As he retraced his steps under the trees, dusk casting deep shadows around him, he reflected with contentment on a day which had begun in sorrow and had ended in the pleasantest manner possible.
13: A Dinner
The day appointed for the dinner party finally arrived, and Allamont Hall was in uproar. It was a full year since any entertaining had been undertaken, and then it had been managed by Lady Sara with her usual calmness. Her daughters were a great deal less calm. Belle and Amy would have been inclined to leave everything to the servants, who had far greater experience, but Connie, Dulcie, Grace and Hope wished to supervise matters themselves. This involved one or other of them issuing an order to the kitchen or the butler or the head gardener, which was countermanded an hour later by one of the others. In the end, the housekeeper had to tell them very politely not to make any more decisions regarding the type of meat, or the soup tureens to be used, or the flowers to be arranged, for the orders were already sent out and could not be changed.
And as for the menu, she told them that Mrs Cooper had been working on it for days. “We wouldn’t want her to take umbrage, would we?” she said.
The sisters agreed that Mrs Cooper taking umbrage would be very bad. They turned instead to the interesting question of which of their new gowns would be best for the occasion. Since Belle had long since decided what she would wear, she took a book to her favourite window seat at the top of the stairs.
Amy found her there late in the morning. “There you are, dearest! What are you doing hiding away up here?”
“Avoiding all the bustle going on elsewhere,” she said with a laugh, putting down her book. “But how are you feeling? This is a big day for you and Mr Ambleside, for your betrothal will be announced tonight.”
“Oh, that is nothing,” she said, sitting down beside Belle. “We have had an understanding for months now, so I do not regard it. There will be nothing different, except that we may talk about it openly. Besides, everyone knows.”
“True! There are no secrets in this village, not with Miss Endercott here.”
“You must not say anything bad about her, not to me,” Amy said with surprising seriousness. “She has been a good friend to Mr Ambleside and to me, and I will not hear a word said against her.”
“I beg your pardon, I meant no insult. I am very fond of Miss Endercott,” Belle said. “But are you truly as calm as you appear, sister? Perhaps tonight may not be anything to concern you, but next Sunday the banns will be read, and then the time will fly past and in no time you will be a married woman. You must feel some apprehension, surely?”
“A little, of course. It will be a big change for me, but Mr Ambleside is making everything so easy for me, so that there will be nothing for me to worry about. The rearrangements to the house, the new servants, my carriage, the wedding tour — everything is arranged for my comfort. He is wonderful.”
“Yes, he is,” Belle said, with sincerity. But she wondered how different her own wedding might be, and whether Cousin James would expend the least effort on arrangements for her comfort.
Amy’s fingers played with the skirt of her dress, gathering the muslin, then releasing it. “Do you ever think about him?” She looked up at Belle. “Papa, I mean. It is a year ago to the day since… since everything changed. It was so sudden, so shocking that I found it odd that the sun continued to rise and set, just as before. How could it be so oblivious, when my world had come to an end? Yet here we are a year later, and I am betrothed to the most amiable man I have ever met, you will likely be betrothed very soon and Mama… Mama is happy, too. We are all happier now. Is it disloyal of me to say that?”
“Oh, Amy!” Belle said, enfolding her sister in an affectionate embrace. “Dear Amy, you are loyalty itself. For a whole year you have clung to your vision of Papa as a benevolent guiding influence — a little stern, perhaps, but it was all for our own good. The rest of us abandoned that view within an hour of his death. I am not ashamed to say that I was relieved when he died. His will has complicated our lives a little, but at least now we can decide for ourselves how to live our lives and who to marry. Yes, we are all much, much happier now.”
~~~~~
The guests began to arrive, and Belle was kept busy greeting, smiling, being civil. When she could spare a moment from her duties, her eyes would stray to Amy strolling about the drawing room on Mr Ambleside’s arm, his hand resting on hers, both their faces glowing with happiness. No couple could be more in love, better suited, more deserving of their happiness. Yet whenever she saw them together, Belle was conscious of the disparity with her own situation. No such happiness would be hers. If all went to plan, she would shortly be betrothed to a man she neither respected nor particularly liked, who was only interested in her fortune and the possibility of inheriting the estate.
Yet who else could she marry? Sir Osborne Hardy, parading the room in the most extraordinary waistcoat? But his mother would never allow him to marry Belle. Amy — meek, timid Amy — could have been kept under Lady Hardy’s thumb, but Belle would never be submissive enough. Nor did Sir Osborne need her dowry. As for Mr Wills, squeezed into his corsets for the evening, he might have been a suitor a few months ago, for he had been thought to have debts everywhere, but he too seemed to be in funds these days, with a great building work begun at Thornside. Besides, his mother was hinting strongly at a betrothal to a viscount’s daughter.
And that left only the detestable option of parading herself at the Assembly Rooms, a strategy she had been pursuing unsuccessfully for seven years. If in that time no one had wished to marry her for love, then she would have to accept a husband who only wanted her money. And that brought her back to Cousin James. No matter how many times she went over the arguments, James seemed to her the most desirable choice. Or the least undesirable, if she were being completely honest with herself.
Eventually he came, for he could hardly avoid it. There were four in the Willowbye party, for Mark had not yet gone up to Oxford. He was a robust young man of nineteen, who, it was said, made tidy sums as an amateur prize boxer. Cousin Henry, Mark and Mary greeted Belle with pleasure. James hung back, but when the moment could not be postponed, he bowed over her hand, and smiled and teased in the usual way, complimenting her fulsomely on her gown. Then, with a quick smile, he moved smoothly into the room. For a while she could see the back of his head, nodding, turning this way and that as he looked about the room, but then he was lost from view in the press of people.
Cousins Henry and Mark were soon drawn away to greet friends, but Mary lingered at Belle’s shoulder. “Do not regard James,” she said. “He is behaving very oddly just now. We hardly see him ourselves, for he is always down at the farm.”
“Well, if he fails to come up to scratch, I could always try for Mark,” Belle said.
Mary looked at her quizzically. “You have an odd sense of humour, sometimes, Belle. I never quite know when you are teasing me.”
Belle smiled. “No matter. I imagine Mark would think me far too fusty an old maid. I must be five years older than him.”
“That does not signify. You are older than James, too.”
“Oh, let us not talk about me! Let us speak of happier matters, of a betrothal that is settled to the satisfaction of all parties.”
“Indeed, there can be no disagreement on that point. I must go and congratulate Amy.”
At that moment, Mr and Miss Endercott arrived, with Mr Burford just behind them.
“Why, Miss Belle!” Miss Endercott said. “How splendid everything looks. And such a charming gown. So happy to be here, and I must thank your mama for sending the carriage for us. So kind. Where is she?”
“She is standing next to Lady Hardy’s feathers.”
“Ah, yes. Lady Hardy does have an interesting style of headdress. Oh, and there is the betrothed pair. I must go and thank Mr Ambleside.”
The Endercotts set off in the direction of Lady Hardy’s feathers, leaving Mr Burford to bow over Belle’s hand.
“Do tell me, if it is not a great secret,” she said to him in a whisper. “What is the reason for Miss Endercott’s gratitude towards Mr Ambleside?”
He whispered back. “A case of Madeira, of rather good quality. She was instrumental in bringing Mr Ambleside back from the barbaric North in time to carry off his bride, and the price of his success was a case of Madeira.”
“They had a wager on the outcome, then?”
“Oh no, that would be too shocking. Miss Endercott is the daughter of one clergyman and the sister of another, so she would never gamble. I believe she just suggested a way in which he might express his gratitude. She is rather partial to a drop of Madeira.”
Belle laughed. “I am sure she will enjoy his gratitude then.”
“Indeed.” He hesitated, straightening his sleeves. “Miss Belle, I have been thinking about the little difficulty which you were so good as to tell me in confidence. I have a brother who is a solicitor, and it occurred to me that it might be useful to have a second opinion on the matter. I know you have a solicitor engaged on the case already, but it never hurts to have a different view.”
Belle had already reached that view herself. Mr Plumphett was an admirable solicitor in his way, but his experience was limited, and Jack Barnett’s claim to the estate was an unusual one. Natural sons usually had the good sense to hide themselves away from society’s opprobrium.
“That would be tremendously helpful, Mr Burford. I should be very much obliged to you. I do not know what can be done about this person, or indeed if anything at all may be done, but I should like to know a little more about the possibilities.”
“I do not know if Luke has any great experience of similar cases, but he made some acquaintance at Oxford who move in higher legal circles. There is also the matter of the will, for some clauses were… rather irregular. I might ask his opinion on that, too, if you permit.”
“By all means,” she said. “My uncle looked into it at the time, but received no very encouraging response. Do you have many brothers, Mr Burford? And are you all named after saints?”
He laughed. “Yes! Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. My father had no imagination. It is fortunate that there were only four of us.”
She smiled. “Ah, but that is better than a father with too much imagination, sir. We are all named after positive qualities, quite a challenge to live up to, in some cases. It is said that there are only eight of us because Papa could not think of a suitable name beginning with the letter ‘I’. Ah, I see Hope waiting to claim you, Mr Burford. Do not let me keep you from her smiles.”
“Ah, yes.” He turned, noticing Hope loitering eagerly nearby. “Of course. We will talk again, Miss Belle. I have not forgotten that we have still to find some books for the school. M-M-Miss Hope! G-G-Good evening.”
Finding herself alone for a moment, Belle decided to go in search of James, for she was determined to bring him to the point, and there was no cause to delay. She found him loitering in a corner with his brother.
“Cousin James, we must talk,” she said.
His face told her everything. The ebullient young man with the easy compliments on his lips had gone, replaced by one who shuffled his feet and refused to meet her eye.
“Ah,” she said. “This is a blow to my pride, if even twenty thousand pounds and the possibility of the Allamont estate are insufficient inducements to tempt you to marry me.”
His face darkened. “You are very blunt, Belle.”
“I prefer the word ‘honest’. Will you be honest in your turn? For I need to know where I stand.”
“Really, Belle! I cannot imagine what sort of wife you would make if you attack a man in this pointed way, and in company, too. It does not paint a comfortable picture, you know.”
“If you came more often to see me, I might find a more private occasion to raise the matter, but you leave me no choice.”
“You have the choice to be patient, and leave a man room to breathe. Can you not just let me be? You are always hectoring me.”
She was stung by the injustice of this. “I thought we had an understanding, but from your manner I must conclude that I was mistaken. Very well…”
She began to turn away, but he caught hold of her arm. “You must see, coz…”
“Yes?”
“This young man… the claim on the estate… it makes a difference.”
“Ah. Yes, I can see that it might.” The guests were beginning to move through to the dining room, so she said hastily, “If this obstacle is removed, then you would reconsider?”
“Of course.”
There was no time for anything more, but she was satisfied. It was now more than ever necessary to determine whether Mr Jack Barnett had a true claim on the estate or not.
Belle took a seat at random in the dining room, with little expectation of pleasure in the meal. Her conversation with James had left her in low spirits, and there were so many guests that it was unlikely she would find herself seated beside an amicable dinner companion. Her suspicions were confirmed when Mr Torrington sat to one side of her. The physician was Mr Wills’ cousin, a quiet man whose principal interest in a meal was in ensuring his plate and wine glass were never empty.
To Belle’s delight, however, Mr Burford took the chair on the other side. Here at least was a man she could talk to, and talk she did, telling him about her latest books, asking his opinion of them, and giving her own views with energy. In fact, she talked with such animation that she would have eaten almost nothing if Mr Burford had not very kindly kept her well-supplied.
It was the greatest joy to Belle to spend the evening in such a way. Occasionally she caught sight of Hope watching them, her face a little pale, and Belle’s conscience pricked her, for she had been drawing Mr Burford’s attention so well that he had scarcely glanced elsewhere. But she reminded herself that Hope had a whole lifetime to enjoy his company, while Belle would be exiled to Willowbye very soon and would seldom see him. Surely she might be allowed an hour or two in pleasant conversation with a friend?
Lady Sara led the ladies through to the drawing room, a colourful flock of birds in their silks and feathers and jewels. As they disposed themselves about the room, Belle found her arm grasped.
“Hope?”
Hope glared at her. “How dare you?” she hissed, pulling Belle aside behind a large potted plant. “I know what you are about. James will not have you, so now you are out to get Mr Burford for yourself.”
“No, indeed, I—”
“You are! You are! I have been watching you, and I know what you are doing. For shame, sister! It is not fair, when he has been my beau for years. And now he will marry you, and what will become of me? I shall die a spinster and you will not care a bit. You are heartless and cruel, and I hate you!”
She burst into tears.
14: A Retreat
Burford sipped his port thoughtfully, listening to the conversation round the table, but saying little. The talk was all of hunting and horses and other gentlemanly pursuits, which his income would not permit even if he had the inclination. He had enjoyed riding when his father had supplied him with a mount, but he had never hunted and he found a brisk walk in fine weather to be every bit as pleasurable, especially when the brisk walk led him to Allamont Hall.
And here guilt gnawed at him. Until recently, there had been only one attraction at the Hall, one person whose red lips and bright eyes drew him again and again, one person who filled his dreams and his thoughts. But lately those dreams had begun to recede a little. When he imagined himself sitting opposite his wife beside the fire, there was a different face smiling at him.
He understood why. That day when he had gone to Garmin’s Farm and come back to find Belle still in his book room, sitting on the floor quite oblivious of the time, he had taken her into the back room and fed her bread and cheese. They had sat either side of the fire, just as in his silly little daydream, and now he could not imagine Hope in that place, only Belle. Instead of Hope’s
delicate features, he saw Belle’s plainer face with those big eyes and the mouth that smiled so readily. Instead of Hope’s imaginary chatter of domestic matters, he heard Belle’s voice reading a poem, and saw her finger stabbing the page, her expressive face alive with energy. His little vision of Hope was quite gone, replaced by the stronger image of Belle, which had really happened.
Burford was not a foolish man, nor an impulsive one. He saw his danger, and determined to step back from the precipice. In other circumstances, in a different time, perhaps he could have allowed himself to fall in love with Belle. It would have been easy enough to do, for she was such an open person, amiable and friendly, and what could be more natural than to share their passion for books? In the easiest way imaginable, that would lead to other passions and thus to marriage.
Yet he must resist her allure. Hope was his true love, he told himself, the woman he desired above all others to make his wife. So when the gentlemen rejoined the ladies, he sought out Hope at once. Her face was pale as she looked up at him beseechingly, and he could almost imagine that she had been crying. If only he could brush away the last trace of tears from her cheeks, could take her in his arms and kiss her until she could barely breathe. She was so pretty, so sweet, so gentle, he hated to see her unhappy and it broke his heart to be the cause of it.
“M-M-Miss Hope? Will you take a turn about the room?”
He was rewarded by the widest of smiles. She jumped up at once, and they strolled about, she chattering artlessly and he listening, enchanted, noticing nothing but her lovely face.
It was only when he returned to his house later that evening, and sat beside the fire opposite the empty chair, that the image of Belle intruded and unsettled his nerves. Yes, he must be very, very careful.
Belle (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 2) Page 11
