Lady Sara gazed out of the carriage window and said nothing.
If Clarissa had taken great pains to look the part of a lady, she took less trouble to behave that way. She would stride into a room without waiting to be introduced and hold out her hand to everyone there as if she were an intimate friend of many years’ standing instead of a newcomer. Then she would sit and make the most blatant comments about the room, pointing out deficiencies and offering advice about improvements, until Hope was quite crushed with mortification. Once or twice Hope had tentatively tried to offer a hint, but Clarissa had laughed and said that Ernest liked her to be herself and not be shy in company, and there was no use arguing with the wishes of a lady’s husband.
Sometimes Ernest went with them, and that was, if anything, worse, for he laughed uproariously at everything his wife said, and would turn to his nearest neighbour and whisper, “Is she not wonderful? No false praise from my Clarissa. She says exactly what she thinks.”
But no one quite liked to cut her, so the calls were returned and dinner invitations issued and everyone treated her as they would any other newcomer to the neighbourhood, although Hope could only imagine the comments they made about Mr and Mrs Ernest Allamont when they were alone.
When the time came for the first assembly since her arrival, Clarissa was wild to go. Ernest having no desire to deny his wife any pleasure that the county could afford, the subscription was paid, hotel rooms booked for Ernest and his wife and all their many friends, and the number of carriages to be employed calculated.
The day before, when Hugo was explaining the disposition of hotel rooms, Clarissa said, “But what about Jacob? Where is he to sleep?”
“Jacob?” Hugo said. “Who is Jacob? I thought we had all Ernest’s friends accounted for.”
“Jacob is one of the servants,” Hope said. “The big, handsome fellow. He is a groom, I believe.”
“He is not a groom,” Clarissa said haughtily. “He is my brother.”
Hope’s hands flew to her mouth in horror. “Oh no! But he has been housed in the servants’ quarters! How dreadful! I am so sorry, Clarissa, I had no idea.”
Hugo tutted in annoyance. “Well, of course you had no idea, for no one informed us of Jacob’s rank or the correct level of accommodation for him,” he said. “How on earth are we supposed to know? We have no power to divine these things, Mrs Allamont. We depend upon you and Ernest to inform us of the appropriate arrangements.”
Ernest had been struggling not to laugh throughout this exchange. “You people make so much fuss over these things. Jacob is only Clarissa’s half-brother. He is a slave, Hugo, or he was in Jamaica — I suppose he is a free man here — but even so, the servants’ quarters are plenty good enough for him. But he is a great dancer, and always attends the dances and balls at home. He is a great favourite with the ladies, as you may imagine, a fine, strong man like that. We have promised to take him to this assembly of yours, so I am sure you will squeeze him in somewhere. He can share with the valets, for I am sure it is of no consequence to him.”
“It might be of consequence to the valets, however,” Hugo said at once. “Whatever Jacob’s relationship with Mrs Allamont, and however he was treated in the West Indies, here he is a groom, and grooms do not dance at assemblies. If he goes to this assembly, he goes as a groom, and sleeps over the stables with all the other grooms, and he does not participate in the dancing.”
“He is not a groom, and he wants to dance,” Clarissa said. “How stuffy you are, Hugo! I will not have my brother treated as if he is nobody!”
“If he is not nobody, then he must be somebody,” Hugo cried. “By all means let him come to the assembly and dance and be a gentleman, but we must treat him that way here, too. He must have a bedroom in the house, and he must dress like a gentleman, and have a valet to attend him, and he must take his meals with the family and not with the servants. Everyone must have his proper place in society, Mrs Allamont, or we shall have anarchy and chaos and civilisation will collapse.”
Ernest and Clarissa shrieked with laughter, but Ernest said, “Have it your way, Hugo. Let Jacob be a gentleman, if that is your wish. For we would not wish to be responsible for the collapse of civilisation, would we?”
And they laughed so hard that tears squeezed from their eyes, and no sense could be got out of either of them.
16: The Card Room
Hope generally enjoyed the monthly assemblies at Brinchester, and as she had been too busy at the Hall to attend the last two, she was especially looking forward to this one. Or she would have been, if only she could quell her worries over Ernest and Clarissa.
“Clarissa has not the least idea how to go on,” she had wailed to Hugo. “She will tell all the ladies how badly they are dressed, criticise the number of chandeliers or supper dishes, and I cannot bear to think what she might say about the dancing. I like a forthright person as much as anyone, but a little discretion never went amiss. And as for Ernest—”
“No need to worry about him,” Hugo had said quickly. “I shall introduce him in the card rooms, and he will spend the evening there, and his friends with him. We might even get Clarissa to play, if she tires of the dancing. They will be safe enough in there, you know.”
So Hope had tried to set aside her fears. On the tedious journey to Brinchester, the huge coach crawling through axle-deep mud all the way to the turn-pike road, Clarissa chattered away excitedly to no one in particular. Ernest laughed greatly at every remark, from time to time patting his wife’s knee and saying, “You will enjoy it excessively, Clarry, and you will outshine all the other ladies, I know it.” Lady Sara, Hugo and Hope said nothing at all.
The other occupant of the coach, the former groom, Jacob, now resplendent in the attire of a gentleman, was equally silent, an enigmatic smile playing about his lips. He was a fine looking man, Hope conceded, tall and well built, the immaculately tailored coat fitting him as closely as a glove, and his breeches clinging to shapely legs. Unlike the softer colouring of his sister, Jacob was a full negro, his skin the colour of burnished mahogany, his countenance most pleasing. He carried his transformation lightly, his manners at dinner the night before such as would meet with approval anywhere. Hope wondered at his wishing to play the role of groom, but perhaps that was merely a natural diffidence about mingling in good society.
Another cause for satisfaction on Hope’s part emerged as her maid dressed her for the evening. This was her first opportunity to wear one of the new ball gowns provided for her marriage, and she would not have been human had she not smiled to see herself in the glass.
“You look very beautiful, madam,” Flora said.
Hope blushed, but answered composedly, “You have turned me out very well, Flora. I like this way you have with my hair.”
“It is her ladyship who chose this headdress, and the gown, too, madam. Her ladyship has excellent taste.”
“True, and she took the greatest interest in all my wedding clothes, far more than with my sisters. But it is very nice not to be confined to pale colours, or simple muslins and silks. This gown is the most ravishing colour. I adore it.”
“That shade of blue sets off your beauty to perfection, madam.”
Such a conversation could not fail to send Hope off for the evening in the most pleasant frame of mind, which happy state was increased when she saw the look of frank admiration in Hugo’s eyes.
“Well, Mrs Allamont, you will set the assembly rooms on fire tonight. How delightfully you look! Shall we go down to dinner?”
And he offered her his arm, the light in his eyes easy to read as he gazed at her.
As soon as they reached the hotel dining room, Hope’s pleasure was somewhat diminished by the sight of Clarissa in the most exquisite dress of gold thread, which shimmered as she moved in an entrancing way. With her hair and ears and throat likewise laden with gold, she looked like a princess.
“How lovely she is!” she said impulsively to Hugo.
He shrugge
d. “Overdressed, if you ask me. You are the prettiest woman here.”
Which made her blush all over again.
Their party was the gayest in the room. At one end of the table, Ernest and his friends paid noisy court to Clarissa, designating her their queen for the night and addressing her, with much laughter, as ‘your majesty’. At the other, Hope and Hugo were joined by Amy, Belle, Grace and Mary, and various members of their families, making a lively party. Only Sir Osborne Hardy was absent, too ill to attend. Between the two groups, Jacob sat eating his dinner stolidly without conversation.
The night was cold but dry, so most of the party walked the short distance to the assembly rooms. Only one or two of the ladies, fearful of the freezing night air, took sedan chairs. They had taken so long over dinner that the assembly rooms were already crowded, the dancing well underway. Hugo, as he had promised, whisked Ernest and his cronies off to the card rooms, while Hope was immediately invited to dance by one of her former admirers, his face alight with pleasure. As they danced, he watched her with such intensity that she was almost tempted to laugh, except that it would have been abominably rude.
“You were very much missed at the assembly last month, Mrs Allamont,” he said. “The room was a little less bright without your presence, and the dancing much less pleasing to the eye.”
He had always talked such nonsense, and when she had been unmarried and trying very gently to discourage him, she had found it difficult to answer him at all. If she adopted the same tone, he might think she was flirting with him, yet she could not quite bring herself to be direct. Now, knowing herself to be protected from his unwanted attentions, it was easy to smile and say lightly, “Why, Mr Mann, are you trying to get up a flirtation with a married woman? I wonder what my husband would say about that?”
And he laughed and answered in the same jocular tone, and it was all pleasantly enjoyable, and perfectly safe, because there could be no impassioned declarations of love, no embarrassing offers to be tactfully refused and no tears afterwards at the thought of hurt feelings and disappointment. She could at last savour the gentle compliments and admiring glances, knowing they meant nothing. And at the end of the evening, there would be Hugo by her side to escort her home and keep her warm during the long, cold night. So she danced and smiled and flirted just a little, and was glad she was a married woman now.
~~~~~
Hugo took longer than he had anticipated to settle Ernest and his friends into the card rooms. There were introductions to be made, and then, not unnaturally, the gentry and burghers of Brinchester wanted to know more of the West Indies, so there were many questions to be answered, and it was not easy to keep Ernest sweet-tempered during this interrogation, for he was wild for his glass of brandy and his cards and the pile of coins on the table.
Eventually, the newcomers were disposed to the satisfaction of all, and Hugo made his way thankfully back towards the dance floor. He paused on the balcony with its vista over the whole room, and his eye searched first for a certain blue gown. There she was, going down the set with Mr Verdun, who was a fine dancer, a worthy partner for her. How gracefully she moved, her head so charmingly tilted, and her pretty features alight with the energy of the dance. He sighed with pleasure as he watched her. His wife! It still gave him a thrill to look at her and realise that she was entirely his, and that however admiringly other men might look at Hope, they could not have her. How unexpected to encounter such feelings now, after he had known Hope for his whole life and never thought twice about her, except as the provider of a splendid inheritance. And even though the inheritance was now denied him, he was very content with his choice.
After a while, it began to dawn on him that he would look like a love-struck gudgeon standing watching his own wife dance, so he allowed his gaze to roam. The first dancer to attract his notice was Jacob, and the second was Clarissa, for they were dancing together with great vivacity, their steps and arm movements livelier and more forceful than anyone else’s. He had never seen Clarissa so sprightly. Many eyes were on them, Hugo saw, and the matrons were whispering behind their fans. He could not wonder at it, for it was the oddest sight in the world, a woman dancing with her own brother, and with such energy. It was no surprise that the couple should attract attention.
He became curious to know what was being said about them, so he made his way down the stairs, where the view was less good, but perhaps he might overhear the comments as he moved about the room. This plan fell to pieces immediately, as he was hailed by some of his acquaintance and congratulated on his recent marriage.
“You have not been near us these three months, Mr Allamont,” the lady said archly. “We feel quite neglected, is it not so, my dears?” Her companions all acknowledged their feelings of neglect.
“I must beg to be forgiven, ladies, but as you may imagine, I have been much occupied with the unexpected return of my cousin and his wife.”
It was just the opening they wanted. “Oh indeed, such a surprise!” the speaker trilled. “Who could have guessed that Mr Ernest Allamont would contrive to return at the very last moment, as we have all heard. Such very fortunate timing, would you not agree, Mr Allamont?”
Hugo could not agree to any such thing, so he made some noncommittal remark, but he found he was not to escape so easily. They wanted all the details of Ernest’s long stay away from his home, and then they plied him with questions about Clarissa, most of which he could not answer.
“I have not had the pleasure of being informed upon the matter,” became his repeated answer. And eventually, “Upon my word, you will have to ask the lady herself, for I know nothing about her.”
“And the gentleman with whom she dances so energetically?” She smiled sweetly at him, the very picture of innocence, although he was tolerably sure that she already knew perfectly well who it was.
“That is her brother, Jacob Wellman.”
“Oh, indeed? Her brother? How interesting.” She turned to him expectantly for more details.
What was he to say about Jacob? That he had been a slave until he arrived in England? That he was in reality a groom except that his sister had insisted he must attend the assembly? And beyond that, he knew nothing at all about him. It was a strange feeling to look at a man in such company and yet have not the slightest idea of his history. Amongst the nobility, family lines could be traced back centuries, and even respectable burghers and bankers had deep local roots. If a man moved into a neighbourhood, he would bring letters of introduction or would call upon mutual acquaintance to vouch for him. Even Ernest had three generations of Allamonts at Lower Brinford to support his claim to be a gentleman. Yet nothing was known of Clarissa or Jacob except what they chose to reveal, and she at least had already demonstrated her willingness to bend the truth if it suited her.
“It will not astonish you to hear that I know nothing about Mr Wellman,” Hugo said eventually, with a wry smile.
“You are disappointingly ill-informed,” the lady said, although she smiled as she spoke. “There is nothing for it but to ask the lady and gentleman directly. Perhaps you would be so good as to introduce us, Mr Allamont? Oh — too late, there they go again.”
While they had been talking, the sets had broken up and the next were forming, and Jacob again led Clarissa onto the floor.
“How many dances is that?” he asked.
“That is the third,” the lady said, and the disapproval in her voice was unmistakable. And then, with a gasp, “What are they doing?”
It was no dance that Hugo had ever seen before. So close that they were touching, their arms around each other in the most shocking manner, Clarissa and Jacob swayed and slowly revolved, just the two of them, quite separate from the sets. If the matrons had been whispering discreetly, now there was no mistaking the outrage on their faces. Even the dancers in the sets were becoming distracted and missing their steps.
Something had to be done, at once, before the damage was irrevocable, and Hugo did not hesitate. Striding a
cross the dance floor, weaving between and through the sets, he reached the oblivious couple, still entwined and gazing rapturously into each other’s eyes like lovers.
“Mrs Allamont?” Hugo began. “Best to stop now.”
Her smile broadened, if that were possible, but she made no answer and continued to writhe sinuously.
“No,” he said more forcefully. “This is not how we dance here. You must not do this.”
She laughed in his face at that. “Must not, Hugo? Does no one dance the waltz here?” But at least she had disentangled herself from Jacob.
“Is that what it is? No, we do not, and you are attracting most unwelcome notice to yourself by doing so.”
She looked around her, and, seeing the number of onlookers staring at them with shocked faces, her eyes dropped. But then, lifting her chin defiantly, she smirked at Hugo. “How parochial you are. How provincial. How extraordinarily backward. How… how stuffy.”
“Yes, we are all those things, I daresay, but if you wish to move in this society, you would be well advised to accord with the prevailing rules of propriety. The sets are all made up now, but perhaps you would like a glass of wine? Champagne, perhaps?”
Her face brightened at the thought. “Well, if I am not permitted to dance, I shall have to find something else to do. Where is Ernie?”
“He is in the card rooms. Should you like a little card play? Or dice, perhaps?”
“Oh yes! Come along, Jake. Let us leave the provincials to their country dances.”
Hugo led the way, and she followed slowly, hips swaying, her languorous pace at great odds with her energetic mode of dancing. Jacob silently brought up the rear. Hugo tried to ignore the many eyes following their progress, and the fans held up to hide the words of censure he felt sure were on every pair of lips. Upstairs, Hugo showed Clarissa where her husband sat, too engrossed to notice her.
“Is there another card room? I do not like this one.”
“Yes, several. Try this one.”
Hope (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 6) Page 14
