“They are perfectly well, I believe,” Hope said. “They… they generally rise late.”
“It is three o’clock,” Miss Endercott said acidly. But then, in more doubtful tones, “I daresay we must make allowances for the very great differences of climate and customs between the West Indies and here. And how is Sir Osborne, Lady Hardy?”
The discussion of Sir Osborne’s health occupied the room for some time, until Mr Wills, his mother, his aunts and his cousin, the physician, arrived, causing a general change of seats. Mary rose to leave, and indicated to Hope that she should accompany her to the door.
“I did not like to mention it in company,” Mary said, as they waited for her carriage to be brought round. “However, I must tell you, at least, that Sir Osborne was most distressed to hear of the events of the other night.”
“The waltz?” Hope said, surprised.
“Partly that, but also… the rumours of other difficulties, involving Ernest and his wife, and another man. Blood was spilled, it seems, and the lady was not entirely blameless in the affair. I will not ask the truth of the matter, although I can see by your face that there is something to it. You must know, Hope, that Sir Osborne has a position to maintain in the county. In this neighbourhood, he has the highest rank of anyone except Lady Humbleforth and Lady Sara, and he must set the standard of acceptable behaviour, and not be seen to condone wildness or wantonness. This puts him in a very difficult position. For the moment, he is prepared to make allowances for newcomers who may not be fully cognisant of our ways, nor does he wish to cut the connection between our families, but if there is any repetition…”
“I understand you,” Hope said, hanging her head in mortification. “Although I do not know what I can do to curb their excesses. They are not like us, Mary. Ernest is a stranger, and nothing like the boy I remember.”
“Perhaps if Hugo has a word with him, as one man to another, he may appreciate the precipice upon which he stands. We are not the only ones considering whether Mr and Mrs Ernest Allamont are quite the thing.”
Hope saw Mary safely bestowed in her carriage, and then turned back to the drawing room. As she spun round, she caught a glimpse of a small face disappearing behind a pillar, making her smile. How delightful to have a child in the house again! Although, despite the angelic face, he was always into mischief — why, only a few days earlier, he had escaped from his mama and found his way to the stairs that led to the roof. Yet Clarissa would not hear of handing him into the care of a nurse, and carried him everywhere with her.
“Edward? I know you are there. Will you come out?”
Shyly the head of dark hair reappeared.
“Where is your mama? Have you given her the slip again?”
He nodded, grinning.
“You must not, you know. And if you do, you absolutely must not go up onto the roof again, understand? It is very dangerous up there for little boys. Even your papa never went up there before he was old enough to appreciate how high it was, and how far to fall.”
He looked surprised at that. “Papa went up there? When he was little?”
“Not very little, no. He must have been… oh, nine or ten, perhaps. So you have a few years to wait yet, and then he will take you, I am sure. Now, would you like to come and say hello to all the ladies and gentlemen? There is cake, and apple juice.”
He smiled and nodded, and she took his hand, dark in her pale fingers, and led him into the drawing room. The ladies all exclaimed in delight.
“This is Edward Allamont,” she said quickly, before anyone could make the mistake of thinking him a page boy, as she once had. “He is Mr Ernest Allamont’s son.”
“Eh, what’s that?” Mr Torrington said. “Mr Ernest’s son? Don’t think so, my dear Mrs Hugo. Not possible.”
The silence was so profound that Edward’s foot scuffing the rug could be clearly heard.
“Whatever do you mean, Mr Torrington?” Hope said, her voice quivering.
“Colour’s all wrong,” Mr Torrington said. “I may be only a country physician, but I know something of how these matters work, and no English gentleman ever produced a child as dark of feature as that. Just never happens. That is a negro child through and through.”
18: Quarrels
Hope cried for an hour after all the visitors had left, sobbing uncontrollably on their bed. Hugo had watched helplessly at first, and then, not knowing how else to comfort her, had held her in his arms and let her weep all over his second-best waistcoat.
“What are we to do?” she wailed. “Everyone will cut us, and we will be cast out of society. What is Clarissa thinking about, to be behaving in such a way, and trying to pass him off as Ernest’s child? She is a wicked, wicked woman.”
“She has not done anything that is not regularly seen in the highest levels of society,” he said. “Connie is forever telling us of such people and the astonishing things they get up to.”
“Yes, but they are not Allamonts! We have always been a respectable family, and now Clarissa is setting everyone by the ears, and I hate it! I hate it, Hugo! I cannot bear to be in the same house as her.”
“I hate it, too!” he said, more sharply than he intended. “You are not the only one affected by this, Hope. Nevertheless, she is Ernest’s wife. I have agreed to stay as agent until the spring, at any rate, so we are stuck here until then, and we will just have to make the best of it.”
She lifted her head and looked him full in the face. “Make the best of it? Impossible! I wanted so much to like them, and help them establish their family here, and now everything is ruined and we will not be able to show our faces anywhere. We have to leave, at once!”
“Stop being so melodramatic!” he snapped, then, seeing the tears trickling down again, forced himself to speak more calmly. “We cannot leave. It would be wrong to abandon them now.”
She gave a low moan of frustration. “Oh, you are hopeless, Hugo! What about me? I believe you care more about them than your own wife! How can you be so unfeeling?”
“Because I must be practical. We are dependent on Ernest’s goodwill, at least until your dowry is released. He provides our home, our income and the food on our table. Paid servants cannot afford to question the antics of their superiors.”
“But family can and should!” she cried, pushing herself away from him to sit upright. “If we do not advise him how to go on, who will? He can recover from this, but only if he controls his wife and behaves with dignity himself. You must talk to him, Hugo.”
“Must? Do not tell me what I must do! It would be the grossest impertinence for me to comment on the way a gentleman conducts himself. That is a task for a father, or perhaps an older brother, not a mere younger cousin and dependent. It is not for you to give me orders or criticise my decisions.”
There was a long silence as she stared at him in angry defiance. Then her face crumpled.
“I beg your pardon,” she said, lowering her head, and he saw tears welling up again. “It was not my intention to criticise you.”
“There, there,” he said, helpless again in the face of her tears. “I will talk to him, if you wish it. No harm can come of a few words of… of clarification, shall we say, of the situation that now faces Ernest.”
“Thank you, Hugo!” She looked up with a tremulous smile. “Are we entirely dependent on Ernest? We have my dowry, do we not? Or we will have it, very shortly.”
Hugo heaved a sigh. “The money is awaiting release by Mr Plumphett, and he will not do that until we agree how the excess shall be divided. The problem is — we cannot agree. Five of us would be quite happy to share the surplus just with Dulcie, for the Drummonds need it more than the others do. But Ambleside finds that too informal a business by far. He wants the money divided by law, and is quite prepared to take to the courts to have it settled officially.”
“Does that matter? I suppose it delays everything abominably.”
“Not only that, but once the law is involved, the lawyers eat up money
the way normal people eat mutton chops, so the likelihood is that by the time they have finished, there will be nothing at all left.”
“Oh.” And that started the tears all over again, and Hugo could to nothing to comfort her but hold her tight and rock her and kiss the top of her head.
When he had finally seen Hope more composed, and summoned her maid to help her dress for dinner, he went in search of Ernest. He found him in the book room with his cronies, not gaming, for once. Two more had arrived just the previous day, and all the guest bedrooms were now occupied. If any more arrived, Hugo and Hope would be in danger of losing their little set of rooms above the kitchen.
“Oh, here comes Mr Long-face,” Ernest said, as Hugo crept into the room. “What do you want? Is there some crisis in the still room? Laundry maid failing to scrub the sheets, eh?” He laughed immoderately at his own wit, and his friends all joined in.
“Such matters are for the housekeeper,” Hugo said. “Might I talk to you in private?”
“Oooh, serious business,” Ernest said. “Are you going to scold me for thumping Jacob the other night? Or tell me to chastise my wife for liking a little flirtation? Should I beat her to instil more demure behaviour in her, do you think?”
“Oh, you should certainly beat the wench,” one of his friends said.
Another added, “I’d pay good money to watch that!” to general laughter.
“In private, cousin?” Hugo said quietly.
“Oh, spit it out, for God’s sake, and don’t be so prim.”
“As you please. A number of today’s callers made adverse comments about the events of the other night.”
“I can imagine. Is this all?” He grinned at Hugo in the most irritating way.
“And the child… Ernest, you really wish me to say this publicly?” Hugo said. At a nod from Ernest, he went on, “Mr Torrington says that Edward cannot be yours.”
To his astonishment, Edward and his friends all roared with laughter.
“Of course not!” Ernest said between bouts of hilarity. “Jacob’s, I expect, although it’s impossible to be sure.”
Hugo was too much taken aback to say a word.
“What, did you think I didn’t know? What kind of a flat do you take me for? It was amusing to see you treat him like royalty, but you were bound to work it out sooner or later. Surprised it took so long, frankly. Don’t look so shocked, coz. Just my little joke. A man has to amuse himself somehow in this frozen waste you call England, for there’s nothing at all to do here.”
Hugo cast about desperately for something to suggest. “Perhaps you would like to look over the estate? Meet your tenants and so forth, before the winter sets in.”
“Before the winter? You do not call this freezing foulness winter?”
Hugo could not help a wry smile. “No, this is just autumn, cousin. There will be much colder weather after Christmas, and snow too.”
Ernest shuddered. “Very well. Let us wrap ourselves in furs and venture forth to meet the peasants. My peasants.”
That started them laughing all over again.
~~~~~
The following morning, Hugo and Ernest and three of his friends who felt venturesome rode out to inspect the Allamont estate, the dogs racing ahead and then gambolling back before tearing off in a different direction, tongues lolling. Hugo punctiliously pointed out the nature of each field to Ernest, and the uses to which each might be put through the varying seasons of the year, and tried not to be offended when Ernest merely laughed at him.
“Do you think I know nothing, cousin?” Ernest said. “I grew up here, remember? I understand something of English farming.”
“My apologies, cousin,” Hugo said stiffly.
Ernest shook his head. “Ah, Hugo, you despise me, I know it.”
“Why should you think such a thing?”
“I see it in your face, the disdain, the contempt. You hate me because I stole away your chance to be a gentleman.”
Hugo pulled his horse up sharply. “I am already a gentleman, sir. You stole away the house in which I might have lived as one, that is all.”
His cousin stopped, too, his smile never wavering. “You like the house, do you?”
“I love it,” Hugo said passionately. “It is everything a house should be — elegant, spacious, well-proportioned, with every room superbly designed for its purpose. You were lucky to grow up in such a place. The house where I grew up is nothing but a jumble of mismatched wings, where the floors are uneven, the windows rattle and every door is different from every other. But Allamont Hall is perfect. I envied you that house when I was a boy, and I do so still.”
He kicked his horse into motion again, annoyed with himself for allowing Ernest’s needling to goad him into a response. Behind him he heard the murmur of voices and bursts of laughter, aimed at him, no doubt. What a fusty simpleton they must think him. If only he and Ernest could have been friends, as cousins should be — how pleasant that would have been!
The first destination was the home farm of the Garmin family, and they were so fortunate as to spy Mr Garmin not far away as they crossed his fields. Hugo hailed him, and the farmer rode towards them.
“Why, Mr Hugo, what a pleasure!” Garmin shouted, as he approached. “Do you and your friends want some rough shooting?” But he looked surprised, for they bore no guns.
“I have brought Mr Ernest Allamont to meet you, Garmin. He is minded to take a look at the farm.”
“Why, I am very honoured, sir, I am sure, and I beg leave to assure you that you will find all in order and nothing deficient, I flatter myself.”
Ernest nodded, but said nothing, so Hugo said, “I can vouch for Mr Garmin’s excellent management.”
“Would you be wishful to step into the house, Mr Allamont, sir?” Garmin said. “It would be a privilege to offer you the hospitality of my humble abode. Mrs Garmin’s cook makes an excellent cherry cake.”
Ernest graciously agreed, and they rode in leisurely fashion across two ploughed fields and one of pasture to reach the farmhouse. It was a snug little property, with gardens at the front and vegetables at the rear, and a yard in remarkably good order for the time of year. Just as they arrived, a neat little carriage bowled in from the opposite direction, disgorging Mrs Garmin and her unmarried daughter. With the briefest of delays for introductions and deep curtsies, they scurried indoors to set all in order to receive their guests.
“The farmer keeps a carriage, does he?” Ernest said. “With a coachman and a groom and two horses, and no expense spared.”
“It is a prosperous farm,” Hugo said mildly.
“I daresay it is, such prime land as this, but its prosperity should flow to the owner and not the farmer and his wife.”
Garmin would have spoken, but Hugo waved him to silence. “The arrangement we have is that Mr Garmin has the land at no rent in exchange for the provision of whatever meat, game, potatoes and grains the Hall requires. Any surplus he is at liberty to sell at market prices.”
“So he is lining his own pockets at my expense, is he? A havey-cavey business, I call it.”
“It is a very standard arrangement, cousin, nothing underhand about it. We have never gone short, and Garmin only sells what we do not need.”
“Well, I won’t have it,” Ernest said, his voice rising in anger. “What kind of society is it where farmers keep a carriage and live like gentlemen?”
“It is English society,” Hugo said icily. “This is how we do things here.”
“It is not how I do things,” Ernest said. “On my estate, field workers know their place and don’t try to ape their betters. I want him gone. See to it, cousin.”
“Gone?” Hugo said. “What nonsense is this? There have been Garmins on the home farm since before the Allamonts moved here. You cannot just throw him out.”
“I am not doing the throwing, cousin, you are. You are my agent, and as such I order you to get rid of him. I want him and his fine carriage and all his fashionably dress
ed women out of here by the end of the week. See to it. Come on, fellows, let us ride on to West Brafton.”
With a great clatter of hooves on the cobbles of the yard, Ernest and his friends rode out of the gate through which the carriage had driven, and disappeared down the lane, leaving Hugo and Mr Garmin staring at each other in shock.
“I cannot believe… My God, I am so sorry,” Hugo burst out. “I will try to get him to change his mind.”
“No,” Garmin said, his face ashen. “He has the right. We’ll go as soon as we can. Molly’s sister will put us up for now, until we can find another place.”
“I cannot tell you how grieved this makes me,” Hugo said quietly.
~~~~~
Henry Allamont rode slowly across the bare fields. His anger against Sara had long since trickled away to nothing. She had been in his heart for so long and he understood her so well that he could forgive her anything, if only she would be his. If only! Such little words, and yet filled with so much sorrow and longing. He still planned to marry her, for he could not take her rejection seriously. Why would she refuse to countenance the match when she showed him so much affection? Her coldness had all but vanished these days, and surely it could be only a matter of time before she was ready to hear his offer again, and would give him the answer he longed for.
So he waited, and tried to be patient. He had another reason for waiting, too, for the avocat had not yet notified him of the sum left to him by his late wife. A large sum would certainly help him to keep Sara in the manner she deserved. Yet here he was, already out of mourning, and thinking of marriage again, and still his late wife’s affairs were unresolved. And thus the days and weeks had drifted past.
But then, at the assembly, a man had come up to Sara and addressed her as a close acquaintance. Just like the first man, he had called her ‘Maud’ and was astonished when she professed not to know him. Henry knew he could no longer keep silence, but must act, and quickly.
Hope (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 6) Page 16