Dulcie (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 4)

by Kingswood, Mary

  “What about the traditional occupations for younger sons — the church or the army?”

  “My aunt will not pay to get me a good living or a commission. But you are right, that is the answer — I must find employment for myself. The house could be sold, or leased, perhaps, and with a salary as well — perhaps it would be possible!” His face was lit up with joy. “I could support a wife. Oh, but…” His face fell again. “She will not have me, I imagine.”

  “As to that, I could not say, but on the matter of employment — can you teach, Mr Middleton?”

  ~~~~~

  “A school? At Strathmorran? I can hardly believe it is true!” Jess paced up and down the parlour, but this time her pacing was driven by excitement, rather than anger. “Oh, Alex, this is perfect! We all get to keep our home, and yet there will be money coming in at last. How good Max is, to fund the initial costs! And it was Dulcie’s idea, you say? She is quick-minded, that one. I should never have thought of such a thing.”

  “She thinks it will enable me to marry Isobel,” Alex said, grimacing. He sat beside the fire, a celebratory glass of brandy in his hand.

  “Oh dear. I rather think that ship has sailed. The banns must have been read already. But Alex, you will have a good income now — you need not hesitate to offer for Dulcie, if you want.”

  “But what does she want, that is the point. I do not believe she has the least thought of me. She has always disliked me, and we parted on such bad terms earlier today.”

  “But you used to dislike her, too,” Jess said with a smile. “Perhaps she has changed her opinion of you, just as your feelings towards her have changed.”

  “Impossible! She dislikes me too much — she hates me!”

  “As I hate Jeffrey,” Jess said quietly. “And yet, I also love him just as passionately as I ever did. Perhaps it is so with Dulcie, too — that she hates and loves equally. You will not know if you never ask. You must go to see her, and soon.”

  “Indeed I must, but to apologise for my appalling behaviour this morning. But Jess — we must talk about Middleton.”

  Her face darkened. “I hope you told him to leave me alone.”

  “Is that really what you want? No, let me put a different question to you. Suppose a way could be found, such that he could afford to live in modest circumstances without depending on his aunt’s money. Would you care to share his life on such terms, without the trappings of wealth or the manner of living that you had always expected would be yours?”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “But of course!” she said, and in her expression he saw the same passion he had seen in Middleton. She knelt at his feet, setting the brandy on a side table and taking both his hands in hers. “Alex, I would happily have lived in a hovel with him, had he asked it of me. Indeed, I almost agreed to what he proposed, except that Connie pulled me away from ruination. I want nothing more than to be with him, nothing! Are you saying—?” She stopped, her breathing heavy. “Are you saying… is there a chance? Will he break with his aunt? Do not toy with me, Alex, tell me at once what you mean.”

  “I mean that he has a little money of his own, and with some employment — as, say, a teacher at a newly established school — he would be able to support a wife. He has a great knowledge of history, it appears, and could teach the subject very well.”

  “He would do that? For me?” Her voice was almost inaudible.

  “Indeed he would.”

  She jumped up, and spun round as if looking for Middleton in the corners of the room. “I must go to him! But not at the inn. Alex, you must go, tell him to come here at once. Oh, Alex!” She collapsed into a chair abruptly. “I cannot breathe, I am so happy! Please, please, go to fetch him at once!”

  “You may do so yourself, for he waits for word at the end of the lane. He would come no closer, for he had no wish to—”

  But she was gone, spinning out of the room in a flurry of skirts, then returning almost at once, her smile brilliant enough to outshine the moon.

  “And you must go to Dulcie! Then we shall be married together, and go home to Strathmorran, and how happy we shall all be!”

  She swept out of the room again, not even bothering to fetch her cloak, and the front door banged shut behind her. Her rapid footsteps hissed through the wet leaves on the path, and disappeared into the distance. The cottage fell into silence, disturbed only by Polly’s tuneless humming from the kitchen.

  Alex poured himself a little more brandy and swallowed it in a single swift motion. Jess, perhaps, would be happy, but for himself he could see nothing but endless sorrow. Regret, as Middleton had said, was a damnable thing. If only he had been less angry with Dulcie, had shown some tolerance for her youth and the sheltered life she had led. If only they had not quarrelled so much. If only he had been more open with her, more conciliatory, had shown her more attention when he had had the opportunity.

  But she would never have any affection for him now, for he was merely ‘a nobody’. It was too late.

  22: The Orangery

  Alex walked through the rain to Allamont Hall. It was late to be calling, but he was busy teaching in the mornings. His boarders had increased to eight, and even his local pupils had grown in number, augmented by several from around Brinford Manor, paid for in advance by Sir Osborne Hardy. It was an irony indeed that, just when he would be leaving to start a much larger school in Scotland, his little village school was beginning to show a profit. At least he would be able to hand over to a new master knowing that the school was in better case than when he had first arrived.

  It was gloomy walking through the woods, the heavy clouds bringing the illusion of an early dusk. It suited his mood, however. This would be almost the last time he would see Dulcie before he left for Scotland. His change of circumstances was still not common knowledge, but as soon as word came back from Donald that Middleton would be acceptable to the family, it would be made public and he would be gone within days. And then… then he would have to try to forget those sparkling eyes and that enchanting heart-shaped face.

  He kept to the shelter of the trees where he could, but there was no avoiding the constant drip from the leaves above onto his head. It was a relief to reach the gate into the grounds and make his way up the drive to the front door.

  The Allamonts’ impassive butler admitted him to the entrance hall and removed his greatcoat, hat and gloves before they could create too extensive a puddle on the floor.

  “Her ladyship is not at home today, sir, but the Miss Allamonts are in the book room, if you would like to follow me.”

  Alex made no demur, but he was disappointed. He had hoped his grovelling apology could be made in relative privacy in a quiet corner of the drawing room or one of the galleries, where it would be possible to draw Dulcie apart, but the book room was too open to afford seclusion. But when he was announced, he discovered only Connie and Dulcie there, poring over the account books.

  “Miss Allamont. Miss Dulcie.” He bowed with punctilious correctness.

  The two sisters curtsied with equal correctness, but the formality of their manner as they exchanged greetings made it clear that Dulcie had not hesitated to share the substance of their quarrel with her sister.

  “I have brought you some apples,” he said to Dulcie. “From the tree that leans almost to the ground in the far corner of the orchard. You said you liked them, and it is not a variety which you have here, I believe.”

  This elicited a small smile.

  “They look delicious,” Connie said, peering into the basket. “Are they for cooking with, or for eating directly?”

  “I have not the least idea,” he said. “Is there a difference?”

  Dulcie gave a burble of laughter. “They are for eating, but Polly uses them for pies as well. They are sweet enough not to need any sugar added. They would go well with the blackberries we picked earlier.”

  “Then I will take them to Mrs Cooper at once,” Connie said. “She can make one of her famous crumbles. I shall
be back directly.”

  She whisked out of the room with the basket.

  For a moment, Alex was lost for words. Here was his opportunity, but his mouth was dry and his tongue seemed tied in knots. But it must be said, so he with a great effort, he began his prepared speech. “Miss Dulcie—”

  At the same instant, she said, “Mr Drummond—” Then she giggled, hand to mouth, in a movement so disarming that he was almost undone.

  He could not help responding in a softer tone. “Miss Allamont, pray speak first, if you will.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She made him another tiny curtsy. “I wished only to apologise for my appalling behaviour towards you yesterday. I cannot imagine what came over me, for it is all nonsense, and I pray you will disregard every word. I did not mean any of it, and I am so sorry to offend you.”

  She hung her head, hands clasped in front of her, and he guessed she must have stood many times in just such an attitude before her father, perhaps in this very room, confessing her misdemeanours or humbly professing an inability to produce the required Latin declension.

  “You shame me, Miss Allamont, for I am here on the same errand — to apologise for my monstrous ragings yesterday. Can you forgive me?”

  Her head flew up. “Oh yes! And I hope you will forgive me, in your turn, for I do not like it when we are not friends.” And she smiled at him in such a way that every rational thought flew out of his head, and he wanted only to take her in his arms and press his lips to hers. Those lips! So red, so luscious, so enticing, and so close to him. He could barely breathe. Such madness, yet it almost overwhelmed him.

  “Oh, how I wish we could start again!” he said impulsively. “For I am sure we could be the very best of friends — more than friends — if we had not been led astray early on.”

  He knew at once that he had made a mistake. Dulcie’s face closed up, the smile wiped away and replaced by a wariness. She said nothing, and perhaps he should have followed her lead, but somehow he could not stop himself. It was as if a bottle had been uncorked, to let loose its contents in a great stream. Everything in his heart flowed out, and he was powerless to prevent it. And just like the bottle, once out, his words could not be unsaid.

  “You must know how well we get on, how much we are at ease together,” he raced on. “It is obvious that we should deal extremely well together if only… Do you not see it? These angry spats we have — that is as much love as hate. You must see it. Surely you do…”

  She had gone pale, with two spots of angry colour on her cheeks.

  “Why do you speak so to me? What of Isobel? What of her? Have you forgotten her so soon?”

  “Isobel?” Now he was flummoxed. It was so long since he had thought of Isobel in that way, he had quite forgotten that Dulcie was not privy to his change of heart in that respect. “Isobel is betrothed elsewhere, and I wish her well. I have not forgotten her, but I long since gave up any idea of marriage there. My wishes have taken a different direction, Dulcie…”

  He took a step towards her, but she backed away. “But why? You told me that you have no wish to marry me — oh, but you said you would if my reputation were to be damaged. Is that it? You feel obliged to offer?”

  “Not at all! I want to marry you, Dulcie.”

  “Then it can only be my dowry that attracts you, for your dislike of me has been fixed for some time.”

  “No! I love you! You must—”

  The door burst open, and there was Connie. She stopped on the threshold, looking with lively interest from one to the other. “I beg your pardon — shall I go away again?”

  “Not on my account,” Alex said roughly. “Pray forgive me, Miss Dulcie, I meant no insult. Good day, Miss Allamont. Please give my regards to your mother and sisters.”

  And then there was nothing but the long, distraught walk home in the rain, and Jess’s sympathy, washed down with the rest of the brandy.

  ~~~~~

  Dulcie’s world had turned upside down. Whatever did Alex mean by making love to her in that wild and foolish way? How dared he claim to be in love with her, when he had so steadfastly ignored her on every social occasion for months? Then there was Isobel — could he really have recovered from that disappointment so soon?

  But then came the news that the Drummonds were leaving, going back to Scotland to start a new school there, and Mr Middleton, who had behaved so badly to Jess, was to go there too, and marry Jess after all.

  “I cannot understand it!” she wailed to Connie as they prepared for bed that night. “Why would he not tell me? He claims we are friends but he tells me nothing, nothing at all, and I have to find out what he is doing from Miss Endercott. Why is he going away? And why would he talk about marrying me without saying anything about it? I do not understand him, Connie, and now he will go off to Scotland, and you are going away too, and what will become of me?”

  “Hush now, sister dear,” Connie said, wrapping her arms around her. “None of this is important. There is only one question that matters now.”

  “What do you mean? What question is that?”

  “The simplest one of all — do you love him?”

  But that was one question Dulcie could not easily answer. When she thought about Alex, she was such a jumble of emotions churning about that she could barely disentangle them.

  “I do like him, I like him very much,” she said, tears running down her cheeks. “When he is in one of his amiable moods, he is the most delightful man in the world, and I feel as if all the colours shine brighter and everything is wonderful. But he makes me so angry, sometimes, and then he is angry, too. That cannot be love, can it?”

  “Oh, all couples are angry with each other sometimes. Well, not Mama and Papa, perhaps, but most couples. I was so angry with Lord Carrbridge when he offered for me in that odious way, but then he was so gentle and sweet afterwards. There is nothing wrong with a little fight now and again. But what do you feel when you think of him going so far away?”

  But Dulcie only cried even harder. “What shall I do? How shall I bear it if I never, ever see him again?”

  The last time Dulcie would meet Alex before he returned to Scotland was at the ball to celebrate the imminent marriage of Connie to the Marquess of Carrbridge. The Marquess’s great-aunt, the Dowager Countess of Humbleforth, had consented to the idea, although she never entertained as a rule.

  “You must arrange it all yourself,” she had said to Connie. “I will spend an hour or so in the ballroom, but more than that fatigues me. And I shall dine in my own sitting room with Miss Durrell, for I cannot abide these great dinners at my age. But you may do as you wish, and set it all to my account, you know. The boy is my heir, after all, so I must send him off to the matrimonial life with due ceremony.”

  So Connie and the Marquess’s sister, Lady Harriet, had organised everything, and great was the anticipation in the neighbourhood, for Lower Brinford had not seen such a splendid occasion for years.

  Dulcie wished she could enter into the spirit of it with more enthusiasm. The details of flowers and extra servants and musicians and lamps for the drive and dishes for both dinner and supper exhausted her, and she wondered how Connie could maintain her zeal under the onslaught of minutiae needing her attention. Yet she seemed to thrive on it. Connie was born to be a great lady, Dulcie thought sorrowfully, whereas she herself had nothing to look forward to but endless days of maidenly stitchery in the morning room or the winter parlour, as the seasons varied.

  The ballroom was lit as bright as day, the musicians played with energy, the dancers were animated. Even the matrons lining the walls were smiling complacently, for who did not love a ball? Especially a private ball, where everyone was familiar and friendly and happy to dance.

  All but one. Alex stood moodily at the side of the room, wreathed in gloom, quite unlike his usual sociable self. Jess was there with Mr Middleton, the two of them the very picture of betrothed bliss, dancing together with the most joyous of smiles, but her brother, who would n
ormally have stood up for every dance, and bestowed his flirtatious smile on every young lady within reach, was silent and still.

  Dulcie’s heart jumped. Was this her fault? Had their abrupt parting left him so sad? But perhaps it was no more than the sorrow of leaving behind good friends in the village, and the prospect of the long journey north. Yes, surely that was it, for he could not be cast down because she had refused him — could he?

  A gentleman might avoid dancing at a ball if he wished, but Dulcie could not refuse when she was asked. She danced first with the Marquess’s brother, Lord Reginald, then with the Marquess himself, and then with yet another brother, Lord Humphrey. The latter was a focus of intense interest, having not been seen in the neighbourhood before, and being a handsome and well-proportioned man with a mane of blond hair in a fashionably disordered style.

  He made some commonplace remarks to Dulcie, but after a while he said, “Who is he, that man who draws your eye so often?”

  Dulcie blushed deeply to be caught out, but said, “Which man can you mean, my lord? There are so many here tonight that I see a dozen men together wherever I look.”

  “The handsome fellow beside the vase of yellow flowers, standing just to the right of the lady with the green gown.”

  “Oh, that one. I see the one you mean, now.”

  Lord Humphrey smiled down at her. He was so tall he made her feel like a child. “And his name is…?” he persisted.

  “His name? Oh, that is Mr Drummond, the village schoolmaster.”

  When the dance came to an end, Lord Humphrey took her arm and steered her firmly towards the vase of yellow flowers. By the time they reached it, Alex was gone, slipping away into the crowd.

  “Hmm, that will never do,” Lord Humphrey said. “A fellow should never disappear like that. But never fear, Miss Dulcie, I shall fetch him for you, and you shall have your dance with him.”

  “I beg you will not, my lord,” she said hastily. “I have no expectation of dancing with Mr Drummond. Indeed, I do not believe he intends to dance tonight.”