Belle (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 2) (16 page)

Belle set the journal down, her heart beating fast. The person designated as
‘M’
could only be Papa’s mistress, and
‘S’
was Mama, that much was clear. And here he was, setting up his little love nest — but no, there was already a love nest, the lodgings spoken of, and the house was just a larger establishment to accommodate the increase in the number of mouths to be fed. So the arrangement had been going on for some time already by this point.

Then Belle noticed the date at the top of the first page — some seven months before Ernest had been born. Papa had four daughters by then, and must have despaired of ever having a son. Now his wife and his mistress were in a race to be the first to produce an heir for him. No wonder he found the situation so amusing.

But which of them had won? She flipped the pages of the journal, looking for the right date. And there it was.
‘M has given me such a gift as words cannot express. At last I have a son! She wants to call him Jack, and I have no objection. She has succeeded where S has failed miserably, so she may call him what she will. My son Jack. Yes, it has a fine ring to it.’

The date was two days before Ernest’s birthday. Jack Barnett was the eldest son, the acknowledged son. The heir to Allamont Hall.

17: Gloves

Belle’s week had been so busy that she had not had a moment to consider her father’s journal, or to read any more from it. Michaelmas had come and gone uneventfully, and she had thought nothing about it, until Mr Martin, from the bank in Brinchester, had come personally to deliver the income from Lady Sara’s settlement. A day later, two gentlemen from different banks in London had brought the income from her papa’s investments. Finally, the tenants came to pay their rents. Her father had set a fixed day to receive the payments, as she had discovered only two days beforehand.

“Shall I prepare the garden room for Saturday, Miss Belle?” the butler had said to her one morning.

“The garden room? Prepare it for what, Young?”

“For the rents, Miss. The late Mr Allamont always received the rents in the garden room so that the tenants need not tramp through the house. They bring such a quantity of mud on their boots,” he said disdainfully.

So for a whole day, Belle sat in the garden room at the marble-topped table that usually held vases and boxes, and counted coins proffered in work-worn hands, scrubbed clean for the occasion, while one of her sisters wrote down the names and amounts. A long, silent queue snaked out of the door and down the path, each man removing his hat as he entered the room and bowing deferentially to the ladies. They gazed at Belle solemnly as she thanked them, but they said nothing except their name and where they were from. Then they went round to the kitchen to be given hot soup and bread and cheese, for some of them had walked many miles.

She had no idea whether she was being given the right amount or not, or whether any rents were missing, and by the end of the day, exhausted and hoarse, she hardly cared. The only thing that mattered was that there was money enough to pay all the bills and salaries for the coming year. There would be time enough to check the exact amounts later.

On Sunday, she was so tired that she did not go to church at all, the first time she could remember such a thing happening since she was a child. She stayed in bed until noon, and then rested on a chaise longue with a book and a box of bon-bons until her sisters returned. Her exhaustion lifted, but her spirits did not, and she knew the reason perfectly well. Sunday would bring a whole evening in John’s company, and she was not sure how she would bear it.

The evening started badly, for as soon as John arrived, he sought her out. “Are you quite well, Miss Belle? I was alarmed not to see you church today, and Miss Allamont told me you had overexerted yourself yesterday.”

“I am well, thank you,” she said, but she felt her cheeks flushing, and the more she became aware of it, the stronger her embarrassment. “I… I am rested now.”

“That is a great relief,” he said. “You must take care of yourself, Miss Belle, and not attempt too much. You take your responsibilities very seriously, I know, and your sisters depend upon you, but do not make yourself ill.”

“You are very kind, sir,” was all the response she could manage, for his solicitude brought her close to tears. Perhaps he saw her discomposure, for he moved away after that, and she had no further conversation with him. There was some small comfort in being near him, and hearing his voice as he talked to others, but she wished with all her heart that they could talk freely again, as friends.

The Drummonds had also been invited for dinner, and that was an excellent distraction, for their own liveliness, combined with the addition of new faces to the company, made everything easier and the evening lighter in tone than a Sunday evening had any right to be. They made her smile despite the gloom in her heart, and had her younger sisters laughing so often that Mr Endercott was obliged to reprove them for their levity on the sabbath.

But her own worries would intrude. When she had a quiet moment during the evening, Belle set herself to observe John’s manner towards Hope, and was distressed to see the difference. Where before he had stammered and blushed, or said nothing at all, now he was perfectly composed with Hope, if rather serious. No one who knew him could fail to notice the change, and wonder at it. He was too honest and open for any deception. That made her wonder, too, about her own manner. Was she just as changed? And then there was Hope, quieter and more subdued than usual, her eyes as often on Belle as on John. Did she suspect?

Belle could not see any way out of the tangle that would satisfy all parties. However events turned out, one of them, at least, would be made very unhappy.

~~~~~

The carriage stopped at the end of the lane leading to the school house.

“That was an excellent evening,” Miss Drummond said for the twentieth time. “Thank you so much for allowing us to ride with you, Miss Endercott, Mr Endercott.”

Her brother helped her to descend, then turned to Burford. “Will you come in for a while, John? I have unpacked the brandy.”

Burford followed them down the lane and into the cottage, its lamps casting a welcoming glow into the night.

“Ah, the place begins to look lived in,” Burford said. “And Polly is working out well, is she?”

“Exceedingly well,” Miss Drummond said. “Thank you so much for finding her for us, Mr Burford. She is very willing, and will do whatever we ask, which is an advantage in a maid of all work, would you not agree?”

He smiled, but said, “You must feel the change, though. It is not easy to go from a full complement of indoor staff to one maid of all work, however willing that one might be.”

“We shall manage very well,” she said cheerfully. “I have charge of the kitchen, and Alex is to make a start on the garden tomorrow. We have already been given some chickens, and a fine cheese, and Mr Garmin is to give us a piglet as soon as the pen is mended. I suppose that will happen a great deal — little gifts instead of payment for Alex’s teaching. So we shall do very well, Mr Burford. Now, I shall leave you two to your brandy. Do not forget to bank the fire, Alex.”

Drummond poured the brandy, and Burford wondered when his friend might be able to afford another bottle. Then they sat either side of the fire, and talked, as friends do, in a meandering sort of way, as each remark threw up reminiscences or new ideas.

“I am very cross with you, John,” Drummond said, after a while. “For two years you have been writing to me of Miss Hope Allamont, her great beauty, her many virtues, her amiability, her sweet nature. Naturally, I assumed that a small village like Lower Brinford could not sustain more than one such paragon, yet here I find that she has five sisters, each as charming as another. What a delightful situation you are in! And how you could settle on just one of them, I cannot imagine. When I look at Miss Hope, I believe her to be the pinnacle of womankind, but when I talk to Miss Belle, I find her just as desirable. Is it not so, John? Do you not find it to be so?”

Burford sipped his brandy but said nothing. He knew his friend’s perspicacity of old, and would let him have his say.

“You know, I have a good mind to cut you out,” Drummond went on. “A fine handsome fellow like me, what young lady could resist? But where shall I direct my enticements to best effect? I believe Miss Hope is the prettiest of all the Miss Allamonts, so maybe I should try my luck there. She would look splendid on my arm, do you not agree? What a fine couple we should make! What do you think?”

Still Burford was silent.

“But on the other hand,” Drummond said, “there is Miss Belle. I admire a woman of intelligence, with strong powers of conversation and sensible opinions well expressed. She would—”

“You talk such nonsense, Alex,” Burford snapped. “What a dreadful rattle you are. Do not speak so flippantly of the Miss Allamonts.”

His friend smiled at him knowingly. “A little more brandy?”

“No, I must go. I depart for Shropshire at first light tomorrow.”

“Pray give your brother my best regards. I have fond memories of Luke. He knocked me out, once, but was perfectly affable after. Bought me a tankard of something undrinkable at an inn to make amends.”

“I daresay you deserved it,” Burford said with a slight smile.

“Oh, undoubtedly. Off you go, then, John. Sweet dreams, eh?”

Burford walked home under the stars, the road hard with frost under his feet. After checking that Samuel had banked the fires properly, he went up to his bedroom and prepared for bed. He said his prayers, which took rather longer than usual these days, his conscience being somewhat troubled, and then picked up the book that sat on his nightstand.

He knew he should not open it, but the temptation was irresistible. Mindful of Samuel asleep in the attic room directly above, he whispered the words to himself, his voice no more than a sigh. But in his mind he heard them as they had been spoken at the time, the first verse in her clear voice, and then his own. And just as on that first occasion, the power of the poetry plucked at his heart like the strings of a harp. Even after he had closed the book and set it down again, the words echoed in his head…
love but her, and love for ever… thou best and dearest… deep in heart-wrung tears… dark despair around benights me…

With a heavy sigh, he climbed into bed and blew out the candle. Then, reaching under his pillow, he drew forth a lady’s kidskin glove. Resting his cheek upon it, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

~~~~~

Monday found Belle very restless. She sat down to her accounts as soon as she rose, adding all the new rents into the latest account book, and continued on after breakfast for several more hours. But then she set down her pen. Her back ached, her temples were beginning to throb and her hand was stiff from so much writing. A walk would be the very thing to set her up, she decided. Besides, she should take advantage of the cold weather before a milder spell turned the frost-bound lanes to bog.

She had no planned destination, but somehow her feet found their own way to the village and then to John’s cottage. She stood outside, irresolute. He was in Shropshire, she knew that, and Eliza would have finished her work and gone home. Samuel had no doubt gone off to Higher Brinford. The house would be empty.

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.