“Like a nut inside the shell, and just like the nut, the trick is to get the shell off without damaging the nut inside. Perhaps people are like that, too — a clean, sweet nut buried deep, and if the shell is hammered too hard, then the nut will break along with the shell. And once it is broken, it cannot be repaired.” He looked up at her then, and she saw that his eyes were glittering again in the way that made her shake. He leaned forward, catching her hand and squeezing it tight. “And sometimes…” A harder squeeze. “Sometimes the pleasure is in crushing nut and shell and all.” Another, painfully tight squeeze, before he let her go. “So much philosophy before breakfast. What do you want, sister?”
Hope rubbed her sore hand, trying not to cry. She would not cry. She was almost too distressed by his abrupt changes of mood to answer, but this was the opening she had been waiting for and she was determined not to waste the opportunity.
“I… I hoped to talk to you about this plan of yours to burn the Hall.”
At once his face lit up with amusement. “Ah, so you think to change my mind, eh? Well, have at it, little sister. Let me see what arguments you can muster.”
“It would be futile to attempt such a thing. I suspect that once you have decided upon a course of action, no power on earth can stop you.”
“That is very true. I am quite immovable. So what is there to talk about?”
“I want only to understand why you would destroy something so valuable. Even if you do not want to live here, many other people would be delighted to have such an imposing residence, and would pay you a great deal of money for the privilege.”
“Are you offering to buy it?”
“I? By no means. Neither Hugo nor I has enough money for such a scheme. I merely wondered why you would turn down a fortune, and destroy the house utterly.”
“Pfft. Buying and selling property — that is such a mundane piece of business, is it not? Where is the fun in that? Far more amusing to set a fire here. At least there would be something to watch, instead of leaving it all to the scratching pens of the lawyers.”
“Oh, I see. You want to dispose of the house in an entertaining way? You could hold an auction, then. That would be amusing, I should think, to have a room full of people bidding more and more outrageous amounts of money.”
“Possibly, possibly. But there is no part for me to play in this delightful scene. I do not want to be a mere spectator, I want to be the centre of attention.”
And that was the moment when Hope conceived her ingenious scheme.
“You could allow people to gamble for it,” she said. “Anyone who wishes to buy the house may play cards with you. If they win, they get to buy it. If you win, you get to burn it down.”
Ernest looked at her in silence. Very slowly, a grin spread across his features.
“That would be very amusing,” he said.
21: Games Of Chance
“You did what?” Hugo could scarcely believe it. They were eating breakfast in the dining room, alone, for Ernest’s friends were not yet abroad, and Ernest himself had vanished again.
“I persuaded him to let people gamble for it. I could not think what to do, so it occurred to me that if only I could just talk to him, then perhaps he would be more understanding, for people are always more reasonable if one talks to them sensibly, are they not? He said he wanted some scheme to amuse him, and gambling always amuses him, does it not? So he is to allow anyone who wishes to play cards with him. If they win, they can buy the house from him.”
“And how on earth does that help us?”
She blinked. “Why are you so angry? Is it not better for someone to buy the Hall from Ernest instead of having it burned to the ground? The new owner will undoubtedly want an agent to manage the estate for him, so we shall get to stay here, at least. And the Hall will survive, that is the most important aspect. These lovely rooms, the sweep of the staircase, the painted ceilings in the galleries — they will not now be lost. This is what we always wanted.”
“What I wanted was to own it, Hope, to be master of all this. Being just the agent, on a salary of a few hundred a year — what is that to me? No one respects an agent. It is only one step above the likes of Garmin, and just as uncertain. I want this house to be mine, so that I can keep you in a manner befitting a lady, and not skulking in poky little rooms above the kitchen. That is not what you were born to, and not what you deserve.”
“I do not mind that,” she said, smiling shyly. “It would not suit me to be married to a great lord, like Connie. We have been happy enough in our poky little rooms, have we not? Let someone else own the Hall, and perhaps he will be kinder than Ernest.”
Hugo had to acknowledge that the scheme was better than nothing. At least there might still be a home for them, and employment for him. Yes, it was very much better than nothing.
So when Ernest came in, grinning from ear to ear, Hugo felt able to say with tolerable calmness, “I hear you have a new idea for disposing of your unwanted property.”
“Indeed I have, thanks to your charming wife. Might I trouble you for the marmalade? Thank you. Hope, you will be delighted to hear that I have thought of a way to make the whole enterprise even more amusing.”
“Oh. I am very happy for you.”
He laughed hard at that. “No, you are not. You despise everything I do, but let it pass. Your plan had a small deficiency, my dear. The winner simply had the right to buy the house, and that is not very amusing at all. Buying and selling, lawyers, documents, money in the bank — no, that was too dull for words. The new plan is to gamble for the house itself, and I will throw the game open to anyone. Anyone who wishes to try will have to put a thousand pounds on the table to play, and my wager will be the house. There! Is that not the most delicious scheme? And very fair, for the house is worth a great deal more than a thousand pounds. Best of all, you will be able to play, too. Think you can beat me at the card table, eh, Hugo?”
“I should like to try, but I have not even a thousand pounds to my name,” he said morosely.
“But I have, Hugo,” Hope said eagerly. “Papa left a box of money for each of us, in addition to the proper dowry, remember? There was a little over a thousand in each.”
“That is your money, not mine. I have nothing of my own.”
“Hope’s dowry is yours, cousin,” Ernest said, taking a bite of bread.
“But I cannot get my hands on it.”
“Well, better see about it, then. I will set a date a week or ten days from now, so that there is plenty of time to spread the word. Get the dowry in your pocket before then, and you might yet take the house away from me.”
This exchange galvanised Hugo into action. He needed Hope’s dowry, now, immediately, and there was not a moment to be lost. Ambleside’s excessive sense of propriety had kept Hugo penniless for too long, but now that money was his only chance to win back the Hall. How like Ernest, to treat the matter so frivolously! Yet it gave Hugo a sliver of hope at last. It was the tiniest sliver, but it was a great deal better than no hope at all. So he sent for his horse and rode at a fast pace out of the gates towards Higher Brinford, where the Amblesides’ house was situated.
He was so sunk in his own thoughts that he scarcely noticed his surroundings until the dogs barked and his horse shied a little as they rounded the bend at the end of the woods. As he pulled up, a lady hailed him from the side of the road.
“Good day to you, Mr Allamont!”
The school teacher, Margaret Firth. Seeing her face, with its striking resemblance to Ambleside’s, reminded him afresh of all the rumours. He had laughed about it a thousand times, that a man as correct as Ambleside should have a natural daughter, but today he could not laugh. How dared he claim moral justification for withholding the fortune that was Hugo’s by right, when his own morals were so suspect? It was insufferable in the man!
He greeted Miss Firth with civility, for she was a pleasant young woman who ran the school admirably, but inside he boiled with anger, and af
ter an exchange of civilities, he rode off determined to confront Ambleside with every argument at his disposal, and not to back down until he had achieved his aim.
It was fortunate that Ambleside was at home and disposed to see him, or otherwise he might have returned home with his anger unabated, or else ridden his horse until exhaustion overtook rider and animal both. But Ambleside came to the door himself to greet his visitor, receiving him with every appearance of pleasure.
“Come in, Allamont, come in. I should have come to see you soon in any event, for I have good news for you.”
“Oh?” Hugo said, as he was ushered into Ambleside’s cosy little book room.
“Indeed. For I have found a lawyer who is prepared to take on the case of the dowries, and see the matter through the courts. It remains only for all parties to agree, and then we may engage his services and set the process in motion.”
Hugo had to use every ounce of willpower not to explode in anger. But he thought of Hope, and the house, and all that was at stake, and forced himself to be calm. “It is about the dowries that I wish to talk to you, but I have no desire to discuss lawyers, as I have already explained.”
“I cannot see how it can be avoided.”
“It can be avoided very easily, as you well know. Let us speak plainly, Ambleside. You are keeping me from money that is rightfully mine, money which I should by now have the full enjoyment of, and which I have the greatest need of, if I am to keep my wife in any degree of comfort. What do you say to agreeing to release the sum of twenty thousand immediately, and arguing about the rest at leisure? With lawyers, if you insist, although no doubt they will swallow most of the sum remaining.”
Ambleside frowned. “I cannot see that it would be proper—”
“Proper!” Hugo spat. “You and your propriety!” But then he reminded himself that anger would not advance his case so well as reasoned argument, so with an effort he reined in his temper. “It is a weakness to put all one’s dependence in the most absolute rule of correct behaviour. A man of understanding must use his judgement and make decisions for each case on its own merits, and not merely by rule, would you not agree?”
“Rules are there to guide our behaviour into proper channels and avoid the least impropriety. With the application of rules, a gentleman knows how to behave on every occasion, Allamont.”
“There is little point in speaking so of propriety when the whole world knows that you were not always so correct in your behaviour.”
“What do you mean?” Ambleside said, but his cheeks reddened.
“I am sure you understand me,” Hugo said quietly. “Miss Firth is a charming young woman, but her looks are very much from her father, I would say.”
There was a long silence. “We all make mistakes in our youth, Allamont,” Ambleside said, but his tone was softer. “That is mine, and I regret it deeply. Why do you think I strive to the utmost now to maintain every propriety?”
“I know,” Hugo said gently. “God knows that I have made more than my share of mistakes, too. But it is possible to swerve too far in the other direction, and to use propriety as a method of avoiding difficult decisions. Then it becomes a cage. Our wives are sisters, so we are like brothers, Ambleside, and I am asking you, as a brother, to treat this matter with the kindness of family, not the coldness of the law courts.”
Another long silence, then, “Perhaps you are right about leaving the lawyers out of this, for they are expensive, no doubt about it. Very well, it shall be as you wish. I shall write to Plumphett at once to release twenty thousand to you, and agreeing to whatever division of the rest he deems fair. But you should perhaps understand, Allamont, that had it been agreed to divide this extra money evenly between the six sisters, I should immediately have handed Mrs Ambleside’s share back to you and to Mr Drummond. Mr Burford planned to do the same. So you would not have lost out.”
“You are too good, Ambleside,” Hugo said stiffly. “I appreciate your generosity.”
He was left wondering how it was that he had achieved exactly what he set out to do, yet was made to feel like a selfish, whining child in the company of his betters. Ambleside was a good enough sort of fellow, and an excellent husband for Amy, but his style of morality somehow left an unpleasant taste in the mouth.
~~~~~
Henry’s grasp of French was excellent, but even so the letter was hard to understand. The florid style of the avocat and the excessive amount of congratulatory language made it almost impossible to tease out the most important nugget of information. But when he found it at last, he smiled. He sent for his horse and rode the whole way to the Allamont Dower House with a smile on his face.
Sara received him with a sigh. “This is becoming a habit, Henry.”
He was in too good a humour to be offended by her tone. “My circumstances have altered, Sara. We now have more options at our disposal.”
“We?”
“Here, read this.”
He passed her the letter and she read it, frowning, for some minutes. “Well, I see that you are to be congratulated, but I am sure I cannot tell the reason for it.”
He chuckled. “Indeed, the Frenchman’s style is somewhat overwrought. Here — this is the point of it, this line here. Vivienne was a wealthy woman, Sara, and she has left me everything, no less than eighty gold louis, so the avocat says.”
“Louis? Do they still use the term? Is it not Napoleans, now?”
“Oh, probably. The avocat is old style, I would guess. But the money seems to be in the bank in London already. What a piece of good fortune, and so unexpected. Vivienne always told me she was penniless, having given her fortune away to a half-sister, or some such, years ago. But clearly it was not so.” He laughed again.
Sara smiled at him, laying the letter in her lap. “But you have not yet been in touch with the bank?”
“Not yet, but the money is there, the avocat says so. Is it not the most wonderful news? Now we can do as we please, Sara.”
“We?” she said again.
“Yes, we,” he said impatiently. “Unless you have someone else in mind to pay your expenses. Look, with this much money, we may go anywhere, do what we wish.”
She was silent, reading the letter over again. “You think it means louis?” she said eventually.
All his excitement vanished in an instant. “You do not?” he said in a small voice.
“The ‘l’ could be pounds. Eighty pounds would not stretch very far, would it?”
He jumped up from his chair and strode across to the window, staring unseeingly through the panes. Such evil luck he had! Surely she was right, and he had made a fool of himself again, allowing his wishes to lead him astray. No, eighty pounds would not do to keep his Sara in the manner she deserved. He had a vision of himself, dwindling into old age at Willowbye, with Sara such a short distance away, yet never to be his.
“Thirty years, Sara,” he said despairingly. “Thirty years I have loved you and desired you, watching that evil man douse the flames of your spirit until I doubted even one spark remained. Thirty years, yet always hoping there would come a time when we would both be free and you would turn to me so that I could ignite those flames again. Have you forgotten what we once were to each other, and those endless nights at Hepplestone when we never slept at all? Our love lifted us from the realm of mortal weakness so that nothing could touch us — not hunger nor thirst nor exhaustion. We needed only each other. I have not forgotten it, even if you have. This last year, I had finally begun to hope that there might be a future for us, that finally my heart’s desire was within reach. And to have it snatched away—! My cursed life! Nothing has ever gone right for me — nothing — except that one sweet summer of desire, when you were mine. Oh God, Sara, what am I to do without you? How can I possibly go on like this? My life is a torment to me.”
She came to stand beside him, not touching him, but close enough that he could smell her perfume. “Is this truly how you feel? I had no idea you felt so passionately abo
ut it.”
“Passionately! Who would not be passionate about you? But forgive me, I have allowed my distress to overcome propriety.”
“Do not apologise,” she said, laughing suddenly. “I thought you were offering me a prudent match — a widow and a widower, stepping into companionable old age side by side.”
“Good God, what do you take me for?” he cried. “Prudent? Companionable? Lord, how dreary that sounds! No, I want a lover, Sara, someone to set me on fire with one touch of her fingers, someone who makes me dizzy with happiness. You do not have to marry me if you have no stomach for it, but at least let me be a part of your life. I am only sorry that I have so little to offer you. It seemed so providential, this money of Vivienne’s, a way I could take you away so you could be whatever you want to be, but I fear that will not be possible.” He heaved a sigh. “It seems I am destined never to be a rich man.”
“But I, it seems, am destined to be a rich woman. That little… um, business I started in Shropshire has begun to earn me some profit. I have received notice of a very handsome amount deposited in my bank account.”
He laughed suddenly at the delicious irony of it. “Then let me take you away from here, somewhere safe from anyone who might know you from Shropshire. That way you may be as free as you want without the risk of distressing your family.”
“Is that truly what you want, Henry?”
“I want only two things — for you to be happy, and to be by your side.”
“You would not mind living on such a dubious income?”
“Not in the least. If brothels are so profitable, perhaps we should consider expanding the business.”
She laughed at that. “And you will not press me to marry you?”
“Not in the least. I do not care whether we are married or not. That sort of thing matters if we are to stay here, and it would protect you if ever a scandal breaks out, but if we can leave this miserable corner of England behind us, then it hardly matters whether we are married or not. I do not want to keep you in a cage like some exotic song bird.”
Hope (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 6) Page 19
