Connie (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 3)

by Mary Kingswood

  As a consequence, Connie was not pleased to find herself alone in the carriage with Lord Reginald, and fell into embarrassed silence. Nothing, however, could have been more proper than his behaviour. Very far from making violent love to her, as she had half feared, he chatted as calmly as if they sat in the drawing room, talking innocuously about the Hall and the houses they passed and the streets of Brinchester they drove through. In this way, he beguiled away the journey, putting her quite at her ease.

  There was only one awkward moment. “I hope you are not too upset by Lady Melthwaite’s overwrought behaviour,” he said, his tone quite placid, as if he were discussing the weather. “She is not typical of her rank.”

  Connie blushed, and hung her head. She was mindful of her mother’s instructions not to speak about her family, but even without that stricture, she could not have uttered a word.

  Lord Reginald laughed gently. “It is quite all right, Miss Allamont. All families have their scandals, and those that do not are too dull for words. I assure you that I do not regard it in the least. And nor does Dev,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “It will not be… an obstacle.”

  His meaning was perfectly clear, but she clutched her reticule tightly, keeping her head lowered, and after a moment he said, “Look, Miss Allamont, have you ever seen so many lambs in one field? What a prosperous farm that must be. Are we on Willowbye land yet?”

  Belle and Burford were at the front door to greet them as they arrived, smiling, hugging, ushering them inside. The smell of fresh paint was rather overwhelming, and Connie could barely wait for the exchange of well-wishes before asking, “And how is the work coming on? Is the Chinese saloon finished yet?”

  Belle laughed. “Almost, but I need your advice about the dining room. Mama, you will not mind if I steal Connie away for a moment? Mr Burford will tell you all about the departure of Cousin Vivienne.”

  As they left the room, Belle linked arms with her sister. “I have had the painters splash some colours onto the wall for us to choose from, but I shall not decide until I have had your opinion.”

  “Of course. And is she really gone? Did you have to throw her out bodily? For Mr Burford is very well able to do so. I recall him dealing with those dreadful men who applied for the post of schoolmaster.”

  “I remember! He was quite masterful, was he not? He is such a gentle soul as a rule, but when the occasion calls for it, he can be very determined. There was an occasion last month when…”

  Connie tried not to look impatient at yet another recitation of Mr Burford’s perfections, especially since she had heard this particular tale several times already. However, Belle was in the throes of newly-wed ardour, so allowances must be made. Fortunately, they arrived at the dining room in time to put an end to the story, and for some time the conversation was all of paint and wallpaper and decorative plasterwork.

  When all was settled, Belle said, “It is very pleasant to have the house to ourselves at last.”

  “Then Cousin Vivienne went willingly in the end?”

  “Not her! She was still here when we arrived from the Hall, and the servants all in agitation, for she swore she would not leave without taking the cook and butler and housekeeper with her, and two footmen, if you please, even though only one of them was here before, and we engaged the other ourselves.”

  Connie gasped at the audacity of it. “So what did you do?”

  “I told her that this was no longer her house, that she was welcome to call on at home days like anyone else, but I must ask her to leave, and if she did not, Mr Burford would carry her out.” She giggled, hand over mouth. “You cannot imagine the thunderous expression on her face!”

  “Oh, how brave you are! I should never have dared. And what did she say to that?”

  “She said again that she wanted all the senior servants, so I had them all brought into the great hall, and asked them to say whether they wished to stay or go. And they all chose to stay, of course, as I knew they would, for they had told me so several times already. Besides, Mr Burford is to pay them more than they had before.”

  “I am sure their loyalty is due to the way you have dealt with them, rather than money,” Connie said indignantly.

  “Well, I hope I will earn their loyalty, in time, but they do not know me at all, and most of them do not remember Cousin Vivienne, either. Mary has been mistress here for years, and I did think some of them might wish to stay with her. Poor Mary! She will have a difficult time of it, I fancy, cooped up in that house with Cousin Vivienne, when she has been used to managing her own life.”

  “Perhaps Cousin Henry can afford to provide her with a dowry now,” Connie said optimistically.

  Belle shook her head. “I do not think there is much money to spare, even now. Not enough for that, anyway. I feel very sorry for her. I have suggested that she might come to London with us, but Cousin Vivienne will not permit it, and there is nothing we can do about that. But I am so happy that you are to be there. Such a pity that Dulcie, Grace and Hope cannot be of the party, but still, we shall have the most delightful time of it, you and me and Amy.”

  “And Jess Drummond,” Connie said gloomily.

  Belle laughed. “You must not begrudge Jess her time in the sunshine, Connie dear. Her life has been hard enough, lately. She is entitled to a little happiness.”

  Connie would be willing enough to allow her that happiness, if only she had not snatched the Marquess away to accomplish it.

  ~~~~~

  The time for Connie’s departure to London was fast approaching. One day Lady Sara invited Connie into her bedroom, and allowed her to choose several pieces of jewellery from her collection. Most were old-fashioned, for Mama had had no new pieces for a long time, and indeed seldom wore what she had, but Connie chose several delicate necklaces, a couple of jewelled combs, a silver circlet and a ruby bracelet which she felt was too ostentatious for all but the grandest gathering, but she loved the colour.

  Lady Sara and her maid exchanged glances. “You see, Peters? She has excellent taste.”

  “Indeed she does, mi’lady.”

  “I do believe that she will not disgrace me in the society she is now entering.”

  “Oh no, mi’lady. She will be the handsomest young lady in town, and so much admired, just as you were, mi’lady.”

  Lady Sara laughed indulgently. “Well now, that was a very long time ago, Peters. A very long time.” She sighed. “Now, Connie, has Lord Reginald made any provision for a lady’s maid for you?”

  “No, Mama, he has not mentioned such an idea.”

  “Then you had better take Annie with you. What is her surname, Peters?”

  “Smith,” said Peters.

  “Smith, yes. You must call her Smith now, Connie, and Peters will show her a few tricks before you go. Dulcie can have Janet, now that Amy and Belle have gone. If you look in that drawer in my dressing table, Connie — no, no, the left-hand one — yes, there, you will find a small purse. I daresay you have spent most of your allowance, and you will need to have enough money to buy a few small items, and leave tips for the servants. Well, well. If this comes off with Lord Reginald, I shall have three daughters married before too long, and Dulcie may start to look about her for a husband. She need not aspire to a lord, though. She has not your looks, dear, and there is a spiteful streak to her nature than I have never managed to eradicate, but perhaps she will find someone suitable. One of those brothers from High Frickham would suit her very well. Off you go, child, and take good care of those jewels.”

  “Yes, Mama. Thank you very much, Mama.” Connie bobbed her curtsy and dashed off to show Dulcie her new treasures.

  ~~~~~

  The journey to London was tedious but the roads were mostly good, and travel was still such a new experience that even the discomforts of the road did nothing to diminish Connie’s excitement. The Marquess drove his own curricle, while Connie, Lady Harriet, Lord Reginald and Jess Drummond shared the carriage, squeezed in with another of La
dy Harriet’s tame chaperons.

  “Why do you travel with the ladies, my lord?” Jess said to Lord Reginald, as they waited for fresh horses at an inn on the first day. “Would you not be more comfortable in the curricle with your brother? Or do you prefer to be close to your betrothed?” And for some unfathomable reason, this sent her into gusts of laughter.

  “And why should I not travel with Miss Allamont?” Lord Reginald said testily. “Perhaps you would be more comfortable in the curricle with your betrothed, Miss Drummond.”

  But that only made her laugh all the harder. Connie shook her head at Jess’s behaviour, not even trying to discover the source of her amusement.

  Marford House was a great mausoleum of a place. All the principal rooms were gloomy, filled with vast pillars and statuary, the ceilings painted with fat nymphs and a variety of unidentifiable creatures, and an array of furniture dating back to the middle of the previous century. Connie followed Lord Reginald from room to room, her spirits lowering with every step. The housekeeper who showed them around knew the prices paid for every single item, and Connie would look at a bloated, over-decorated sideboard or an oil painting of a sea battle covering half a wall, and despair. For once, even Jess was subdued, although whether the overwrought decoration depressed or overawed her was hard to fathom.

  “What do you think?” Lord Reginald whispered.

  “I am exceedingly glad I do not have to live here for the whole year,” Connie said, without bothering to lower her voice. That just made him laugh.

  “You do not like it?” the Marquess said, turning to her in surprise.

  “Not much, no. The artwork is excellent, as far as I am any judge, but the colours and the ornate furniture render it all dreadfully overpowering.”

  “How would you change it?” the Marquess said.

  She smiled at that. “Change any part of Marford House? It is hardly my place to suggest alterations, my lord. Surely the grandeur is part of the desired effect?”

  “But suppose I were to ask. It is my house, after all. Suppose I were to decide that indeed, it is all dreadfully gloomy and dismal, and I want some alterations made? If I were to ask your opinion, what would you suggest?”

  “Why, pale colours, for one thing. Lighter, more elegant furniture, such as that made by Mr Hepplewhite or Mr Sheraton. Plain walls or simple patterns, delicate draperies, vases instead of these heavy statues, mirrors everywhere to reflect light.”

  “Oh! That sounds delightful,” he said, his handsome face lighting up. “How charming you make it sound, Miss Allamont.”

  He smiled down at her, so exquisitely beautiful, so amiable, so perfect in every way, inspiring in her a pang of real regret. At such times, he seemed almost within her reach. She had to remind herself sternly that he was immovably in love with Jess. Sooner or later, the betrothal would be announced, a date would be set for the wedding, and all that would remain for Connie would be the humiliation of admitting to the world that she was not, after all, to marry Lord Reginald Marford.

  At least she would have a season in London, she reminded herself, and that was a consolation indeed. Nor was this the shabby month-long affair that Amy and Belle had enjoyed, but a full season in the company of one of the foremost families of England, with connections everywhere. Not for the Marfords the embarrassment of sitting unregarded at the perimeter of events, hoping for notice, or the long wait for vouchers for Almacks, or driving through Hyde Park without exchanging greetings with anyone.

  So she would enjoy herself, and store up memories to take back to Lower Brinford, pleasant remembrances to sustain her through countless dull evenings at home, or when fending off the attentions of the brothers from High Frickham at assemblies. And if there was a little knot of unhappiness deep inside whenever she looked at the Marquess or Jess, she was determined to pretend it did not exist.

  12: Cards And Fans

  Even before her death, Lady Harriet’s mother had not been well enough to travel to London for many years, so the role of chaperon and mistress of Marford House for the season had fallen to one or other of the late Marquess’s sisters. This year it was the turn of the Dowager Viscountess Moorfield, a large lady with a booming voice, who wrapped Connie, Jess and Lady Harriet in perfumed embraces in a rustle of bombazine and crepe.

  “How adorable this will be! Two debutantes to introduce, although I have heard just a whisper that my matchmaking skills will not be required. As for you, Harriet, I am sure we shall find someone to your taste this year. I almost had a match five years ago, did I not, Harriet? But somehow he slipped through my fingers and married that wretched Stowercroft girl. Ha! A merry dance she is leading him, too, so he has got what he deserved. But since then, we have had no luck at all. Not that I would expect anything from Patience, she is a little goose and has not an ounce of common sense where matchmaking is concerned. It is an art requiring the utmost delicacy, I must tell you, and not a matter for blundering about. But I did think that Theodosia or Beatrice might have managed to get you safely wed. Now you are almost an old maid, I declare. Never mind, for I am here to take care of you this season, and I have one or two prospects in view, my dear, you may depend upon it.”

  “I beg you will not concern yourself over me, Aunt,” Lady Harriet said, laughing. “I am perfectly happy as I am.”

  Lady Moorfield took not the slightest notice. “Now, the Earl of Limpole’s eldest is to be in town this year, back from his grand tour at last, and that business at Brighton all forgotten, I am sure. That would be a good match. Or the Duke of Cherton’s son. Only a third son, but he stands to inherit a fine estate in Norfolk from his uncle, and a handsome fellow, by all I have heard. A little younger than you, but you cannot be too choosy at your age. Or that boy from Westmorland — so rich, my dear, you cannot imagine.”

  She rattled on in the same vein for some time, to Connie’s amusement. Lady Moorfield seemed to know everybody who was worth knowing, and although they were merely names to Connie now, she hoped to meet all of them, so she listened and tried to learn them and work out how they were all related. It was difficult, but years of her father’s strict teaching methods had left her well able to memorise details. With a few judicious questions to Lady Moorfield, she soon began to untangle the web of family links that connected the highest levels of society.

  The responsibility for introducing Connie and Jess into society was one to which Lady Moorfield accorded the utmost seriousness. The first day at Marford House was entirely taken up with inspecting every gown, bonnet, brooch, hair comb, pair of gloves or stockings, necklace or fan they had brought with them, every item to be tried on and approved. Connie’s clothes brought forth a tilt of the head to one side, and a “Hmm, that will do for now”, whereas all Jess received was a tilt of the head in the opposite direction, and a “Hmm, we could do something with that, perhaps”, in a dubious tone.

  Lady Harriet had brought boxes of her old gowns from a season or two ago, which could be altered to fit and brought up to date, so there was an enormous amount of pushing and tugging and measuring and pinning. Two seamstresses were brought in to ensure all was made ready before the season’s round of engagements was underway.

  With these important preparations in hand, the next step was to drive to the houses of all the Marfords’ acquaintance leaving their cards, to tell the world that they were in town. Jess knew nobody, but there was the matter of Lady Sara’s family to be considered. Lady Moorfield insisted on leaving their cards at Heatherington House.

  “We are only on nodding acquaintance with the Earl and Countess, but we know the Melthwaites well, of course.”

  “I do not believe they are very pleased with me after I visited them at Tambray,” Connie said. “Perhaps we should not—”

  “Nonsense! Emma may or may not be pleased with you, but what does that signify? She knows perfectly well what is due to you as a relative, and one moreover a guest of the Marquess. She is a stickler for protocol, so you need not worry that she will cut you,
or anything of that nature. She will be all complaisance, you may be sure.”

  So cards were duly left at Heatherington House. Connie sat in the carriage watching the butler accept them, his face revealing no emotion, and wondered how the Viscountess would react. They were bound to meet at social occasions, so perhaps she would consider it prudent not to make a fuss. Still, her reaction at the mention of Aunt Tilly suggested that she would want nothing to do with the daughter of a woman who stayed with such a person.

  When the delivery of cards palled, there were shops to be visited. Connie had no wish to spend her limited funds on frivolities, and she was now very well provided with clothes and the like, but there was still much to enjoy on these expeditions. When she tired of looking at the displays within the shop, she could watch the fashionable passers-by through the window.

  The Marquess and Lord Reginald generally accompanied them on these outings. Somehow the presence of the two men made shopping a more serious and important occupation, and since Connie was now established as the artistic arbiter, her advice was frequently sought on the matter of a snuff box or a cravat pin. When she decreed that one was superior to another, the Marquess or his brother would buy the chosen item instantly. It was immensely flattering.

  Lady Harriet and her aunt seldom asked for advice, and even when they did, took no notice of Connie’s opinion. They thought nothing of requiring the assistant to spread half the shop’s wares on the counter, discussing the merits of each item in disparaging terms and then, after an hour, when the assistant’s smile was beginning to fray, deciding there was nothing at all that they liked. Occasionally, however, they would spend vast sums of money on something Connie thought hideous.

  Jess was unusually quiet on these occasions. She had no money of her own to spend, and seemed uninterested even in examining the goods on offer, sitting demurely on a chair near the door. Once or twice, when a prospective customer entered and looked around seemingly at a loss, Jess jumped up and offered him assistance, guiding him to the required display or counter. Once she entered into a lengthy conversation with a gentleman, before he was caught up in the business at hand, and she slipped back to her seat. Connie wondered at it, for it almost seemed as if she were putting herself forward to be noticed by these gentlemen, yet how could that be so? Yet the Marquess made no protest, and made not the least effort to keep Jess by his side, as one might expect.