“So exciting!” Grace exclaimed. “I met Miss Endercott in the village and she told me all about the lady. A contessa from Italy, and a great heiress, would you believe, and accompanied by her chaperon and no less than two tutors. She is on a grand tour of Europe, and Mr Ambleside told her about the county and all its pleasures, so here she is! She is staying at the Royal Oak in Brinchester.”
“I hope she is not going to take Mr Ambleside away,” said Dulcie fiercely. “Connie would be heart-broken.”
“Mr Ambleside has already expressed his preference,” Belle said, frowning. “Besides, we must assume he knows his own mind, and is not so inconstant as that remark implies.”
“He is not in the least inconstant,” Dulcie said, smugly. “So long as Amy does not draw him in, Connie is safe.”
Connie smiled in contentment, and the ladies went back to a discussion of the contessa.
Amy was silent. It was all so puzzling. She could not have misunderstood Mr Ambleside, for he was so particular on the matter. “I have been in love with you for ever.” Those were his very words; impossible to mistake his meaning! And he had offered for her three times, until Papa had made it clear he could not succeed and he had gone away, heartbroken. Poor Mr Ambleside.
Yet Dulcie was so sure he had an affection for Connie, and clearly she must be wrong about that. Belle had tried on more than one occasion to convince both Dulcie and Connie that Mr Ambleside’s affections were otherwise, but they would not have it, and the very idea distressed Connie so badly that Belle had given up all attempts of the kind.
It was not long before the sisters met the contessa, for Mr Ambleside himself brought her to visit at Allamont Hall.
“I have the very great pleasure of introducing the contessa to the delights of our neighbourhood,” he said. “She is quite charmed with the woods hereabouts.”
The degree to which she was charmed was difficult to ascertain, however, for not a word did she say throughout the visit. She sat, eyes cast downwards, veiled and half-hidden by the brim of an outlandish bonnet, which must be a foreign style. She whispered frequently to her chaperon, who translated in a strong accent, but even when the sisters practised their Italian to address her directly, she would not reply, merely simpering and murmuring to the chaperon.
Mr Ambleside was much occupied with the contessa, whether talking to her through her chaperon, or talking about her to Lady Sara. As a result, he said nothing at all to Amy beyond the usual enquiries upon her health. She could not decide whether she was relieved or disappointed in that. He also said nothing to Connie, and Amy could not decide her feelings on that point, either. She was very muddled about it all. Her greatest relief was that Mr Ambleside had said he would not pay his addresses formally until she was out of mourning. She had several months in which she need not think about such complicated matters at all.
As for the contessa, Amy did not like to think badly of any friend of Mr Ambleside, but she could not like her at all.
“She is shy, I think,” Belle said, once their callers had left. “I think it rather sweet in her, to be so nervous in company.”
“Perhaps such a quiet manner is admired in Italy,” said Hope.
“Well, I think her very rude!” Grace said. “Not to speak at all, even when we use her own language — that is not at all civil of her. Do you not agree, Mama?”
“Perhaps la contessa had nothing to say,” Lady Sara said languidly. “I am going upstairs to rest, girls. If any more callers should come, you may tell them I am too fatigued to see anyone.”
~~~~~
A few days later, with new half-mourning gowns prepared, the sisters received their first dinner invitation, from Sir Matthew and Lady Graham. Lady Graham’s dinners were famous for being very large affairs, to which everyone of consequence in the neighbourhood was invited.
“For what is the point,” she was frequently heard to say, “of having such a large table in the house if we do not put it to use every once in a while?”
To which her husband invariably responded, “It would not have been so large, my dear, if you had not had it specially made with enormous numbers of extra leaves.” And they both laughed at such a good joke.
The younger sisters were vastly excited to be going out at last, but Amy confided to Belle that she was a little nervous about it. “Everyone will be there,” she said, twisting the skirt of her gown in her fingers. “All our acquaintance at once. We shall not be expected to dance, shall we? Lady Graham always likes to get up a few couples, you know.”
“No, not at all,” Belle said. “It would not be greatly improper, I daresay, amongst our good friends, but you need not do anything that makes you uncomfortable. There will be cards, I expect.”
“So long as there is no playing for money,” Amy said. “Papa disapproved so.”
Any number of fears preyed on Amy’s mind, rendering her sleepless at night and subdued by day. Would Mr Ambleside speak to her? Would the contessa be there? Or Sir Osborne? It would be her first evening engagement since Papa had died. She would be so conscious of his absence. How would she manage without the awareness that he was watching everything she did and measuring her compliance with the standards he himself set? How should she go on without his constant care for her behaviour to guide her? It was terribly worrying.
But in the end, when they arrived in convoy — the smaller carriage leading the big travelling coach — and arrived at Graham House, the first sight to greet them was Cousin Mary alighting from her own carriage.
“Well, this is very pleasant,” she said, tucking one arm into Amy’s and the other into Belle’s. “I had no notion of being on Lady Graham’s list of dinner guests, for I declare I have not been invited here more than twice before in my whole life.”
“I am very glad to see you!” said Amy with feeling. “I have been so nervous about this evening.”
“Why ever should you be? Oh, it is your first venture back into society, of course. But you are quite among friends, dear cousin. You have no cause for concern.”
“Thank you, Mary. I am very glad to hear you say so. But where is James? Does he not escort you?”
She gurgled with merriment. “No, he was not invited. He was quite put out about it, that I should go and not he. But I presume that Lady Graham wished to have more ladies, or else I should not have been here either, I daresay.”
It was the greatest comfort to Amy to have Belle and Mary with her as they walked into Sir Matthew and Lady Graham’s drawing room. At once the reason for Mary’s invitation became clear, for the Grahams’ son and sole heir, Mr George Graham, was surrounded by a gaggle of young men of similarly youthful appearance.
“You see how we are situated,” said Lady Graham, smiling fondly at the gentlemen. “Here we were, settled in our minds that we should have the quietest Easter imaginable, when what does the boy do but descend on us without notice, and accompanied by five of his friends from Oxford. Not a word beforehand! Such a good joke. I daresay it would have quite spoilt the surprise if he had told us about it. He is the greatest tease to me.” She laughed heartily at this.
Amy smiled and said, “How pleasant for you,” but in truth she thought it most inconsiderate to bring so many guests without a word of warning. But she had always considered George a most erratic young man, dashing about here and there on a whim, with no regularity to moderate his sudden fancies, and no steadiness of intention. How he would go on when he left Oxford she could not imagine.
In the general mingling of many guests, Amy did not notice Mr Ambleside’s arrival. She was shocked to find him standing almost beside her, and smiling down at her in such a delightful way, that she could hardly breathe. Impossible to say a single word! He spoke to her, but she could not take in his words. To cover her confusion, she curtsied to him, although she had a suspicion that she had in fact done so already.
“The room is very warm, do you not agree, Miss Allamont?” he said, as if he had noticed nothing odd in her behaviour. “
Lady Graham is most generous with her fires, considering the mildness of the weather. There is an open window over there, where it may be a little cooler. May I escort you there?”
He offered her his arm, and she could think of nothing to be done except to take it and allow herself to be led through the crowd and across the room to a spot beside the window. It was indeed cooler, with quite a refreshing breeze, and there they stood, as Mr Ambleside very kindly talked about the weather and the state of the bridge on the Brinchester road and some tale of an escaped pig which, he said, might amuse her. And the whole time, he had firm hold of her arm, his hand resting on hers, so that she could feel the heat even through her gloves, which did not help her confusion in the slightest.
She could not miss the contessa’s arrival, however. All heads turned and conversation ceased as the butler made the announcement.
“The Contessa di Varese and Sir Osborne Hardy, Lady Hardy, Mr Merton…”
Amy scarcely heard the rest. She stared and stared, until eventually the crowds shifted enough to allow her to see the contessa, head shyly lowered, while leaning on Sir Osborne’s arm. Beside him, Lady Hardy’s smile was complacent.
“Did you not hear?” Mr Ambleside said quietly. “La contessa has become quite a pet of Lady Hardy’s, and is currently staying at the Manor.”
“Oh. I see.” She could not quite account for it, but the news pleased her. She need not worry any more about the meaning of Lady Hardy’s visit, or whether she was entangled in some kind of secret betrothal to Sir Osborne. That could all be forgotten. And what could be more natural than for Sir Osborne to prefer the contessa to Amy herself? The contessa must be such an interesting person, with her Italian blood and the vineyards her family owned and her travels about Europe. It would be a far more suitable match, most appropriate.
So she smiled up at Mr Ambleside, and he patted her hand genially. He was such a kind man, she decided, to break the news to her so gently, in case she was upset. She discovered that she was not in the least upset. She found herself quite content to stand aside with Mr Ambleside, well able to watch the contessa and Sir Osborne without the slightest pain.
Amy could not decide whether she was glad when dinner was announced, or not. She found herself placed between Mr Graham and Mr Merton. Luckily, neither said more than the merest commonplaces throughout the meal, to which she could respond very easily. Mr Ambleside was across the table from her, and every time she dared to look at him, she found he was watching her, a little smile on his lips. He had such shapely lips, she decided. Not all men were so fortunate. Mr Graham, in fact, had rather full lips, and Mr Merton’s were disagreeably thin.
When the ladies withdrew, Amy was interested to observe Lady Hardy take charge of the contessa, finding her a seat neither too close to the fire, nor prone to disturbing draughts, and then sitting down beside her. Amy was too far away to hear what passed between them, but even from the opposite side of the room, she could see that Lady Hardy was doing all the talking, while the contessa kept her head demurely lowered.
“Amy!” hissed a voice.
“Dulcie? What is the matter?”
“I hope you are not going to keep Mr Ambleside all to yourself. He ought to be paying some attention to Connie, you know, not carrying you off to secluded parts of the room, or staring across the table at you.”
Amy was all too willing to give Connie her share of Mr Ambleside’s attention, but this puzzled her. “How can I prevent him, though? I did not ask him to look at me.”
Lady Graham came by just then. “Miss Dulcie! I beg you will delight us with a little music.”
“Of course, my lady,” said Dulcie. She cast Amy a dark look before making her way to the instrument.
For a while, Amy sat alone, everyone else gathered around the pianoforte, or deep in conversation. She did not mind being alone. If Mary or one of her sisters had been with her, that would have been pleasant, but with anyone else she would have to exert herself to make conversation and that was so difficult.
When Dulcie and Connie had both done their musical duty, they came and sat one either side of Amy.
“Thank you for bearing me company, sisters,” Amy said.
“We are just making sure that you do not entice Mr Ambleside again,” Dulcie said. “You cannot be trusted to keep away from him.”
Amy could think of no reply to that. How dreadful, that a sister thought her untrustworthy! And it was quite untrue, for she had no intention of enticing Mr Ambleside. Indeed, she had not the least idea how such a thing might be accomplished.
When the gentlemen rejoined them, it seemed at first as if Dulcie’s plan had succeeded, for Mr Ambleside could not have sat beside Amy had he wished it, there being no room. Instead, he stood near the pianoforte as if listening to the music, although his eyes strayed to Amy rather often.
Before long, however, Lady Graham decreed that there should be dancing, and shortly after that, a gaggle of young men surrounded the sisters, begging for partners for the dancing. Dulcie and Connie jumped up with alacrity, and scampered off. One of the young men offered his arm to Amy, to her horror. Impossible to dance, so soon after Papa’s death. Yet how could she refuse? It would be abominably rude.
“Miss Allamont has no wish to dance.”
She looked up in astonishment. Mr Ambleside! She smiled at him in genuine relief. He answered with a smile of his own, so warm, so intimate that she blushed. It was almost as if there were no one else in the room. She felt quite dizzy.
Then he sat down beside her, still smiling. “How lucky that Mr George’s friends should whisk your sisters away to dance, for now I may claim the pleasure of your company.”
If Amy had been more observant, she might have noticed Mr Ambleside whispering to the young men in question moments earlier. Dulcie and Connie soon worked out that they had been tricked. But Amy was quite unsuspicious, and not all Dulcie’s angry looks or Connie’s pouts could mar her enjoyment of the evening.
11: A Posy
The carriage had barely begun to move before Dulcie began.
“I am ashamed of you, Amy!” she said. “So selfish, when you know how much he means to Connie. What were you about, to be keeping him talking the whole evening in that self-important way, as if you are the only person in the world who matters? I should never have believed it of you if I had not seen it with my own eyes. I thought you were the most generous of all my sisters. I am disabused of that notion, and no mistake!”
She went on in this vein for the entire journey home, while Connie wept. Again and again Amy wished she had thought more quickly and gone with Belle, Grace and Hope in the coach. But Dulcie had practically pushed her up the carriage steps, and given the signal to shut the door, so there had been nothing to be done about it. Never had the drive home seemed so long.
“Why do you say nothing?” Dulcie snapped. “You do not even apologise! It is intolerable, Amy.”
“I am sorry to disoblige a sister,” she said, her voice choked with tears. “I did not mean to… but I do not see what I could have done. I did not make him sit beside me. It was his own choice.”
“You are not, I hope, about to pretend that he prefers you again? Because we have already had enough of such nonsense.”
“But he told me so!” she cried in anguish, her tears flowing.
After that, there was silence in the carriage, apart from the sobs of Amy and Connie.
~~~~~
At Staynlaw House, Ambleside’s reflections on the evening were more pleasurable. He took the stairs two at a time, humming softly. In his dressing room, he struck a pose before the full-length mirror.
“I believe, Herbert, that you may soon congratulate me.”
“Ah, is that so, sir? A successful evening, I take it?”
“Very successful indeed. She was as happy as I’ve ever seen her. I think I may try to see her alone before too long. It is time, I believe. Yes, it is very much time.”
Herbert coughed discreetly.
&
nbsp; “You wish to say something, Herbert? You may speak your mind.”
“It is Timms, sir.”
“Oh, I cannot discuss domestic difficulties now. Tomorrow, if you please.”
“Nothing like that, sir, no. Timms was in the village this evening, you being out and all, sir. He happened to be in the Hardy Arms, and who should be there but Mr Wills’ man, Mr Simons, visiting his father, who lives here. Mr Simons told me that Thornside is all upside down at the minute, being as Mr Wills is expected back from London on Friday, and is expected to be paying court to a young lady, with a betrothal to be announced very soon.”
“Is that so? But there are many young ladies in the neighbourhood, Herbert.”
“Exactly what I said myself, sir, but according to Mr Simons, this particular young lady is recently out of full mourning.”
“Hmm, but even so, that description might still apply to more than one young lady.”
“But only one of them is free to marry at once,” Herbert said triumphantly. “Mr Simons says his master is all to pieces, and Miss Allamont’s dowry would be mighty useful just now.”
“Ah! Interesting,” Ambleside said. “If you should hear any more of Mr Wills, I would like to know about it. For myself, I think an early visit to Thornside might be in order.”
~~~~~
It was, in fact, late on Saturday before Mr Wills returned to Thornside, and so the first anyone knew of it was when he was seen in church the following day.
Amy was too sunk in her own thoughts to notice his arrival in the pew behind them. Her misery was absolute. The sisters had always had disagreements, of course, but they were usually minor, and quickly settled by a word from Papa. Now there was no one to keep their feet on the correct path when they strayed, for their mama took no sides.
When appealed to, she had said, “You girls must settle your own squabbles. It is nothing to me which of you marries Mr Ambleside, I am sure. You all plague me equally, with these constant difficulties. I have given you the proper example to follow, and now you must make your own way. As for husbands, I should be very glad to see any of you well established.”
Amy (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 1) Page 10
