Hope (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 6)

by Mary Kingswood

  “…it is you, Maud, I swear!” the man said with some heat. “Why do you deny it? I cannot be mistaken on this point.”

  “Is this person causing you distress, my lady?” Hugo said. “Shall I see him off for you? Or call the constables?”

  The man turned to stare at them, but Lady Sara answered composedly, “He has mistaken me for someone else. I have tried to explain that I have never seen him before in my life, but he refuses to believe me.”

  “But I recognise you,” the man said, although with a puzzled air.

  “You are addressing the Lady Sara Allamont of Allamont Hall, sir,” Hugo said indignantly. “If she says she has never met you before, then she has never met you. Be on your way at once.”

  He raised his hat. “Beg pardon, milady. No offence intended, I’m sure. I must have got you confused with someone else.”

  Lady Sara gave him a curt nod and swept away into the hotel, leaving Hope and Hugo standing.

  The man, hat in hand, gazed after her. “I could have sworn…” he said under his breath, shaking his head in bemusement.

  Hope felt sorry for him, but a possible solution to the mystery suggested itself. “My mother has an identical twin sister. Perhaps you have met her instead? She lives in London.”

  His expression grew even more forlorn. “That will not answer, for I have never been there in my life. I have barely left my home town until I moved here a few days ago. Besides, she will be a lady, too, I suppose, and the one I met was no lady, that’s for certain.” He looked at Hope then, and straightened. “Beg pardon, miss. Just my mistake, I dare say. Best go after your mother now.”

  With a small bow, he moved on, and Hope and Hugo took his advice and ran after Lady Sara.

  But it was very puzzling, all the same, and Hope pondered the problem all the way home.

  3: Visitors

  When they arrived back at the Hall, Hope’s mother said, “Hope, dear, do come to my room. We should have a little talk.”

  Hope followed her up the stairs and towards her mother’s bedroom, but the maid said something to her mistress in a low voice, and Lady Sara stopped abruptly.

  “Quite right, Rushton. Hope, wait for me in my sitting room.”

  Hope curtsied silently and did as she was bid, but she was disappointed. She had never yet been invited into her mother’s bedroom, but Grace had, once, and had told her about the picture of Mama with her twin sister, Aunt Tilly, their arms round each other’s waists. Hope had always wanted to see it, but her mama was a very private person, she understood that.

  The sitting room was elegantly appointed, with modern furnishings and yellow Chinese wallpaper that made it sunny and warm. Every other room in the house was old-fashioned, full of the heavy furniture so admired by previous generations, but this room had been redecorated only five years ago.

  Her mother appeared very soon, divested of her pelisse, bonnet and gloves. “You may remove your bonnet now, dear,” she said with a smile. “There! Now come and sit beside me, and tell me about this business with Hugo. You have resisted him for so long, I should like to be assured that this is entirely your own decision and he has not put you under excessive pressure.”

  “Oh no, nothing of the sort! It is my own choice.”

  “And you are happy with the prospect of marrying Hugo? He was very wild when he was a boy, was he not?”

  “Oh yes, but he had such a difficult time at school, for James was the best in his house at all kinds of sports, and Mark won prizes for Greek and Latin and oratory, and Hugo was no good at anything very much, except mathematics. He had to be a little wild so that the other boys would respect him, he said. It is so difficult being the youngest in the family,” she added sadly.

  “Yes, I can appreciate the problem,” her mother said, patting her hand. “And then I daresay he was bored at home, with no sensible occupation and no money for amusements.”

  “Exactly!” Hope said. “He has been much more settled since he began to look into the accounts here, and take on the management of the estate.”

  “I can see that he enjoys the work and does it well, but one does not choose a husband because he is good at keeping records and collecting rents. Nor are his reasons for offering disinterested, for I fear that he does rather see you as his key to obtaining the house.”

  “Oh yes, but so is he mine,” Hope said. “I do not want to leave here, and I have discovered that I care more about that than the unlikely possibility that I might fall in love again.”

  “You are still comparing every man you meet to Mr Burford? Most young ladies would have said he was nothing special. I have nothing against red hair myself, but Hugo is by far the better looking.”

  Hope twisted her hands in her lap, lowering her head. “Appearances are not the only measure of a man,” she said quietly. “There was a steadfastness about Mr Burford that appealed to me.”

  “Until he fell in love with your sister,” her mother said, but her tone was unwontedly gentle.

  Hope looked up at her. “True, but I do not blame him for that. I do not blame either of them. But for a while, he adored me, and no one has adored me since, not in the way that the marquess adores Connie. And when Mr Drummond looked at Dulcie, there was such an ardour in his eyes, a great hunger that only she could satisfy. Until a man looks at me in just that way, I cannot fall in love with him. And so I might as well marry Hugo.”

  “Ardour…” her mother said softly. “Yes, I see the problem. If one cannot have a great, all-encompassing love, then one might as well marry for purely practical reasons, and such matches can work out very comfortably, with a little care on both sides. Hugo will not be the easiest man to deal with, perhaps, for he does tend to swing rather swiftly from the dismals to the heights and back down again, but you will learn how to manage him. Very well, I shall say no more about it, but you must beware, Hope.”

  “Beware? Of what?”

  “Sometimes a great, all-encompassing love sweeps you away just when you least expect it.”

  “I do not think I will ever fall in love again,” Hope said sadly.

  ~~~~~

  Hugo had written to his father to tell him of his successful suit, and this brought forth such an outpouring of delight and goodwill as could not be contained in a mere letter or even a common call. So it came about that Mr Henry Allamont was to make a stay of several days at Allamont Hall. This was not an unusual event, for ever since the death of his second wife a year ago, he had felt the need of more company than could be found at home. He stayed sometimes with his married daughter, Mary, and he had his eldest son, James, and his wife, and the Burfords as neighbours, but when Hugo stayed at Allamont Hall, his father often stayed there too.

  This time, he also brought James and Alice with him. James was a personable young man of five and twenty, who had once courted Amy with the same intent as Hugo — to inherit the Allamont estate if the sons of the family could not be found. He greeted his younger brother with the greatest delight in his good fortune.

  “Well, Hugo, so you succeeded where I failed,” he said, slapping his brother heartily on the shoulder. “A good catch on your part, for Hope is quite the prettiest of the lot, and she will not be the kind of wife who will give you any trouble.”

  “Trouble?”

  “Harass you when you do not do just as she wishes. Women can be the very devil, if they set their minds to it. The last thing any man wants is a shrewish sort of wife like mine.” He roared with laughter, and his wife laughed just as much.

  “Take no notice of him, Hugo,” Alice said. “As if I could stop him doing whatever he likes.”

  Alice was a farmer’s daughter, pretty and plump, a good-humoured girl who had innocently fallen for James’s well-practised seduction. He had been obliged to marry her rather hastily, putting an end to his hopes of restoring the family fortunes by marrying an heiress.

  Hugo’s father couched his congratulations more formally. “Well done, Hugo! I wish you both joy! Such wonderf
ul news — I cannot express my delight in this happy outcome. Now we can all be comfortable knowing that the Hall is in safe hands. Three thousand a year — or more, I daresay.”

  “A little less, in fact, but I have some plans—”

  “Naturally you do. Some refurbishment, of course, and perhaps a new saloon, or a ballroom, even. You might consider a new lodge and entrance on the northern side to connect to High Brafton.”

  “No, I meant—”

  “And you will want to set up your London house. Hope will like that, and you already have an entrée into the highest society through Lord and Lady Carrbridge.”

  “That possibility has not been a matter for discussion,” Hugo said. “It is a little early for such decisions. We must wait until we have the Hall secure first.”

  “Quite right, quite right. No rush at all. We must get you safely wed before we consider the rest.”

  All this took place on the drive before any of them had managed to make the short distance from the carriage to the front door, while Alice was embracing Hope as if she had not seen her for a year, instead of a mere week earlier. Only when Lady Sara emerged and urged them into the house did they begin to move, leaving the servants to unfasten the vast number of boxes they considered necessary for a stay of less than a week.

  Because of the celebratory nature of the occasion, Lady Sara had invited to dinner as many of her married daughters as lived near enough to attend. Belle and Mr Burford arrived from Willowbye later in the afternoon, to stay for two nights because of the Sabbath the following day. Amy and Mr Ambleside and Grace and George Graham lived so close that they could return home before midnight. Hugo’s sister Mary was also invited, but her husband Sir Osborne Hardy was often unwell, and in the event she came alone. She, too, was to stay for two nights.

  Dinner that evening was a jollier affair than usual, with Hugo the subject of much teasing about his soon-to-be-acquired right to sit at the head of the table. He took it in good part. Such thoughts filled his own mind, too, and although he considered it improper for him to express them himself, he was not averse to having others express them on his behalf.

  Hugo found himself sitting next to his sister Mary. “I am sorry Sir Osborne is not well enough to be here. I hope he has not suffered a relapse?”

  “Oh no, nothing of the sort, but the exertion of the journey might overset him. His constitution is not strong, and the least effort may cause a setback. He is better to stay quietly at home.”

  “But he does not mind you leaving him?”

  “A little,” she said, smiling. “Nor do I like leaving him, even for so short a time, for he always frets when I am away. But he has Mr Merton to attend him, and he never prevents me from any activity for his own convenience.”

  “You are fortunate to have so considerate a husband,” Hugo said.

  “Indeed I am. Sir Osborne is the kindest and most generous of men. I hope you will be just such a husband, Hugo, for it will be an awkward situation for Hope.”

  “How so? She will be mistress of Allamont Hall, and I cannot see any awkwardness in that.”

  “No, that part of it will not trouble her at all. But marriage is a difficult adjustment for a woman. We are taught from infancy to keep men at arm’s length, to speak only of the commonplace, to eschew any degree of closeness, and then abruptly one is thrust into intimacy. Such a change is easier when one is in love.”

  “Oh, if you mean what I think you mean, you need not worry, for we have agreed not to bother with such things.”

  Mary raised an eyebrow. “You should not speak of your private compacts, Hugo, for it is of concern to no one but the two of you, but I will tell you this — that arrangement, too, has its difficulties. If you have left any of the spiced mushrooms, I believe Papa would like some.”

  Thus chastised, Hugo turned to his father on his other side, offering the dish.

  His father smiled at him. “Much obliged, Hugo. You must get used to playing the host, you know. Shall you entertain a great deal when you are master here?”

  “Certainly! Or at least—” He threw a quick glance at Hope, busy chattering to her sisters. “I should very much like to. It is so quiet here now, with just Lady Sara and Hope. I like to see the place filled with people, as it should be.”

  “Ah, that is your mama’s blood in you! She was ever at her best in company. But that reminds me — I have finally had a response from the avocat in Paris who is dealing with your mother’s affairs.”

  “After all this time? I had thought they must have forgotten it, or lost the papers, or some such.”

  “It took me a long time to deliver all the documents they needed, for I could not just send them, I had to find a man to take them for me, and travel is still uncertain over there. It was a great expense and I cannot think it will be worth it.”

  “I never knew that Mama had any money of her own,” Hugo said. “She always said she had not deux sous à son nom.”

  “Indeed, and she took enough from me to prove it,” his father said with a wry expression. “I understood that she gave whatever money she once had to a sister — or a half-sister, perhaps. But her family was supposed to be wealthy, so perhaps she left some jewellery behind in France, who knows? She certainly left a will, so it is to be presumed that there is something to be distributed. My French is not perfect, but the avocat uses the expression ‘beaucoup de félicitations’ several times, so it is to be presumed there is something to felicitate about. Although there was also ‘une petite somme d'argent’, which does not sound so very much, does it? I would have noticed the words ‘petite fortune’, I believe.”

  “I believe ‘argent’ is money generally, not just silver,” Hugo said. “Even so, ‘une petite somme d’or’ would be more enticing.”

  His father laughed. “True. I shall not get my hopes up, then. Still, even a little would be useful.”

  “You are comfortably situated now, I think?” Hugo said. “Money is not the worry it once was.”

  “My income is more than sufficient for my reduced needs. No, it is not of myself that I speak now, but I should have liked something for the three of you.”

  “It is of no consequence,” Hugo said with a shrug. “James is a farmer now, and Mark is earning his bread honestly for once.”

  “And you will have the Hall, true,” Henry said. “But a little extra never hurts.”

  When the ladies withdrew, the men gathered around Hugo with the decanters, and then the ribbing became more masculine in nature, putting him to the blush. His brother James was the worst offender, aided by George Graham, and although Ambleside looked rather disapproving, the others enjoyed the joke.

  They had just begun to consider re-joining the ladies when Young came in, and coughed rather self-consciously.

  “What is it, Young?” Hugo said. “Are we wanted by the ladies?”

  “As to that, sir, I could not answer, but a difficulty has arisen.”

  “A domestic difficulty?”

  “No, sir. A family matter, but I do not wish to alarm the ladies.”

  “You are alarming me, Young,” Henry said brusquely. “Out with it, man. What has happened?”

  “There is a gentleman come, sir.”

  “Yes?”

  “It is… it is Master Ernest, sir.”

  4: Refusal And Acceptance

  Hope was uncomfortable. How it should be so, surrounded by three of her sisters, and James’s wife, too, who was an inoffensive soul, she could not say, yet they made her restless. All they could talk about was babies and teething and difficulties with nurses and the best arrangements for night and day nurseries. Even Grace, who had always been Hope’s special friend and devoted supporter, seemed like a stranger now. Hope had seen Grace’s new baby not long after it had emerged into the world, a red-faced, squalling bundle of protest, and decided at the time that babies were not worth all the trouble they caused. Yet Grace seemed delighted with hers, and all of them were capable of talking endlessly about the
ir little heirs and their odd habits that needed to be interpreted with such difficulty.

  Amy, oddly, was the expert now, Amy, who had never before expressed an opinion of her own and who could barely be in company without Mr Ambleside alongside to sustain her spirits. Yet on the matter of babies, she exuded confidence. How calmly she reassured Grace that a slight fever was not a matter for concern unless there was a rash also. How rationally she explained the methods for maintaining the optimum temperature for the nursery, and the best feeding regime. Even Belle bowed to her superior expertise.

  To Hope, it was dispiriting. For her, there would be no babies, and she was not sure how she felt about that. She could not forget Cousin Vivienne, Hugo’s mother, who had died because a baby had grown wrongly inside her, and Mrs Wills, who had died just three days after her only baby was born dead, and she shivered and hoped she never had to face that terrible prospect. On the other hand, how lovely it would be to produce another generation of young Allamonts to fill the Hall with their laughter and drive away the echoing emptiness that was its customary state now.

  After a while, she crept away from her sisters and Alice, and made her way across the room to where her mother and Mary were talking composedly. Mary had no babies either, and although the subject under discussion, Sir Osborne’s continuing illness, was not a cheerful one, still it was less dispiriting than the baby chatter.

  Young slunk into the room with the most horribly guilty look upon his face. Hope wondered what crisis had overcome the servants’ quarters to cause him to look so. But she wondered even more when Young crept behind her mother and hemmed discreetly.

  “Yes, Young?” Lady Sara said, not in the least discomposed.

  “Beg pardon, my lady, but the gentlemen would like you to step into the dining room for a moment.”

  She turned to look at him fully, silently considering. “Very well.” She rose in a rustle of silk, and without haste made her way out of the room.