Connie (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 3)

by Mary Kingswood

  She seemed to be talking more to herself than to Connie, lost in reminiscences, so Connie diplomatically kept silent. She had no desire to quarrel with her newly-discovered aunt, and she was perfectly well aware that Mama had been kept in subjection by Papa just as her daughters had, so a little happiness was long overdue. However, Connie would not begrudge her mother her amusements if she were a little more helpful towards her daughters. Both Amy and Belle had found their husbands without any assistance from their mama, and refusing Connie her chance to go to London was perverse. None of this pretend betrothal business need have happened if she had been able to stay with Amy and Belle from the start. But it was not proper to find fault with one’s mama, so Connie kept her thoughts to herself.

  The time flew by, and it was Aunt Tilly who reminded her gently that she should not stay too long. “For it would never do if your sisters sent to the umbrella shop, and found you gone.”

  “May I see you again? Please? I should so much like to.”

  Aunt Tilly smiled ruefully. “And so should I, but it is better not to, I believe. I made my choice in life a long time ago, and it is too late to change my mind now. But you may write to me, if you will. I may even write back to you, who knows?” She laughed merrily.

  “I shall,” Connie said. “Do you have any message for Mama?”

  “Only the same one I have given her these twenty five years or more — that she should tell you the truth about her life. But she has kept it to herself all these years, so I doubt that will change. She made her choice, just as I did, and since we are both of us excessively stubborn, she will no more give way than I will.”

  ~~~~~

  Connie returned to Brook Street just as the others were beginning to grow alarmed by her absence, but she intimated that she had become confused about the correct route, which was true enough, and although she was teased about losing her way, no awkward questions were asked.

  Nothing more was said about Aunt Tilly. Connie asked Belle once when they were alone what she had told Amy and the gentlemen. Belle expressed surprise at the question.

  “Why, nothing at all, except that Aunt Tilly does not wish to make our acquaintance.”

  And that was true enough, Connie conceded. Anything of her circumstances beyond that was pure conjecture. It was disappointing, almost as if they were pretending that Aunt Tilly did not exist. Yet within two days of their visit to her house, they had very real evidence, not merely of her existence, but of her connections within the web of society, for invitations began to arrive from people that none of them had ever met.

  “Who is Lady Cunningham?” Belle said as they sat at the breakfast table. “For we are all invited to a ball at Clarence Street on— Oh! It is this very evening! I do not know her at all. Is she an acquaintance of yours, Connie?”

  “I have never been introduced to her, but she is very well known. She is connected to half the dukes of England, and distantly to the throne. Exceedingly good ton. We are all invited? How interesting.”

  “Should you like to go?” Belle said. “I confess, it would please me greatly to accept, for I have had little enough dancing since we came to town, and now that I do not have to wait for a partner, I like a ball of all things. But if you feel you might meet anyone who would distress you, then of course we will not think of going.”

  It was delicately phrased, but Connie could not misunderstand her. She coloured, but answered very composedly. “If you mean the Marfords, I am not in the least bit afraid to meet with any of them.”

  “I am relieved to hear you say so, sister. You have had such an unpleasant time of it, that no one could think the worse of you if you had wished to avoid their company, although they must have a dozen invitations every night, so I daresay we shall see nothing of any of them.”

  But Belle was wrong about that. Almost as soon as they entered the ballroom at Clarence Street, Connie saw the Marquess and his brother lounging against a wall not far away. The Marquess had his head lowered, as if staring at his shoes, while Lord Reginald was watching the dancing, looking bored. Connie’s heart skipped about for a while, but neither of them looked in her direction and after a few moments she was able to compose herself.

  The ballroom was nothing more than three modestly-sized saloons with the doors between them thrown wide, so, having steered their party to the other side of the room, away from the brothers, Connie was able to find a quiet corner behind one of the dividing walls, out of sight. They found a seat for Amy, and then stood watching the dancing until the sets broke up, and Belle and Mr Burford walked out to join the new sets forming.

  Connie had no expectation of dancing herself, unless Mr Ambleside was inclined to invite her, but she discovered that she was not quite well enough hidden, for an acquaintance found her almost at once.

  “Miss Allamont! What a delight! We quite thought you had left town, and yet here you are! I could not be more pleased, for there is not such a crush about you here and I may perhaps have better fortune in soliciting your hand. Will you do me the honour?”

  “Thank you, Mr Tennant, I should be delighted,” she said, with her most gracious smile, for he was an excellent dancer and very stylishly dressed, as well as being charmingly attentive to her. He was also exceedingly rich, and were this all that could be said of him, he might perhaps have been a serious marriage prospect. It was unfortunate, to say the least, that he also had teeth as prominent as a rabbit, and eyes that stared like a frog, so that Connie could never look at him without suppressing a mortifying temptation to laugh.

  She loved to dance, but there was one disadvantage to it in a ballroom so confined as this one was, in that she could not pass unnoticed. She and her partner had not progressed very far down the set when she saw the Marquess watching her intently. She could not read his expression, and she could not look at him for long for fear of catching his eye. Was he pleased to see her? Mortified? Or did he not care at all? It was impossible for her to judge.

  When Mr Tennant returned her to Amy, she found Lord Reginald was there before her, deep in conversation with the Amblesides, with the smiles of genuine friendship on all their faces. As soon as he saw her, almost before her partner had made his bows and departed, Lord Reginald leapt to his feet, his face alight with eagerness, the words tumbling out.

  “Miss Allamont, I had no thought to see you here. This is an unexpected pleasure. You are well, I trust? Are you enjoying the ball? And may I claim you for the next? If you would so honour me?”

  She took his arm and allowed him to lead her to the very head of the set. There would be no escaping notice now, and she caught the little flashes as the dowagers raised their lorgnettes to examine her. She was unconcerned, experienced enough now in the workings of society not to be nervous or discomposed by the attention. Why should they not look? Her gown was quite the latest fashion, she knew the steps of the dance well and she was sure no fault could be found in her deportment. Why should she not lead the dance?

  So she smiled and danced and talked comfortably to Lord Reginald in the pauses, and was rewarded by the unmistakable ardour in his eyes. From time to time she glanced at the Marquess, standing silent and immobile at the side of the room, his gaze never leaving her.

  After Lord Reginald, she danced twice more, but during the second dance the Marquess disappeared. She discovered the reason when she returned to Amy’s side, for there were both the brothers, and Lady Harriet and Jess, too, sitting in a cluster around the Amblesides and Burfords.

  Lady Harriet claimed Connie at once, tossing questions at her without waiting for the answers, and then laughing at herself for doing so. “I am so glad to see you back in society,” she said, for about the fifth time. “I had no notion that you and your sisters were acquainted with Lady Cunningham.”

  “We are not,” Connie said. “None of us has been introduced to her, yet she sent us an invitation this morning.” The bewildered expression on Lady Harriet’s face was entertaining, but Connie had no intention of explaining
the situation, or mentioning Aunt Tilly.

  “How extraordinary!” Lady Harriet said. “I daresay it is because of your connection to us. Indeed, I am quite convinced of it, and I am glad of it, for your sake. But now we must be going. We have a rout to attend next. Dev, Reggie, we are leaving now.”

  “I shall stay here,” Lord Reginald said.

  The Marquess said nothing but made no move to rise from his seat.

  Lady Harriet looked from one to the other, and then at Connie. “Well, in that case, I shall see you both tomorrow. Jess? Come along.”

  With that, the two left.

  The Marquess rose languidly to his feet. “Miss Allamont.” He bowed gracefully.

  “Lord Carrbridge.” Connie rose, too, and made him a deep curtsy. Inwardly she was quaking, and she knew her cheeks must be on fire.

  “I am happy to see you again.” But he did not look happy. His expression was sombre, with a look of sorrow in his eyes, and she could hardly bear to look at him, so distressing was it to see him in such low spirits.

  “Thank you, my lord.” It was all she could manage, but it brought the hint of a smile to his lips, which faded almost instantly.

  “I do not dance myself tonight,” he said. “Therefore, I shall leave you to my brother. He will take the greatest care of you. Good evening, Miss Allamont.”

  He bowed again, and strode away without a backward glance, leaving her bemused. The gentleness of his manner after the violence of their last encounter was such that Connie was quite undone. The rest of the evening was a blur of faces and snatches of conversation, for she could attend to none of it. Her head was full of the Marquess, and even though she only caught glimpses of him here and there as she danced or went in to supper, she could think of no one but him.

  20: An Offer

  At the ball, Lord Reginald had invited Connie for a drive in the barouche.

  “You may name the hour that pleases you the most, Miss Allamont, and I shall bring Mrs March, so everything will be right.”

  He grimaced when she told him that she preferred noon.

  “Well, I am not accustomed to such an early start to the day, but your company will more than recompense me for the exertion, Miss Allamont. Noon it shall be.”

  At the appointed hour, the barouche appeared in Brook Street, with Mrs March sitting beside Lord Reginald. Connie wondered if she, too, found it an exertion to be up and about so early, for Lady Moorfield rarely ventured forth before three or four o’clock. But Mrs March smiled, as always.

  “Miss Allamont! How delightful! And how kind of Lord Reginald to invite me. I shall sit here, then you may sit beside his lordship, for the best views. No, I insist. There! How pretty your bonnet is! Did you trim it yourself? Such clever fingers you have! And now I shall be quite silent, for I know you will want to talk only to Lord Reginald. You may pretend I am not here at all.”

  To Connie’s amusement, Mrs March turned her head and started fixedly at the passing scenery, the very model of a discreet chaperon.

  Lord Reginald had not thought to provide the ladies with rugs, so it was fortunate that the day was warm. He had, however, brought flowers for Connie, and a hamper of food, complete with a bottle of champagne, so they went on their way very merrily. They started in Hyde Park, stopping to sample the devilled eggs and chicken legs, and then they drove on to Green Park. Lord Reginald was charming company, attentive and witty, keeping the ladies very well entertained.

  Connie found herself very drawn to him, and his intentions towards her were becoming more obvious with every day that passed. Perhaps she need not mourn the loss of the Marquess for long. And yet, she could not quite forget those piercing eyes, and the smile that so agitated her. Lord Reginald might be her destiny, but he would always be her second choice.

  They were almost out of the park, and Connie was thinking about returning to Brook Street, when she caught sight of a familiar pelisse and bonnet.

  “Oh, look!” she cried, without thinking. “There is Jess! But—”

  She stopped, and wished with all her heart that she had not spoken, for Jess was standing amongst shrubbery, almost out of sight, talking animatedly with a man, and no chaperon to be seen. As they watched, Jess turned and half ran away from the man, and even from a distance, Connie could see tears on her cheeks.

  “Stop the carriage!” she called out, and almost before the horses had stopped moving, she scrambled to the ground and tore across the grass towards Jess, calling her name. Jess stopped, looking at Connie with bewilderment.

  “Whatever is the matter?” Connie said, a little out of breath. “Do you need assistance? What may I do for you?”

  “Oh! Oh, Connie, I did not expect… but I see you are with Lord Reginald. You must not keep him waiting.”

  “Never mind Lord Reginald! Whatever is the trouble?”

  “I have been very foolish!” Jess burst out, between sobs. “I thought… I thought he would marry me, but… but…”

  “That man you were with? How horrid! But where is your maid?”

  “I had no time to find her. Oh, Connie, what am I to do?”

  It roused all Connie’s indignation to see Jess, who had always been so composed and sure in her dealings with the world, reduced to such a level of distress. That it had been a man who brought her so low did not surprise Connie in the slightest. Her recent experience of the male sex was not such as to inspire the slightest confidence in their behaviour.

  “What are you to do?” Connie said. “Why, for now you must come back with me to Brook Street, of course, and when you are feeling more yourself, you may decide what you wish to do. But you must not walk through the park by yourself. Come.”

  Reluctantly, protesting at the imposition, Jess allowed herself to be led towards the barouche. Lord Reginald himself descended and graciously added his invitation to Connie’s, so Jess was helped into the barouche and they drove by the shortest route back to Brook Street. Connie was bustling Jess into the house when she realised she had rushed away rather abruptly, and went back down the steps to the barouche.

  “I beg your pardon,” she said to Lord Reginald, who was languidly propped against a wheel, smiling. “In my hurry, I had quite forgot my manners. Thank you so much for my drive today, my lord. I enjoyed it very much.” She dipped him a formal curtsy.

  “Your care for Miss Drummond is charming, Miss Allamont. I shall call on you tomorrow, if I may, to ensure you have taken no chill from your outing.”

  She blushed, and with a hasty farewell to Mrs March, skipped up the steps after Jess. She found that the others were all out, so she settled Jess in the drawing room, sent for Madeira and cake, and prepared to listen.

  “You will think me very foolish, I daresay,” Jess said, as soon as the servants had withdrawn. “I have made such a mess of everything, but I was desperate. You know my situation, Connie. All my father’s money is gone, my oldest brother inherited nothing but debts and was forced to retrench, and Alex took the position of schoolmaster at Lower Brinford in order to be no additional burden on Donald. My chance of a dowry was lost, so I came with Alex, to act as housekeeper and cook. Our only hope was for me to marry a rich husband, who would drag us out of poverty. But we very soon realised that Lower Brinford offers very confined society, with few prospects for me. We could not afford even the assemblies at Brinchester from our own pockets. Kind friends have aided us so far, but we cannot live on charity indefinitely.”

  Connie nodded but said nothing, unwilling to disrupt the flow of confidences.

  “Lord Carrbridge seemed the perfect solution,” Jess went on. “Surely I could win his interest? But not so — it seemed his thoughts were elsewhere. Even so, he offered me a way out of my predicament, which you know about. In your eyes, I was believed to be secretly betrothed, but to others I could reveal the truth, that there was no betrothal, not even an understanding. My object was nothing less than to attract a rich man willing to marry me. You will blame me, perhaps, but I was quite dispassionate
about the business. It mattered not to me whether the man was noble or not, young or not, handsome or not — so long as he could keep me in comfort, and perhaps Alex too, and, if he were truly generous, there might be some help for the rest of the family. That was my only aim. Was that wrong of me?”

  “Indeed not,” Connie said. “Not when your difficulties were so great. No one could blame you for seeking such a way out of your troubles. Many marriages begin on such terms, and often end happily enough. It is an honourable solution.”

  “Honourable,” Jess said, with a wry smile. “Indeed! And yet—! But I am running ahead too fast. I had several suitors, and a number of offers, but I made a fatal mistake — I fell in love. How foolish of me! His name is Middleton — do you remember him?”

  “I do. There was an older brother, very fat, and married to a Lady something-or-other, but the younger one — Mr Jeffrey Middleton, was it not? — he was very handsome.”

  “Oh, he was — he is,” Jess sighed. “Young and handsome and amiable. He has only a modest income at present, for his father left his manufactories to the elder brother, but there is a large fortune waiting for him from his aunt, who brought him up. Trade, of course, but I do not regard that. I thought he was in love with me, too, and he had no wife, so naturally I expected… I declined my other offers, and one of them a viscount, too, but it was taking such a long time to get him to the point. I began to worry that he had changed his mind. Also, and this is not at all your fault so you must not think that I blame you in the slightest, but the atmosphere at Marford House has been… difficult, let us say. Now that the true situation is known, I am quite out of favour and Lady Moorfield would have me sent straight home, if she had her way. Lord Carrbridge and Lady Harriet have been excessively kind to me, but still, I felt uncomfortable there, and all my hopes began to dwindle.”