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

  “Miss Bellows, I have already engaged to ensure that the tradesmen in the village are paid. If I do the same for you and the servants, will you stay?”

  “Oh most willingly! With the greatest of pleasure, Belle. But how will you manage it, if your mama will not?”

  Belle laughed. “I have not the least idea. But I am determined to see it done, somehow or other.”

  4: A Day in Brinchester

  Belle went straight to her mother’s sitting room, for she deemed the matter urgent enough to warrant the interruption. Lady Sara was stretched out on a chaise longue, book in hand, a box of bon-bons and a glass of ratafia on a small table within easy reach. She snapped her book shut with a sigh when she saw Belle.

  “What is it now?”

  Belle explained as best she could. “What is to be done about it, Mama?”

  “Why, nothing, child.”

  “Nothing? But the servants must be paid, Mama.”

  “And they will be, you may be sure. As soon as an heir is determined, then he will be able to settle every account.”

  “But that could be years!”

  “I do not see that I can be blamed for that. Your brothers chose to run away, and your papa chose not to appoint an agent to manage the estate. Am I to be chasing round looking for money and asking the bank about financial matters? It is sordid and undignified, Belle. I cannot bring myself to do it.”

  The bank! There would be money held in the bank. “But perhaps I might go in your stead, Mama? Papa had dealings with a bank in Brinchester, did he not?”

  “He banked at Martin’s.” Lady Sara sat up, and lowered her legs to the floor, looking fully at Belle for the first time. “You would do that? You really consider it so important that you would demean yourself by entering a place of commerce?”

  “A bank is a perfectly respectable place, Mama. Lady Graham goes regularly to her bank.”

  “I hope I know what is proper for a lady without taking my cue from Lady Graham’s behaviour. Really, Belle, this can wait until there is a gentleman at the helm again. I did not always agree with your papa on every detail, but in this he was correct. The realm of business is not a fit one for ladies.”

  “But Miss Bellows will leave if she is not paid, and I daresay the servants will not stay, either. And the tradesmen will refuse to supply us. Mr Mitchell has already—”

  “Mr Mitchell!” She glanced at the bon-bons beside her. “Well, I see I must exert myself. If you are prepared to enter the premises of the bank, I will write a note for you to take to Mr Martin.”

  “Then may I take the carriage tomorrow?”

  “You may. Take Miss Bellows with you, but not any of your sisters. She, at least, has a good sense of what is proper.” She rose and crossed the room to her elegant writing desk. “If you look in the second drawer down in the dresser over there, you will find all the bills I have received. Your father’s account books are in his book room. He was quite meticulous about monetary matters, so I am certain you will find everything in order. There. Present that at the bank, and Mr Martin will see you. But mind you take care of this yourself, Belle. I do not wish to be bothered with every trivial detail of your exploits in this regard.”

  “Thank you, Mama. I will not trouble you again.”

  “I am glad to hear it. Pour me a little more ratafia, and then close the door as you leave.”

  ~~~~~

  The county town of Brinchester was a large, bustling place, with many fine old buildings. Belle had seldom been there, except for the monthly balls at the Assembly Rooms, when they had stayed overnight at an hotel, and it was now a full year since the last such occasion. Miss Bellows had visited the town but twice in her life, once on her arrival at Allamont Hall many years before, when the coach from Manchester had deposited her there, and once when her mother died and she had returned north to stay with her brother for a time. As a consequence they were both filled with anticipation, and a little rain did nothing to dampen the two ladies’ excitement as their carriage rattled over the cobbles into Queen Anne Square and pulled up outside the bank. They descended to the pavement, and Belle stood looking up at the bank’s grandiose facade.

  “Do you wish me to accompany you inside, Miss Belle?”

  “No, I believe that will not be necessary. You may go on to the circulating library, and I shall meet you there.”

  “The circulating library. Certainly.” She turned slowly around, surveying the buildings surrounding the square.

  “It is in Castle Street,” Belle said. “You see that splendid statue of the Duke of York on a fine horse? If you turn to the left just before reaching it, you will find yourself in Castle Street. The circulating library is number seventeen, I believe.”

  Miss Bellows trotted away, although since she stopped at every shop to gaze into the window, Belle suspected she would not arrive at the library much before she did herself.

  Belle mounted the steps and passed between the pillars of the bank’s imposing portico. A uniformed footman opened the door for her to enter the premises of Martin’s bank. The room was vast enough to accommodate a well-attended ball, with a gallery above and several highly polished desks scattered about. The whole smelled strongly of beeswax and dust. Another footman ushered her to a chair, and a third carried her mother’s letter to some hidden recess in the building. She did not have to wait more than a few minutes before a formidably large gentleman bore down on her, crossing the enormous expanse of polished floor at a pace commensurate with his ample frame.

  “Miss Allamont, such an honour!” he puffed. “Mr Charles Martin at your service. Would it please you to step this way, madam?”

  She found herself seated before a large desk, on a plush chair so thickly padded that her feet scarce reached to the floor. Mr Martin took the chair behind the desk, unfolding her mother’s letter in front of him

  “Such a distressing time for you, Miss Allamont, with the untimely passing of the late Mr William Allamont. It is of no wonder that Lady Sara finds herself unequal to the task of addressing her financial affairs. Naturally, you may depend upon us to do everything in our power to assist you. And how may we be of service to you today?”

  Belle found herself at rather a loss. Now that she was inside the bank, she could not quite determine to her own satisfaction what it was that she required from it. Money, yes, but how was that to be obtained?

  “You will think me very foolish, I daresay, Mr Martin, but I am not entirely sure. I know nothing of banking or financial affairs. I know only that my father had dealings with you, and therefore I am come to you for advice.”

  “There is not the least need in the world for you to know anything of such matters. How should you, indeed? Your late father would have taken care of everything, and only his unfortunate early demise has thrust you into this difficult position. But you will wish to know the precise state of your late father’s account. I have sent for the ledger, and then we may examine it and you may ask about any matter you find difficult to understand.”

  “Thank you. You are most obliging.”

  “You are perhaps not aware, Miss Allamont, but your father held an account here only for one purpose — for the transfer of interest accruing on Lady Sara’s settlement. Every Michaelmas an amount of money was received here, and a certain sum from that amount was then conveyed in coin and notes to Allamont Hall. Your father liked the certainty of a fixed amount each year, so that was how the matter was accomplished. I myself had the honour to convey the allotted sum to Mr Allamont on several occasions. Ah, here is the ledger now.”

  A servant appeared with a thin book, and Mr Martin opened it and scanned several pages. “Yes, yes, that is very clear. Each year your father withdrew precisely eight hundred and fifty pounds. The amount deposited was usually in excess of that.”

  Belle’s head was spinning. “So he did not take all the money?”

  “Indeed, he did not. Most years there was a little left behind, increasing the residue. Quite a large su
m was withdrawn last year to settle the bequests in the will, but there is still a small amount remaining. If you are in need of money just now, Miss Allamont, the account currently contains a little over two hundred pounds.”

  Two hundred pounds. It seemed a vast sum. “I do not know how much I need just at present, but that seems rather a large amount.”

  “You will find it does not go very far, Miss Allamont. I advise you to take it all, for it will save you the inconvenience of a second journey in a short time.”

  It seemed a sensible plan, so Belle agreed to it. “But I do not quite understand, Mr Martin. My father had an income of some three thousand pounds a year. This is a great deal less than that. Where is the rest of it?”

  Mr Martin locked his fingers together, resting his hands on his ample stomach. “Ah, Miss Allamont, your father was no great believer in banks. He liked to have the coins in his hand. Many other gentlemen collect their rents and bring the revenue to us for safe keeping. The late Mr Allamont never did so. I believe you may find some little money at home, the residue of his income, secured in some safe place.”

  “Oh, of course. I should have thought of that.”

  When Belle emerged from the bank, her reticule much heavier than usual, she found that the rain was now falling steadily. Fearing that her cloak was not up to the challenge, she lingered under the bank’s wide portico, where several other passers-by had taken shelter. The street was now almost deserted, and those braving the weather were hurrying by, heads down. One or two carried umbrellas, and Belle was eyeing them enviously, wishing she had one, when she saw a familiar face beneath a particularly large one.

  “Mr Burford!” she called out. “Good day to you, Mr Burford.”

  For a moment, she thought he would walk on without noticing her, for he seemed lost in thought, but at the last moment he looked round and caught sight of her.

  “Gracious me, it is Miss Belle! But what are you doing here?” He jumped up the steps two at a time to join her. “And are your sisters with you? Any of your sisters?” He looked this way and that, as if he expected one or two of them to peep out from behind a pillar.

  She smiled. “No, they are all at home. And as to what I am doing here, why, I have been visiting the bank, Mr Burford.”

  “Oh dear me, of course! It was a foolish question, was it not? And impertinent. I do beg your pardon. My manners have quite deserted me. Let me begin again.” He bowed, a tricky operation with the umbrella, but he managed it without mishap. “Miss Allamont, how delightful to meet you so unexpectedly. Are you awaiting your carriage? Or may I escort you to your destination? I should be most happy to offer you the shelter of my umbrella.”

  “I am very much obliged to you, sir, for otherwise I might have waited here for some time in the hope of an improvement. I am to meet Miss Bellows at Miss Featherstone’s circulating library.”

  “Oh, that is excellent,” he said, “for I am bound there myself. Will you take my arm, Miss Allamont, and I will hold the umbrella at an angle, just so. There, that will keep off the worst of it.”

  “Are you often in Brinchester, Mr Burford?”

  “Once a week, when Sir Matthew and Lady Graham pass through on their way to visit Lady Graham’s sister. They are so kind as to offer me a seat in their carriage. I am able to execute small commissions for Mr and Miss Endercott, and to visit the library. Well, mostly the library, I confess. Have you been a subscriber long?”

  “I have not yet subscribed. This is my first visit to Brinchester for a year, so I have had no opportunity to do so.”

  “I am sure you will find many volumes of interest, both novels and other works. Do you enjoy novels, Miss Allamont?”

  “I do not know, sir, for I have never yet read one, although I should very much like to.”

  He stopped abruptly, and she was obliged to stop also, in order to stay beneath the umbrella.

  “Never read a novel? Oh, Miss Allamont, what delights you have to look forward to!” His enthusiasm started them walking again. “The pleasure of a new Mary Brunton or Frances Burney! A Henrietta Sykes or Ann Radcliffe.” He rattled on in this vein for some time. “Ah, and Maria Edgeworth! I must tell you, Miss Allamont, that Castle Rackrent was a most moving piece of writing. I should be greatly interested in your opinion of it.”

  “You intrigue me. I shall look out for it especially.”

  “And Belinda — I am still awaiting that one, for it is a popular work, and I have not yet been able to obtain it. But perhaps you prefer the older style of writing — Jonathan Swift, perhaps, or Daniel Defoe?”

  “I cannot say.”

  “Oh, but naturally you cannot. How foolish of me. You know nothing of either variety. I am surprised your father had nothing of the sort in his library, but perhaps he was of the opinion that novels are unsuitable reading? There are many who feel that way. For myself, I like a good sermon as much as any man, but there is a place also for— Oh!”

  They stopped again. “What is the matter?” Belle said.

  “Why, look, we are at Barker’s already. I have been so inattentive that I have led you straight past the library, and kept you out in all this rain when you might have been snug and dry these five minutes past.”

  “It is of no consequence, Mr Burford. You have kept me so well entertained that I did not regard the rain at all.”

  “You are too kind. Let us turn back and try again, shall we?”

  ~~~~~

  There was nothing in the world, Belle decided, quite so satisfactory as a day in town, and particularly one without her mama’s disapproving gaze. Mama rarely criticised directly, but a raised eyebrow or a certain set of the shoulders was more than adequate to convey her displeasure. Furthermore, there was no idling away the hours with Lady Sara. She always went directly to the required establishment, transacted her business and that was the end of it.

  Without such constraint, Belle had spent an hour or more in Miss Featherstone’s splendid library, with the enthusiastic assistance of Mr Burford. The business of subscribing, and then the choosing of books — all was made easy by his guidance. And then they had all gone to the White Rose Hotel for some refreshments, and Mr Burford had entertained the two ladies by reading verses of poetry aloud, in such a striking manner that he had attracted quite a crowd. He had a wonderful speaking voice, perfect for his profession.

  And now the carriage was making its ponderous way homeward, with a delightfully large bundle of books on the forward seat, a vast sum of money in her reticule and Miss Bellows asleep in the corner, leaving Belle free to ponder her successful venture with a smile of satisfaction on her face.

  When they arrived back at Allamont Hall, she was surprised to hear a raised voice in the drawing room, and, even more astonishingly, it was a man’s voice. Her sisters occasionally squabbled, as sisters were wont to do, and once or twice her father had been angry enough to shout at one of the servants, and they had all crept around the house for days afterwards, keeping out of his way. But visitors, in her experience, did not shout.

  The drawing room door flew open, and Cousin Henry appeared, or rather, his back appeared, for he was still facing into the room, still addressing those within. “I am disappointed in you, Sara, very disappointed,” he said. “You might exert yourself, for once, for the sake of your children. This is not a time to sit still and let matters take their own course.”

  Belle heard her mama’s voice murmuring from within the room, but clearly her answer was not satisfactory for Cousin Henry gave an exclamation of annoyance and spun round, shutting the door behind him with such force that a small watercolour on the wall rattled ominously. He strode towards the door, head down, and Belle had to leap aside to avoid a collision.

  He startled. “Oh, Belle! Goodness, I did not see you there. Well, perhaps you will be able to instill good sense into your mama, for I declare she will not listen to me.”

  “I do not believe she would take advice from me, either,” Belle said with a smile.


  He was still breathing hard, but now he made some effort to calm himself. “I beg your pardon, I should not lose my temper so easily, but to speak truth, Belle, this matter of…”

  He became aware of the footman, holding out his hat and gloves, and the butler waiting to open the door for him, and lowered his voice still further.

  “You know the matter of which I speak, and your mama will do nothing about it. A little effort on her part would see this… this person got rid of and we might all be easy. But it is her affair, and we may all go to the devil, I suppose, while she is…” A sigh escaped him. “Well, no matter. Your mama has always known her own mind, and no amount of persuasion has the slightest effect. She was always stubborn, and that is why… But that is all in the past, and I have long forgiven her. She knows I have her best interests at heart, always.” He stopped, and looked at Belle thoughtfully. “As to this person, we will talk of it again, Belle, for this is your future at stake, as much as anyone’s. Good day to you.”

  And with that he collected his hat and gloves, and was gone, leaving Belle, bemused, still standing in the hall.

  5: Accounts

  Belle spent the evening describing her day in Brinchester to her sisters, who wished to know every detail, no matter how insignificant it might be. However, the sisters had little interest in the delights of the circulating library, and none at all in the bank, so in the end the main topic of conversation was Mr Burford.

  “How astonishing that you should happen to meet just at that moment,” Hope said. “I am never so lucky. Why, look how often I walk into the village and yet never see Mr Burford once, although he lives there. And yet you go once to Brinchester, and there he is! And at leisure to spend hours and hours with you.”

  “He had to wait for Sir Matthew and Lady Graham to collect him,” Belle said. “I daresay he would have gone into the church if we had not been there.”