it before he realised he had moved. Rounding the corner of the broken building he saw nothing but a grassy clearing at first, but then spotted Miss Latimer sitting on a fallen log in the lee of the stone wall with a sandy-haired child of ten or eleven years. She leaned towards the boy as he attempted to form his letters on a slate, and Fielding felt an inexplicable relief that her companion wasn't a decade older. "Miss Latimer?"

Both jumped up at the sound of his voice; the boy's eyes were fearful, while hers held only surprise. That surprise soon softened when she saw who had spoken. She smoothed her skirt. "Mr. Fielding! How did you find us here?"