Amy (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 1)

by Mary Kingswood

  Belle nodded. “I do remember. That was rather particular, now that I think about it.”

  “And the ball at Graham House, when he danced only with Connie. Oh, he stood up with that horrid cousin of Lady Graham’s but that does not signify, and he would not dance with anyone else, not even Amy.”

  “You were not even there, Dulcie,” Belle said.

  “Oh, I was not out then, but I heard all about it.”

  “Is that true?” Hope said. “He danced only with Connie?”

  “It is true,” Belle acknowledged. “And Mr Ambleside so rarely dances. I was much struck by it myself. He sent flowers from his hothouse every week for a while, too, while Connie was learning to paint. I suppose we were all learning to paint, that summer, but Connie kept on longer than any of us.”

  “So you think that Mr Ambleside’s affections are quite settled?” Amy said with a heavy sigh. “Perhaps he should not be on the list at all?” She had barely begun to consider him, and he was by far the most promising, being to her eyes the most handsome of their acquaintance, and blessed with charming manners in addition. Now, it seemed, he was quite out of her reach.

  “Nonsense,” Belle said, with an encouraging smile. “If Connie has no attachment to him, then we may still consider him a possibility. You must not give up on such an eligible man too soon, Amy.”

  “No, but…” She hung her head. “I cannot imagine that he would have the least interest in me. Why should he, indeed?”

  Belle laughed. “Because you are pretty, and accomplished, and charming, and would make him an excellent wife. At least tell me that you will not reject him out of hand, you silly girl.”

  “Oh, no! Of course not! If ever… If I should ever be so fortunate… Of course I would not reject him! But he will never make the offer, I am certain.”

  “Of course he will,” Grace declared. “We shall think of lots of opportunities to put you in his way.”

  “I wish you will do no such thing!” Amy said firmly.

  “Nonsense! You must do all in your power to secure him, and we will do all in our power to help.”

  Amy was so pleased by this instruction, which accorded so greatly with her own wishes, that she was lost for words, and the only answer she could find was to pull her sister’s hair. After that all possibility of conversation ended in racing round and round the room squealing, while Belle flapped her hands and implored them to be quieter.

  4: Mr Wills

  The following Sunday, the young ladies of Allamont Hall went to church for the first time since the demise of their unfortunate father. Their mother declared herself unfit for the occasion, and retired to her dressing room to read improving sermons.

  The weather was unusually clement for late autumn, although still damp underfoot. Accordingly, the ladies donned their stoutest boots and walked with the servants the half mile down the lane to the church of Lower Brinford.

  The arrival of Mr Endercott in the parish some fifteen years earlier had attracted much excited speculation among the single ladies, for he was a fine-looking man with pleasant manners and an independent income in addition to the living. To their great sorrow, he showed no inclination to do as he was expected, which was to choose one of them and settle down to raise a family, as any sensible clergyman ought naturally to do. Instead, he seemed perfectly content to remain single, with his older sister to keep house for him. As the years drifted by, he had grown stout and lost his hair, and she had grown thin and wizened, but they were no less content with their situation.

  Amy rather enjoyed Mr Endercott’s sermons. He always began with the prescribed text, and declaimed with energy on the subject for some time, fist stabbing the air for emphasis. But gradually he would begin to wander, veering away by degrees, until all connection with the subject in hand was lost. These ramblings were, in Amy’s opinion, far more interesting than the biblical extract, for Mr Endercott was a naturalist, and his great joy was to wander the woods and riverbanks and fields of his parish, observing the variety of creatures residing there. So it was that a sermon on the pillar of salt or one of the miracles would somehow end with a description of squirrels, or mushrooms, or the odd life of the cuckoo.

  Today it was oak trees, and the vast number of insects supported by its bark and branches and leaves and roots, although how he arrived at that point when he had begun with the parting of the Red Sea was beyond Amy’s comprehension. Nevertheless, she was glad of it, for her lively interest in the subject distracted her from the melancholy sight of her father’s empty seat in the pew.

  Afterwards, the ladies filed out in their proper order, Amy leading in place of her mother, to greet those of their acquaintance who claimed Lower Brinford as home. These were few, for it was a very small village. There was one of interest to her, however — Mr Wills, one of those on her short list of possible suitors.

  Mr Wills’ father had been a respectable man whose wife brought a good dowry to the marriage, enabling them to settle on a modest estate bordered on one side by the Allamont grounds, and on the other by the more extensive lands of Sir Matthew Graham. His father having died young, Mr Wills had come into his inheritance while still at school. As a consequence, he had rather an elevated idea of his own importance. He dressed in the finest London styles, kept his own carriage and a string of hunters and generally lived expensively. He was only seven and twenty, but he was already grown stout and would undoubtedly be corpulent by the time he was forty, and crippled by the gout at fifty. He lived with his mother, two spinster sisters of his father and their cousin, the local physician, but none had succeeded in curbing his excesses. Only a wife, it was felt, could have sufficient influence.

  Amy was not sure she wanted to be that wife. Being Mrs Wills of Thornside would certainly give her standing in society, but at the high price of being forced to look at Mr Wills over the dinner table every evening. Not that such an event was likely to occur, for he had not exchanged above a dozen words with her in his life, apart from greetings and commonplace remarks about the weather.

  Imagine her surprise, therefore, when the first person to greet her was Mr Wills himself. Her heart fell to her boots. What could he possibly want? How would she find the words to talk to him? It was so unexpected! Terror gripped her as he approached.

  “My dear Miss Allamont!” he exclaimed while still some distance away, his voice loud enough to cause stares. “You must allow me to express my deep sorrow at your tragic loss.” He seized her hand and raised it to his lips. “Your father was a great man, a man of the strongest principle, who most generously offered me his advice at timely moments.”

  Amy could well believe it. Her father had never hesitated to offer his opinion to anyone, whether solicited or otherwise. Mr Wills still had hold of her hand, and was squeezing it rather painfully with each emphasised word. She wondered how long politeness decreed that she should wait before retrieving it from his grasp. However, it distracted her from her own nervousness.

  “More than anyone in the world,” Mr Wills continued, warming to the subject, “I have the utmost understanding of the doleful nature of your position at this present occasion, for I had the misfortune to lose my own father at a grievously young age. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, Miss Allamont.”

  Mr Wills had schooled his features into an expression intended to convey sympathy. Unhappily, this gave him an unfortunate resemblance to a fish. Amy had to lower her eyes to avoid offending him by laughing. Luckily, he seemed not to expect a reply, for he rushed on.

  “And how is Lady Sara bearing up in her time of sorrow?”

  Ah, an easy question! She smiled in relief, then remembered that she was not supposed to look cheerful. She composed her face. “My mother is… quite low in spirits.”

  The words were commonplace, but what else could she say of her mother? She had not seemed in the least low in spirits when she had waved them off that morning, for she had smiled expansively, and Amy was sure that the book under her arm was a novel and not
sermons at all. But she was newly widowed, therefore her spirits must necessarily be low, however well she hid the fact.

  “I can well imagine,” he said, giving Amy’s hand another squeeze so that she almost winced. “And is she too over-set to receive company?”

  “I believe she is well enough to receive callers,” Amy said, her spirits lifting at another easy question to answer.

  “Ah!” His face brightened. “Then I shall call to pay my respects as soon as may be. Good day to you, Miss Allamont. And all the Miss Allamonts.”

  His glance swept over the sisters, still standing in a straight line, as their father had always insisted. Finally, to Amy’s relief, Mr Wills released her hand, lifted his hat in a jaunty salute and bowed himself away from her.

  As they made their way back down the lane, Belle whispered, “That was prodigious civil of him, Amy. They say he has over-spent himself, so perhaps he could not afford to consider you before you had such a large dowry. It may be that we will get him up to snuff after all.”

  Amy was too happy at having got through the ordeal without disgracing herself to be cross with her.

  ~~~~~

  Mr Ambleside wondered how long he ought to wait before visiting Allamont Hall again. His own wishes pushed him towards a return the very next day, but that would look too particular, especially as the family was in deep mourning. He could hardly be openly a suitor so soon. Besides, there were others who ought to be paid the attention of a call.

  So, because he was well-mannered and wished to do what was proper, he went first to the Dowager Countess of Humbleforth, and the day following to Sir Matthew and Lady Graham. The day after that was Sunday, which tested his patience in any county, and he was obliged to sit through one of the most intolerably dull sermons he had ever had the misfortune to be imprisoned by. It took all his good manners to sit without fidgeting. He occupied himself, as he sat in his pew in the parish church of Higher Brinford, by imagining the Allamont sisters sitting in their pew in the somewhat smaller church at Lower Brinford. Or one of the Allamont sisters, in particular.

  The following day was Monday and a new week, and he could wait no longer. The hands of the clock moved too slowly for him, so he set off an hour before he should have done, in order to expend some of his pent-up excitement in a long ride across the fields. Then he thought to take the shortcut through Brafton Woods, which he believed he knew well. He had been out of the neighbourhood too long, however, for he ended up, muddy and rather cross, at High Brafton farm yard, instead of reaching the lane bordering Allamont Hall. The result was that he arrived at Allamont Hall with both his temper and his appearance less than their best.

  His frame of mind was not improved by finding both Mr Burford and Mr Wills already ensconced in the drawing room with the ladies. Burford was of no account, and barely glanced up at his arrival, but Wills was another matter. Mr Ambleside could never remember seeing him at the Hall before, but he could easily guess what had drawn him thither, since he was seated beside Miss Allamont, and talking with great animation. She had a bemused expression on her face, half bewilderment, and half that of a rabbit facing the fox, unsure whether to run or stand.

  Mr Ambleside made his greetings, with apologies for his mud-bespattered attire, to Lady Sara, who received them with her usual serenity, saying all that was proper.

  There was no chair free for him, but once more Miss Grace came to his rescue, scolding Mr Wills into bringing forward an extra chair, shuffling the ladies backwards and forwards in a rustle of skirts, and, in the confusion at the end of it, contriving to place Mr Wills beside herself, leaving the seat by Miss Allamont for Mr Ambleside. He took it with alacrity, before Wills could protest. He had had his turn with the lady, and it was only fair to give her a change of companion.

  Mr Ambleside smiled at Miss Allamont, but she looked at him with exactly the same rabbit expression as with Mr Wills. They exchanged the usual greetings, and then fell silent. She stared at him, her eyes wide with fear. Poor Amy! So terrified by the normal banal intercourse of a neighbourly visit. What could he do to set her at ease?

  “As I rode up the drive, I observed your shrubbery, Miss Allamont. It is so well-grown since last I was here. You have achieved wonders in such a short time.”

  Her face lit up. “Oh, you are so kind to notice such things, for no one else does! I do so enjoy gardening, and Papa was always most encouraging. He acknowledged it as a most healthful exercise for a lady. Everything has come on prodigiously. The lilacs are above my head already, and the rhododendrons are wonderfully grown. They were so beautiful last spring when they flowered, you cannot imagine anything like it. The flowers so large, too big to fit into my hands, and the colours the prettiest in the world. Everyone remarked upon it, for everyone likes flowers, do they not? I have a new variety just planted this autumn, which will have the palest pink blooms. I cannot wait to see it.”

  He smiled at her enthusiasm. “And now I, too, cannot wait. I look forward to it immensely.”

  “Oh, but you will not be here. May is when you normally take the waters, is it not?”

  “It is true that I have done so in previous years,” he said airily. “The spas are quiet when all the great folk are in London for the season. But for next year no decision has yet been made. I find there is much to occupy me here. I have neglected Staynlaw House for too long, I fear. There are some improvements to put in hand which may keep me here throughout the next twelvemonth. And the garden is sadly bare. It was laid out in my father’s day, and not much altered since.”

  “Ideas have changed a great deal in that time,” she said, her eyes twinkling charmingly as she spoke. “And new varieties… entire new species have been introduced! There are so many wonderful plants arriving from the colonies, and from the Orient.”

  “I daresay, and yet I know nothing of such matters. Perhaps I may call upon you to enlighten me, Miss Allamont?”

  “Oh, certainly, sir. I like nothing better than to talk about plants and varieties and correct soil depth and other such matters. I shall bore you greatly.”

  She was so pretty when she chattered on in that artless manner, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks slightly pink with the excitement of the subject. He was enchanted.

  “I assure you, I should not be in the least bored,” he said truthfully. “I shall pay the closest attention, so that I may apply your expertise to my own garden. And perhaps in the spring, you will visit Staynlaw House and suggest some arrangements to enhance the vista? I should dearly love a shrubbery like yours.”

  He held his breath for her answer, and her expression was encouraging, but just then he was recalled from these happy plans by Mr Wills, whose existence he had entirely forgotten.

  “I say, Ambleside, are you coming? We could ride down as far as the village together, you know, for I have a matter to discuss with you.”

  At once, the lively interest on Amy’s face faded into blankness again. She sat back in her chair, folding her hands into her lap, eyes lowered. His tête-a-tête over, Mr Ambleside made his farewells and resigned himself to a dull half hour in the company of Mr Wills, who talked incessantly of his horses.

  Upon reflection, he realised it was better so. It was too soon to single her out with any particular attention. His greatest dread was to draw censure upon her by his manner. She was in mourning, after all. It was enough to have seen her again, and had some more conversation with her. Next time, he would talk to one or other of her sisters.

  He could not be downhearted, however. He had spent ten minutes in pleasant discourse with Amy, and seen her more animated than he could ever recall. But he knew why. Always in the past her father had been in the room, a lowering presence even without a word being spoken. In his company, she could hardly speak a word without stumbling over it, or glancing fearfully for signs of disapproval.

  What a life those girls had led! It was abominable. He was not in the least surprised that none of them had married, for what prospective husband would dare t
he wrath of Mr Allamont of Allamont Hall? But now… now everything was changed.

  He returned home in the most cheerful of spirits.

  5: Sir Osborne Hardy

  Once the first month of mourning had passed, Lady Sara deemed it proper for her daughters to return some of the condolence visits which had been paid to them.

  “I am not yet in sufficient spirits to venture abroad,” she said, languidly. “However, there can be no objection to you girls going about. You may go to Lady Humbleforth first, and tomorrow to Sir Matthew and Lady Graham. Give them my best regards. Tell them I keep to my room a great deal, and read sermons.” She waggled the book under her arm.

  “Should you like me to fetch you a different book, Mama?” Belle said. “I believe you have been studying that particular book for some time now.”

  “Well, now, Belle, you must not be so noticing of what other people are doing, for what I read is not your concern, I vow.”

  Belle curtsied, eyes lowered. “I beg your pardon, Mama. I did not mean to pry.”

  “Very well. Go along now, all of you. And perhaps I will choose a different book. I declare, I am sure I know every word of this one already.”

  It having been so long since any of the young ladies had left the house, apart from church, and the weather remaining mild, all six of them ventured forth. They were permitted to walk in pairs as far as the village, in order to practise their Greek or Latin or Italian, one to recite and one to correct as they walked. Amy and Belle struggled with a passage from Vergil for some time, but behind them was much whispering and the occasional giggle. At the first houses of the village, the sisters formed into a single line, eyes lowered, hands clasped before them, and all conversation was at an end.

  The Dowager Countess of Humbleforth was an elderly lady. Indeed, she was so elderly that even her replacement as Countess was now a Dowager in her turn. This had obliged the senior Dowager to move out of the Dower House at Grisham Park, where her grandson was now the earl, and find alternative accommodation. The White House, in quiet Lower Brinford, was the answer, and in vain her relatives protested at the twenty miles of road that would be required to pay her a visit.