Dulcie (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 4)

by Kingswood, Mary

  He was silent. If only he dared to speak to Dulcie, to open his heart to her and put his future happiness in her hands! His scruples forbade it, and yet — she could but refuse him, and would he be in any worse case than he was now?

  Except that the fragile friendship he shared with her, which was so precious to him, would be shattered beyond repair. Better to be silent, and enjoy her company while he may.

  ~~~~~

  Dulcie loosened her cloak. Despite the lateness of the year and the nip of frost in the air each morning, the days were clear and unseasonably warm. Ripening berries still speckled the brambles fringing the path through the woods, and bees hummed around a few late flowers.

  As she emerged from the woods onto the road, she startled a man standing there, gazing uncertainly about him. He was well-dressed, in the London style, and both young and handsome. He turned to her with a smile of relief.

  “Forgive me, madam, but I appear to be lost. I am looking for the Lower Brinford School, but there is no sign of any habitation and the village is quite left behind.”

  “You have missed the lane to the schoolhouse,” Dulcie said, with an answering smile. “That is not surprising, for it is very much overgrown. I am going there myself, so I can show you the way.”

  She led him the short distance along the road to the start of the lane, and he exclaimed in surprise. “I had assumed this to be no more than a farm track. This is the lane to the school? Where Miss Drummond and her brother live?”

  He looked conscious at the mention of Jess, and Dulcie said impulsively, “It is. The smoke from the chimneys is just visible above those trees. You are a friend of Mr and Miss Drummond, perhaps?”

  “Of Miss Drummond.” Now he blushed noticeably. “I met her in London. Do you know her well? She has been ill, I understand, but is now recovered, or so they told me at the inn. Is it true? She is much better? Her life is no longer in danger?”

  “It is quite true,” Dulcie said, amused by his eagerness. One of Jess’s many suitors from London, no doubt. Or could it be—? With a thrill of excitement, she said, “You heard about her illness somehow?”

  “There was a letter, sent some time ago to my own house, but I have been staying with my aunt, so I only received it three days ago. Most mysterious, for it was signed only ‘A well-wisher’.”

  Dulcie took a skip of pure delight. “Then you are Mr Middleton! How wonderful!”

  “Oh — you know of me?”

  “Certainly I do, for it was I who wrote to you.”

  “Then you have my heartfelt thanks. May I know to whom I am so indebted?”

  “I am Miss Dulcie Allamont of Allamont Hall.”

  He bowed to her, rather formally. “I only wish I had received your letter earlier, Miss Allamont, for I should certainly have come at once. You are sure Jess — Miss Drummond, I mean — is truly better? For they said at the inn that she was well but much altered. I am come to see for myself, to reassure myself — but perhaps she will not wish to see me,” he added sadly. He stopped walking, for the cottage was now in sight. “What do you think, Miss Allamont?”

  Dulcie remembered then Jess’s own words, that she was grateful that she need never see Middleton again, yet did she truly mean that? Perhaps it would set her mind at rest to know that he still cared enough to travel from the wilds of Derbyshire. Dulcie thought, too, of Mary’s request to see Lord Kilbraith, to ensure that their final parting was amicable. And perhaps, for Jess, there need not be a final parting, for Mr Middleton might yet be minded to marry her.

  So Dulcie said circumspectly, “I cannot say what Jess may wish, in her heart, but if you never meet her again, you will not know.”

  He nodded, and, with a grim-faced expression as if he were a warrior going out to do battle, he strode towards the cottage. Then he stopped at the front door, again irresolute.

  “It is open,” Dulcie said. “We may walk in. Or should I go in first, to warn her?”

  Still he stood, hesitant. With a quick nod, he stood aside, half hidden by overgrown bushes, for her to pass him.

  But then light steps were heard from inside, and the door was thrown wide. Jess stood on the threshold, her face wreathed in smiles.

  “I heard your voice—” she began, looking at Dulcie, but then she noticed Mr Middleton to the side, his face twisted with anxiety.

  She screamed.

  “Jess!” he cried in anguish. “Please, I—”

  “Go away! Go away, go away, go away!” She slammed the door in his face.

  21: Argument And Reconciliation

  From inside the house, Dulcie heard Jess sobbing, Polly’s rough tones and Alex’s voice, loud and angry. The door shot open again and Alex burst out.

  “What the devil do you mean by coming here?” he yelled.

  To his credit, Middleton stood his ground, although he raised his hands placatingly. “I am so deeply sorry. I meant no harm, only to find out if Jess is better.”

  “You took your time, then, for she was at her worst some weeks ago. We feared for her very life, but where were you then?”

  “I should have come at once, but I only just discovered the letter Miss Allamont so kindly sent. I beg your pardon, I should not have come. Tell Jess I am devastated to have caused her such distress. Please, go to her now, comfort her. I shall leave you at once, but I am staying at the coaching inn in the village if you should wish to talk to me later.”

  He turned and all but ran back down the lane.

  Drummond took no notice of him, for his attention was all on Dulcie.

  “The letter you so kindly sent?” he said, and she shook from head to toe at the icy note in his voice. Once before he had talked to her in just that way, and she had felt like a worm crawling on the ground. But now… what had she done that was so wrong? She had sent word of Jess’s illness to a man who loved her deeply, and now that she had met Mr Middleton, she knew beyond all doubt that he did love Jess, and she in her turn loved him. There was still a possibility of happiness for them, and was that not worth a little interference?

  So she lifted her chin defiantly. “The letter I sent him, yes. I thought he ought to know how ill — how unhappy — she was. I meant it for the best.”

  “For the best? Dear Lord, what a thoughtless, meddling woman you are, Dulcie! Now Jess is distraught and perhaps will fall into a malaise again, and God alone knows where that might end. We almost lost her once, and if she relapses we may not be so lucky again. And it is all your doing.”

  “I am sorry Jess is upset, but I meant no harm, only to bring them together again.”

  “Do you not see what you have done?”

  “What have I done, except what anyone with Jess’s welfare at heart might have done?”

  “No one with any sense would bring that… that viper here to Jess’s door, and expect a benign outcome. Good God, Dulcie, every time I think you are growing up a little, you do something unconscionable again.”

  “How dare you speak to me so!”

  “You deserve no better!”

  “You are insolent, sir. I will thank you to remember that I am a lady and you are—”

  “Yes? What am I?”

  “You are nobody!”

  ~~~~~

  Alex needed no more than five minutes with Jess to see that she was not about to fall into a fit of the vapours. She paced back and forth across the parlour, white-faced, her mouth a thin line. Polly stood to one side, holding the brandy bottle and a glass, but it was clear that Jess needed no such restorative.

  “How dare he! As if he has not insulted me enough! To come here, pretending to care anything about me — it is insupportable, Alex, quite insupportable. What is he doing here?”

  “He had word of your illness, and came here out of concern,” Alex said. “I do not like it either, but it shows, I think, that his feelings overwhelmed any other consideration.”

  “If he had so much concern for my welfare he could have written to you,” she spat back. “If he had ever had
any concern for my welfare, he would never have treated me the way he did.”

  “I cannot say that you are wrong,” Alex said. “However, if the cases were reversed and you heard that he was sick unto the point of death, would you not have wanted to go to him? Sometimes love defeats common sense.”

  She was silent for so long that he wondered if he had offended her. At least she had stopped pacing like an angry lion in its cage.

  “Polly, would you leave the brandy and go.” When Polly had left in a cloud of disappointment at her dismissal, Jess poured a large measure of brandy and took a long draught. “You are saying, I suppose, that he still loves me, but then I never doubted the sincerity of his attachment to me. His love is no more use to me now than it was in London, if it comes without an offer of marriage. I am not about to change my mind and accept a lesser state. For an hour, perhaps two, I considered the idea seriously, until I came to my senses. And since he cannot marry me, the only kindness he can do me is to keep as far out of my life as possible.”

  “He is staying at the Haddington and as good as invited me to meet him there. Is that the message you wish me to convey?”

  “It is. Tell him to go away, Alex, for pity’s sake.” And then she burst into tears, her whole body wracked by sobs.

  ~~~~~

  Not being in any great hurry to see Mr Middleton before his anger had dissipated somewhat, Alex waited until after dinner to walk through the village to the inn. Tom, the innkeeper, greeted him affably.

  “There’s a letter for you, Mr Drummond. Came in on Bertie’s run from the mail coach this afternoon, but you can take it now, if you want. Franked, it was, so nothing to pay.”

  Alex willingly accepted it, and it was, as he guessed, from Max. He could not wait to read the news from Glenbrindle, so he sat in a corner of the saloon and broke the seal. He was prepared for nothing more than Max’s continuing misery and perhaps a few snippets of local gossip, but the contents were not at all as he had expected.

  ‘My dear friend, I have news that I hope will please you. It was suggested to me by Miss Dulcie A. that I look about for a school in or near Strathmorran for you to exercise your particular talents. There is nothing suitable in the entire county, but perhaps this is an omission that can be rectified. I have talked to Donald about the possibility of starting up a school for boys at W. Strathmorran, in particular at his castle, which is ideally suited for the purpose now that it is restored to a habitable state. He is most excited about the idea, and wishes to teach the boys to blow things up, or, failing this, to fight each other with real swords. You, of course, would have to be the principal in order to prevent him from doing any such thing. There would be a salary of 500 pounds attached to the post, and I would be happy to invest in the project as it is being established. Do come as soon as you can, so that we may rein in Donald’s wilder aspirations. Your brother has altogether too fertile an imagination. I should add that Miss A. believes this would benefit you because of Isobel. This might be an opportune moment to explain to her that your wishes have taken a different turn. You need not be reticent any longer. Your friend, Max.”

  Alex hardly knew what to think. A school at Wester Strathmorran? Was it possible? The castle renovations had almost stopped when his father had died and the money supply had dried up, but there was not much left to be done. And a castle — how many boys would love to be taught in such a place! Yes, it was feasible. And he could go home at last, he and Jess could both go home. He would be the principal of a real school, not a village schoolmaster any longer.

  And with another five hundred pounds a year, he could afford to take a wife. He was dizzy at the prospect. It was not the equal of Dulcie’s wealth, but it brought her within his reach. Finally, he could offer for her, could begin to think about marriage and setting up his nursery.

  But no. Dulcie herself had suggested the idea of the school. She wanted him to go away, to go home, and she would scarcely have proposed such a thing if she had formed any attachment to him herself. It was a lowering thought. All this time, he had given no thought at all to Dulcie’s own feelings, being glad only when their initial enmity had given way to something that seemed like friendship. But he had seen the reality of her opinion of him. She would never agree to marry a man she had described with such passion as ‘a nobody’.

  Could he hope to attach her, after all that had passed between them? He had never tried, had deliberately avoided any such attempt, given the disparity in their circumstances. If he had all the time in the world, perhaps, but he had not. ‘Come as soon as you can’, Max had said. He could take a few days, or a week or two at most, but then he must go. It was surely impossible. His spirits fell instantly, and he cursed his ill-fortune that seemed, once again, to thwart his dearest hopes.

  But there was nothing to be done about it, so he folded the letter and tucked it away in a pocket. He would discuss it with Jess later, but now he had to see Middleton, and convey Jess’s wishes to him.

  He found the man in a private parlour at the Haddington Inn. He was slumped at the table, head in hands, but he jumped up as Alex was shown in.

  “Is she all right? Not taken ill again? Tell me the worst, for God’s sake!”

  “She is… upset, naturally. The shock of seeing you again, after all this time, and the memories…”

  “Of course, of course! I should have thought… I am the worst of fools, to show up so abruptly, but you cannot know how much I have longed to see her again, just once. Every moment since that dreadful day I have regretted the way we parted. Regret — it is the most damnable thing. If only, if only! Take my advice, and never, ever part on bad terms, for remorse destroys every pleasure. I beg your pardon, Drummond, I have offered you nothing. Will you take a little brandy with me? Or I can send for wine. Although…” His voice lowered. “I would understand if you do not wish to.”

  He sounded so forlorn that Alex had to harden his heart to resist a natural surge of sympathy for the man. It was, after all, entirely his own fault that he was in this pitiable state. Still, Alex had bad news to impart, and perhaps it would go easier over a shared bottle of brandy.

  “I will take a little brandy.”

  “Of course, of course. It is kind in you, sir. Thank you so much.” Middleton jumped up eagerly to pour the drinks, his face alight with gratitude. He ushered Alex to a seat, then said in ardent tones, “I have no right to hope, I know that, but is it possible… might there perhaps be some chance in the future, that she will consent to see me again? So that I might explain, and… and apologise. For I am deeply ashamed of my behaviour towards Miss Drummond.”

  “So you should be,” Alex said curtly. “What you did was despicable, and not the action of a gentleman towards a lady. Nor will Jess see you again.”

  Middleton flushed, and Alex was struck by how young he was — not much above twenty, he guessed. Certainly younger than he was himself, and he seemed a callow youth to Alex’s eyes. And perhaps that, more than anything, accounted for his bad judgement with Jess.

  “You are quite right to chastise me,” Middleton said in low tones. “But I was desperate… Do you know what it is like, to be so much in love and yet to have no prospect to be together? You know my situation, I suppose? My older brother inherited from my father, which is as it should be, of course. I have only a small house and a modest income from my mother. My aunt, who brought me up, is to leave me her fortune, but naturally she controls my life, and if I marry to disoblige her, she will disinherit me. She will not consider Jess — I beg your pardon, sir, I mean Miss Drummond — under any circumstances. A title or a fortune, those are her terms. I could not bear it! To turn away from Jess when every sinew, every bone in my body calls out to her. My very soul is adrift without her. I could not let her go, to spend the rest of my life regretting her, and that is the truth of it.”

  He ran his hands through his hair, heedless of the affront to its arrangement. His distress was so palpable that Alex could only feel sympathy for him, and he
had some understanding now of the way love might tear a man apart. He remembered Dulcie in the moonlight, so ravishing, so tantalising. He had never wavered in his determination to behave correctly towards her, but it had been so difficult. A younger, less well-regulated man might not have such self-control. Still, what Middleton had suggested to a respectable lady was unforgivable.

  “Was there no alternative to the vile arrangement you proposed? Perhaps if you had waited, your aunt would have given way?”

  “There was no prospect of it. I wrote to her on an almost daily basis, pleading my case, but to no avail. She was, and remains, implacable. If I had but a little more money — six hundred a year is not enough to keep your sister in any proper manner, nor to support a family.”

  “What about your brother?” Alex said. “Might he help you?”

  “He has no sympathy for my position, for he himself did much as I had intended — married a viscount’s daughter with a good dowry, while keeping the woman he loved as his mistress. He sees nothing wrong in the arrangement. Besides, we have never been close. He always devoted himself to managing my father’s manufactories, and thought me a spoilt wastrel, since I was brought up as a gentleman.”