Connie (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 3) (10 page)

Mr Burford’s father and three brothers were staying at the Hall, as well as a couple of the more important cousins. The days were filled with excursions and bustle, and each evening brought more visitors for dinner, filling the house with chattering voices and music and merriment. Such evenings were a delight to Connie, with card tables brought out, or the furniture moved aside for impromptu dancing, and so many new sources of conversation that she hardly knew where to turn. She had never known such a lively time at the Hall.

On the last night before the wedding, when the gentlemen rejoined the ladies after dinner, Mr Luke Burford came to sit beside her.

“Miss Connie, is it not? Ah, I am beginning to recognise each one of you at last, for I have to tell you that, to a stranger such as myself, you and your sisters look very much alike.”

“So I have been told, sir, and indeed, when poor Papa was alive, the difficulty was even greater, for he insisted we all dress alike. Only a coloured ribbon was allowed to distinguish one from another.  Green was my colour, and I did not mind that, for it is quite a favourite of mine, but poor Belle had to wear pink which is
not
flattering to her at all, and Hope was in worse case, for her colour was black. Do you not think it a strange notion? Oh, Mrs Luke is to sing for us. She has the most charming voice, do you not agree?”

“Yes, indeed, and—”

“And her mastery of Italian is excellent. I know a little of the language, but not enough to sing in it without stumbling.”

“Perhaps we should listen to the singing?” he suggested gently.

“Oh. Oh, certainly.”

Mrs Luke sang quite well, but her voice was not strong and Connie’s attention soon wandered. Gazing around the room, her eye fell on Amy, Mr Ambleside next to her, as always. Such a devoted husband, and especially now, in her delicate condition. He was fussing around with a screen, trying to shield her from some imaginary draught, Connie supposed. To think that she might have been the one to suffer such excessive attentions. She was glad to have escaped that trap!

Not far away, Belle and Burford sat, whispering with their heads bent together. They were smiling contentedly, and there was no doubting their mutual affection, but what an awkward beginning they would have to their married life, with Willowbye still full of men with ladders and paintbrushes, and Cousin Vivienne interfering and upsetting the servants. They seemed not to mind, but Connie could not contemplate such an unromantic arrangement.

As her gaze roamed, she caught sight of Lord Reginald watching her. He stood on the far side of the room behind the instrument, leaning casually against the wall, arms folded, as if merely enjoying the music. But when he caught Connie’s eye, his smile deepened and one hand fluttered in the smallest of waves.

Immediately she was overwhelmed with guilt, for in all the excitement of the wedding and the endless comings and goings, she was inclined to forget for hours at a time that she was supposedly engaged to marry Lord Reginald. It was all a great secret, but nevertheless, she ought to pay him some attention. Even when she was with him, she thought very little about him. Her reflections tended still towards his older brother, with his so-beautiful features and his incomparable style. Beside the Marquess, Lord Reginald did not appear to advantage, very much second best in her opinion.

But now, seeing that smile, so like the smiles she saw on Ambleside and Burford as they gazed at their loves, it occurred to her for the first time to wonder whether Lord Reginald was really as indifferent as he pretended to be? Was there, perhaps, a little more warmth in that smile — the same charming Marford smile as his older brother — than might be expected in a pretend lover? Her heart gave a little lurch.

“Miss Connie?” said Mr Luke, and Connie had the feeling that it was not the first time he had addressed her. The song had ended, and there was an opportunity for conversation again.

“I beg your pardon, sir, I was wool-gathering, I fear.”

“Ah, but you have no need at all to apologise, madam, for I observed the direction of your thoughts very clearly, and a very handsome personage he is indeed.” Connie could only blush, and hope that he could not, in fact, read her thoughts. “I shall not tease you with speculation on the precise state of your connection to that gentleman, for although I have heard certain rumours, I understand your reticence very well. In such an exalted family as the Marfords, the legal arrangements can be considerable and take some time to untangle to the satisfaction of all parties. You are wise not to rush headlong into… well, you understand me, I am sure.”

Connie was too embarrassed to utter a word, her cheeks aflame.

“But however elevated the gentleman may be, you need not be ashamed of your own contribution. In fact, delay is very much to your advantage.” He laughed suddenly. “I daresay I should not tell you this, Miss Connie, for it is rather a confidential matter, but I know from all John has told me that you are aware of the situation. The longer you wait before you marry, the larger the dowry you will have.”

Connie stared at him. “You know something of that?”

“I do. My partner — and also my wife’s father, as it happens — has the management of the fund which is to provide your dowries.”

“Oh! Then you must know why it increases!”

“I know
how
it increases, Miss Connie, but not why. The account is held at a local bank in Market Clunbury, where I live. Each Monday, a man arrives at the bank and pays in a sum of money to that account, always in coins, never notes. Two or three hundred each week goes into that account, nothing is ever withdrawn, apart from the dowries for Mrs Ambleside and Miss Belle, and nobody has the least idea who he is or why he does that. It is a great mystery, and I should dearly like to know the answer.”

11: To London

The wedding took place, the sun made a brave effort to shine, and half the village drove down the lane or walked through the woods to Allamont Hall for the wedding breakfast. At noon, the smiling couple stepped into their new carriage and departed for Willowbye.

Two days later, with most of the visitors departed, Lady Sara deemed it appropriate to visit her daughter in her new establishment. Lord Reginald, who showed no sign of leaving the neighbourhood, borrowed his sister’s carriage for the occasion, offering to take Connie and whichever of her sisters she chose. It was agreed that it would be Dulcie, but whether from mischief or accident, Dulcie happened to enter her mother’s carriage instead, and Connie found herself quite alone with Lord Reginald.

It was beginning to prey on her mind rather that he was unusually attentive for a man who was only pretending to be in love. She could not help but prefer the Marquess, but would Lord Reginald make an acceptable alternative? He was pleasant and unassuming, without the streak of arrogance which characterised his older brother, and she did not mind the lesser title, she told herself firmly. But she was not quite sure what income he might have on his own account, and although she would not judge a man’s eligibility by fortune alone, she did not feel that it would be comfortable living in poverty, or dependent on his older brother for support.

And then he had not quite the style of his brother. The Marquess was blessed with handsome features, a shapely form and an admirably fashionable mode of dress. Whenever Connie had danced with him, heads had turned to watch them and she knew they made a splendid couple. Not, she chided herself, that such a matter should affect her judgement, but it was very pleasant to stroll about a room on the Marquess’s arm, knowing how well they looked together. And he was not yet married to Jess, or even officially betrothed.

As a consequence, Connie was not pleased to find herself alone in the carriage with Lord Reginald, and fell into embarrassed silence. Nothing, however, could have been more proper than his behaviour. Very far from making violent love to her, as she had half feared, he chatted as calmly as if they sat in the drawing room, talking innocuously about the Hall and the houses they passed and the streets of Brinchester they drove through. In this way, he beguiled away the journey, putting her quite at her ease.

There was only one awkward moment. “I hope you are not too upset by Lady Melthwaite’s overwrought behaviour,” he said, his tone quite placid, as if he were discussing the weather. “She is not typical of her rank.”

Connie blushed, and hung her head. She was mindful of her mother’s instructions not to speak about her family, but even without that stricture, she could not have uttered a word.

Lord Reginald laughed gently. “It is quite all right, Miss Allamont. All families have their scandals, and those that do not are too dull for words. I assure you that I do not regard it in the least. And nor does Dev,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “It will not be… an obstacle.”

His meaning was perfectly clear, but she clutched her reticule tightly, keeping her head lowered, and after a moment he said, “Look, Miss Allamont, have you ever seen so many lambs in one field? What a prosperous farm that must be. Are we on Willowbye land yet?”

Belle and Burford were at the front door to greet them as they arrived, smiling, hugging, ushering them inside. The smell of fresh paint was rather overwhelming, and Connie could barely wait for the exchange of well-wishes before asking, “And how is the work coming on? Is the Chinese saloon finished yet?”

Belle laughed. “Almost, but I need your advice about the dining room. Mama, you will not mind if I steal Connie away for a moment? Mr Burford will tell you all about the departure of Cousin Vivienne.”

As they left the room, Belle linked arms with her sister. “I have had the painters splash some colours onto the wall for us to choose from, but I shall not decide until I have had your opinion.”

“Of course. And is she really gone? Did you have to throw her out bodily? For Mr Burford is very well able to do so. I recall him dealing with those dreadful men who applied for the post of schoolmaster.”

“I remember! He was quite masterful, was he not? He is such a gentle soul as a rule, but when the occasion calls for it, he can be very determined. There was an occasion last month when…”

Connie tried not to look impatient at yet another recitation of Mr Burford’s perfections, especially since she had heard this particular tale several times already. However, Belle was in the throes of newly-wed ardour, so allowances must be made. Fortunately, they arrived at the dining room in time to put an end to the story, and for some time the conversation was all of paint and wallpaper and decorative plasterwork.

When all was settled, Belle said, “It is very pleasant to have the house to ourselves at last.”

“Then Cousin Vivienne went willingly in the end?”

“Not her! She was still here when we arrived from the Hall, and the servants all in agitation, for she swore she would not leave without taking the cook and butler and housekeeper with her, and two footmen, if you please, even though only one of them was here before, and we engaged the other ourselves.”

Connie gasped at the audacity of it. “So what did you do?”

“I told her that this was no longer her house, that she was welcome to call on at home days like anyone else, but I must ask her to leave, and if she did not, Mr Burford would carry her out.” She giggled, hand over mouth. “You cannot imagine the thunderous expression on her face!”

“Oh, how brave you are! I should never have dared. And what did she say to that?”

“She said again that she wanted all the senior servants, so I had them all brought into the great hall, and asked them to say whether they wished to stay or go. And they all chose to stay, of course, as I knew they would, for they had told me so several times already. Besides, Mr Burford is to pay them more than they had before.”

“I am sure their loyalty is due to the way you have dealt with them, rather than money,” Connie said indignantly.

“Well, I hope I will earn their loyalty, in time, but they do not know me at all, and most of them do not remember Cousin Vivienne, either. Mary has been mistress here for years, and I did think some of them might wish to stay with her. Poor Mary! She will have a difficult time of it, I fancy, cooped up in that house with Cousin Vivienne, when she has been used to managing her own life.”

“Perhaps Cousin Henry can afford to provide her with a dowry now,” Connie said optimistically.

Belle shook her head. “I do not think there is much money to spare, even now. Not enough for that, anyway. I feel very sorry for her. I have suggested that she might come to London with us, but Cousin Vivienne will not permit it, and there is nothing we can do about that. But I am so happy that
you
are to be there. Such a pity that Dulcie, Grace and Hope cannot be of the party, but still, we shall have the most delightful time of it, you and me and Amy.”

“And Jess Drummond,” Connie said gloomily.

Belle laughed. “You must not begrudge Jess her time in the sunshine, Connie dear. Her life has been hard enough, lately. She is entitled to a little happiness.”

Connie would be willing enough to allow her that happiness, if only she had not snatched the Marquess away to accomplish it.

~~~~~

The time for Connie’s departure to London was fast approaching. One day Lady Sara invited Connie into her bedroom, and allowed her to choose several pieces of jewellery from her collection. Most were old-fashioned, for Mama had had no new pieces for a long time, and indeed seldom wore what she had, but Connie chose several delicate necklaces,  a couple of jewelled combs, a silver circlet and a ruby bracelet which she felt was too ostentatious for all but the grandest gathering, but she loved the colour.

Lady Sara and her maid exchanged glances. “You see, Peters? She has excellent taste.”

“Indeed she does, mi’lady.”

“I do believe that she will not disgrace me in the society she is now entering.”

“Oh no, mi’lady. She will be the handsomest young lady in town, and so much admired, just as you were, mi’lady.”

Lady Sara laughed indulgently. “Well now, that was a very long time ago, Peters. A very long time.” She sighed. “Now, Connie, has Lord Reginald made any provision for a lady’s maid for you?”

“No, Mama, he has not mentioned such an idea.”

“Then you had better take Annie with you. What is her surname, Peters?”

“Smith,” said Peters.

“Smith, yes. You must call her Smith now, Connie, and Peters will show her a few tricks before you go. Dulcie can have Janet, now that Amy and Belle have gone. If you look in that drawer in my dressing table, Connie — no, no, the left-hand one — yes, there, you will find a small purse. I daresay you have spent most of your allowance, and you will need to have enough money to buy a few small items, and leave tips for the servants. Well, well. If this comes off with Lord Reginald, I shall have three daughters married before too long, and Dulcie may start to look about her for a husband. She need not aspire to a lord, though. She has not your looks, dear, and there is a spiteful streak to her nature than I have never managed to eradicate, but perhaps she will find someone suitable. One of those brothers from High Frickham would suit her very well. Off you go, child, and take good care of those jewels.”

“Yes, Mama. Thank you very much, Mama.” Connie bobbed her curtsy and dashed off to show Dulcie her new treasures.

~~~~~

The journey to London was tedious but the roads were mostly good, and travel was still such a new experience that even the discomforts of the road did nothing to diminish Connie’s excitement. The Marquess drove his own curricle, while Connie, Lady Harriet, Lord Reginald and Jess Drummond shared the carriage, squeezed in with another of Lady Harriet’s tame chaperons.

“Why do you travel with the ladies, my lord?” Jess said to Lord Reginald, as they waited for fresh horses at an inn on the first day. “Would you not be more comfortable in the curricle with your brother? Or do you prefer to be close to your
betrothed
?” And for some unfathomable reason, this sent her into gusts of laughter.

“And why should I not travel with Miss Allamont?” Lord Reginald said testily. “Perhaps
you
would be more comfortable in the curricle with
your
betrothed, Miss Drummond.”

But that only made her laugh all the harder. Connie shook her head at Jess’s behaviour, not even trying to discover the source of her amusement.

Marford House was a great mausoleum of a place. All the principal rooms were gloomy, filled with vast pillars and statuary, the ceilings painted with fat nymphs and a variety of unidentifiable creatures, and an array of furniture dating back to the middle of the previous century. Connie followed Lord Reginald from room to room, her spirits lowering with every step.  The housekeeper who showed them around knew the prices paid for every single item, and Connie would look at a bloated, over-decorated sideboard or an oil painting of a sea battle covering half a wall, and despair. For once, even Jess was subdued, although whether the overwrought decoration depressed or overawed her was hard to fathom.

“What do you think?” Lord Reginald whispered.

“I am exceedingly glad I do not have to live here for the whole year,” Connie said, without bothering to lower her voice. That just made him laugh.

“You do not like it?” the Marquess said, turning to her in surprise.

“Not much, no. The artwork is excellent, as far as I am any judge, but the colours and the ornate furniture render it all dreadfully overpowering.”

“How would you change it?” the Marquess said.

She smiled at that. “Change any part of Marford House? It is hardly my place to suggest alterations, my lord. Surely the grandeur is part of the desired effect?”

“But suppose I were to ask. It is my house, after all. Suppose I were to decide that indeed, it is all dreadfully gloomy and dismal, and I want some alterations made? If I were to ask your opinion, what would you suggest?”

“Why, pale colours, for one thing. Lighter, more elegant furniture, such as that made by Mr Hepplewhite or Mr Sheraton. Plain walls or simple patterns, delicate draperies, vases instead of these heavy statues, mirrors everywhere to reflect light.”

“Oh! That sounds delightful,” he said, his handsome face lighting up. “How charming you make it sound, Miss Allamont.”

He smiled down at her, so exquisitely beautiful, so amiable, so perfect in every way, inspiring in her a pang of real regret. At such times, he seemed almost within her reach. She had to remind herself sternly that he was immovably in love with Jess. Sooner or later, the betrothal would be announced, a date would be set for the wedding, and all that would remain for Connie would be the humiliation of admitting to the world that she was not, after all, to marry Lord Reginald Marford.

At least she would have a season in London, she reminded herself, and that was a consolation indeed. Nor was this the shabby month-long affair that Amy and Belle had enjoyed, but a full season in the company of one of the foremost families of England, with connections everywhere. Not for the Marfords the embarrassment of sitting unregarded at the perimeter of events, hoping for notice, or the long wait for vouchers for Almacks, or driving through Hyde Park without exchanging greetings with anyone.