There was less ritual involved in introducing a lady into such a room, especially one dressed in the first stare of fashion, who was both beautiful and openly friendly. A few smiles saw Clarissa settled at a faro table, Jacob at her elbow. After seeing them both supplied with drinks, Hugo felt it was safe to leave them, for they could come to no harm in the card room.
He made his way back to the dance floor, but found he was too late to secure Hope’s hand, for she was engaged for every dance. He did not mind, for he was not himself a great dancer, and much preferred to watch and listen and move around the room meeting up with his acquaintance. He was much sought after, for many there had business with Allamont Hall, or the tenant farms and properties associated with it, and there was much concern about the future.
“We have every confidence in you,” one said. “Been dealing with you for long enough now to know your cut. But this fellow is a stranger, and I hear nothing good of him.”
“Nothing bad, either, I trust,” Hugo said.
“Not yet,” the man said repressively.
It was not encouraging. But a gentle hand at his elbow drew his attention to Hope’s smiling face.
“Are you going to take me in to supper, Mr Allamont? The others are going now, and I should like to find a seat near them, if I can.”
He made his excuses and moved away, his wife on his arm. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he said.
“Oh yes, although… should I have saved a dance for you? I was not sure if you would want to stand up with me, or if perhaps you would be obliged to trail about after Ernest and Clarissa all evening. Where are they, by the way?”
“In the card rooms, and if they stay there all evening it will suit me very well.”
She was silent as they followed the crowds up the stairs. Outside the supper rooms, the press of people was so great that they halted altogether. “It was very embarrassing,” she said quietly. “When they were dancing alone. I did not know where to look.”
“It is the waltz, apparently.”
“Oh. Connie said she had seen it danced once or twice, at private balls, though, not in public.”
“And did she participate?” Hugo said.
“Oh no, she said it was too shocking for words. So much touching! She thinks it will be quite acceptable, in time, but I am not sure.”
They finally managed to squeeze into the supper room, but Ernest, Clarissa and Jacob were not there.
Hugo gave a cluck of annoyance. “I suppose I had better go and find them. They may not realise that all the best food will be gone if they are late.”
In the first card room, Hugo dragged a reluctant Ernest away from the table.
“Well, a man must eat, I suppose. And a woman, too, no doubt. Where is that wife of mine?”
“In the next card room, playing faro.”
But when they opened the door, a dreadful sight greeted them. Jacob was the one sitting playing cards, while Clarissa perched on his knee in a shockingly improper manner. Hugo was becoming used to Clarissa’s unseemly behaviour, but this was beyond anything.
Ernest gave a great shriek and tore across the room, as Clarissa screamed, scrambling away from Jacob. And then the room fell into chaos, Ernest and Jacob pushing and shoving each other, Ernest yelling, Clarissa screaming and everyone else jumping clear of the fracas. It was as well that there were few people in the room, and although curious onlookers appeared at the door, Hugo shut it firmly, and wedged a chair back under it to prevent anyone else entering.
After a few preliminary sallies, Ernest and Jacob began a more determined fight, fists raised, faces taut with concentration. Back and forth they went, with more shoving and feinting than solid hits. A small table came near to toppling, but someone whisked it away at the last moment. Then the pair were across the room and almost in the hearth, scattering onlookers. Jacob jabbed at Ernest and caught him close to one eye, leaving a trail of blood. Ernest pushed Jacob so hard they both staggered.
“Excellent mill, eh?” said a stout burgher to Hugo, one of the small crowd of onlookers, while a steward was engaged in rescuing the bottles, glasses and decanters from harm’s way. One decanter had already been smashed to pieces.
“Why is no one doing anything?” Hugo murmured, about to step into the fray to separate the combatants, even though he knew it was probably futile and he would end up with a bloody nose for his pains.
But then, with a mighty swing and a shriek of pure rage, Ernest’s fist caught Jacob clean on the side of his head, and he went crashing down amidst a cluster of chairs, and lay still.
17: Blood
Ernest would have fallen on his opponent to continue pounding him with blows, but Hugo and another man jumped in front of him.
“That is enough!” Hugo said, grabbing Ernest’s arm. “Remember where you are, for heaven’s sake!”
“He is a damned snake!” Ernest said, struggling to free himself. “I’ll kill him, I swear it!”
“No, you will not, and remember your language. There is a lady present.”
“Lady? Ha!” He started to laugh then, a strange, high laugh that edged towards hysteria. “Do you think she is a lady?” He pointed a shaking finger at Clarissa. “Ha!”
He had stopped struggling, and Hugo looked about him for the familiar faces of Ernest’s cronies. He recognised two, although in the heat of the moment their names escaped him. “You, sir, and you there — get him out of here, will you? Carry him, if you have to, but get him back to the hotel and lock him in.”
Ernest raised his hands in surrender. He was breathing heavily, but he seemed more controlled. “No, no, no! No one need carry me. I appreciate your concern, cousin, but I am perfectly capable of walking. Unlike him.” He laughed abruptly, pointing at Jacob. “I put him in his place and no mistake. My God, I am famished. Is there food here?”
“The supper room, but…” Hugo hesitated to inflict Ernest on a crowded supper room, but he and Clarissa did seem calmer. “Very well. But please… be circumspect. And… you have blood on your cravat, cousin.”
Clarissa sniggered. “So stuffy,” she hissed, as she passed by on Ernest’s arm. Hugo released the door and they moved out into the passageway with most of the onlookers. Only the steward and one other man remained in the room.
“Nicely managed,” said the man who had helped to restrain Ernest. He knelt down beside the unconscious Jacob, mopping away blood with a handkerchief. “His heart is beating soundly and his breathing is good, so I think he will recover well. Now, what are we to do with him? He cannot lie here all night.”
“I know a fellow with a cart just the right size for an insensible gentleman, even one so tall and well-built as this man,” said the steward. “I’ll fetch another man to help me carry him downstairs—”
“We will do the carrying,” said the stranger. “The cart will be useful, however, to convey him to the White Rose. I am sure that Mr Hugo Allamont will reimburse you in due course for the damage caused tonight.”
Hugo was happy to agree to it. With some difficulty, for Jacob was a big man, they raised their cargo from the floor, Hugo with the legs and the stranger with the shoulders. In this manner, and with the guidance of the steward, they manoeuvred the unconscious form of Jacob down the service stairs and through the basement kitchens to the small yard at the back, where a cart, clearly kept for the purpose, already stood awaiting them.
“This is not an unusual occurrence, then,” Hugo said, as they heaved Jacob into the cart and tucked in his dangling arms.
“Very common, sir,” the steward said, with a smile. “You’d be surprised how often a gentleman takes a drop too much Madeira and finds it a mite tricky to walk home.”
“Not many have been knocked out cold by a fist, I wager.”
“Oh, a few, sir, a few.”
“Thank you for your assistance,” said the stranger, with a flash of silver pressed into the steward’s hand. “We will manage now.”
The steward, well pleased, disappeared.<
br />
“We?” Hugo said with a smile. “You have done more than enough, my good sir. I shall see this fellow safely back to the hotel.”
“Easier with two,” the stranger said mildly, and set off with the cart before Hugo could stop him. It was not far by the back alleys to the rear entrance of the hotel’s stable yard, where Hugo tracked down one of the Allamont grooms and left Jacob in his care, to recover his senses in the straw.
The two men walked side by side back to the assembly rooms, rather briskly, for it was bitterly cold. The stranger seemed disinclined for conversation, and Hugo was sunk in despondency again. A thousand times he had cursed his cousin for stealing the Hall away from him, and probably he would curse him a thousand times more, and had Ernest been the kindest and best of men, Hugo would still have chafed under his superiority, and wished him far away. It was the most wretched ill-fortune. Hugo should have been master of the Allamont estate, his days filled with plans for improvements and good works, and instead he had to take orders from his buffoon of a cousin, and tidy up his messes. It was most unsatisfactory.
On reaching the assembly rooms again, Hugo was obliged to exert himself. “I cannot thank you enough for your assistance, sir,” he said, as they were about to re-enter the crowded ballroom. “May I know to whom I am so deeply obliged?”
“Erasmus Kent at your service. Here…” He fished in a pocket. “My card.”
“And mine,” Hugo said, “although you seem to know my name already. You have my very sincere thanks, Mr Kent.”
“You are most welcome, Mr Allamont. I have heard much of your recent sudden change of circumstances, and the tale has aroused all my sympathies on your behalf. Indeed, the events of this evening have only served to increase those feelings. It delights me to be of assistance to you, sir, and if ever you should need my services again for any matter, large or small, you may write to me at that address. I should be happy to oblige you in any way that I can.”
“You are very good, but I hope that will not be necessary, Mr Kent.”
“We are agreed on that point, but remember that you are by no means friendless, Mr Allamont.”
He smiled, and with a wave of his hand, Mr Kent disappeared into the throng.
~~~~~
Hope could not eat a thing at supper. She was frantic with worry about Hugo, who had surely been in the midst of everything when the screaming and crashing had begun. No one in the supper room had seemed unduly alarmed, and the stewards had passed through the room assuring everyone that a little disagreement over the cards had been settled without much difficulty and all was well. Even so, when Ernest and Clarissa had sauntered in, arm in arm, laughing as if nothing untoward had occurred, Hope had scurried across to ask about Hugo.
Ernest had shrugged, but Clarissa said, “He is helping the stewards to sweep up the mess.” Then they had both roared with laughter.
Mr Burford appeared at Hope’s side. “Are you concerned, Mrs Allamont? Shall I go and find him for you?”
“Oh, would you? That would be a kindness indeed. I am sure he is perfectly unharmed but I cannot help worrying, you know.”
He patted her hand genially. “You were ever a worrier. Do you sit down with Belle and eat your supper, and I will find out where Hugo has got to.”
He was back very soon.
“Hugo is indeed helping the stewards. He is completely unharmed, and is just seeing the big negro fellow back to the hotel.”
“Oh, Jacob? I mean Mr Wellman… is he ill?”
“I daresay he is unused to the strength of the drink here.”
“Ah, of course. Thank you, Mr Burford, you are kindness itself.”
“Delighted to be able to set your mind at rest, Mrs Allamont.”
Even with this reassurance, Hope left her supper plate untouched and could not be easy until she saw Hugo stroll back into the ballroom after the first dance had begun. She left the set to rush to his side.
“Are you all right?” she said, taking his hand and pressing it to her cheek. “Oh, so cold! You did not go outside without your greatcoat?”
“It was only a short distance.” He lifted her gloved hand to his lips. “I am perfectly well, as you see, and I shall tell you all about it later. Go back to your partner, little wife.”
She smiled at him, blushing slightly at his use of the affectionate term in such a public place, but not at all displeased. It was not until she had returned to the dance and moved up the set several times that she realised that all her feelings that evening had been directed at Hugo. Not long ago, she would have been all aflutter to be the recipient of Mr Burford’s attentions, yet tonight she had had no thought for anyone but her husband. Hugo had entirely replaced Mr Burford in her affections.
That was as it should be, of course. A wife’s care should always be for her husband, and no other man should ever intrude upon that closeness. And yet she was not in love with Hugo. Her heart never danced about wildly when he entered the room or came to sit beside her. She liked it when he was attentive to her, naturally, and she liked his kisses very much indeed — they made her feel warm all over. And sometimes, when he looked at her with open admiration and told her how much he enjoyed being married to her, she felt… something. A glow of happiness, perhaps. But it was not love, and sometimes, when she saw her sisters so happy, and the way their husbands looked at them, their eyes burning with adoration, she was a little downhearted that she would never have the joy of such a deep love. Still, there was no use in pining for something that could never be hers. She must find what enjoyment she could in her life.
So she danced until her feet were almost worn out, and then walked the short distance back to the hotel on Hugo’s arm, telling him of how one partner had stepped on her feet, and another had been so tongue-tied that he had said not a word for the whole time they stood up together. He laughed at her little jokes, and it was the most companionable thing in the world, making their way through the deserted streets, the lamps flickering and their breath clouding in the frosty air.
“And there was another man who thought he recognised Mama,” she said, as they reached their room. “Is that not the oddest thing? He called her ‘Maud’, too, just as the other one did, do you remember? We met him outside the hotel.”
“I remember,” Hugo said. “Odd, but of no consequence, I believe. Shall I send for your maid?” He reached for the clasp of her cloak, unfastening it so that the garment slithered to the floor.
“I told her to go to bed. You will not mind unfastening my gown for me?”
“Not in the least,” he said softly. “Come here, little wife.” He pulled her into his arms for a warm kiss.
When they parted, she said, “You were very brave tonight, my husband.”
“Me? Brave?”
“You told Clarissa not to do that… thing that they were doing. And you stayed to help clean up after the trouble. What did happen in there? Was Jacob causing trouble? Was that why he left?”
“No, he left unconscious in a handcart because Ernest had hit him.”
“Oh!” She jumped back, hands to her mouth in horror. “Is that what was going on? But why?”
“Because his wife was sitting on Jacob’s knee, and that is not the worst of it.”
“What could possibly be worse?”
He led her to a chair beside the fire and pulled her onto his knee. “This is bad enough, is it not? For a woman to sit so, in company, is most improper, and one can quite understand why Ernest was so upset. But even worse is that his hand was resting on her leg, like this.”
“Oh!” Hope huffed a shocked breath, as he slid his hand under her skirt. “Oh, that is… that is…”
“Quite so. But that is not all. He was also kissing her… just here.” He bent his head to demonstrate, his lips brushing her bare flesh, and Hope was shocked into silence. When Hugo looked up at her wide eyes, he whispered, “That was very bad of him, was it not?”
“And very bad of her, to permit it,” Hope said with asperi
ty. “That is something for the bedroom, and a husband’s enjoyment only.”
“Or a lover, perhaps,” Hugo said quietly.
“But he is her brother…” Then she understood. “You mean, he is not her brother, but something… quite different. Oh, but…” She could not find words for the situation that was now being unfolded before her eyes. “Poor Ernest!”
Hugo laughed. “Poor Ernest indeed. What a wife! I am very thankful that I am married to you, my little wife, and not a woman like Clarissa.”
~~~~~
It was customary after an assembly, or a ball of any sort, for the ladies of Higher and Lower Brinford to meet at the earliest opportunity to discuss events. However dilatory they might otherwise be in the matter of morning calls given and received, such an occasion required unusual exertion, so that those who had not attended could learn what they had missed, and those who had could convey the success of the evening.
In this particular case, however, there was only one topic of conversation in the crowded drawing room at Allamont Hall, where Hope and Hugo presided.
“It was a waltz,” Mary said firmly.
Several people said ‘Ah!’ in unison.
“I thought it must be, from the description of it,” Miss Endercott said. “I believe it is quite the thing in some circles. Have you danced it yourself, Lady Hardy?”
“Only in private,” Mary said. “Sir Osborne was so good as to teach me the movements, for he feels it is sure to be accepted in the highest levels of society before long. It is widespread on the continent, so it cannot be long before it is danced at Almacks.”
“I did not like it at all,” Lady Graham said. “I should not wish to see any of my daughters participate in such an intimate dance.”
“Your feelings do you credit,” Mary said. “I think it will not soon be accepted in Brinchester, whatever may go on in the great houses of England. I must assume, however, that it is considered quite normal in the ballrooms of the West Indies, or else Mrs Ernest Allamont would not have attempted it.”
The room fell silent.
Miss Endercott coughed discreetly. “Where is dear Mrs Ernest Allamont, I wonder? And Mr Allamont? I hope they took no chill from the night air after the assembly? It was a very cold night.”
Hope (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 6) Page 15
