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

  “To win my dowry, you mean,” she said. “That is all that interests them. They court me with glib words and promises, but they care nothing for me.”

  Her mother shrugged. “I am tired of this fruitless discussion. You may return to the house while I talk to the builder.”

  Hope needed no further prompting. She could barely wait to be outside again, out in the clean air, untainted by paint or plaster or the sound of hammering. As she walked up the drive, she came upon Hugo, supervising one of the gardeners who was pulling weeds out of the gravel. He stood up at once, and, waving the man to continue, fell into step beside her.

  “Hope? Are you all right?”

  “Could anyone be all right who is expected to leave all this behind?” She waved an arm to encompass the western face of Allamont Hall, mellow in the summer sunshine. “The Dower House is so tiny, Hugo! I shall suffocate there! And Mama is not planning to stay at home any more than she does now, so I must have a companion, she says. A stranger to spend my days with — what could be more dreadful.”

  “Well, if you have to spend your life with a stranger, you would do better to marry one, for then you would at least have your own establishment.”

  Hope was much struck by this thought. “That is true! A husband, even if one knows him well, is still a stranger in many ways. I recall Connie saying something of the sort — how Lord Carrbridge liked things to be done in a certain way, and she felt quite lost at times, just at first.”

  “I daresay marquesses are trickier to deal with than plain old misters,” Hugo said. “But I am no stranger — you could marry me and know exactly what you are in for.”

  “I am not so sure,” she said seriously. “I know that you enjoy kippers for breakfast, and prefer claret to Madeira, and that you like your dogs and your horse better than most people, but I do not think one can ever know what sort of husband a man will be until it is too late.”

  He stopped then, turning towards her, his face eager. “But if one has known him for years and years, has seen him grow from boy to man, and at his worst as well as his best — surely that is enough of a guide? You could say then with a great deal of confidence that this man would be a good husband. You cannot deny it, Hope. You know I would make you a good husband, none better.”

  She was taken aback by his intensity, and tried to laugh it off. “Well, you do not beat your dogs, so that is a promising sign that you would not beat me.”

  He grabbed her arm, and would have said more, but abruptly he released her and spun away. “Ah, Hope, if you only knew how alike we are! We both despair to leave Allamont Hall. Yet you will not take the obvious step.”

  “Do not tease me about it, Hugo. We have time still, and something may yet happen to change our situation.”

  They walked on in uncomfortable silence, Hugo with his head lowered. She could not tell whether he was offended, but she had no wish to cause another outburst so she made no attempt to find out.

  In the entrance hall, the butler, housekeeper and footman were huddled together, whispering. They sprang apart as Hope and Hugo walked in.

  “Miss Allamont! Mr Allamont!” the butler began, then stopped, flustered. In his hands, he held a newspaper.

  This was so unlike him that Hope said, “Whatever is wrong, Young?”

  “It is the newspaper, Miss. There is a notice…”

  He folded the newspaper and placed it on a silver salver, presenting it to Hope with a bow. Hugo snatched it and vanished into the drawing room.

  “Really, Hugo!” she cried, following him. Then she saw his face. “What is it? Tell me the worst! Has something terrible occurred?”

  “It is the church’s notice about Allamont Hall. There is to be an auction in October, and day for viewing is set for next month. We will have people trampling all over the house, and poking about in the bedrooms, and disrupting the kitchens.”

  “Oh no!” She took the newspaper from him, but her tears fell so fast that the words blurred together. “Oh Hugo, what are we to do?”

  He wrapped his arms around her and rocked her gently. “If you hate this as much as I do, then marry me, Hope. Marry me and we can put a stop to this once and for all.”

  Her head shot up. “Yes!” she said fiercely. “I cannot bear it, so yes, I will marry you, Hugo.”

  2: Meetings In Brinchester

  Hugo was so exultant that a great shriek burst from him, and then he started laughing. “Oh, Hope, what a tease you are, to keep me in suspense for so long! But this will be so good, you will see. At last I will be able to extend the stables, and repair the glass houses, and put a more modern range in the kitchen. I shall be master here, in my rightful place at last. I cannot wait! When shall we be married? Let it be soon!”

  Hope laughed, too, as much from surprise as anything else. How had she found herself in this position? After all her careful reasoning of why it would never do, she had agreed to it on a childish impulse. And yet, it felt right. One, at least, of the daughters of Allamont Hall would stay on, and the name would live on… Here her heart misgave her, for had they not agreed that the marriage would not be a real one? So there would never be another generation of Allamonts living in the Hall, and that was a terribly sad thought.

  It brought her down to earth, however. “We must talk to Mr Plumphett about the exact terms of the will,” she said crisply. “There is no point in us marrying immediately if there is still time for Ernest or Frank to be found.”

  He deflated at once. “True. I have posted advertisements everywhere I can think of to try to uncover their whereabouts, so it is still possible we may be beaten at the final furlong. What a pity we did not settle things between us sooner! However, it cannot be helped now. As to the date, I daresay all we need to do is to be married before five years have elapsed since your father’s death, but it would be as well to ensure we have the details exactly right. Imagine what a disaster it would be if we went to all the bother of getting married and then found we had misjudged it by a day and the church got everything after all! We would be stuck with each other, with only your dowry to live on.”

  “Twenty thousand pounds is a substantial sum.”

  “It is, but it would only give us a few hundred a year to live on, and I have nothing at all, whereas the Allamont estate is worth two thousand eight hundred.”

  “Is it? Papa’s income was above three thousand, I have been told.”

  “So it was, but he had the interest from Lady Sara’s portion. She retains that for her lifetime. Two thousand eight hundred, although that could be greatly increased by some improvements to the land which I have in mind.” His mind flew at once to the next problem. “I suppose I had better present myself to your mama as her future son-in-law. Not that this will come as any surprise to her, and she has never expressed any dislike for the idea, but it is as well to obtain her blessing. We must do everything in the proper form, as is fitting for the Allamonts of Allamont Hall. I shall go at once.”

  So saying, he swept out of the room, across the entrance hall and took the steps down to the drive two at a time. He had not gone many paces before he encountered Lady Sara herself, making her way briskly back up the drive.

  “Just the person I had hoped to meet,” he said. “I have been so fortunate as to obtain Hope’s acceptance of my offer of marriage. May I also have the happiness of your blessing?” They were not the most elegantly formed words of his career, but he was too excited to consider better phrasing, and he could not suppress his broad smile.

  Lady Sara’s expression showed neither pleasure nor vexation. She carried on walking at the same steady pace, so that he was obliged to turn and walk alongside her. “So you managed to talk her into it at last?”

  “It was the notice in the newspaper which persuaded her, Lady Sara.” He had never quite had the courage to address her as Cousin Sara, as his sister Mary did sometimes. Lady Sara was too aristocratic and haughty by far for him to take liberties. As often as not, he found himself saying ‘my lady
’ to her, as if he were a servant. No longer, for he was now an Allamont of Allamont Hall himself, and could hold up his head in any society.

  “Notice?”

  “Of the day for prospective purchasers to view the Hall, and of the auction to follow.”

  “Ah.”

  She said nothing else, so he rushed on, “It cannot be a long engagement, of course. We must talk to Plumphett, to establish the exact dates and so forth. Then we can settle on a date for the wedding.”

  Still she said nothing. Rather daunted, he lapsed into silence himself. She mounted the steps to the entrance, where the butler had thrown the doors wide for their arrival, as Hugo followed two paces behind.

  Hope, lurking near the foot of the stairs, looked up hopefully as her mother collected several letters from the butler’s salver, then stopped with an exclamation of dismay to break the seal on one of them.

  Quickly, she scanned the single sheet. “Oh, what a bore. Young, I shall need the carriage tomorrow to go to Brinchester. Eleven o’clock.”

  “Yes, milady.”

  “To Brinchester, Mama? May we come with you?” Hope said.

  “I shall not be going anywhere of interest to you. This is a matter of business, and very dull.”

  “We need to see Plumphett,” Hugo put in eagerly. “If it would be no inconvenience to you.”

  She looked from one to the other, considering. “If you are both going to visit Plumphett, then you may accompany me. Eleven o’clock. Do not keep me waiting.” She looked at Hugo, lifting one eyebrow. “I daresay we shall have you about the place even more than before, now. You have the disposition of the rooms quite settled in your mind, I am sure.”

  “Of course not,” he said, smiling.

  But he had, naturally. He had planned everything long ago.

  ~~~~~

  Lady Sara was at her most silent and regal on the drive to Brinchester. She was accompanied by her maid, a sour faced woman who never spoke at the best of times. How Mama could put up with her, and why she had replaced the very pleasant maid she had had for years, Hope could not understand.

  Hugo chattered away, but he never seemed to require an answer, so Hope sat glumly beside her mother, wondering for the hundredth time whether she were doing the right thing. If she married Hugo, she would keep her home and would not have to watch as strangers tramped all over it, and perhaps a new family moved in and changed everything about. They might chop down the old apple tree where Grace used to climb, or dig up Amy’s shrubbery, or pave over the sweet-smelling rose garden. Perhaps they would knock down the old glass houses altogether, and Hugo would never see grapes grown there. It was too horrid to contemplate. But if she did not marry him, there was still a chance that she would meet a man who would make her feel warm inside, the way Mr Burford once had, when he had been so much in love that he could not even speak, but stammered and blushed and was everything enchanting. It was so difficult.

  Brinchester was dusty and crowded, for the wool exchange was in progress and the streets were full of men in smocks or rough woollen jackets and oddly shaped hats, and barely a lady or a gentleman to be seen. Queen Anne Square, where the finest buildings were located, was a little less crowded. The carriage disgorged its passengers here, and rattled away over the cobbles to the White Rose Hotel, where they were to meet after conducting their business.

  “May I see you safely to your destination, Lady Sara?” Hugo said politely. “There are some boisterous types on the streets today, and I should not wish you to be harassed.”

  She laughed, but said, “You are all consideration, Hugo, but I do not think I need your protection.” With that she turned and set off at a rapid pace, the maid trailing two paces behind.

  Hugo offered Hope his arm, and they made their way down the fashionable street that led to Mr Plumphett’s offices. With the death of one of his uncles, the legal firm of Plumphett, Pratt and Plumphett had recently become Pratt, Plumphett and Farringer, and the fresh paint and gleaming brass plate on the front door proclaimed the success of the venture. While their cards were sent in, Hope and Hugo were admitted to the waiting room, where several men stiff in their Sunday clothes eyed them curiously. They had not long to wait, for Mr Plumphett himself emerged from an inner fastness to greet them.

  “Miss Allamont! Mr Allamont! Such a pleasure indeed. Do come inside.”

  He creaked as he bowed, his corsets straining, for Mr Plumphett had not got any less stout over the years since Hope had first seen him. That had been just after Papa had died, and the solicitor had come to the Hall to explain the will to them. The terms had seemed so impossible then — that all six of the sisters must marry in order of age, or they would lose their dowries. And such dowries! One hundred thousand pounds between them, and the amount had grown over the years, so that each of her sisters had received more than twenty thousand pounds. Or so she supposed, for she had not heard the details of Dulcie’s or Grace’s dowries, but they could not have received any less, she was sure.

  In Mr Plumphett’s well-appointed office, chairs were brought forward for them, offers of Madeira or tea made and refused, and then, finally, Mr Plumphett eased himself into the large carved chair behind his desk and the business could commence. Hugo explained their situation, and the solicitor nodded thoughtfully, steepling his pudgy hands.

  “How delightful! Another wedding in the family — quite splendid! My felicitations to both of you. May you be as wonderfully contented as I am with my dear Mrs Plumphett, and, I venture to say — I feel I am not making too bold an assertion — as my dear wife is with me. It is a great comfort, marriage, I have always said so, although finding just the right person with whom to share one’s life is…”

  He went on in this vein for quite some time, and Hope tried not to let her mind wander. Instead, she focused her gaze on the portrait on the wall behind Mr Plumphett’s head, of a man in a tightly curled wig, sporting a richly decorated coat and a frilled neckcloth. One of the deceased Plumphetts, she guessed, or possibly a Pratt. How odd it must be to have one’s father or grandfather always looking over one’s shoulder. She was glad there was no portrait of Papa at home. Not that she needed one, for his features were burned into her memory. Occasionally she would catch a glimpse of a stranger on the street or at the assembly who reminded her for a moment of her father. A jolt of fear always ran through her, until she remembered that he was dead and she had nothing to fear any longer.

  Hugo’s voice, sharp with irritation, cut across her reminiscences. “The will, Plumphett?”

  “The will! Ah, indeed, the will, Mr Allamont.” He tapped his fingers together thoughtfully. “It is a complicated matter, but my colleagues and I went into the precise details of the stipulations when Mrs Langdon was here last year. Your aunt, Miss Allamont.”

  “Aunt Lucy from Liverpool, yes, yes,” Hugo said impatiently “Do get on with it, Plumphett.”

  The solicitor looked offended and harrumphed twice, but said, “We are agreed that the ‘five years’ specified in the will shall have expired on the day of the fifth anniversary of the late Mr William Allamont’s death. That is, the sixteenth day of October in this present year of our Lord. So any claim must be made before that date to qualify to inherit Allamont Hall, and for the convenience of all, we have settled it that any such claim must be made here in this office by the close of business.”

  “So we shall marry on the fourteenth,” Hugo said. “Then we present our claim to you on the fifteenth before close of business. But how do we prove that we have indeed married? Must we bring the parson with us?”

  “If you would be so kind as to advise me of the exact time and place of the happy occasion,” Mr Plumphett said, “I should be most honoured to attend your wedding in person. Then there need not be the least doubt of the veracity of your claim.”

  He beamed paternally at them.

  ~~~~~

  “It was unkind in you to be so rude to him, Hugo,” Hope said, as they made their way to the White Rose Hote
l to meet Lady Sara. “He is very stuffy, I know, but he means no harm.”

  “I have no patience for such prosy fools,” Hugo said moodily. “He never uses one word when ten would do, or better yet, twenty or fifty. It is not to be borne. Anyone would think we paid him by the word. If he would merely answer the question at once, we could be about our business all the quicker.”

  “And then we would have an age to wait for Mama,” Hope said with a smile. “I wonder how long she will be. If we knew what she is about, we might be able to guess. Did she tell you anything of her plans for today?”

  “Nothing at all, but then she never does. She was always secretive. Do you think she has something to hide? A lover, perhaps? Just imagine it, the high-flown Lady Sara Allamont concealing a secret passion.”

  “You do talk nonsense, Hugo. As if Mama would ever do such a thing.”

  “Well, what does she get up to in Shropshire, eh? All those visits she undertakes. And London, too.”

  “In London I believe she goes to visit Aunt Tilly, although she has not been there recently. Just lately she never stays away more than a night or two.”

  “Oh? I wonder if they have had a falling out. But a night or two — definitely a lover, then.”

  Hope was spared from a retort against this ridiculous notion by the appearance of Mama herself, waiting calmly at the entrance to the hotel, parasol raised against the sun. There was no sign of the maid.

  As they approached, a man walked past Mama, then stopped, turned and made a little bow. He seemed to be speaking to Lady Sara, but she stepped back, shaking her head. The man followed her. She stepped back again, and again he matched her, so that she was pressed against the wall of the inn.

  Hugo lengthened his stride, and Hope had to half run to keep up with his long legs. They came up against the two in a rush. The man was dressed in a flamboyant provincial style, and Hope was reminded of her mother’s friend at one time, Mr Eddington.