Amy (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 1) (19 page)

“I think you may be right.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “Forgive me, Connie.”

“It is I who must beg your forgiveness, Mr Ambleside. But we are friends, I hope, and you are free now to offer for Amy, if you wish.”

His throat was too choked to say more than, “Thank you!” in heartfelt tones.

He jumped to his feet, unable to wait a moment longer. “Where is she?” he said eagerly. “In the schoolroom? Practising her music? Oh, but she will be at the White House! She has been there so much lately.”

“Oh — did you not know? She is with Lady Harriet at Drummoor. She could be gone for weeks.”

Connie skipped off to find her sisters, leaving him alone in the room, dismayed. Drummoor. Where was Drummoor? He had not the least idea of direction or distance or how the place might be reached. He would need to apply to the Dowager Countess for instructions on how to find it. He strode out to find his horse.

He discovered it to be two days by coach if he changed horses along the way, or three if he kept to his own. He was on the road within two hours, and a less pleasant journey he could not remember. The delays, indifferent accommodation, poor food and ostlers who had to be shouted at and copiously bribed to do their work, the need to ask directions frequently, all put him badly out of countenance. The relentless rain drove him to distraction. He hated being cooped up in the airless carriage with only his valet for company. But he bore it as best he could, with no more than a dozen outbreaks of temper each day, because each mile brought him closer to Amy and the joy of seeing her smile.

Would she smile when she saw him? Or would she turn him away again—? But no, for he was determined she should not refuse him a second time. This time he would not take no for an answer.

As the carriage drew nearer to Drummoor, the road dwindled to little more than a farm track, and a badly rutted and muddy one at that. The last mile or two, taken at barely walking pace, tested Ambleside’s patience to its limit. But eventually he arrived, the gates stood open, the carriage drove through and made its way past badly overgrown hedges. The house was reached, the carriage stopped and the first sight to meet his eyes was Amy herself, standing out on the front lawn some little distance away, surrounded by a group of young men wielding spades. Gardeners, of course. Naturally she had some project in progress already.

He smiled to himself as he strode towards her. So like Amy! Always digging and planting and organising teams of gardeners. He took no notice of the workers, his eyes fixed on his beloved.

She had not noticed him at first, for she was busy pointing at the ground, and talking — giving instructions to the gardeners, no doubt. Then she looked towards him and her face instantly changed, the animation dropping away. Her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide. She gave a little scream.

He had thought endlessly during the long journey of what he would say, but when he reached her side and she looked up at him, so anxious yet so trusting, so utterly lovable, all his carefully prepared speeches flew out of his head.

“Connie has set me free,” he said, the words tumbling out. “I am come for you at last, darling Amy, and this time you will not turn me away for I will not take a refusal, and so I warn you. I am going to marry you if I have to carry you off by force.”

Then, unable to resist a second longer, he swept her into a firm embrace and kissed her quite thoroughly, to rousing cheers from all the assembled gardeners.

~~~~~

Amy glowed with happiness. She walked alongside Mr Ambleside, her arm tucked comfortably into his, and every so often her feet gave a little skip, all by themselves, as if they could not quite contain their excitement.

“When you first arrived, I was so afraid something dreadful had happened,” she said. “To Connie, perhaps, or one of the others, and you were sent to fetch me.”

He groaned. “I had not considered that. I am ashamed to admit that I thought only of myself and my own selfish need for you, without a thought as to how my abrupt arrival must appear to you. I am so sorry, my darling.”

“Oh no, it is quite all right. It was only a moment before I realised what you were about, and all my fears were allayed.” Then, blushing a little, she added, “I like it very much when you call me that. Your darling.”

“Do you really?” He stopped and swung round so that they stood face to face, his expression serious. “Amy, you would tell me if you have the smallest reservation about this? For I have not given you a great deal of choice in the matter, have I?” He sighed heavily. “I have been quite dreadfully precipitate of late, rushing into everything without a sensible thought in my head, and determined to have my way. I got rid of all your suitors, in my arrogance, for I was quite sure you would accept me. How presumptuous I was! And here I am, doing exactly the same again, tearing back into your life and giving you not a moment to think. It is wrong of me, I know. Can you ever forgive me?”

“It was very bad of you to interfere with my marriage prospects in that way,” she said quietly. “I was so angry with you then. I am sure you meant it for the best, and you were trying to protect me from a terrible mistake, but still you should not have done it.”

“That is clear to me now. It was appallingly autocratic of me, and I was just as overbearing with Connie. I have behaved dreadfully, which makes me thoroughly ashamed of myself. I do try to curb my impulsiveness, but lately, I have grown quite wild. Fortunately, you have brought me to my senses at last. I would never force you into marriage against your will, I hope you know that. If you are still concerned about your father’s disapproval—”

“No. Not that. I have come to see…” She hesitated. Even now, how difficult it was to say the words, to admit that Papa was not what he ought to be. But it had to be said. “I understand now that my father was not quite the man of principle I believed him to be. He has sunk in my estimation of late. My sisters and I were all terrified of him, I see that now, and even Mama disliked him. She said she hated him,” Amy added quietly. “And that is not right, is it? If a wife hates her husband, there must be something amiss.”

“But you will not hate your husband, I hope,” he said teasingly.

She looked up at him shyly. “Indeed not. Will you… would you mind… kissing me again? For I liked it very much.”

He obliged with an enthusiasm which set her heart racing, and left her breathless and heated. “Darling Amy,” he whispered into her ear. “I have been such a fool over Connie. I should have listened to my heart.”

“Ah, poor Connie! Was she very upset?”

“Relieved, I would rather say. She was not very comfortable in her role as a prospective bride.”

“Connie was always so. She wants what she cannot have, and then, when she is given it, she decides she does not want it at all. Papa made such a mistake when he named her — all of us! Connie is supposed to be constant, yet her mind flits about like a butterfly. Belle ought to be beautiful, and I am supposed to be amiable.”

“And so you are, darling Amy. The most amiable woman in the world.”

“Oh no! For I never know what to say in conversation, so I say nothing, which is abominably rude, and when I get upset or worried, I snap at people.”

“Then it is fortunate you have me to take care of you, for I shall make very sure that nothing upsets or worries you again.”

“Oh! That sounds delightful. You will look after me, will you not?”

“Indeed I shall, for the rest of our lives, my darling.”

She smiled up at him and lifted her face for another kiss.

THE END

The next book in the series is
Belle: The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 2
.

Go to the
Mary Kingswood website
to buy it, find out more or sign up for the newsletter.

You can read Chapter 1 of
Belle
after the acknowledgements.

Thanks for reading!

If you have enjoyed reading this book, please consider writing a review on Amazon, Goodreads or wherever you hang out online, to help others decide if they would like it. You can find out the latest news, find bonus scenes and background information, and sign up for the newsletter at the
Mary Kingswood website
. If you’d like to know more about the Allamont family and their friends, the next book in the series is
Belle: The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 2
.
Buy it here
.

A note on historical accuracy:
I have endeavoured to stay true to the spirit of Regency times, and have avoided taking too many liberties or imposing modern sensibilities on my characters. The book is not one of historical record, but I’ve tried to make it reasonably accurate. However, I’m not perfect! If you spot a historical error, I’d very much appreciate knowing about it so that I can correct it and learn from it. Thank you!

About
The Daughters of Allamont Hall:
a series of six traditional Regency romances, featuring the unmarried daughters of Mr William and Lady Sara Allamont. When their father dies unexpectedly, his will includes generous dowries for the sisters, but only on condition that they marry in the proper order, the eldest first.

Book 1: Amy

Book 2: Belle

Book 3: Connie

Book 4: Dulcie

Book 5: Grace

Book 6: Hope

Any questions about the series?
Email me
- I’d love to hear from you!

About the author

I write traditional Regency romances under the pen name Mary Kingswood, and epic fantasy as Pauline M Ross. I live in the beautiful Highlands of Scotland with my husband, my grown up daughter and a mad cat. I like chocolate, whisky, my Kindle, massed pipe bands, long leisurely lunches, watching TV with my daughter, chocolate, going places in my campervan, eating pizza in Italy, summer nights that never get dark, wood fires in winter, chocolate, the view from the study window looking out over the Moray Firth and the Black Isle to the mountains beyond. And chocolate. I dislike driving on motorways, cooking, shopping, hospitals.

Acknowledgements

Thanks go to:

My grandparents, Henry and Hannah Austin, who named their four children Amy, Constance, Ernest and Frank, and thereby inadvertently inspired these books

My good friends at AC (you know who you are!) who provided me with advice, support, encouragement and kicks up the backside, hand-holding and hugs, laughs and tears, woo chickens, tacos and tubesteak

My beta readers: Clara Benson, Marina Finlayson, Anya Monroe, Jen Rasmussen, Hope Whitley

Last, but definitely not least, my first reader: Amy Ross.

An extract from Belle - Chapter 1: An Unexpected Visitor

Belle looked up from her book at the insistent rat-tat-tat on the front door. Then the bell jangled again, distantly. An impatient visitor. After no more than ten seconds, the knocker sounded once more, and for longer. She smiled, shaking her head. That would not bring Young to the door one jot more quickly. The butler had a nice sense of what was appropriate for the reception of guests at Allamont Hall, and a stately tread to the front door was an integral part of it. The bell began again, abruptly cut off as the door creaked open.

The window seat at the top of the stairs was Belle’s favourite reading spot. When her father had been alive, she and her five sisters had been required to sit primly at desks in the schoolroom for bookwork, supervised by their governess, even though they were all out. Now, they could do as they pleased. Most of the others spent their time in the drawing room, gossiping over their needlework, but Belle liked to read in peace.

Below her, male voices, the quiet, measured tones of Young, and a louder voice, not one she recognised. Then silence fell, and she turned back to her book. The slow step of Young mounting the stairs drew her to the realisation that she was not, after all, to be left in peace to read. With a sigh, she marked her place and shut the book with a snap.

“Yes, Young, what is it?”

“I beg your pardon for disturbing you, Miss Belle, but there is a man downstairs who wishes to speak with a member of the family. In the absence of Lady Sara and Miss Allamont…”

“Yes, I see.” Belle, as the second daughter of the house, was the next to be appealed to for any domestic matter. “But if it is business, he should go to Mr Plumphett, you know.”

“I suggested exactly that, but he has already applied to Mr Plumphett and received no satisfaction. Furthermore, he has written to Lady Sara and not yet had the honour of a reply.”

“Mama is away in London so often that it is not a surprise that she is behind with her correspondence, and I daresay a solicitor has many calls on his time of great import. But I do not quite see what I am expected to do.”

Young hesitated, with a little ‘hem’ of distress. “Far be it from me to offer advice, Miss Belle, but I believe you should speak to the young man. It is a family matter, as I understand it.”

“What can you mean, Young?”

Another gentle ‘hem’. “He claims to be your brother.”

Belle experienced a sudden rush of joy. “Then it is Ernest! Or Frank! They are found at last! Oh, after all these years, such happiness!” But something in Young’s face told her that it was not, in fact, one of the sons of the house who had run away several years earlier. “Not Ernest or Frank? Then what can he mean by saying such a thing? I am quite at a loss to understand it.”

She knew at once that the situation could not be understood by sitting on the window seat wondering at it. The only way to determine the young man’s intent was to speak to him herself.

“Very well,” she said, rising and shaking out her skirts. “I shall see him.”

The young man was certainly the correct age to be one of her brothers, for he looked to be no more than one or two and twenty. His features were pleasant although undistinguished, and he was rather well-dressed in garments that looked newly made, although perhaps not in the first style. A local man who had recently come into money, perhaps.

It was a thought that set her immediately on her guard. Perhaps he was the sort of person who preyed on recently bereaved families, to his own advantage. He would wheedle his way into the family, playing on their good nature with his taking ways, and then… Well, she was not sure how such a scheme would work, but all her suspicions were aroused.

“Ah, Miss Belle Allamont, I presume. Jack Barnett at your service.” His accent was local, not that of an educated man, and he was certainly no gentleman.

“How may I help you, Mr Barnett?”

He laughed, but it was not a pleasant sound. “Indeed, I don’t believe you can offer me any assistance at this moment, Miss Allamont. I am quite easy, and not in need of aid.”

“Then what brings you here, sir?”

“Why, I came to see the house, of course, and a splendid building I find it to be. Quite splendid. And you have some fine paintings. That is a magnificent specimen over there, above that table.”

“The one over the console? It is indifferently executed.”

“Ah. Yes, but the subject is magnificent. Who is she?”

“That is my mother, the Lady Sara Allamont.”

“Ah, I see. So beautiful. But this must have been painted some years ago, I’m sure, for she looks too young to be the mother of grown daughters.”

“She sat for it shortly after her marriage. What exactly do you want, Mr Barnett?”

He was not in the least discomfited, his raucous laugh echoing around the high ceiling of the hall. “But I’ve already told you — I’m come to see this house, Miss Allamont — or may I call you Belle?”

She almost stamped her foot in frustration. Such impudence! “Indeed you may not, sir, and unless you have a very good reason to be here, and better than you have previously expressed, I am afraid I must ask you to leave this house.”

“Well, now, that’s not very kind to your own flesh and blood. We’re kin, Belle, so no need to be high and mighty.”

“I do not know you, sir, and you are no kin of mine. Please go at once.”

“But that’s not true. Didn’t your father ever mention me? He always acknowledged me as his son, and now I’m come to claim my inheritance. In his will, you know, the whole estate goes to the eldest son. Since Ernest and Frank aren’t here, that’s me, isn’t it?”

And he laughed again mirthlessly, a harsh sound to Belle’s ears.

~~~~~

“Impossible!”

“This cannot be!”

Connie and Dulcie were twin images of outrage. The two sisters were seated at the worktable where were spread out all the makings of a bonnet, littering the surface with pins and thread and ribbons of many hues and a great collection of feathers.

“What a liar he must be to tell such stories without the slightest shame,” Connie said.

“Perhaps he is not sound in his mind,” Dulcie said. “He must be quite mad, I am convinced. Then perhaps he truly believes he belongs to this family. Someone has told him, I daresay, that both our brothers are gone and may be dead, and now in his addled brain he thinks he is one of them.”

Belle pulled out a chair and sat, too, feeling her legs quite unequal to the task of carrying her a moment longer. “He did not seem very addled to me. On the contrary, he appeared to be perfectly lucid.”

“Indeed, I am sure you are right, for now that I consider the matter, I do not think Young would have admitted him to the house at all if there were any doubt of his sanity,” Dulcie said. “Jack Barnett’s sanity, I mean, not Young’s.” She and Connie both giggled.

“Sisters, really! This is not a matter for jesting.”

“But it is so strange!” Connie said. “Nevertheless, I shall endeavour to be serious. I believe he must have made up the whole of it. Such effrontery! I can scarce believe that he would come here with such lies.”

Much as Belle hoped that the young man’s claim was entirely baseless, she could not so easily dismiss it. “I am as astonished as you are, but I do not see what this person would have to gain by inventing such a thing.”

“Why the house of course!” Connie cried. “What else could it be? The entire estate and all Papa’s money must be worth a considerable sum, would you not say? A prize well worth a venture for any unscrupulous thief.”

Belle shook her head at that. “And yet such valuable items must pass strictly according to law and the terms of Papa’s will, so any thief would have to demonstrate his entitlement. No one can appear from nowhere and claim an inheritance without proof. What we need to do is to find out exactly what was written in Papa’s will.”

At that moment, the two youngest Allamont sisters, Grace and Hope, came giggling into the room, together with their former governess, and now companion, Miss Bellows, who had accompanied them on their walk to the village. Belle was obliged to explain the story all over again, and answer the same shocked denials, objections and questions.

“You should apply to Mr Plumphett for advice at once,” Miss Bellows said. “He will be certainly be able to clarify the precise terms of your late father’s will, and if there have been any legal dealings with this supposed son in the past, then he will know something of the circumstances.”

“Supposed son?” Belle said, catching at the hopeful words. “You think then that it might be a fiction after all?”

“I have no opinion on that,” she said. “But it appears to me that two claims have been made. Firstly, the young man claims to be your father’s son. Secondly, he claims, in the absence of Ernest and Frank, that it is his right to inherit Allamont Hall. Both of those must be tested and proved to the satisfaction of the law. He has a great deal to do before he can move in here and begin to rearrange the furniture.”

“But I do not quite understand,” Hope said. “How is it we have never heard that Papa was married before he met Mama?”

“Hope dear, he was not married before that,” Belle said.

“Oh but then how… Oh! You mean…? Oh!”

“Yes, I fear it must be so. If Jack Barnett is indeed Papa’s son, then Papa has sinned rather grievously.”

~~~~~

The eldest daughter of Allamont Hall, Amy, returned home in time to dress for dinner. She was accompanied, as always these days, by Mr Ambleside. They were not officially engaged to be married, but it was widely known that the banns would be read as soon as a year had passed since the late Mr Allamont’s death, when Amy and her sisters would be out of mourning.

Belle always smiled when she saw her sister. Such a glow of happiness about her! It warmed her heart to see Amy so contented.

“Did you have a lovely day, sister?” Belle said.

“Oh yes!” Amy blushed prettily. “Mrs Cormet showed me everything in the house, and we talked a great deal about linen and china. Mr Ambleside was quite right to suggest inviting Miss Endercott to accompany us, for she made some excellent suggestions and knows a great deal about domestic matters. All those hours we spent in the schoolroom, sister, learning Greek, and reciting the Kings and Queens of England, and the lengths of every river in Europe, yet no one thought to explain about the proper care of silverware or the rotation of linens or how to deal with a lazy housemaid. I shall have so much to learn. But I may leave everything to Mrs Cormet, may I not, Mr Ambleside? She manages everything perfectly.”

“Indeed you may. You need not worry about any of these domestic matters. So you may be quite easy.”

“Thank you! That is such a relief. And then in the afternoon, while Miss Endercott rested, I talked to the head gardener, Mr Kennedy, who is splendidly knowledgeable. He will be vastly helpful in bringing all my plans to fruition. Mr Ambleside has given me leave to do as I please with the garden, you know.”

“He will be a most obliging husband, I am sure,” Belle said. “Which is, of course, the very best kind to have. I must hope to be half so fortunate in my own husband.”

“You will find someone wonderful, sister, I am sure,” Amy said. “As soon as we are out of mourning, you will be able to go to balls and card parties and routs and all manner of entertainments. You will meet any number of delightful gentlemen, I am sure.”

“I daresay I have met every eligible gentleman in the county already,” Belle said, with a smile. “In mourning or out of it, the society we move in does not change a great deal from season to season.”

“Then you must try a different society,” Ambleside said at once. “I have it in mind that the future Mrs Ambleside might wish to visit London in the spring, and that she might also wish her favourite sister to accompany her. What do you say to that, Miss Allamont? Miss Belle?”

Amy clapped her hands in glee. “I should like it extremely! You are so kind to me, Mr Ambleside. Belle? Why so glum? Do you not like the idea?”

“Oh yes, and I take it very kindly in you, sir, to consider it, but I fear I am too much needed here to jaunter about the country. With Mama away so much, and our sisters given over to frivolous pursuits, there is no one else to attend to the smooth running of the house.”

“I have not the right to offer you advice, Miss Allamont,” Ambleside said to her, his voice serious. “However, it is my opinion that everyone is entitled to enjoy themselves occasionally. A month in London away from the domestic cares would do you a great deal of good, and expose you to a far superior society than is available here. Will you at least consider the idea?”

“I will, sir. You have my gratitude for your kindness.”

“You must come, Belle,” Amy said. “Just think how many eligible gentlemen you will meet, and all with titles and fortunes, I make no doubt. Think how much your prospects would improve. At the very least, you would not need to depend on Grace making a list of possible suitors, as I had to do.”

“Grace made a list?” Ambleside said, with lively interest. “Was my name on it? I do hope I was on the list.”

Amy blushed again. “Of course!”

“And who else? Oh, but I believe I can guess. Our local heroes, Sir Osborne Hardy and Mr Wills, no doubt. I had nothing to fear from them.”