Belle (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 2)

by Mary Kingswood

  ~~~~~

  The excitement of the evening lasted the Miss Allamonts for many dull days when rain kept them at home. Every moment they were together, they found some new aspect to discuss, and every caller who braved the mud brought a new perspective on the success of the dinner. Nor was their conversation always looking into the past. Now that they were out of mourning, a steady stream of invitations arrived from their neighbours, and they could look forward to the public balls in Brinchester as well.

  Belle was glad it was over. Hope had barely spoken to her since their quarrel, although Belle could not quite see what she had done wrong. Burford had chosen to sit next to her, and she could hardly have ignored him. They had conversed, as people tended to do at dinner, and if they had enjoyed their discussion, well, there was no crime in that. Besides, ever since, Burford had devoted himself to Hope and had scarcely said a word to Belle. She wished that the two would soon reach a proper understanding, so that this imagined rivalry would be gone and Belle could treat Burford as a friend again. But she could see no prospect of an early marriage for them. Hope had no dowry until her five older sisters were all married, and Burford had very little money until he could obtain a living of his own.

  Their mother’s visitor for the dinner had arrived three days before it, and showed no inclination to leave after it was over. Mr Eddington was not of the first quality, it had to be said, but he made no pretence to be anything he was not. He talked openly of the cotton mills he owned in Lancashire, and a jute mill in Scotland, allowed it be known that his income was in excess of ten thousand a year and asked freely for advice on buying an estate, which he planned to do within the next year or two.

  Belle had met him briefly before, when he had annoyed her mother by turning up unannounced at the Hall and leaving a note expressing the wish that he might see Lady Sara again soon. His reappearance just as she emerged from her year of mourning inevitably attracted a certain amount of speculation. A wealthy man paying court to a titled lady, recently widowed and perhaps looking for a comfortable retirement — yes, Belle could see the appeal. They were much of an age, both of them handsome, and her mother seemed relaxed in his company. He looked less provincial than before, too, his garments better cut, his cravat impeccably tied and his hair in the very latest London style. Had her mother had a hand in that? If so, that was very suggestive.

  It was Grace, never the most diplomatic of the sisters, who braved their mother’s wrath by asking directly. Belle held her breath, waiting for the put down. Instead, her mama smiled.

  “No, indeed, I am not thinking of marrying Mr Eddington, my dear. That would be very odd in me, barely out of mourning for your papa, to be thinking of matrimony so soon. I daresay I shall never marry again. One husband is quite enough, I find. However, it is very pleasant to have a gentleman to squire me about, making no demands on me, nor I on him. He is not of the first water, it is true, but his manners in company bear no reproach, and he is perfectly amiable. I find him very agreeable company.”

  And so it seemed, for she made no move to encourage him to return to his own home. He had arrived in a very smart phaeton, and when the weather was fit, he took Lady Sara driving about the countryside, and when it was not, they sat indoors playing cards or billiards. Once or twice, Lady Sara played the pianoforte while Mr Eddington sang in a pleasing tenor. And the days drifted past, and still he lingered on at the Hall.

  One day, they both happened to arrive in the dining room for breakfast at the same moment, Lady Sara laughing at some teasing remark of Mr Eddington. They looked the very image of two people at ease with each other, and if Belle had not known the truth, she might have guessed them to be husband and wife.

  Lady Sara said, “Girls, I shall be going into Shropshire for a few days to look at the Market Clunbury house. I am not at all sure what should be done about it, and Mr Eddington has very kindly offered to advise me.”

  “It is let, is it not, Mama?” Belle said.

  “It is. I shall talk to the tenant, and look about the place, and see what it is like. It might make a useful retreat for me, or it might be best to sell it off.”

  “I always assumed it was intended for Ernest and Frank,” Belle said. “But I suppose we must give up hope of ever seeing them again.”

  “I have not given up hope,” Lady Sara said, with a touch of asperity. “However, if they reappear after so many years, they cannot expect everything to be just as they left it.”

  Lady Sara and Mr Eddington departed for Shropshire in the phaeton the following day, the maid, manservant and luggage following in the travelling coach, and Belle was left to wonder why her mama needed a retreat when she had a Dower House waiting for her already.

  ~~~~~

  Burford’s feelings were very mixed at this time. He was conscious of having given Hope pain, and even though it was entirely accidental, he was mortified. But he was relieved to have seen the danger of paying too much attention to Belle, and found himself able to draw back a little. Since that evening, he had made every effort to direct himself towards Hope, and although he could not ignore Belle, for the sake of civility, yet their words were no more than the common courtesies.

  He was sure he was doing the right thing, and, apart from perhaps a single lapse, he had done nothing to cause the slightest alarm in Hope. He loved her devotedly, and when his fortunes improved a little, he would ask her to be his wife.

  And yet he was not quite comfortable about it, all the same. He regretted the loss of his easy friendship with Belle, those companionable conversations about books and poetry and history and… oh, a thousand and one things that interested them both, and which Hope had never shown the least inclination for. He wondered uneasily if he were destined to share his hearth with Hope in silence, because they had so few interests in common.

  In some way he could not quite account for, this confusion expressed itself in fewer visits to Allamont Hall. And that in its turn imposed feelings of guilt which ate away at the corners of his mind and destroyed much of his comfort. If he went, he felt awkward and foolish, stammering and blushing with Hope, and trying to be studiedly polite but distant with Belle. If he stayed away, he longed to see Hope— no, he had to be honest with himself. He longed to see Belle just as much. What a fool he was! His only hope was that Belle would soon be married to her scoundrel of a cousin, and then he would be safe.

  One morning, a charitable visit to a remote cottage followed by a brisk walk across Mr Garmin’s farmland brought him close to Allamont Hall. It was not a day when the ladies would normally be at home, but he had news to share of the imminent arrival of his friend, Mr Drummond, to teach at the school, so he decided to leave his card with a note.

  However, the Allamonts’ lugubrious butler informed him that Miss Allamont and Miss Belle were at home, and led him to the book room. He found Belle bent over the desk, her father’s account books spread over the whole surface. Amy sat beside the fire, reading a book. They both looked up with smiles as he was shown in.

  “Miss Allamont. Miss Belle,” he murmured as he made his bows.

  “Oh, Mr Burford, how delightful in you to call even though Hope is out!” Amy said. “You are just the person I need, for I have got to a difficult passage in my Greek book and I cannot work it out at all.”

  “I am very sorry to disappoint a lady, but I have no Greek at all. If you need Latin, why, I am your man for that, but Greek, no. You need Mr Endercott, if it is too difficult even for Miss Belle to help with.”

  “Belle is too cross to help me.”

  “Oh, surely that cannot be so,” he said before he could stop himself. “Miss Belle is all amiability.”

  Belle chuckled. “Not today, Mr Burford, for I am trying to make some sense of the accounts, and I do not get on any better than Amy.”

  “Then perhaps I may help with that? I was used to help my uncles with their accounts sometimes.”

  “One of your uncles? Or all six of them?”

  He laughed and said
, “All of them, at various times. They were clever men, but every so often they would find themselves in a muddle with money. What is it you are in difficulty with?”

  “Papa’s handwriting!” Belle said. “It is so tiny, I cannot always read it.”

  He bent over the desk. “I see what you mean. But perhaps this will help?” He pulled a small magnifying glass from a pocket.

  Belle clapped her hands in delight. “Mr Burford, you are a treasure! The very thing, and you just happen to have one in your pocket.”

  He felt himself blushing. “I find it useful for reading the old parish records, where the ink has faded a little, or those tiny prayer books with very small print. You may keep this one. I have another at home.”

  “Thank you! I shall get on much better now. But I must tell you, I have had some luck with finding out the number of money boxes. There are precisely six, because Papa bought one for each daughter. Each is marked on the bottom with a letter. So far, we have found ‘A’, ‘D’ and ‘H’.”

  “One for each of you? Then he must have intended the contents to be your dowries. But that cannot be right. Twelve hundred pounds — why, you would not get above fifty pounds a year from that. And where does the hundred thousand pounds come from?”

  “I do not know. It is all very odd, and Mr Plumphett knows nothing. I may find out something from the account books, now that I can read them. Papa was very secretive about money, and I do not think that is a good thing.”

  “No, indeed. Since you now know the exact number of boxes, should you like me to continue my search for the missing ones?”

  “You are very good, sir. I am much obliged to you.”

  She smiled at him with such warmth that he was overcome with momentary confusion. It occurred to him for the first time that perhaps his manner had given rise to similar feelings in Belle as she had aroused in him. That would be disastrous! To be drawn to two sisters at once was bad enough, but if they were equally drawn to him, he would find himself in a tangle there was no unravelling.

  To cover his discomfiture, he at once began moving around the room, trying to think where more of the boxes might be located. He had examined all the furniture and the floorboards. Now he must look at the room itself — the windows and walls.

  He was successful almost at once. Behind one of the shutters, a loose piece of wainscoting lifted to reveal a cavity in the wall. Inside, he found a box wrapped in waxed cloth.

  “Oh, but this one is different from the others,” Belle said, as she unwrapped it. “It is squarer, and has no letter on the bottom.”

  “The others looked to be in better condition, too,” Burford said. “Newer, perhaps. So this is not one of the six. Do any of the keys fit?”

  She tried them in turn, then gave a cry of triumph as the lock clicked and she was able to lift the lid. “Oh. This is quite a lot more money. And look, there are papers here — ‘IOU £12 Thomas Willcock, Farmer’ and several more. And this one — ‘Rec’d from Absalom Whiting, four sacks of oats and a pig’. The dates are last Michaelmas, just before Papa became ill.”

  “So this is the rent from last year,” Burford said.

  “I believe you are right,” she said. “This is what I should have used to settle the unpaid bills. Now I can make up the dowry boxes to the proper amount, then the six boxes will be the same.”

  “If we can find them all,” he said with a smile. “Let me see what more I can discover.”

  He began shifting furniture away from the walls, and in this way found two more cavities, with boxes ‘C’ and ‘G’ hidden there. But he could not find Belle’s box anywhere.

  “Do not be disappointed, Mr Burford,” she said. “I am sure it will be found, sooner or later. I know Papa bought a box for me, for it is recorded in the accounts just after my birth date. But we now have all the others, thanks to your efforts, and a little extra dowry to be settled on Amy.”

  “Indeed, we cannot thank you enough,” Amy said. “I do not think we should ever have found all these boxes without you, Mr Burford.”

  “Happy to be of service, Miss Allamont,” he said.

  He could stay no longer, so he made his farewells, walking home through the woods with his head full of Belle’s smiles, her beautiful eyes, the softness of her cheeks, her graceful hands. It was not until hours later that he realised he had forgotten all about the news he had gone there to impart.

  15: Ae Fond Kiss

  Belle hummed a little tune as she read through page after page of the account books, made suddenly legible with the aid of Burford’s magnifying glass. She would buy one of her own, she decided, next time she was in Brinchester, and then she could return this one, for although he had told her to keep it, it was rather a fine one, too valuable to be given away casually to a friend.

  “Belle, dearest,” Amy said.

  Belle heard something unsettling in her tone. “What is it, sister?”

  “I hope you will not mind me speaking to you in such a way, but I could not help but notice…” She stopped, set down her book and smoothed an imaginary crease from her sleeve. “I do not think…” Again she stopped.

  “Sister, you may speak freely,” Belle said, although her spirits sank. She could guess what it was that so distressed Amy.

  “It is Mr Burford,” Amy said. “He is very amiable and agreeable, and he could not have been more obliging, but… but I should not wish you to be hurt, Belle, dear. We must remember that he is as good as promised to Hope.”

  “Do you really believe me to be in any danger?” Belle asked. “Mr Burford is a very good friend, but I see him as a brother, as Hope’s future husband. My behaviour is based on knowing that he will be a part of our family. But if you feel that I have acted improperly—”

  “No, no! Nothing of the sort. But you do seem to be very… very open in your dealings with him, and I see that you like him very much. Perhaps a little more distance in your manner would be prudent? I should hate to see you drawn in, by not being aware of any danger, that is all. I do hope I have not offended you.”

  Belle crossed the room to kneel at her sister’s feet, taking Amy’s hands in her own. “Dearest Amy, nothing you say could offend me. I take it as a kindness in you to warn me, but you need not be concerned. I shall soon be married to James, I trust, and settled at Willowbye, and then I shall hardly see Mr Burford above once or twice a month. In the meantime, I shall follow your advice to be more distant. I have already agreed to help him find some books for the school, but once that is done, I assure you, I shall be as distant as you like.”

  Yet even as she spoke the words, Belle found her spirits sinking at the prospect.

  ~~~~~

  The day was fixed when Belle would again go to Burford’s cottage to search through his books for suitable material for the school. Burford was naturally anxious about spending perhaps two or three in hours in the company of a young lady he found all too distracting, but he determined to get through it as swiftly as possible. And perhaps she, too, would think better of it and cry off, or she might bring one of her sisters with her. But no, when he opened the door to her, she was alone. However, Eliza was clattering dishes in the scullery at the back of the house, and Samuel was carrying buckets of coal up from the cellar, so he would not be entirely alone with her.

  “You need not knock,” he said. “The door is always left unlocked. Pray, come in. I had thought you might have some of your sisters with you, the weather being so fine.”

  “Amy is at Staynlaw House, and Connie and Dulcie are at Graham House, discussing gowns for Elizabeth Graham’s first ball, which cannot be too much talked about and anticipated, as you may imagine. And… the others are gone with Mama to Brinchester to see the seamstress. Hope had ball gowns for her come out last year, but she has grown so much, they have all had to be made afresh.”

  He could not think of any sensible reply to this, his tongue seemingly unable or unwilling to move. Instead, he ushered her into the book room, where Samuel was trying to get
the fire to burn properly, to little effect, since the room was filled with smoke.

  “Beg pardon, sir, madam,” Samuels said. “I reckon it needs a good sweeping.”

  “Yes, you had better get old Joe and his boy back again, Samuel,” Burford said. “I do not know how it is, Miss Allamont, but this chimney has been swept and swept, yet it never seems to draw properly.”

  “Never gets swept properly,” Samuel said. “I think there’s a blockage, and Joe don’t want to be put to the effort of fixing it. There, that’s the best I can do, sir.”

  “That will be fine. We shall not be in here long, I daresay. Send Eliza through to dust, will you?”

  Samuel nodded and disappeared.

  “I have arranged for Eliza to clean this part of the house while you are here, Miss Allamont,” Burford said. “For propriety, you understand.”

  She laughed and shook her head at him. “Goodness, Mr Burford, I am not some shy miss just out of the schoolroom. Some would call me quite an old maid, indeed. I think I may visit the parish curate during the day without incurring censure.”

  “Even so, there is no harm in having Eliza nearby.” He could not explain that it was not so much the censure of the world he feared, as his own weakness.

  Eliza bustled in with her dusters and a mop to sweep the floor, and set to work, while they began to examine the books. Burford was determined not to be distracted this time, and become absorbed in reading instead of sorting through systematically. It seemed that Belle had the same idea, for at first they got on very well, taking piles of books out of their crates and flicking quickly through each one before setting it aside or discarding it. But gradually, they grew interested in what they found. As Eliza moved out to attend to the hall and front door, they began to spread books on every surface.

  “Look, this must be from Uncle Jeremiah’s visit to Edinburgh,” Burford said. “Several histories, a book of maps, and look at this! Mr Boswell’s journal of his tour of the Hebrides.” He opened it at random. “Oh dear, it sounds dreary. ‘They reckon it rains nine months in the year in this island, owing to its being directly opposite to the western coast of Sky, where the watery clouds are broken by high mountains.’”