Belle (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 2) Page 18

  What on earth was she to do?

  21: The Lady Chapel

  Cousin Henry was not angry with James. Anger would have been a natural response, a brief tempest and then resignation to the situation. Or even the silent anger of a disappointed father. He might even have disinherited James, and made Mark his heir instead. Belle had half-expected that, or at least the threat of it, for surely the situation warranted it. Being the eldest son brings certain privileges, but it also carries responsibilities, and marrying well is one of them. James would have been expected to bring either a title or a fortune to Willowbye, and both if he could manage it, not the daughter of a farmer.

  In the event, Cousin Henry’s response was not rage at all. He collapsed into a chair, his head sunk into his hands. “Oh God, what are we to do? We are ruined, quite ruined!”

  Mary knelt at his feet. “Papa, it cannot be so bad. There is still Mark—”

  “No, no. There is no time. I cannot keep the creditors at bay any longer. It was only the prospect—” He glanced up at Belle.

  “Perhaps Connie?” Mary said. “Or Dulcie. They are a little old for him, but I do not think we can wait for Grace or Hope. We should bring Mark home from Oxford at once. Yes, that might work.”

  “Only if they do not mind being bundled into a loveless marriage to rescue you from your imprudence,” Belle said. “What went wrong here? You were used to be wealthier than Papa, cousin. I cannot believe all that has been frittered away.”

  “There have been… expenses,” Cousin Henry said. “A great many expenses. Dammit, James, what were you thinking, to be marrying a penniless farmer’s daughter? Not of your family, that much is certain.”

  “The Whittles are not penniless,” Belle said. They all turned to her hopefully. “Mrs Whittle’s gown was not made by any backstreet seamstress, and the sitting room we saw was newly fitted out, and no expense spared, if I am any judge.”

  “That is true,” James said eagerly. “It was done as a wedding gift for Alice, so she might have her own rooms, you know, as a married woman. Some of the furnishings came from London. Perhaps Mr Whittle might settle something on her.”

  “Perhaps,” Henry said. “I will talk to him about it. Even a few hundred would be a help.”

  “Or perhaps you could reduce your expenses?” Belle said.

  “No, no. Impossible. I have tried, God knows I have tried, but there is nothing to be done.”

  “Then you must sell Willowbye,” Belle said firmly.

  They stared at her uncomprehendingly. Belle gave it up.

  ~~~~~

  Burford felt himself to be in a dream. He went about his usual daily business, he sat down to eat his meals in the regular way, and carried out his duties as curate just as normal. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he saw exactly the same face as always, unaltered. And yet he was unutterably changed. Nothing would ever be the same again.

  Once or twice he wondered if he had actually died, and this was some peculiar form of heaven. A little unexpected in nature, perhaps, but was not the sudden inheritance of vastly large sums the province of heaven? But no, surely he would be happier if he were in heaven, enfolded in the arms of God? And Burford was not happy, and not all his five thousand a year could make him so.

  Just a few short months ago, he had believed himself the happiest man alive. He had a foothold in the profession he had hungered for over half his life, and he had the love of the sweetest, most beautiful woman in the county. One day, somewhere in the far distant future, he would make her his wife and perfect bliss would be his. He had no idea how long it would take to achieve that glorious state, but he was sure it would happen eventually, and in the meantime, he was perfectly content to admire her from a distance, and wait for however long it might be.

  He was no longer content. Sorrow ate away at him, and longing, and all the misery of unrequited passion. He no longer saw the future unrolling placidly at his feet. His profession was snatched away from him, and he must find a new home and a new place in the world. And then there was Belle. Ah, Belle! Why had it taken him so long to recognise all her perfections? He had been dazzled by Hope’s beauty, and failed to notice how ideally suited to him Belle was. How blissful it would have been! How well they would have got along. He could have made her happy, in time, he was sure of that. Even if she never loved him as well as he loved her, surely friendship and common interests would have drawn them closer together?

  Such thoughts were dangerous, to be set aside for his own well-being. Over and over again, he told himself that he must not think of Belle in that way. He was committed to Hope, and she would be his wife in time. That at least had not changed. They could not marry yet, not until her older sisters were wed. It could be years, time enough to adjust to his altered circumstances.

  He must be practical now, and come to terms with his new-found wealth. His uncles’ rather grand solicitor, Sir Pettigrew Willerton-Forbes, and someone from the bank were already travelling from London to explain his inheritance and offer advice. That was the measure of his status now, that such people waited on him, and not the other way round. One or two plans had begun to coalesce in his mind, but he would do nothing until he had seen them.

  In this strange time, his greatest comfort was the church. There he could pray, if he felt the need, or fill otherwise empty hours with pointless activity. He rearranged the organist’s music sheets, and then reorganised them again. There were altar cloths and candle-sticks and other paraphernalia to be endlessly adjusted and moved into slightly different positions. And then, ten minutes later, to be moved back again. The vestry provided hours of tidying and shuffling and sorting. In other circumstances, he would have used such time to read, but he could barely face his book room now. He crept in now and again to write a letter, for there were endless people to be informed of his great good fortune, but he would leave again as soon as he could, closing the door behind him. There were only memories in that room, memories he had much better leave behind.

  So it was that he was in the church one morning not long after breakfast when he spied a lady kneeling at the lady chapel altar, head bent in prayer, a lady so familiar to him that even veiled he knew her at once.

  He hesitated. He had no wish to disturb her prayers, but there was no service that day and such an early visit betokened some trouble or distress. It was his duty to alleviate distress in his parishioners. Or so he told himself as he walked slowly down from the high altar to stand near her.

  She looked up and pushed back her veil, gazing at him with those lovely eyes. “Mr Burford.”

  “Miss Belle. I beg your pardon. Do I intrude? Do you wish to be left alone?”

  “By no means.” She raised herself from her knees and sat back on the pew. “Indeed, I am very glad to speak with you, for I do not know what I should do and would have your advice. Will you sit with me for a while?”

  There could be no harm in it, surely, not here in the house of God? Briefly, his eyes fell on the stained glass window behind Belle’s head — the temptation of Christ, with a very fearsome Devil. It was a salutary reminder. Silently, nervously, he edged into the pew, as far from her as he could manage, and sat down.

  “Mr Burford, I find myself in a very difficult situation. Some of it you already know — that Jack Barnett wants twenty thousand pounds, and the only means I have of satisfying him is to use my own dowry. Well, that is unfortunate, but I have another advantage, which is to say, if I marry my cousin, we may inherit Allamont Hall. Will inherit, in fact, if my brothers do not reappear, an event which seems increasingly unlikely. My cousin will not consider such a marriage unless Barnett is got rid of, but I am in a position to fulfil that requirement.”

  “Mr Allamont might be less enthusiastic about the marriage without the twenty thousand, however,” Burford murmured.

  Belle smiled ruefully. “Less enthusiastic? I believe nothing could have made him less enthusiastic. But that is neither here nor there. You are right, of course, and I felt
it necessary to inform him of my plans at the earliest opportunity. As soon as Amy is married and my own share becomes available, I shall make it over to Barnett.”

  “Do you have free access to it? There are no constraints?”

  “Apparently not. The will merely specifies where the money is to be found and that we each get one sixth portion, in our turn.”

  “And what did Mr Allamont have to say?” he said. He had no idea why she chose to confide in him in this way, but he could not have given up the conversation unless he had been hauled away bodily. Perhaps she hoped to persuade him to use some of his own money to rid them of Jack Barnett, for Hope’s sake? That was an interesting thought.

  She smiled again, and he could not help smiling in return. Her calmness soothed his nerves. “There was no need to tell him. All my efforts are in vain, for my cousin is married already.”

  “Married already!” he squeaked, then, remembering where he was, he lowered his voice. “Married? But how? And to whom?”

  “To the farmer’s daughter, who made the mistake of falling for James’s charms, and found herself in rather a predicament. Not surprisingly, the farmer was unamused, and insisted on a wedding. It has all been kept secret for fear of angering Cousin Henry, which is very foolish when they live not fifteen minutes’ walk from Willowbye and must meet regularly. How can such a thing possibly be kept secret? But that is just like James. He has not a sensible thought in his head.”

  Burford’s mind passed over many possible responses to this revelation, but one question was uppermost in his mind. “Are you very much disappointed?” he said tentatively.

  He was relieved to see another smile. “Oh, no, not really. It would have been a convenient solution, and I should have loved to live at Willowbye, but as for James himself, no, I never much liked him. Never was there a more worthless young man.”

  “Yet you would have married him,” he said, rather shocked. “There must have been better options, Miss Allamont.”

  “If so, I never found them in seven years of looking. So now you understand my dilemma, Mr Burford. I hate the thought of Papa’s little secrets being dragged through the courts, but I cannot prevent it if I have to try to persuade another worthless young man to rescue me from life as an old maid. At least James would have prevented me from being an object of derision, dangling my twenty thousand pounds in front of every eligible bachelor for fifty miles around.”

  She spoke with such feeling that his heart ached for her. “Miss Allamont,” he said gently, “I do not doubt that a great many potential suitors were frightened away by your father. He was quite a daunting man, as you must be aware, and very protective of his daughters. I am sure that you will find yourself very popular once you begin to go into society again. When you are swept into the dance on Thursday by one young man after another, you will not feel so down.”

  “Popular,” she said, with a brittle laugh. “I think not. You do not know — you cannot know, being a man, what it is like to go to a ball and have to wait to be chosen. It was not so bad when it was just Amy, for she was the eldest, and so sweet and pretty, so of course she would stand up for every dance, and turn away several disappointed beaux as well. But then Connie came out and Dulcie and Grace, and I realised that I would never be chosen. Oh, once or twice, of course, when there was no one else, but mostly I sat beside Mama and tried to pretend that I did not mind. It is always men who do the choosing, Mr Burford, and women who wait and hope. Marrying James would at least have spared me that.”

  Her voice wavered. She sighed heavily, lowering her gaze, her hands playing restlessly with the gloves in her hand. Such soft kid gloves. His throat was tight, and he could not trust himself to speak.

  She looked at him again, seemed about to speak, then, with another sigh, her head drooped.

  “You may…” He stopped, his voice wavering. Taking a deep breath, he began again. “You may speak freely to me, Miss Allamont.”

  “May I?” Her head lifted, a flare of intense emotion in her eyes. “Yes, why not? What I need, Mr Burford,” and now her voice was firm again, “is a rich man, someone so wealthy that the loss of my twenty thousand will be of no consequence to him.”

  She looked him straight in the eye, and this time he was the one who lowered his gaze. Suddenly he could not breathe.

  “That would solve all my problems. I could pay off Jack Barnett, and I would be spared the ordeal…” She stopped, her voice tremulous. Taking a deep breath, she went on, “I would not have to show myself in public alongside five sisters much more desirable than I am.” Again, she looked away, smoothing the gloves on her lap. “I hope you will forgive me for speaking so plainly to you. I have assumed we are good enough friends by now that I may take that liberty. Was I wrong about that?”

  Mutely, he shook his head.

  “I know I am supposed to sit demurely and wait, always waiting, but I am so tired of waiting. Papa always said that we should stretch ourselves, reaching for the apple that is just beyond our grasp. Sometimes, he said, you will fall on your face and have to get up and try again, but when you succeed, the apple is all the sweeter. So I am reaching for the apple, because I do not want to find out ten or fifteen or twenty years from now that I could have had it, if only you had known.”

  He could not pretend to misunderstand her. She watched him, waiting for him to speak, but he was not sure his tongue could shape the words. She was offering him everything he wanted, and yet…

  “What about Hope?” he whispered.

  “Hope is eighteen!” she cried with sudden passion. “Eighteen and as pretty as a picture. She was out for less than a month before Papa became ill. Two dinners and a card party — that is the sum total of her experience of society. I daresay you are the first presentable man she ever set eyes on. Once she is fully out, she will realise that there is a world of such men out there. She will not be heart-broken for long.”

  “I do not wish her to be heart-broken at all,” he said quietly.

  “Then you must choose, John, for I see no possibility that this will end happily for all of us. This is not a novel from the circulating library, where everything comes right in the third volume. If you choose me, then you break Hope’s heart, but if you choose her, you break mine.”

  22: To The Ball

  Two days before the ball, Lady Sara returned from her sojourn in Shropshire, with sparkling eyes and glowing cheeks but without Mr Eddington.

  “I was so afraid that you would not be back in time to take us to Brinchester,” Hope said. “I feared we would not be able to go.”

  “Why, Lady Graham could have chaperoned you perfectly well,” Lady Sara said.

  “She would not want to do it,” Dulcie said. “Not when she is trying to show off Elizabeth.”

  “Well, well, I am here now, so all is well,” Lady Sara said.

  “Did you see the Shropshire house, Mama?” Grace said. “What is it like? Is it large or small? Are you going to use it yourself?”

  “So many questions! We will talk about it some other time, for we have a great deal to do before we leave for Brinchester tomorrow. We must begin our packing, and settle which gowns you will wear. Dulcie, did your new slippers arrive? Come, let me see what state your wardrobes are in, and what we might use to adorn your hair.”

  She shepherded the four younger sisters upstairs for the interesting business of spreading gowns and headdresses and ribbons and slippers over their beds. Amy and Belle stayed behind in the winter parlour, for they had long ago decided on their gowns for the occasion, Amy because Mr Ambleside had mentioned one that was a particular favourite, and Belle for the ridiculous reason that Mr Burford had once admired Hope in something a little like it.

  Belle was feeling very ashamed of herself. How brazen of her, to boldly tell Mr Burford that she wanted to marry him! Why, she had as good as proposed to him. She had not for the world intended to say so much, but when she had found herself seated beside him, the opportunity had seemed too good to throw
away. Who knew when she might have another such? At first, she had only planned to tell him of James and all her fears for the future, but somehow it had all come tumbling out. And perhaps it was better so, for now he could choose…

  Here her thoughts misgave her. It was so foolish of her to entertain the notion even for a moment. He would choose Hope. He had chosen Hope long ago, and why should he waver now? Even if he felt drawn towards Belle in some way, even if — and here she was deliberately brutal with herself — even if he were deeply in love with her, still his conscience would keep him with Hope. What dreadful thing had she said? ‘Hope will not be heart-broken for long.’ What a wicked, wicked thing to say of a sister, or even to think it. Belle berated herself over and over for her selfishness, and her abominably unsisterly feelings. She must—

  “Belle! Are you listening? Shall we start packing? There is so much to do.”

  “For one night in an hotel? But by all means, let us begin the packing.”

  Tuesday saw everything safely stowed in their boxes. Wednesday saw everything unpacked and frantically repacked before the carriage and the travelling coach were brought round to convey them to Brinchester. Belle’s sisters were all aflutter with excitement, and even her mama was relaxed and less critical than usual. Only Belle was sunk in misery, with nothing to look forward to but a long evening spent watching her sisters dance, and Hope by Mr Burford’s side.

  Then she had a happy thought. The Drummonds were to attend the ball, and surely Mr Drummond could be depended upon to take pity on her. And even if he did not, she decided that she would enjoy the evening anyway. Dancing was not the only pleasure to be had at a ball. She could admire the fashions, and laugh at some of them, there would be a good supper, and perhaps there would be some moments of quiet conversation. Then there was the entertainment afforded by the hotel and its various guests, the dining room and the sheer delight of spending a night away from home. They had none of them travelled much, but for a full year, they had been trapped at home, with no wider vista to bring their constrained lives into perspective. Yes, she would enjoy herself, she was quite determined, and she would not be downhearted.