Belle (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 2) Read online

  She lifted the latch and went in.

  The book room was exactly as she remembered it, the heavy smell of smoke in the room, and books scattered on every surface and even on the floor. It was as if no one had been in since she had fled. Slowly she walked about, touching this book and that, and then searching in earnest, looking for a certain book with a red binding, but it was not there. Nor were her gloves.

  When she gave it up, she sat on the floor in the exact spot, and closed her eyes, remembering. As if she could ever forget! It was only when she heard the ploughman go by on his way home, his voice lifted in song, that she realised how late it must be. Her walk home was brisk, but even so, it was quite dark before she crept in through the garden door and up the back stairs.

  On Tuesday, she had a charitable errand in the village, and somehow that, too, ended in John’s book room. Wednesday saw her taking a basket of hothouse peaches to Miss Drummond at the school house, and again she found herself lifting the latch and entering the cottage.

  This time, there was a difference. The books were neatly piled up, the floor was empty and there was a strong smell of soot in the room. The chimney sweep had been in.

  Belle had just settled on the floor when she heard the latch click. Before she could rise to her feet, Miss Endercott’s face appeared in the doorway.

  “Miss Allamont? Did you need something? I believe no one is here at the moment.”

  Belle blushed scarlet as she got to her feet. “I… was looking for my gloves. I must have left them here.”

  “You will not find them on the floor, I fancy,” Miss Endercott said, but her lips twitched in a smile.

  “No. I have not found them at all, but the room has been much tidied. I shall ask Eliza when next I see her if she has found them.”

  “That is a good idea. Yes, the sweep was in this morning, and everything had to be cleared out of the way.”

  “Perhaps the chimney will smoke less now,” Belle said.

  Miss Endercott laughed. “I believe it will. Joe sent his boy up to investigate, and he found a box lodged half way up the chimney, almost blocking it.” She pointed to an empty shelf on one of the bookcases, where a battered tin box sat. “Sadly it only contained a few coins from Queen Anne’s time, and some very paltry jewellery. No treasure. Still, at least we have discovered why the chimney smoked so badly.”

  A box in the chimney! Suddenly Belle guessed exactly where the last remaining box must be hidden in her father’s book room. “I am very glad of it. And now I must get home.”

  “Another good idea,” Miss Endercott said gently. “And Miss Allamont, if I may venture to give you a little hint, perhaps it would be better not to come here again. There are those who might tattle about such a thing, if they were to see it, and that would be most unpleasant for you.”

  “You are quite right,” Belle said, blushing again. “Thank you, Miss Endercott.”

  Yet she wondered, as she made her way home, just how unpleasant it would be. If she were to continue to visit the cottage, if she dared to go when John was there, then sooner or later there would be a scandal and they would be forced to marry. The fuss would die down in time, and she and John could live out their lives in perfect contentment. What could be so terrible about that?

  Only Hope’s broken heart, she reminded herself. Only her own sister made into an object of ridicule and pity because the man she believed loved her had been seduced by her own sister. No, it would never do. In her heart, she knew that she had to stop thinking about that kiss, about a life that could never be hers. It was surely time to look to her own future, and a very different fate.

  18: Legal Matters

  As soon as she arrived home, she got the groom’s boy to look into the chimney in her father’s book room. Immediately he found a small metal door to one side, just above the arch of the fireplace, where it could not be seen. Opening the door revealed the missing box hidden in the metal-lined cavity beyond. Probably the hiding place had been part of the original design of the house, a safe place to keep money or valuable papers.

  She was delighted to have all the boxes, and especially this one, for it was hers - her dowry, her money. It wasn’t much, but surely she might choose what to do with it? She sat down to write to Mr Plumphett.

  On Thursday, she dutifully sat in the drawing room with her sisters to receive callers. Mr Burford was still in Shropshire, fortunately, but Miss Endercott came, as always, and Mr Drummond and his sister. Sir Matthew and Lady Graham were there, and their daughter Elizabeth, who was just out and needed to be paraded around at every opportunity. Connie and Dulcie had taken her under their wing, although in her more suspicious moments, Belle wondered whether this was less from good nature and more because Elizabeth’s homely face set their own attractions off to greater advantage. Furthermore, Elizabeth had clearly depended on her mother’s advice in the matter of clothes, which was unfortunate. However, she was a good-humoured girl, excited about the forthcoming ball at the Assembly Rooms and determined to be pleased with the world, which was enough, when combined with a substantial dowry, to ensure her popularity.

  Belle envied her that. She had been excited herself, once, to dance in public for the first time, putting on a pretty new gown, entering the Assembly Room with its palms and galleries and so many people! She had never seen so many couples dancing all at once. It was exhilarating, until perhaps the second or third dance. She had watched Amy whisked away for every dance, with gentlemen vying for her favours. She had quickly discovered just how much time she would spend sitting at the side of the room watching everyone else enjoying themselves. Her sisters’ pretty faces had ensured that they never lacked partners, but Belle had had neither beauty nor a dowry to recommend her. She had tried not to mind, but it was humiliating all the same.

  She was determined not to put herself through the embarrassment again. By the time of the ball, she would be betrothed to Mr James Allamont of Willowbye, no matter what she had to do to get him to the point. And then she would not be troubled by thoughts of Mr Burford again, for she would have more than enough to occupy her with James. But she had a task to accomplish before that could happen.

  On Friday, Belle took the carriage into Brinchester and went directly to the offices of Plumphett, Plumphett, Witherspoon and Plumphett.

  “You have written to him?” she said, as she was shown into Mr Plumphett’s luxurious office.

  “Indeed I have, Miss Allamont, indeed I have. I was favoured with an early response. He will be here, never fear.”

  “And you have prepared the papers?”

  “Most certainly, exactly as you instructed. Would you care to peruse them?”

  She looked through the sheaf of papers, but the legal language was complicated. “I cannot make much of it, but do you assure me that this will end the matter?”

  “Oh, indeed, Miss Allamont. Ah, I hear our visitor on the stair now. He is very punctual. Are you sure you wish to talk to him yourself?”

  “Yes, for it is a family matter, so it is fitting. You may explain the legal terms, when we reach that point in the proceedings.”

  The door opened and the clerk ushered in Mr Jack Barnett. He looked round, quite at his ease, and grinned widely. “Ah, my dear sister again. How are you, Belle?”

  “You may address me as Miss Allamont or madam. You know Mr Plumphett, of course. Please sit, Mr Barnett.”

  “You may address me as Jack or my dear brother, Belle. And I’ll stand, if it’s all the same to you. Let’s get this over with, shall we? Although I can guess what you want.”

  “I should prefer you to sit, Mr Barnett, so that I am not straining to look up at you.”

  She waited while he thought about it, the room silent but for the ticking of a hideous ormolu clock on the mantle. Eventually, with a laugh, he perched on a chair.

  “Thank you. Mr Barnett, I wish to talk about your proposal to claim the estate of Allamont Hall.”

  “Of course you do!” he said, grinning even
more broadly. “You’ll be wishing me at the devil, I daresay. But I shan’t go away or give it up. I’ve talked to some lawyers and I have an excellent case, they tell me, so you shan’t persuade me to give it up, sister dear.”

  “I have no opinion on the merits of the case. It is a matter for the courts to decide. However it turns out, though, it will be a long and expensive process. You may incur a great many costs and yet lose the case in the end. Even if you win, a protracted and complicated case might ruin the very estate you seek to own.”

  “Still a risk worth taking, though, ain’t it?”

  “I have a suggestion for you, Mr Barnett, that might please both of us. I will give you a sum of money, free of all constraints, if you agree to drop your claim and never again pursue it. Mr Plumphett has the papers already prepared, so all you need to do is to sign them, and the money is yours today.”

  “You have it here? Right now?”

  “I do.”

  His eyes were alight with greed. “How much?”

  Here Belle hesitated. Her own money from the box in the chimney came to a little more than twelve hundred pounds, but she had felt that was not enough to tempt him away from an estate worth more than three thousand a year. So she had gone carefully through the accounts, and with the rents and other income now in hand, she could afford something more. It would make life difficult for the next year or two, but it would be worth it.

  “Three thousand pounds,” she said.

  He burst into laughter. “Three thousand? Is that all?”

  “It is a very considerable sum,” Mr Plumphett said in shocked tones. “I beg you to consider it carefully, sir. The late Mr Allamont has already made a most generous provision for you in his will, leaving you the house and a very good income, enough to enable you to live as a gentleman, should you wish it. Miss Allamont is offering you a substantial addition to that income. Why you might have another hundred a year from it, or even more, if carefully invested.”

  “A hundred a year!” he said, jumping up and striding about the room. “And what is that great mansion worth, eh? Far, far more than three thousand.”

  “I am sorry you feel that way,” Belle said. “However, I cannot afford more than I have already offered you.”

  “Can’t afford more? Now that’s a lie, and you can’t deny it,” he said, his lip curling in disdain. “Why, everyone knows about those fine dowries of yours. Twenty thousand apiece! Now that’s what I call a considerable sum. Bring me twenty thousand, Belle, and I might consider signing your piece of paper.”

  She was so shocked she could only stare at him, speechless.

  “What, lost your tongue?” He laughed mirthlessly. “Not prepared to give up all that money? Then I expect we will meet again in the courthouse, sister dear. Good day.”

  He hurled open the door so that it crashed into a bookcase and disappeared down the stairs, his footsteps echoing hollowly.

  Belle was too stunned to say a word.

  “What a disagreeable person,” Mr Plumphett said, mopping his brow. “I am heartily glad he refused your offer, for he is not worth so much as a single penny piece.”

  That brought a tiny smile to her lips. “I agree with you on the latter point, Mr Plumphett, but as to the former — he has left me an awkward dilemma. What on earth am I to do now?”

  ~~~~~

  The chaise from the inn was waiting for him, as arranged, when Burford stepped wearily from the coach. Travelling was a disagreeable business at the best of times, and autumn was most definitely not the best of times. On the outward journey, the cold had frozen his very marrow, and the return had been worse, with steady rain most of the way. With every mile, he had wished he could afford an inside seat.

  Nor had his stay with his brother helped his mood. Luke was a solicitor who had had the good fortune to fall in love with a solicitor’s daughter. Now he had a wife, a son and a partnership in the family firm, and a happier man could hardly be imagined. When Burford had explained his predicament, Luke had not hesitated to offer his advice.

  “You must follow your heart, John,” he said at once. “There is nothing in this world to compare with the joy of a loving wife and a contented home. Look at Matthew, with that high-flown wife of his — money, a title, a place in society, everything worthy, but he is miserable with her, and he has not the grief of a lost love to account for it. No, you must look to your own happiness.”

  “There is satisfaction in doing one’s duty,” Burford had murmured.

  “Nonsense! It is not as if you had actually spoken. There is no betrothal to bind you.”

  “But there is an understanding of sorts,” Burford said. “It is not binding, true, but there must be an expectation. Besides, Hope has an affection for me. I cannot break her heart.”

  “Then break your own instead, if you insist upon it,” Luke said in exasperation. “Truly, John, there is no need to be a martyr about this. Marriage should bring you happiness, not misery. Choose the sister who pleases you the most.”

  “I cannot choose anyone at all until my income improves.”

  “That may be your good fortune, then, if it prevents you from making a rash decision. But I thought you said the sisters have very good dowries? Why may you not marry at once, in that case?”

  “Hope has to wait until her older sisters are all married before she has her portion. Amy will be married soon, but then there is Belle, then Connie, Dulcie and Grace. It will take years, I do not doubt.”

  “Oh, yes, I had forgotten that. Such a complicated arrangement! What was their father thinking? But the answer is clear — marry Belle and her dowry, and then everyone is happy!”

  “Except Hope,” Burford had said gloomily, and Luke had shaken his head and given it up.

  Nor did Burford have the least idea how happy Belle would be in such a situation, either. Would she wish to marry him at all? Her manner to him had never been other than pleasantly affable. There had been a little natural embarrassment after his moment of madness, but she was otherwise quite composed in his company. She had never looked at him with adoring eyes, as Hope did. He could not presume that if he were to press his suit, she would even accept him.

  Yet he knew, beyond all question, that no other woman could make him happy. Their mutual delight in books, their ease in each other’s company, the similarity in their natures — all conspired to make her the perfect wife for him. Nor would she mind that he could not offer her a grand house or a carriage. She would be perfectly content to live in his little cottage. What had she said? ‘I should like to live in this room, I believe.’ Yes, she would love to live with all his books, but would she want to live with him? He had gone over it a thousand times in his mind, and not been able to settle the question. Now he was returning to the same dilemma that he had left behind, and was no nearer reaching a resolution in his mind.

  In his darkest moments, he wished he could run away and hide, and pretend none of this had happened. His father would take him in without reproach, or at least without spoken reproach, for there would be heavy sighs, and head shaking, and long discussions over the port about his future. He would never say the word ‘disappointment’, but it would hang in the air between them, like the heavy smoke from damp wood.

  Perhaps the church—? But no, even in his most optimistic moments, he could not imagine the bishop smiling benignly and casually reassigning him. ‘Of course, dear boy, no trouble at all. Where would you like to go? They might have a curacy at Little Harpenden. Or I could ask the archbishop if there is a place for you at the cathedral.’ No, the church would not help him, not unless he had the funds to buy himself a living.

  He was so lost in his own thoughts that he was surprised to recognise the palings of Allamont Hall.

  “Are we here already?” he said, half to himself. “Bertie, will you let me down at the gate?”

  “The young ladies be out, Mr Burford, sir,” the chaise driver said. “As I drove out to meet ye, I see them walkin’ to the village. They�
�ll not be ’ome yet, I reckon.”

  “That does not signify. I shall leave a message, then, and the walk home will do me good. I might even dry out a little, now that the rain has stopped. You can leave my box at the cottage. The door is not locked.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Burford leapt down from the chaise as soon as it stopped, and, entering through the side gate, strode up the drive. It felt good to be moving under his own power again, and not sitting about, being jolted and shaken and bumped around like a pig going to market. He spent the few minutes of the walk composing his message to Belle, only to discover his efforts were unnecessary.

  “Miss Belle is in the book room, sir. Shall I announce you?” the butler intoned.

  Burford hesitated. His information was intended for Belle, and this way he could convey it to her without delay. Yet he had no wish to impose on her good nature by seeing her alone. But she was no shrinking miss, he decided. If his presence made her uncomfortable, she would say so.

  “If you would be so kind, Young.”

  The butler led the way down the echoing entrance hall, his footsteps almost silent on the polished floorboards. It was an art to walk so quietly, despite sturdy shoes, and Burford could only admire it. He felt like the veriest labourer, clumping along at the rear.

  Young threw open the book room door. “Mr Burford, Miss Belle,” he said, in ringing tones.

  She smiled as she rose to greet him. That was a good sign! He could not help smiling in return. “I beg your pardon for intruding, Miss Allamont. I will not disturb you for long.”

  “Your visits are never an intrusion, Mr Burford. We did not expect to see you today! Please, will you sit?”

  “You are most kind, but I shall not detain you long and I am too damp to sit anywhere.”