Dulcie (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 4)

by Kingswood, Mary

  “You just like galloping about the countryside talking to the tenants,” Grace said. “That does sound like fun. But Hugo, you will not be offended if I say that I should not like to marry you.”

  “Nor I!” Hope said. “For that would make you just as bad as any of the others — marrying for the sake of the Hall is no different from marrying for a dowry. Oh, how I wish Papa had not left everything so awkwardly! Such a strange will, insisting that we all marry in turn by age, and then, if Ernest and Frank cannot be found, the Hall goes to James or Mark or Hugo, but only if they marry one of us, and if that fails, it will go to the church and we shall be cast out of our home, and what will become of us then?”

  Grace rolled her eyes, for she had heard it all a thousand times before. She was fond of Hope, as she must always be of a sister, but the dear girl always imagined the worst.

  “Now, now, Hope, it will not come to that,” Miss Bellows said soothingly. “There is still plenty of time for Ernest and Frank to be found, for I daresay they are far away and news is slow to reach them. Even if they are not, you will both be married before then, I wager, so it will not affect you, and if not, you will always have a home with your mama. Lady Sara will have the Dower House, and a comfortable income of her own, so you need not fear to starve, or need to seek employment.”

  “No, indeed!” Grace said. “That would be dreadful, to be forced to become a governess or some such. Oh, Lavinia, I beg your pardon! I did not mean… it is only that we are not suited to such work, you know. Not like you, so kind and patient as you are.”

  Miss Bellows smiled thinly. “I am not offended, Grace, dear. I know better than most the disadvantages of my situation, which is why I urge you both to marry as soon as you can. Being a wife, and mistress of your own establishment, and enjoying your own dear children — it is a far more pleasant life, I do assure you.”

  A discreet knock at the door of the book room was followed by the portly figure of Young, the butler. “Mr Graham is here, Miss Allamont,” he said to Grace. “Shall I show him into the drawing room? The fire can be lit in a moment.”

  “Oh, if it is only George Graham, we need not stand on ceremony. Show him in here.”

  Young threw a glance at Miss Bellows, but with the slightest lift of one shoulder, she acceded to the arrangement.

  George Graham was the eldest son of Sir Matthew Graham, a close neighbour and family friend. He strode into the book room with an impish grin on his face.

  “How very cosy, I declare! This is treating me very much as one of the family. Miss Bellows, I trust you are well? Hope, Hugo. Oh, I say, Grace, I like this new way you have with your hair. You look just like a boy!”

  “This shorter style is all the fashion amongst the ton, or so Connie said. Hers is even shorter. Her maid cut it for me when she was here last.”

  “Very daring of you,” George said, winking at her. “I’ll wager your mama did not approve, eh? But never mind that, for as I rode over here, I passed that dreary friend of the Donboroughs and he had a face like a wet week in Bath. What did you do to him?”

  “She refused him!” Hope said, in a melodramatic whisper.

  “I should hope so!” George said. “Can’t have Grace marrying such a dullard, can we? She can do better than that, I vow. Much, much better.”

  ~~~~~

  George rode home in a pleasant frame of mind. The Allamont sisters always cheered him up — well, not Hope so much, for she could be unspeakably miserable when the mood took her — but Grace was a lively girl, and always good fun.

  There was another cause for good cheer, too — Miss Dilworthy would by now be ensconced in her travelling carriage, together with her snooty mama, her maid and a parrot in a cage, which accompanied her everywhere, well on their way back to whatever God-forsaken county they hailed from. Lancashire, he rather thought. Well, good riddance to her. He wished the girl no harm, but he was not about to become leg-shackled to so spineless a creature. “Yes, Mama. No, Mama. Of course, Mama. At once, Mama.” Never a thought in her head that hadn’t been put there by the formidable Mrs Dilworthy. He could not imagine what his mother had been thinking of, to suppose for more than three seconds that he would be enticed to marry such a feeble specimen.

  Unfortunately, now that Lizzie was safely wed and well-placed to launch her sisters into society when their time came, Lady Graham had turned her attentions to the matrimonial prospects of her son. It would avail her nothing. No matter how many Miss Dilworthys she paraded in front of him, he had no intention of being caught. Not yet! He was barely five and twenty. Another five years, and then, perhaps he would consider it, for he knew his duty as the heir to a baronetcy, but not yet.

  He turned in at the gates of Graham House, pondering whether it was worth the effort of taking a gun out that afternoon, or whether the day was too far gone, only to pull up with an exclamation of dismay. A carriage was drawing to a halt before the front door. His immediate fear was that the Dilworthys had returned, but a cursory glance confirmed that it was a different carriage. Besides, it was a man who was stepping down from it, and mounting the steps to the entrance.

  Hastily, George rode round to the stables, slithered from his horse, and tore into the house, striding through the twisting passages from the rear and into the capacious hall, to hear voices from the saloon. Both his parents, and a third — the mystery man. Without ceremony, he burst into the room. Three faces turned to him as one, his mother tutting in vexation, his father trying not to laugh, and the visitor smiling.

  “George! How delightful!”

  “Uncle Jasper! What are you doing here?”

  His uncle smiled, but Lady Graham said, “Really, George! Must you come in here smelling of horse? And where are your manners? Greet your uncle properly.”

  “Ah, no need for formality, Julia. I am glad you are here, George, for this is a family matter, and you should know of it. You great-grandmama’s will has finally been located—”

  “Good Lord!” George said. “After all this time! Wherever was it?”

  “Behind a loose brick in the stables, would you believe.”

  George gave a bark of laughter. “I would believe anything of great-granny. That is just like her, to hide it away somewhere it would likely never be found.”

  “Indeed. It was fortunate that my new hunter took exception to one of the grooms, and lashed out with a hoof in just the right place, else we might never have found it. But it confirms what you have said all along, Julia, that the necklace is to go to you.”

  Lady Graham inclined her head graciously. “She always said so, but of course without a will… But I imagine that Lilian will say she was addled in her mind when she wrote it?”

  Her brother had the grace to look embarrassed. “Lilian did say something of the sort, I confess. She set her heart on that necklace long ago, and heaven knows she deserves it, given what she has had to put up with from the old lady. My wife has the patience of a saint. But the law is clear, and the necklace is yours.”

  “The famous diamonds — shall you wear them?” George said gleefully. “For they are monstrous ugly, as I recall.”

  “Regrettably, no one will wear them,” his uncle said. “The diamonds have disappeared. Lilian has scoured the house from attic to cellar, as you may imagine, but without the slightest success. The maid has insisted all along that they were lost, and the worst of it is, she says that the last time she recalls them was here in this very house.”

  “Really?” Lady Graham said calmly. “I cannot say when I last saw them.”

  “Do you mean,” George said breathlessly, “that the Durmaston Diamonds may be somewhere in this house? Or behind a brick in our stables?”

  “It is entirely possible,” his uncle said.

  “Famous! We must begin a search at once!” George said, with a wide grin. “A treasure hunt — what could possibly be more amusing?”

  “Oh, George,” his mother said, shaking her head sorrowfully. “So frivolous! Sometimes I de
spair of you. When will you ever grow up?”

  His father raised an eyebrow languidly. “It will do no harm, Julia. Let the boy search if he wishes. I daresay he will find nothing but a great deal of dust.”

  “There is no dust in this house, you may be sure of that,” his wife said, bridling. “Nor is there any corner neglected by the servants where a diamond necklace may be hiding.”

  “Then George will be disappointed. But it must not be said that we failed to look for the necklace, knowing it to be missing.”

  “Exactly!” George said gleefully. “I shall begin at once — in the attics, I think.”

  He raced off to begin, his mother’s protestations fading into the distance behind him.

  END OF SAMPLE CHAPTER OF GRACE

  Grace: The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 5 will be published in early 2017. To be the first to hear when it’s released, sign up for my mailing list.