~~~~~
Hugo received Mr Plumphett’s response to his enquiry about Hope’s dowry with some pleasure, but there was just enough oddity in the wording to give him pause. He talked of discussion and matters of interest and approaches to the question, rather than of settlements and transfers of funds. So when he entered Plumphett’s office, he was not entirely surprised to see Mr Ambleside, Mr Burford and George Graham there too. And when everything was explained about the unexpected growth of the dowry fund, he could see the force of the argument.
“How disappointing that I should agree with you on the inequitable distribution of the fund,” he said with a wry smile. “For I daresay I could have argued the point for some time, had I set my mind to it.”
Burford and Graham smiled at this, but Ambleside answered seriously, “For myself, I should have been disappointed had you viewed the matter in any other light. But the question remains as to what is to be done?”
“It seems to me,” Burford said, “that several of us do not need any addition to the dowry that was provided at the time. Mrs Burford’s jointure was very generous, and I have added somewhat to it, so that she is amply provided for. Mrs Ambleside and the Marchioness of Carrbridge are in the same case, I make no doubt.”
“My wife, also, is perfectly well provided for,” Graham said. “It is only Drummond who might feel the pinch, and be glad of some extra income. Might we not adjust the amount for Hugo, so that the excess is divided between the two of them?”
Ambleside frowned. “We do not, I feel, have the right to make such a decision. It is a question of what it would be proper to do, which is fair to all parties and yet complies fully with the provisions of the will. It is the greatest pity this outcome was not anticipated from the start and due allowance made for it, instead of trying to thrash out a solution after the event. What does Carrbridge have to say on the matter, Plumphett?”
“His lordship is content to leave the final distribution in my capable hands, if I may quote his lordship’s most flattering words,” the solicitor said. “Mr Drummond, too, writes that he will accept whatever I deem to be fair.”
“Then we can leave it to Mr Plumphett,” Graham said, half rising.
“We can not so leave it,” Ambleside said in quelling tones. “It is for the law to determine what should happen here, not one individual.”
“Mr Plumphett, what precisely does the will say?” Hugo said. “Let us start there, and see if perhaps the solution may be clear.”
With a rustle of papers, Plumphett produced the document. “Let me see… no, not that passage… where is it? Ah! Here it is. It reads as follows: ‘To my daughters, should any survive me and be not yet married, I leave to each the contents of the box engraved with her initial, which boxes may be found in my book room. In addition, from the account…’ And here he gives the details of the account at Market Clunbury. Where was I? Ah, here: ‘…one sixth of the total to be given to each on the occasion of her marriage. In order to instil the proper degree of meekness…’ But that part, about the order in which the Miss Allamonts must marry, is no longer relevant to the case.”
“One sixth of the total,” Hugo said. “But which total? The total at the time of each marriage, or the overall total?”
“It is ambiguous,” Burford said with a smile.
“Then we are no further forward,” Hugo said gloomily.
~~~~~
The day arrived when Clarissa might be expected to reach her destination. The house had been scrubbed from top to bottom, the servants put on their best uniforms, an unusually good dinner was ordered and Hope positioned herself in the morning room, where the window seat overlooking the drive would give her the earliest intimation of the arrival. Yet the hours ticked away, one by one, and darkness fell with no sign of the lady. A second day passed in the same way, and a third.
But then, finally, an enormous travelling coach lumbered up the drive, and behind it a second almost as large, then a third, smaller, vehicle, and at the rear no fewer than four wagons filled with boxes of all shapes and sizes, and even items of furniture shrouded in sacking. The servants took up their positions to greet their new mistress, while Hope and Hugo waited at the top of the steps as William rushed out to open the door of the coach. Of Ernest, his friends and the new butler there was no sign.
They all stood in the blustery wind for some time before anyone emerged from the coach. William, holding the door, was motionless. Voices could be heard from within, as if some debate were underway, and Hope wondered briefly if Clarissa would decide that she did not like the look of the place and drive away again.
But then a figure appeared, wreathed from head to foot in heavy furs, the head so swathed that only a tiny bit of the lady’s face could be discerned. She stood at the foot of the coach steps, so close that the other occupants could not themselves descend, and stared up at the porticoed frontage of the house. For some time, she stayed thus.
Hope looked at Hugo, but he merely shrugged. At length, fearing for everyone’s health if they could not soon escape from the penetrating wind, Hope descended the entrance steps and crossed the drive to the coach.
“Clarissa? Welcome to Allamont Hall. I am—”
“Where is Ernest?” Her voice wavered slightly, then she added more firmly, “Why is he not here to greet me?”
“He has been sent for. I am sure he will be here directly. Will you not come into the house to warm yourself?”
“Nowhere is warm in this God-forsaken country.”
“But the inside of the house is warmer than the outside, and we shall all freeze to death if we stand about in this wind much longer.”
Perhaps the sharpness of the tone registered, for she turned fully towards Hope then, her dark eyes looking her up and down. Without a word, Clarissa began to move towards the house, although very slowly, as if she could hardly lift her feet to place one in front of the other.
To Hope’s relief, Ernest and several of his friends emerged from the house.
“Clarry!” Ernest yelled, and leapt down the steps to meet her, sweeping her off her feet and swinging her round. “At last! Whatever took you so long? The roads are not so bad, surely?”
“The roads are bad, the inns are bad, everything is bad in this miserable country of yours. The books I have read missed out a great deal, I feel — they talk about roads and populations and taxes and kings, but they do not mention that the entire country is axle deep in mud. Is this your house, Ernie? Truly? Must we stay here? It looks so dreary and dismal.”
“It is quite comfortable inside, I assure you. Come on in. My father kept an indifferent cellar, but there are a few decent bottles to keep us going until the vintner’s cart gets here.”
From the coach emerged three more figures, a black man and woman, with the look of high-ranked servants, and a small black child, with the sweetest face imaginable.
“Oh, you have a little black page boy!” Hope cried. “How charming!”
Ernest turned to her, his face expressionless.
“That is my son, Edward.”
14: Ladies
As soon as they were all indoors, and Clarissa had loosened the furs around her head a little, Hope could see that all her imaginings about her new sister-in-law were false. Clarissa was mulatto, with black hair curling abundantly around her face in the most entrancing way. She was quite the most ravishingly beautiful woman Hope had ever seen, and she entirely understood why Ernest had married her.
Clarissa wanted neither tea nor coffee nor food, but a glass of Madeira brought a smile to her lips and the blazing fire in the book room made her sigh with pleasure. Ernest brought a chair almost to the hearth for her, and she half reclined there, still in her furs, glass in hand, gazing about the room.
“This is not so terrible after all. What do we eat tonight? You have promised me the best of English food, Ernie, so I expect something extraordinary. Where is that housekeeper? You there!” she said, her eye falling on Hope. “What is for dinner
?”
“Goose, duck, pheasant and pork, but I am not—”
“Pheasant! I have never had pheasant in my life! That will be interesting. And something sweet, I trust. I am very fond of fruit.”
“Apple pie and apricots, but—”
“No pineapple, I suppose.” She sighed deeply. “I daresay I shall never taste pineapple again. More wine.”
She waved her glass at Hope, but with a frown and a shake of his head, Hugo stayed her impulse to comply. He fetched the decanter himself.
“There you are, Mrs Allamont. May I be permitted to introduce myself? I am Hugo Allamont, cousin to your husband and agent here. The lady over there is my wife, and your husband’s sister, Hope. The housekeeper, Miller, is standing by the door.”
His voice was level, but there was an edge of anger flashing in his eyes that made Hope rather proud. How pleasant to have a husband ready to spring to her defence at the slightest insult! Not that she had minded, for it was a natural mistake to make, but Clarissa should have waited to be formally introduced before jumping to conclusions. Had she come straight into the house, as any normal person would have done in such inclement weather, there would have been leisure for the proprieties.
Clarissa’s eyes followed as he pointed out the two women. For a moment she seemed nonplussed, but, catching sight of Ernest sniggering behind his hand, she started to laugh too. “Oh dear! You are affronted because I mistook your wife for the housekeeper. I beg your pardon! And hers, of course. But when she dresses like such a dowd you cannot be surprised at it. Why does she wear a cap if she is not a servant?”
“She is a married woman, and that is the custom here,” Hugo said stiffly, eyebrows raised.
But Clarissa and her husband laughed long and hard at this strange idea.
The three coaches had disgorged some dozen servants, in addition to Clarissa and her son, not to mention the coachmen, postilions and grooms, several of whom were in Clarissa’s employ and not merely hired for the journey. Two of the coaches also were hers, and there was a great deal of furniture to be disposed about a house already amply supplied. Since none of this had been communicated in advance, despite the many letters flying back and forth between husband and wife, a great deal of disruption was caused to the servants in unloading the goods, arranging suitable accommodation for people, coaches and horses alike, and managing the feeding of the same.
Hope was kept busy with Miller and Mrs Cooper, the cook, soothing their agitation and trying to find a way to settle the new arrivals with the minimum of fuss. Fortunately, the drive being visible from the Dower House, and the number of vehicles arriving and the smaller number departing being likewise visible, Lady Sara had sent most of her household to help out with the sudden influx. The newcomers, too, proved helpful, although inclined to stand about the corridors chattering excitedly unless directed. But Hope soon found that if she told them what to do, they set about it willingly enough.
With so much bustle, it was late in the afternoon before Hope had a chance to change her dress and attend to Ernest and Clarissa. She found them in the drawing room this time, a rather overheated room, with the fire blazing away. Ernest, his wife and his friends were at the card tables, and now that the furs had been cast aside, Hope could see that Clarissa’s gown was of the first stare of fashion, no doubt wildly expensive.
Meanwhile Lady Sara, the Amblesides and a bemused Lady Graham with her two daughters, Alice and Joan, sat neglected on the other side of the room. Mr Ambleside’s face looked as stormy as a thundercloud. He was a great stickler for protocol, and would not overlook such discourtesy. Hugo was nowhere to be seen. William was in attendance, since the supposed butler was playing cards. The child was engaged in carrying decanters of wine and brandy to the players, to their great entertainment.
Amy smiled to see Hope, and waved her across to the seat beside her. “How are you coping?” she whispered. “Six coaches, I hear, and a score of servants.”
Mrs Graham moved to sit on Hope’s other side. “Where is your butler today? Not ill, I hope, at such a moment?”
Hope tried to explain, but it was difficult to account for something which she did not herself understand. It was fortunate that some twist of the game led Clarissa to throw down her cards and rise from the table. Looking round at the guests as if seeing them for the first time, she lifted her little boy into her arms and swayed languidly across the room, a smile playing about her lips.
“So many visitors,” she said. “Have you come to see me?”
Hope jumped to her feet. “Clarissa, allow me to make everyone known to you. Mama, this is Ernest’s wife. Clarissa, this is—”
“Lady Clarissa,” called Ernest from the card table.
Hope’s hand shot to her mouth in dismay. “Oh, I am so sorry! I had no idea your father was titled. Pray forgive me. Perhaps I should have introduced Mama to you, then?”
Lady Sara, never at a loss in society, smiled. “Let us not worry too much about the nuances of introductions, since we are both family. I am Ernest’s mother, Lady Clarissa. How do you do.”
Hope moved on from this tricky meeting of ladies as quickly as she could. “May I introduce Lady Graham to you, Lady Clarissa. Sir Matthew is a near neighbour of ours in the village. This is Miss Graham, and Miss Joan Graham. Lady Clarissa Allamont.”
“Welcome to Lower Brinford, Lady Clarissa,” Lady Graham said. “What a charming little boy you have. May you all be very happy here.”
Clarissa looked them over in silence. Her eye settled on Alice, the older daughter. “She is very pale,” she said to Lady Graham. “Such white skin, such yellow hair, and far too thin. A great shame. Not the fashion these days, is it not so?”
“My daughters have more to recommend them than mere looks,” Lady Graham said at once. “They are most accomplished.”
Clarissa tittered. “Looks are better for getting a husband than painting or embroidery. Do you imagine I would have been of interest to Ernest if I looked like that? No, men like a bit of colour, and a bit of flesh, too, and none of them care if a woman can decorate a screen.”
Lady Graham went puce but was too polite to answer.
“Do come and meet another of Ernest’s sisters,” Hope said quickly, tugging at Clarissa’s still fur-clad arm. “May I present to you Mr and Mrs Ambleside, of Higher Brinford. Amy is the eldest of all of us, Lady Clarissa.”
“How lovely to meet you at last, Lady Clarissa,” Amy said with her gentle smile. “You must forgive us for knowing nothing at all about you, for Ernest has told us not a thing. Pray excuse our rudeness in not appreciating your rank.”
“Civility works both ways,” Mr Ambleside said, his face not welcoming at all. “It is the height of bad manners to conceal your rank, and thus allow those who wish you well to fall into humiliating error. Even now, we do not know who your father is.”
“Does it matter?” she said sulkily.
Hope gasped at the ignorance contained in that simple question, and she saw the shock on the faces of the others.
“Does it matter?” Ambleside repeated, his voice rising. “Of course it matters! How else is anyone to know how to address you correctly? Why, you may meet people in society to whom you are related, with no one will be any the wiser. I must insist on knowing the name and rank of your father.”
“It is just a courtesy title,” she said, holding the child a little tighter. “You make such a fuss about such a small thing.”
“Well, of course it is a courtesy title, for very few ladies hold titles in their own right. At least inform us as to whether your father is a duke or a marquess or an earl.”
Hope, beginning to understand, leaned across Amy to murmur to Mr Ambleside, “I believe my sister-in-law means that it is just an amusing epithet, and not a matter of rank.”
“Then she has no business to employ it,” he said haughtily. “Whatever may be the custom in the colonies, in this country we respect the time-honoured traditions of high rank and the rules of ent
itlement. Come, Mrs Ambleside, we have stayed long enough. Good day to you, Lady Sara. Lady Graham. Miss Graham. Miss Joan. Pray give my good wishes to your husband, Mrs Allamont.” Then, to Hope, he said, “Will you be so good as to see us out, Mrs Allamont?”
In the entrance hall, William scuttling behind them to fetch coats and hats, they stood in silence until the footman had gone off to order the carriage to be brought round.
“This is awkward for you, Mrs Allamont,” Mr Ambleside said. “Nothing here is as it ought to be. If you should wish to leave, for any reason, you may be sure of a safe haven with us.”
“Oh yes, you may stay with us for as long as you want,” Amy added. “For I do not think Ernest and his wife are quite the thing.”
“Far from it,” her husband said. “Ernest is a gentleman by birth, but his wife…” He frowned, hesitating. “I did not at all believe that she could bear a title. She is mulatto, and although there are many such in society, they are generally natural children. We would surely have heard if any peer of the realm had married a negress. It was quite wrong in her to give herself airs in that way. I cannot abide such presumption.”
“No indeed,” Amy said. “It was very bad of her to pretend to be titled.”
“I do not think she quite knows how to go on in English society,” Hope said. “It must all be so strange to her.”
“Then she should display some humility,” Mr Ambleside snapped. “Or her husband should teach her. I do not like to leave you here, exposed to their odd ways.”
“You are very kind,” Hope said. “We must stay for the winter, at least, I believe. We cannot simply abandon them, and there are the servants to consider, too. “
“Hmm. As you wish, but do not hesitate if things get difficult. Mrs Ernest Allamont must be the recipient of good will at present, but unless she learns the ways of society very quickly she is liable to find herself friendless, and then she may work out her displeasure on you and your husband. So have a care.”
~~~~~
Hope (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 6) Page 12