Connie (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 3)

by Mary Kingswood

  “Dishonourable?” Connie said in a whisper.

  “Dishonourable,” Amy said firmly. “A gentleman can never be too open and honest in his dealings, in my view.”

  Connie said nothing, remembering that even that most upright of gentlemen, Mr Ambleside himself, had deceived her when they had been betrothed, and he had wished to extricate himself to marry Amy. He had confessed his deceit in the end, but it had convinced her that she could never marry a man who was so overbearing. A little firmness was understandable, but a true gentleman should always respect a lady and take her wishes into account, and that applied just as much to a Marquess as anyone else.

  ~~~~~

  They were all at breakfast, and Connie was toying with some devilled kidneys, when Lady Harriet and Jess were shown in. Connie was surprised to see Jess looking calm, and almost complaisant.

  “My dear Connie, how dreadful this is!” Lady Harriet said, sitting down beside her and taking her hand. “Forgive us for calling so early, but we could not wait a second longer to be sure that you are not completely overcome by all this foolishness of Dev’s. I am entirely out of patience with the silly boy. What a mull he has made of it! But you are not to worry about a thing. We made excuses for you at the Duchess’s ball, so you may come straight home with us now and no one will be any the wiser. Everything will be as it was, you will see.”

  “You are very kind, my lady. I do not know what the Marquess may have told you, but there is no possibility of my returning to Marford House.”

  She sat abruptly back in her chair. “What? Why ever not? Whatever misguided things he may have said to you, he did not mean any of it, you know. Men are hopeless at such things, and I speak with some authority on the matter, for I have had a number of offers over the years, and not one of them elegantly phrased. I do not understand why it should be, but gentlemen do seem to get tongue-tied on such occasions.”

  “Not all men,” Connie said, throwing a quick glance at Ambleside. “Some men know how to treat a lady with the proper respect.”

  “Oh. He does respect you, that goes without saying, but being a Marquess, he naturally feels some superiority.”

  “Then he should not!” Connie cried. “His rank may be superior, but his manners are not.”

  “I see,” she said, thoughtfully. “So may I give him no cause to hope? If he were to approach you with greater humility, perhaps?”

  “It is not just his manner,” Connie said. “It is the deception that distresses me more. He was not honest with me, and that is dishonourable in a gentleman.”

  “I see,” Lady Harriet said again. “That does seem rather final. I am sorry for it, for it always seemed to me that you would deal well together. However, I trust that I may still count you a friend?”

  “Oh, that would be wonderful, my lady, and I cannot thank you enough for all you have done for me. Please tell Lady Moorfield that I shall be writing to her to express my gratitude.”

  “You may express your gratitude in person, for she plans to call on you later this morning,” Lady Harriet said with a smile. “Well, you are not as distraught as I had envisaged, so I daresay you will go on very well. And you have enjoyed your little season—”

  “Indeed I have, very much!”

  “—and it has been good for Jess, too.”

  “How so?” Connie said. “She has been used very ill, and is left with nothing, I fancy.”

  “Not at all,” Jess said with a smile. “My arrangement with the Marquess was that I should have my season, and the clothes, and so forth, and he has paid for a cook for Alex while I am away, also. He has been very generous. But the best of it is that not everyone believes in this rumoured betrothal.” She laughed throatily. “It is just possible that I shall leave town betrothed in truth. So you see, I shall do very well out of all this. You need not worry about me.”

  ~~~~~

  Lady Moorfield arrived several hours later, accompanied by three of her stout daughters and Mrs March, so that the servants were put to a great deal of bustle to find extra chairs, and the Brook Street drawing room, so small after the capacious rooms of Marford House, felt uncomfortably crowded.

  Connie quaked at the thunderous expression on Lady Moorfield’s face. But she had Amy on one side of her and Belle on the other, and standing behind, for there were not sufficient chairs, Mr Ambleside and Mr Burford loomed protectively.

  “I am excessively displeased, Constance,” Lady Moorfield began. “After all my efforts on your behalf, to be refusing a perfectly good offer and scampering off in the middle of a rainstorm like a hoyden, it is not good enough. I am most disappointed in you, and you need not expect anyone to take you up again, you know. You have had your chance, and have wilfully thrown it away. Such ingratitude, after all I have done for you, is beyond any bearing.”

  “Indeed I am not ungrateful—” Connie began, but there was no stopping the flow of disapprobation.

  “We made some excuse for you last night, in the hope that you could be prevailed upon to see sense, but apparently you will not listen to advice from your betters. You young girls these days, you will have your own way, and there is no convincing you to do anything you have no mind for, even when it must surely be for your own good. It is a foolish kind of conceit, and I never tolerated it in my own girls, and look what good marriages they all made as a result.”

  Connie looked at the three of them in their fine gowns and stylish bonnets, their round faces empty and emotionless, and was thankful that Lady Moorfield was not her own mother. Mama perhaps took too little interest in her daughters’ welfare, but that was surely preferable to constant overbearing scrutiny.

  “I am very sorry to upset you, my lady, but I could not stay.”

  “Nonsense! Of course you could have done so. I daresay Francis did not make love to you quite as you hoped, for I know how you girls have your romantic fancies and like to be flattered, but you should not have thrown him over, for you will not get a second chance. You cannot expect a Marquess to grovel, you know. Now, I suppose, you will be an old maid and a pitiable sight, but I shall have no sympathy for you, you may be sure.”

  Connie could not stem the tears in the face of this onslaught. Silently Amy took one hand and Belle the other. Burford coughed discreetly.

  “You approve, then, of this trickery perpetrated on my sister-in-law, Lady Moorfield?” he said.

  “Trickery? A strong word, Mr… erm, Burton. A tiny pretence, no more than that, in everybody’s best interests.”

  “Dishonesty is never in anyone’s best interests. ‘Bread of deceit is sweet to a man, but afterwards his mouth shall be filled with gravel.’ Proverbs, my lady.”

  There was a long silence. Lady Moorfield grew red with rage, her lips set in a thin line, but she could hardly argue with the Bible. Her daughters looked at her, blank-faced, and Mrs March huddled in a corner, head down, clutching her reticule so tightly that her knuckles were white. Connie held her breath.

  Without a word, Lady Moorfield rose, her daughters scrambling to their feet in a flurry of rustling skirts and waving hat feathers. Then they swept out of the room, heads high.

  Mrs March paused before she followed them, and looked at Connie. “Goodbye, dear. I am so sorry. I do not suppose we will meet again.” Ambleside rushed to hold the door open for her as she trotted after the others.

  “Well!” Ambleside said, closing the door quietly. “That was unpleasant. But well done, John. There is nothing like a clergyman in the family for producing the very best set downs.”

  ~~~~~

  Finally, very late, at an hour when Connie was beginning to wonder what she might wear for dinner, since her boxes had not yet been sent round, Lord Reginald arrived, bearing a huge sheaf of flowers and an apologetic expression. Belle, Burford and Ambleside had gone to the circulating library, so only Amy was in the room with Connie.

  After the formalities, he said quietly, “You are very kind to see me, for you must wish all of us at Jericho, I am sure, Miss A
llamont. I will not impose on you and Mrs Ambleside for long, but I wanted to assure myself that you are being well looked after, which I am very happy to see is the case. I can only apologise for my part in Dev’s trickery. I hope in time that you may find it in your heart to forgive a deception which was conceived with the best of motives. For myself, I can see now that our schemes were quite wrong, and deeply injurious to your peace of mind.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Connie said.

  “Perhaps it is wrong of me, but I regard our pretend betrothal as one of the pleasantest times of my life.” He paused, as if hoping for an answer from her, but she could not find any words, and merely hung her head. After a moment, he went on, “Will you return to Allamont Hall now?”

  “No, my sisters are in town for another month, and I am invited to stay with them.”

  He brightened. “Oh — that is excellent news! I am exceedingly glad to hear you say so. Perhaps you would be so good as to allow me to call upon you occasionally?”

  “Your brother will permit that?” Connie said, before she could prevent herself.

  His face darkened. “Dev does not own me!” he spat back. But then he stopped and took a deep breath, controlling his sudden anger. When he spoke again, his voice was its usual even tone.“I am my own master, I hope, Miss Allamont. I may have my own friends, without reference to my brother. We are friends, I trust?”

  He was the second member of the family to claim friendship with her, despite the rift with the Marquess, and Connie wondered at it. She and her sisters were marvellously united, but perhaps the Marfords were different, and familial loyalty was of little consequence to them. Just one more aspect of her recent dealings with them to puzzle over.

  “I… believe so, yes,” she answered, and found herself colouring in response to the sudden fire in his eyes. She had seen that look before, when she had been pressed against him in the saloon, his arm firmly around her waist. She grew hot with embarrassment at the very thought of it.

  He gave no sign of noticing. “I am gratified to hear it,” he said smoothly. Then he was on his feet, making his farewells, and within moments he was gone.

  “That was interesting,” murmured Amy.

  “But what can he mean by it?” Connie cried. “Why would he talk so after all that has happened?”

  Amy laughed. “Oh, Connie dear, I think he very much hopes to turn his pretended betrothal into a real one.”

  18: The House With The Blue Door

  Connie soon settled into life at Brook Street. She could not forget the distressing end to her stay at Marford House, and in quiet moments she would grow tearful again, her misery overwhelming her, but if at any time she felt particularly unhappy at the loss of the Marquess, she had only to recall his arrogant words and the superciliousness of his manner, and she would be quite restored to acceptance of the situation.

  She could not feel quite easy in her own part in the deception. Even though she herself had been deceived by the Marquess, with the connivance of Lord Reginald, Lady Harriet and Jess, Connie could not deny that she too had willingly allowed assumptions to be made about herself and Lord Reginald. She remembered her initial discomfort with the proposal, and now wished she had listened to her conscience and refused to comply. The Marfords had dazzled her, and drawn her in with the prospect of a London season. How foolish she had been, allowing herself to be beguiled by their glib talk! From now on she would trust her own judgement.

  Her sisters and their husbands were her greatest comfort. There was an ease and familiarity subsisting amongst the five of them which was a welcome relief from the protocol of Marford House, and their unfailing kindness supported her through even the darkest hours. Their routine was a gentle one, for they received no invitations to grand balls, but most evenings brought a dinner engagement or a card party with one of Mr Burford’s extensive range of distant relatives, or Mr Ambleside’s friends from school or university. None of them moved in the first circles, but they were friendly and unstuffy, and Connie felt entirely at home with them.

  Each day when the weather was fine they drove out in the barouche, sometimes visiting the shops but mostly exploring London’s finest streets and squares and parks. One day they were driving through Hyde Park when Amy said,

  “May we get down and walk for a while? There is an interesting little shrubbery over there. I should like to examine the flowers more closely.”

  Ambleside laughed. “Is there a shrubbery in the world that you do not find interesting? By all means let us walk.”

  It was very pleasant to stroll about on the paths, while the barouche waited for them. The hour was early, so there were few people about, but there was one whom Connie recognised. Lady Hartshill was approaching at a fast pace, head down. Connie dropped into a deep curtsy as she passed by, having no expectation of any acknowledgement, for her acquaintance with Lady Hartsill was of the slightest kind, and solely through the Marfords. But to her surprise, Lady Hartshill, stopped, turned and smiled at her.

  “Miss Allamont, is it not?”

  “It is, Lady Hartshill.”

  “We were told you had left town.”

  “Your information was mistaken, my lady. I am staying with my sisters.”

  “Your sisters, eh? The two ladies standing over there? They have a house in town?”

  “They have taken a house in Brook Street for the season, my lady.”

  “Hmm. I should like to meet them. Will you introduce me?”

  “It would be an honour, my lady.”

  The introductions were made, some commonplace remarks were exchanged and Lady Hartshill made her farewells.

  “She is very amiable, Connie,” Amy said. “That was exceedingly gracious of her, do you not think? For she is quite high-flown, I believe you said.”

  “Very,” Connie said. “Yet her card parties are the most delightful occasions, not stuffy or formal in the least. I was only invited to one, but I enjoyed it better than all the grand balls. Ah well, that is all over now.” And she laughed, not at all cast down.

  But it was not all over. Later that day, a note was delivered to Brook Street by Lady Hartshill’s footman, inviting all five of them to a card party that very evening. The others found that Connie was quite right in her opinion of them.

  When she thanked her hostess at the end of the evening, Connie added impulsively, “I like your card parties better than anything else in London.”

  Lady Hartshill laughed, and said, “And that is why I invited you, my dear, and your family. Unlike most of society, you are not trying to impress me. How long are you in town? You must come again.”

  It was a cheering moment after the misery of her departure from Marford House.

  ~~~~~

  “I am sorry we have no dancing to offer you, Connie,” Belle said one morning over breakfast. “You must think us sadly flat after all the excitement you have become used to, and it is your first real season, after all. There ought to be balls for you to meet young men, for that is the point of a London season, after all, but we know no one grand enough to hold one.”

  “I am weary of such affairs, to tell the truth,” Connie said. “So much effort and expense, solely to impress people determined not to be impressed. But how did you manage to meet people when you had your come-out season?

  “We only had a month, in the end, not a full season,” Belle said. “It was supposed to be three months, but nothing was settled upon and so it was all done in a rush. If you want my considered opinion, I believe Mama and Papa quarrelled over it. They each thought the other was arranging matters, but neither of them did, until Amy got upset about it one day, and then Aunt Lucy came down from Liverpool to see to everything. We stayed with a friend of hers who had a daughter coming out that year, so it was excessively kind of her to take us under her wing, for Amy was much prettier than Rachel.”

  “But you went to dances?”

  “Yes, but it was all very odd, for we received invitations from any number of people that Aun
t Lucy and her friend had never been acquainted with. Not to Carlton House or anything as grand as that, but several times we went to parties hosted by Earls or Viscounts, and a Duchess, once.”

  “Invitations from strangers?” Ambleside said. “That is indeed odd.”

  “We just assumed they were friends of Mama’s,” Belle said. “She knows a great many people, and the Heatheringtons move in the uppermost levels of society. But we were never formally introduced to those who sent invitations, and sometimes the hostess was quite cold with us as we made our bows, so we could not understand why we were invited at all.”

  “Probably your Mama asked them for the favour, but they did not quite like it, for some reason,” Ambleside said.

  “I think there is something not quite proper in Mama’s past,” Connie said. “Lady Melthwaite hinted as such, anyway.”

  “That would account for why she has avoided society all these years,” Belle said. “But she is so utterly respectable now, that one would imagine any rift from years ago would be healed after all this time.”

  “The Melthwaites do not seem like forgiving people,” Connie said sadly.

  “Have you seen much of the Melthwaites since you came to town, Connie?” Burford asked.

  “Nothing at all. I left my card, but they did not call and I have not encountered them at any of our engagements.”

  “Are they not going into society at all, then?” Ambleside said.

  “Oh, I am quite certain they are, but some of these grand occasions are vast,” Connie said with a smile. “At one ball, there were a thousand guests, I was told. People come and go, and in all the crush, there is no hope of finding anyone in particular. I am surprised they did not call, however. Tambray Hall borders Drummoor, so the two families know each other well. It is disappointing not to see them at all.”

  “You can do nothing more there,” Ambleside said. “They may call on you if they choose, but the approach must come from the higher rank. Belle, are there any other relatives we might call on to help introduce Connie into a wider society than we enjoy at present? It would be a shame not to take full advantage of our time in London.”