Hope (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 6) Read online

  HOPE

  The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 6

  A Regency Romance

  by Mary Kingswood

  Published by Sutors Publishing

  Copyright © 2017 Mary Kingswood

  Cover design by: Shayne Rutherford of Darkmoon Graphics

  All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction.

  A traditional Regency romance, drawing room rather than bedroom.

  Hope has no wish to marry, but it’s almost five years since her father died, and the final peculiar clause of his will is about to come into effect: if Hope’s brothers can’t be found, then the whole estate will be bequeathed to the church, and Hope must move to the Dower House with her mother. There’s just one way out: her cousin Hugo can inherit Allamont Hall, but only if he marries Hope. Can she bear to give up the chance of finding a man who loves her, even if it means saving her home?

  Hugo was a wild, troubled young man until his father suggested he help out his fatherless cousins and look after the finances at Allamont Hall. He discovered an unexpected passion for the house and the land, and there’s a chance he can own it all, if he can just persuade his cousin Hope to marry him. And even if he manages that, there’s still the risk that her long-lost brothers will turn up and snatch everything away from him.

  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 4.5: Mary (a novella, free for mailing list signups)

  Book 5: Grace

  Book 6: Hope

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  Table of contents

  1: A Marriage Of Convenience

  2: Meetings In Brinchester

  3: Visitors

  4: Refusal And Acceptance

  5: Sunday

  6: The George And Dragon

  7: Assembly

  8: Inspecting The Hall

  9: Freedom

  10: The Last Day

  11: The Day After

  12: News From Shropshire

  13: A Question Of Servants

  14: Ladies

  15: Paying Calls

  16: The Card Room

  17: Blood

  18: Quarrels

  19: Leaving

  20: A Clever Scheme

  21: Games Of Chance

  22: A Final Throw

  23: Snow And Rain

  24: Epilogue

  Thanks for reading!

  About the author

  Acknowledgements

  Sons of the Marquess Book 1: Lord Reginald: Chapter 1: A Family Meeting

  1: A Marriage Of Convenience

  Hope Allamont watched dejectedly as the agents made their farewells to her mother. They were very respectful, almost obsequious to Lady Sara, bowing as low as they could without falling over, every sentence milady this and your ladyship that. Nevertheless, the task they were charged with could not but be deeply unpleasant to everyone. To have people crawling all over Allamont Hall, measuring, inspecting, looking under carpets and behind paintings, and silently assessing the value of the property was unspeakable.

  The pleasure in their eyes as they moved from room to room was clear to see. Allamont House was a splendid property, built in the grand style common in the last century, with well-proportioned formal rooms and all the facilities required for living in the country. It was perhaps a little old-fashioned now, but nothing that some slight refurbishment could not ameliorate, and with fine pleasure grounds and woodlands. Yes, no doubt the agents could not believe their good fortune in having such an admirable property fall into their laps like a ripe plum.

  As soon as they had left, Lady Sara whisked upstairs to her sitting room. She was presently in one of her cold, withdrawn moods, and who could blame her? She must be as downhearted as Hope this summer. In just three months from now, they would be thrown out of their home, and mother and daughter would be obliged to move to the Dower House, and what comfort would be theirs then?

  Hope saw her cousin Hugo watching her, his face as dark with gloom as hers must be.

  “Come,” he said, with a flick of his head. “Have a glass of ratafia, or something stronger, if you prefer. Nothing else to do but drink and be sorrowful together.”

  She followed him into the book room, once a cheerless place devoid of ornament or picture, where she and her sisters had recited their lessons or read from the Scriptures or translated a passage of Greek under her father’s hawk-like eyes, trembling with fear of his disapprobation. He was long gone to his grave, and since Hugo had taken over the management of the Hall, the book room had become a warm, friendly place, books and papers and rolled-up maps scattered on every surface, and his three dogs lolling in front of the fire. Hugo was no more than a distant cousin, but he and his family were their only relatives who lived nearby.

  “I still do not understand why they need to measure everything so soon,” she said for perhaps the fiftieth time. “Why could they not wait until October? For the church cannot have the Hall before then, can they? They must wait the full five years for the terms of Papa’s will to take effect, surely?”

  “They cannot have possession, that is true,” he said, pouring ratafia for her and Madeira for himself. “They have to wait until the very last day, because there is always a small possibility that one or other of your brothers will turn up to claim his inheritance. But October is a difficult time of year. Houses are much easier to sell in the summer, when people may travel more easily to inspect a property. The bishop wants to set a day for prospective buyers to look around before the weather turns bad, and to do that the occasion must be advertised widely, and to do that they must know the exact numbers of rooms of each type, and their proportions, and the size of the linen cupboard and so forth. And then there is the value of the estate. Someone is to come next week to inspect the accounts, to determine the exact income from the tenants and holdings.”

  “You can tell them that to the penny.”

  He smiled then. At twenty-two, the same age as Hope herself, he was an odd looking man, far too thin, dark of hair and eye. She supposed he was handsome enough, in a melancholy, brooding sort of way, but his strange little lopsided smile gave his face a quirky charm.

  “They will not take my word for it,” he said, with a lift of one shoulder.

  “But you are so good with the accounts.”

  “Oh, but I have always loved numbers. It was the only subject where I excelled at school, so working through the accounts is the greatest pleasure to me. To the bishop’s agents, however, I am not to be trusted, since I have a personal interest.”

  “I suppose that is understandable.” Her voice trembled slightly, her tears not far away. “Oh Hugo, this is so horrid! I do so wish we could stay in the Hall.”

  She could have bitten her tongue for her foolishness, for his face lit up eagerly.

  “You do not have to leave it, Hope, you know that. Marry me, and we can keep the Hall. You would not even have to change your name. Should you not like to be Mrs Hugo Allamont, the mistress of Allamont Hall? For I tell you honestly, I should very much like to be Mr Hugo Allamont, the master of Allamont Hall.”

  How many times had he made the same speech, or some variation of it? And all because of a casual line in her father’s will — if the long-lost sons could not be
found, then any of the three cousins could inherit if they married one of the daughters. Hope was the last of the daughters now, for all her sisters were married. And Hugo was the last of the cousins, since James was married and Mark had gone off to Scotland to become a teacher.

  “I should not mind being mistress of Allamont Hall,” she said, as she had told him so many times. “I already am, in many ways, for Mama takes no interest in the household. And you have already taken the role of master here, and we are most grateful to you for that. But I am not sure whether I want to marry anyone at all. Although,” she added punctiliously, “it is most obliging in you to offer, Hugo, and if I were minded to marry at all, you would be my first choice.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “So it is not my person in particular that repels you but the very notion of marriage? Your sisters are all happily wedded.”

  “Oh yes, and no one could be more delighted for them than I. But they were lucky — they each met a man who adored them and looked at them with fire blazing in his eyes. I was so fortunate as to experience that once, long ago, and I cannot settle for less, Hugo. I cannot marry a man who does not look at me in that way. And then — there is your mama,” she added in a low voice. “I do not want to die because of a baby growing wrong.”

  “I can understand that,” he said seriously. “Poor Mama! How she suffered at the end, when even the laudanum began to fail her. And many women die during the birthing of a baby. It is a terrible, dangerous business.”

  “Oh yes! I have not forgot poor Mrs Wills! Such a tragedy, and Mr Wills so grief-stricken.”

  They were both silent for a while, Hope sipping her ratafia and nibbling a bonbon, and Hugo rubbing the ears of one of his dogs.

  “You know, Hope,” he said suddenly, leaning forward in excitement, “there is a way around this. We could marry but not… erm, not be husband and wife, if you see what I mean.”

  “How could we be married but not be husband and wife… oh!” She blushed crimson. “You mean, no bedroom… erm, happenings.”

  “Exactly! A marriage of convenience. So long as we marry before mid-October, and there is no sign of Ernest and Frank, we would inherit the Hall. What do you say?”

  “But then there would never be a man who would look at me with fire in his eyes,” she said, her voice quivering.

  He sat back in his chair, defeated. “Will you at least think about it?”

  “I cannot see that my feelings will be any different tomorrow or next week or next month.”

  He sprang to his feet, to the alarm of the dogs, and paced restlessly back and forth. “Then our only hope is to find Ernest and Frank. We still have time, and there must be a way. I cannot believe they are dead!”

  She looked up at him warily, knowing his fidgety moods of old. “Aunt Lucy from Liverpool is trying to find them. That is where they were last seen, so surely that is the best place to search.”

  He spun round, his face alive with enthusiasm. “You are absolutely right! Liverpool! But she is merely asking here and there. We need to broadcast our situation more widely. An advertisement, that is what we must put out. There must be newspapers in Liverpool.”

  “When Papa died, Mr Plumphett posted notices in all the newspapers, I believe,” she said.

  “Oh, Plumphett! He is such a pompous old fool. I am sure he is a good enough sort of solicitor for common matters, but he drew up this will of your father’s in the first place. I hold him entirely responsible for the extraordinary nature of parts of it.”

  “I daresay he only wrote what Papa told him to,” Hope said. “No one could change Papa’s mind when he was set on a certain path.”

  Hugo laughed then, and stepped over the dog to take his seat again. “Of course you are right. Perhaps I should talk to Plumphett before I do anything, to understand what was attempted to discover Ernest and Frank. Still, another try at advertising can do no harm.”

  ~~~~~

  “Hope, I should like you to come down to the Dower House with me tomorrow,” her mama said one evening as they drank their tea after dinner. “The refurbishment is almost complete now, so it will be the perfect opportunity for you to choose your bedroom.”

  “Must I? The very thought of moving there is so lowering. The weather is so fine, I had hoped to begin my sketch of the northern aspect.”

  Hope hated these evenings when the two of them were alone. They seldom entertained, but often Hugo stayed for a night or two when he was busy on estate business, and then he would play cribbage with her, or sing while she played the pianoforte. Occasionally he read poetry to her, for he had a fine voice for such recitations. But when he was not there, and she and her mother were alone together, Hope had the darkest vision of their lonely future in the Dower House.

  Lady Sara set down her cup. “You are very sentimental about this house, Hope. All the drawing of this and that angle is well and good in its own way, and a perfectly acceptable accomplishment for a young lady to pursue, but it does not do to become too attached to any place. Few people are so fortunate as to reside in one house from cradle to death bed. October will see us settled in the Dower House, whether you will or no, and it is as well that you become accustomed to the idea.”

  “Indeed, I am accustomed, Mama, but I need not like the change. Having lived all my life in the Hall, every room, every chair, every picture has memories for me.”

  “They cannot all be good memories, surely? Your father was a harsh and intolerant man, with few redeeming qualities.”

  “Mama!”

  Her mother sighed. “There is little point in pretence. He was an evil man in many ways, and we all suffered at his hands. I was glad when he died, I will not lie about it, and Allamont Hall has few happy memories for me. Perhaps you were luckier, although I cannot say. Your father had the raising of you and your sisters, and I knew little of what went on the nursery. He refused to let me see you, did you know that? Each one of you was lifted from my arms when you were but three days old, and taken away from me. I was permitted an hour with you on Sundays, that was all, until you were old enough to eat family dinners with us.” She picked up her cup again. “But this will not do. Your melancholia is afflicting me also, Hope. Ugh, this tea is cold.”

  “May I fetch you another cup, Mama?”

  “Thank you, Hope. You are a kind girl, even if I deplore your sentimentality.”

  “To regret leaving one’s home of many years is surely something more than sentimentality, Mama. I shall not complain when we are in the Dower House, but I cannot but feel the loss keenly.”

  “I wonder you do not marry Hugo, then, if you feel so strongly about it,” her mother said.

  Hope shuddered. “That would be to give up all possibility of a marriage for love.”

  “Sometimes I despair of you, and your sisters were just the same. Love — that is all you young people think about these days. You read too many novels, I think. That circulating library in Brinchester has a great deal to answer for, and your sisters will keep sending you silly books and filling your head with romantic notions. Love does not answer, Hope. It never has. Such a flimsy, insubstantial emotion, liable to blow away at the first puff of wind. Men are wicked creatures, every one of them, and not worth giving one’s heart to. Take their money and position in society, if you must, but do not look for happiness in marriage.”

  Hope was too depressed to answer.

  ~~~~~

  The Dower House was a pretty enough little place, Hope had to concede. Built at the same time as the main house, which it greatly resembled in style, the outer appearance was reassuringly familiar, even if it felt tiny by comparison. Outside, piles of detritus from the renovations still littered the drive and buried overgrown bushes where once were flowerbeds. Inside, the bare wooden floors echoed hollowly in every empty room, and the air smelt overpoweringly of freshly cut wood and distemper.

  “This is the dining room,” Lady Sara said. “The ceiling still needs work, but the size is adequate. We shall be able to seat
fourteen, or sixteen at a pinch. And this will be the drawing room. The aspect is not what one would wish, but we must make do. And through here is the morning room.”

  “It is very dark,” Hope said.

  “It is. I fear that massive tree on the lawn will have to go. It must have been pretty enough once, but now it is too monstrous for words. Now, upstairs we have four bedrooms. This one is mine, but you may choose any of the others that you wish. Then the other two will be for a guest and your companion.”

  “Companion?” Hope said in a faint voice.

  “Of course. You will need a companion for those times when I am away.”

  “Might I not stay with one or other of my sisters, or with Cousin Mary?”

  “You cannot constantly be packed up and dispatched to this house or that like a piece of luggage! Far better to stay quietly at home. I will advertise for a companion for you, or perhaps I might ask Miss Endercott to recommend someone. She knows everything that goes on in the neighbourhood, and will be sure to know just the person. Such a pity Miss Bellows left. I must say, it was most inconsiderate of her to go off and marry like that. At her age too! What can be more ridiculous than a middle-aged bride?”

  “It was an excellent match, Mama, and she could not keep Mr Graham waiting indefinitely, just so that she might chaperon me about when you are not here. But perhaps if you were from home less, or… or if you were to take me with you…”

  Her mother turned her gaze full on her daughter, her still-beautiful face alight with merriment. “I do not think that would answer! If you find your situation difficult, Hope, you have brought it upon yourself by refusing some very eligible offers for your hand. Your father gave you an excellent dowry, your accomplishments are adequate, you dance well and you have enough beauty to appear to advantage in company. You would be nothing special in London, but here you may have had your pick of young men any time these last three or four years. Yet here you are, two and twenty and still unwed. If you dislike the prospect of living in the Dower House, then the solution is in your own hands. You may marry tomorrow if you please. I could name half a dozen young men who would be delighted to win you.”