“What if Mama will not permit it?”
Harriet threw her an amused glance. “Not permit her daughter to be a guest at the Marquess of Carrbridge’s seat? I do not think we need consider such unlikely events.”
Even so, Amy was nervous about asking her mama for permission, given their last encounter. If she wanted to keep her daughters away from her own noble family, she must surely feel the same care towards other members of the aristocracy. She had no desire to delay the moment of decision, so she marched straight to her mother’s sitting room, quite prepared to argue the case.
Lady Sara barely looked up from the book she was reading. “Yes, Amy, what is it?”
“Mama, Lady Harriet has been so kind as to invite me to stay with her at Drummoor. Please may I say yes?”
“Go or not, whichever you wish. It is of no consequence to me.”
“Thank you, Mama. I am most grateful to you.”
Amy curtsied and ran off to pack before her mother had an opportunity to change her mind.
~~~~~
Ambleside’s conscience had troubled him a great deal as the days drifted past and became weeks, and Connie’s downcast demeanour neither lifted nor prompted her to end the engagement. She was miserable, but not quite miserable enough to call it off.
He was cast into gloom, and the weather matched his sentiments precisely, for the promise of spring had turned to a cold, wet summer. Having no father or mother to advise him, he went, as he so often had in recent years, to Miss Endercott, finding her huddled over a fire in her little sitting room.
“Tell me I am doing the right thing,” he beseeched her.
“If you wish me to answer such a question, you had better tell me exactly what you are doing.”
So he paced about the room and told her, at great length, the many trials he had laid upon Connie.
Miss Endercott listened in silence. When he had finished, she said, “And how much of that was in fact untrue?”
He frowned, thinking that over. “Very little. I should never expect her to sleep in my mother’s bed, but otherwise — I may have exaggerated somewhat, it is true, but a great many of my strictures are genuine. It is no more than would be expected of any mistress of such a house. Of course, I should never be so harsh as I appeared, but this is all exactly as I planned, to terrify her into recognising that we should not suit. It has failed, however, for although she is very much in the dismals, poor child, she shows no sign of breaking off the engagement.”
“Ah, but does she show enthusiasm for the marriage? Does she lament the long engagement? Talk of how happy she is? Make plans for the future?”
“None of that,” he said at once. “She says very little altogether.”
“I have noticed the change in her myself,” Miss Endercott said. “She always had a great deal to say for herself, yet now she is almost as silent as Amy. Tell me, Mr Ambleside, do you love Connie?”
“That is hardly to the point. My feelings were never in consideration. I felt an obligation towards her, no more than that.”
“Well then, let me put another question to you. Do you believe that, if you marry her, you can make her happy? Or she you?”
“As to the latter, I could be content, I daresay, in time. I am not so foolish as to expect perfect happiness in marriage, or any other part of life. If she provides me with a well-run home, and children, and companionship — yes, that would perhaps be enough.” He paused, for even as he spoke the words and in his heart believed himself sincere, a wave of despair washed over him. He rubbed one hand across his face. “It would have to be enough,” he added bleakly. “But as for the former question — I have no idea what Connie looks for in a husband, or whether I could make her happy.”
“Then perhaps you should ask her,” Miss Endercott said gently. “There is no better foundation for marriage than honesty.”
He stilled his restless pacing, turning on his heel to face her. “You believe the marriage is unavoidable, then?”
“You are betrothed to Connie, and Amy will not have you. What is your opinion on the matter, Mr Ambleside?”
“I will give you my opinion. If ever I can escape from this damnable engagement, I shall go directly to Amy, and not leave her side until she agrees to marry me. I shall do whatever it takes, Miss Endercott. Whatever it takes.”
She laughed outright. “That might indeed work for Amy. She would like to be swept off her feet, I believe, so that she forgets all about her father’s strictures. But there is still Connie. You cannot cast her aside.”
“No, and I shall not. But I must know what she truly wants, and whether her affections are quite settled, for only then will I be able to accept my fate. My future is in her hands, but I shall find it out very soon. I bid you good day, Miss Endercott.”
His stormy countenance set the servants leaping out of his path as he strode from the parsonage, taking the steps two at a time, while shouting for his horse. He covered the short distance to Allamont Hall at a gallop, causing a passing farmer’s cart to fall into a ditch, thereby setting loose three piglets. He rode on, the shouts and squeals receding into the distance behind him.
As his horse slithered to a halt in front of the Hall, it began to rain in earnest, which fitted his mood to perfection. However, the ride, the business of waiting for the butler, of handing in his card and waiting, then being led to the drawing room at a stately pace, all served to cool his temper. He found only two of the younger sisters in the room, but Connie was sent for and the others were kind enough to disappear. Perhaps they saw his mood written on his face. Connie could see it, too, for she looked terrified.
All at once, he felt like the most heartless and cruel man. How could he even think of deceiving such a gentle, innocent soul? He could not do it. She was not Amy, his peerless Amy, but she did not deserve to be treated so. He sat on a sofa, and pulled her down beside him, taking her hand.
“Miss Allamont… Connie…” he began, in the gentlest tones imaginable. “I owe you an apology. In our recent dealings, I have portrayed myself as the worst kind of dictatorial husband, with any number of rules and arbitrary requirements. I have deceived you. Although I would hope that a wife would always strive to ensure her husband’s comforts, I do not expect quite such a strict regime as all that. I am deeply ashamed of my behaviour. You must think me the direst of monsters, to abuse your good nature so.”
She gazed at him wide-eyed. “Oh, no. I thought you were just like Papa, and that perhaps all men are so.”
“No, indeed. Most men are kinder than that, I hope, and certainly kinder than I have been of late.”
“But why?”
It was the obvious question, but he had not anticipated it. How could he answer? Honesty would compel him to mention Amy, yet that he could not do. It would be impossibly cruel to tell the lady he was about to marry that he had tricked her in the hope of setting himself free to wed another.
“I did not think we should suit.” Not a complete answer, but it was all he could manage.
“You only offered for me because you felt obliged to, did you not?”
His heart ached for her, so open, so guileless. “That does not necessarily mean that I was unwilling.”
“Is it true that you love Amy?”
“Did she tell you that?”
Connie nodded. She was so pale, and her eyes so huge as she looked up at him, that she seemed the merest child.
Still he could not answer her, and the silence lengthened between them. After a while, she withdrew her hand from his.
“You would marry me if I wished it, would you not?” she said sadly.
“Of course.”
“But you do not love me.”
“Marriage is based on more than romantic love—”
“No, no! Do not say such things! There must be love! You do not love me, and I am not sure whether I love you, not any more.” In a whisper, she added, “I am not even sure whether I ever wish to be married.”
His heart lur
ched, but he answered her calmly. “I should be very sorry to think that my abominable rudeness had put you off the very idea of matrimony.”
“Oh! Oh, no, it was not what you did!” She smiled suddenly, her face lighting up. “Or rather, what you did was exactly what I needed. You made me realise that I have only just been set free from one man who ruled my life, and I was walking at once into just such another situation. If you had treated me more gently, I should never have known my danger. Amy… Amy likes to be told what to do, and not have to decide anything for herself, but not I! Were you the kindest and gentlest man in the world, still you would order my life and expect me to obey you, and… I am not ready for that. Not yet. I should like to be myself for a while, first. Perhaps one day I will find love — a true love that will make me want to be married. But you and I — we should not suit, should we?”
“I think you may be right.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “Forgive me, Connie.”
“It is I who must beg your forgiveness, Mr Ambleside. But we are friends, I hope, and you are free now to offer for Amy, if you wish.”
His throat was too choked to say more than, “Thank you!” in heartfelt tones.
He jumped to his feet, unable to wait a moment longer. “Where is she?” he said eagerly. “In the schoolroom? Practising her music? Oh, but she will be at the White House! She has been there so much lately.”
“Oh — did you not know? She is with Lady Harriet at Drummoor. She could be gone for weeks.”
Connie skipped off to find her sisters, leaving him alone in the room, dismayed. Drummoor. Where was Drummoor? He had not the least idea of direction or distance or how the place might be reached. He would need to apply to the Dowager Countess for instructions on how to find it. He strode out to find his horse.
He discovered it to be two days by coach if he changed horses along the way, or three if he kept to his own. He was on the road within two hours, and a less pleasant journey he could not remember. The delays, indifferent accommodation, poor food and ostlers who had to be shouted at and copiously bribed to do their work, the need to ask directions frequently, all put him badly out of countenance. The relentless rain drove him to distraction. He hated being cooped up in the airless carriage with only his valet for company. But he bore it as best he could, with no more than a dozen outbreaks of temper each day, because each mile brought him closer to Amy and the joy of seeing her smile.
Would she smile when she saw him? Or would she turn him away again—? But no, for he was determined she should not refuse him a second time. This time he would not take no for an answer.
As the carriage drew nearer to Drummoor, the road dwindled to little more than a farm track, and a badly rutted and muddy one at that. The last mile or two, taken at barely walking pace, tested Ambleside’s patience to its limit. But eventually he arrived, the gates stood open, the carriage drove through and made its way past badly overgrown hedges. The house was reached, the carriage stopped and the first sight to meet his eyes was Amy herself, standing out on the front lawn some little distance away, surrounded by a group of young men wielding spades. Gardeners, of course. Naturally she had some project in progress already.
He smiled to himself as he strode towards her. So like Amy! Always digging and planting and organising teams of gardeners. He took no notice of the workers, his eyes fixed on his beloved.
She had not noticed him at first, for she was busy pointing at the ground, and talking — giving instructions to the gardeners, no doubt. Then she looked towards him and her face instantly changed, the animation dropping away. Her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide. She gave a little scream.
He had thought endlessly during the long journey of what he would say, but when he reached her side and she looked up at him, so anxious yet so trusting, so utterly lovable, all his carefully prepared speeches flew out of his head.
“Connie has set me free,” he said, the words tumbling out. “I am come for you at last, darling Amy, and this time you will not turn me away for I will not take a refusal, and so I warn you. I am going to marry you if I have to carry you off by force.”
Then, unable to resist a second longer, he swept her into a firm embrace and kissed her quite thoroughly, to rousing cheers from all the assembled gardeners.
~~~~~
Amy glowed with happiness. She walked alongside Mr Ambleside, her arm tucked comfortably into his, and every so often her feet gave a little skip, all by themselves, as if they could not quite contain their excitement.
“When you first arrived, I was so afraid something dreadful had happened,” she said. “To Connie, perhaps, or one of the others, and you were sent to fetch me.”
He groaned. “I had not considered that. I am ashamed to admit that I thought only of myself and my own selfish need for you, without a thought as to how my abrupt arrival must appear to you. I am so sorry, my darling.”
“Oh no, it is quite all right. It was only a moment before I realised what you were about, and all my fears were allayed.” Then, blushing a little, she added, “I like it very much when you call me that. Your darling.”
“Do you really?” He stopped and swung round so that they stood face to face, his expression serious. “Amy, you would tell me if you have the smallest reservation about this? For I have not given you a great deal of choice in the matter, have I?” He sighed heavily. “I have been quite dreadfully precipitate of late, rushing into everything without a sensible thought in my head, and determined to have my way. I got rid of all your suitors, in my arrogance, for I was quite sure you would accept me. How presumptuous I was! And here I am, doing exactly the same again, tearing back into your life and giving you not a moment to think. It is wrong of me, I know. Can you ever forgive me?”
“It was very bad of you to interfere with my marriage prospects in that way,” she said quietly. “I was so angry with you then. I am sure you meant it for the best, and you were trying to protect me from a terrible mistake, but still you should not have done it.”
“That is clear to me now. It was appallingly autocratic of me, and I was just as overbearing with Connie. I have behaved dreadfully, which makes me thoroughly ashamed of myself. I do try to curb my impulsiveness, but lately, I have grown quite wild. Fortunately, you have brought me to my senses at last. I would never force you into marriage against your will, I hope you know that. If you are still concerned about your father’s disapproval—”
“No. Not that. I have come to see…” She hesitated. Even now, how difficult it was to say the words, to admit that Papa was not what he ought to be. But it had to be said. “I understand now that my father was not quite the man of principle I believed him to be. He has sunk in my estimation of late. My sisters and I were all terrified of him, I see that now, and even Mama disliked him. She said she hated him,” Amy added quietly. “And that is not right, is it? If a wife hates her husband, there must be something amiss.”
“But you will not hate your husband, I hope,” he said teasingly.
She looked up at him shyly. “Indeed not. Will you… would you mind… kissing me again? For I liked it very much.”
He obliged with an enthusiasm which set her heart racing, and left her breathless and heated. “Darling Amy,” he whispered into her ear. “I have been such a fool over Connie. I should have listened to my heart.”
“Ah, poor Connie! Was she very upset?”
“Relieved, I would rather say. She was not very comfortable in her role as a prospective bride.”
“Connie was always so. She wants what she cannot have, and then, when she is given it, she decides she does not want it at all. Papa made such a mistake when he named her — all of us! Connie is supposed to be constant, yet her mind flits about like a butterfly. Belle ought to be beautiful, and I am supposed to be amiable.”
“And so you are, darling Amy. The most amiable woman in the world.”
“Oh no! For I never know what to say in conversation, so I say nothing, which is abominably rude, and when I
get upset or worried, I snap at people.”
“Then it is fortunate you have me to take care of you, for I shall make very sure that nothing upsets or worries you again.”
“Oh! That sounds delightful. You will look after me, will you not?”
“Indeed I shall, for the rest of our lives, my darling.”
She smiled up at him and lifted her face for another kiss.
THE END
The next book in the series is Belle: The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 2.
Go to the Mary Kingswood website to buy it, find out more or sign up for the newsletter.
You can read Chapter 1 of Belle after the acknowledgements.
Thanks for reading!
If you have enjoyed reading this book, please consider writing a review on Amazon, Goodreads or wherever you hang out online, to help others decide if they would like it. You can find out the latest news, find bonus scenes and background information, and sign up for the newsletter at the Mary Kingswood website. If you’d like to know more about the Allamont family and their friends, the next book in the series is Belle: The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 2. Buy it here.
A note on historical accuracy: I have endeavoured to stay true to the spirit of Regency times, and have avoided taking too many liberties or imposing modern sensibilities on my characters. The book is not one of historical record, but I’ve tried to make it reasonably accurate. However, I’m not perfect! If you spot a historical error, I’d very much appreciate knowing about it so that I can correct it and learn from it. Thank you!
About The Daughters of Allamont Hall: a series of six traditional Regency romances, featuring the unmarried daughters of Mr William and Lady Sara Allamont. When their father dies unexpectedly, his will includes generous dowries for the sisters, but only on condition that they marry in the proper order, the eldest first.
Book 1: Amy
Book 2: Belle
Book 3: Connie
Book 4: Dulcie
Book 5: Grace
Book 6: Hope
Any questions about the series? Email me - I’d love to hear from you!
Amy (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 1) Page 17