Belle (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 2) (7 page)

“Oh, these funds can be quite inconsistent from one year to the next. It is excellent news for
you
, since under the terms of your father’s will, you must be the next to marry. You will have a splendid time of it at the balls at the Assembly Rooms this winter, with a string of beaux. Or there is always James, you know. I would be tremendously happy to welcome you to Willowbye.”

“And I to enter it,” she said.

He was so startled that he could not find any response.

She laughed. “That surprises you, I see.”

“I rather thought the two of you did not get along,” he said. “Have you changed your mind?”

“I thought that, too,” she said equably. “But seeing Amy and Mr Ambleside so happy together has made me realise that their love is founded on many years of friendship. It would be too easy, I believe, to be drawn to a handsome face and agreeable manners, and quickly find oneself married to a stranger. Better to choose the known quantity, it seems to me, and James has many good qualities which the acquisition of a wife will enhance.” Her smile softened her features. “And especially if the wife has a substantial dowry.”

He was not sure he agreed with her philosophy, but if she was willing to consider James, he was not going to attempt to dissuade her. So he smiled, and said all that was proper.

“But of course he will not want me unless he stands to inherit the house, will he?” She sighed. “It is all so uncertain. How much simpler it would have been if Ernest and Frank had not run away, for then the inheritance would be secure and we would not have all these difficulties to worry about.”

“You would still have your father’s peculiar provisions for you girls,” he said. “And do not imagine that Ernest and Frank would automatically inherit. The will specifies the
oldest
surviving son. We do not know the date on which this Jack Barnett was born. It is entirely possible that he is older than Ernest and Frank, and would still have a claim.”

7: Sunday Evening

The following Sunday evening, Belle was approached by Mr Burford as soon as he entered the room.

“Good evening, Miss Belle!” he said cheerfully. “I hear that Harry Turner was successful in his mission. I am very glad of it, and I trust your worries are resolved now?”

“Partially. The box contained…” She lowered her voice, for she did not wish to mention such large sums with the servants moving about the room. “Twelve hundred and forty five pounds, which is enough to settle most of the outstanding accounts, but not quite all. And another key, which again fits no lock I have yet discovered. Good evening to you, Miss Endercott. You are well, I trust?”

“Quite well, thank you, and very glad of the use of your carriage this evening, for this cold wind is very bad for my brother’s constitution. He is not much prone to fevers or malaise in general, but these easterlies always bring on his cough.”

“I recall how it troubled him three years ago, when he had no curate to help with the services.”

“Yes, we are all of us very pleased to have Mr Burford here,” Miss Endercott said. “For many reasons, and not solely on account of Horace’s cough.”

“We are indeed, and I more than most, just now,” Belle said. “In fact, I fear I may be obliged to accept your kind offer of further assistance, Mr Burford. Mr Turner has informed me that his father made several strong boxes for my father, so the one we have found is not the only one, it seems.”

“This is excellent news, Miss Belle!” he responded. “Excellent! For it means that your father must have left a great deal of money about the house, somewhere. And you wish me to search a little more? I shall be delighted to assist in whatever manner you require. No rug will be unlifted, no furniture unexamined, no cellar unsearched.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Not the cellars — not yet! Mr Turner suggested a hiding place under the floorboards.”

“Oh, indeed, that would be the very place! I shall come tomorrow, Miss Belle.”

“We have the Deacon visiting tomorrow, John, do you not remember?” Miss Endercott said.

“Ah, so we do. Tuesday, then, without fail. We shall hunt until we find every last box, Miss Belle, and you have all the money you need, and more.”

“And a large collection of useless keys,” she said.

“I am sure they have a purpose,” he said. “Why, it seems likely—”

At that moment, Hope appeared, and Mr Burford blushed furiously and lost the power of speech.

“You must not keep Mr Burford all to yourself, Belle,” Hope said. “I am sure he wishes to talk to other people besides you. Miss Endercott, you do not mind if I steal him away? For Grace wishes to tell him all about our progress with the school, you know, which I am sure is of great interest to him. Is it not, Mr Burford?”

“Oh indeed, M-M-Miss Hope.”

And with that, she led him away to the fire, where Grace, Connie and Dulcie waited expectantly for his stammering attention.

Miss Endercott chuckled. “You need not worry, my dear. Hope was barely out for a month before your father’s untimely death. As soon as she discovers the pleasures of balls and card parties and all manner of social engagements, she will find herself surrounded by gentlemen far more tempting than Mr Burford.”

“More tempting, Miss Endercott? Why, Mr Burford is a gentleman of good sense and breeding. He wants but a larger income, and if his wife may supply that, why, I believe he would make a very desirable husband.”

Miss Endercott laughed even more, and said, “My thoughts precisely,” leaving Belle entirely bemused.

~~~~~

Burford enjoyed Sundays immensely, naturally, for what could be more delightful than an entire evening in the company of the sweetest, most beautiful young lady imaginable? And her sisters almost as lovely, and all of them good humoured. Yet he always felt out of place surrounded by such a bevy of beauties, who twittered and chattered artlessly in the most enchanting manner. They were very kind, and always included him in their conversations. “Do you not agree, Mr Burford?” they would say, giggling, and he would nod vigorously, and sometimes, when he was not concentrating on his speech too hard, he would manage to reply. But mostly he blushed and stuttered and felt exceedingly foolish.

Now Belle was quite different. She spoke to him about practical matters, and addressed him as if he were a rational person, and it was easy to respond in the same way. He wished sometimes that he could talk to Hope as comfortably as he talked to Belle.

In his mind, he had a vision of himself and Hope — Mrs Burford, of course, for this was a vision of the future — sitting either side of the fire of an evening, conversing amiably. She would tell him of the children’s progress and how the new housemaid was coming along, and he would tell her of his difficulties with next Sunday’s sermon and the ambiguities of his chosen text.

But that was where the vision always came to a halt, for not in his wildest dreams could he envisage that Hope would be interested in sermons or Biblical interpretations. He would love to read poetry to her, or extracts from the book he happened to be reading, to share the melody of the words or an arresting idea, but she would be bored, he knew that perfectly well. She was so different from Belle, who had enjoyed his recitation in Brinchester, and had happily argued over the precise meaning of a word or phrase. Yes, his Hope was a delicate creature, not in the least drawn to the intellectual sphere.

When they went into the dining room, he held back, as always, so that he could take the seat he liked best — opposite Hope, so that he could look at her, could fix that lovely countenance in his mind to sustain him through the week. The arrangement also left him without any obligation to make conversation and embarrass himself by stammering like a fool. There had been a boy at school who had had a dreadful stammer, and had been laughed at mercilessly on account of it. After a term or two, his parents had taken him away. Burford knew just how that boy must have felt, jeered at and ridiculed for something he could not help in the least. Here he was, a sensible, educated man with a profession, who could stand in the pulpit on Sundays and be perfectly articulate. Yet a girl of eighteen summers could reduce him to gibbering incoherence.

He turned with relief to Belle, who sat beside him. “I have been considering the problem of keys, Miss Belle,” he said.

“You are very good, sir, to devote so much thought to the matter. I do hope it has not distracted you from your mutton.”

“No, indeed, for mutton is quite my favourite dish.”

She laughed. “I rather imagined it might be. And in the matter of the keys, what are your conclusions?”

“I believe that your father may have had a method underlying the placement of the keys. He was a man of the utmost regularity in all things, so he would have been quite systematic. I am convinced that if we were to locate
all
the strong boxes, we would find that the key from the small box in the desk opens the first box, which contains the key for the second box, and so on. The very last box would, of course, contain no key.”

“That is most ingenious, Mr Burford,” she said. “I feel sure you are right, although we will not be able to determine that until we have found all the boxes.”

“True. But at least we may be confident that there
are
more boxes to be found.”

“Yes, since Mr Thomas senior made several. But we cannot know the full number, since the poor man has inconveniently died and presumably left no record.”

“But you may have a record yourself, Miss Belle,” he said. “Your father kept meticulous accounts, I make no doubt. If his own records go back far enough, you will find the details written in his own account books.”

“What an excellent notion! I have not yet examined the account books, but there are a great many of them and I feel certain that they date back to Papa’s first inheriting the Hall. That will give me the exact number, and all that remains is to find them. And there I depend upon you, Mr Burford.”

He flushed with pleasure at the compliment. “I shall do my very best, I assure you. But at least you may be certain that there are boxes, and therefore money, to be found. I have heard this week from an old school friend whose father died suddenly a month ago, leaving the estate much encumbered, debts everywhere and no hidden cache of gold. My friend’s oldest brother, who has inherited, must sell off a great deal of land to stay afloat, and my friend is determined to find employment, so that he may not be a burden.”

“How dreadful!” she said. “I am very sorry for your friend. Is he trained for any profession? If the estate is in financial difficulties, he will not be able to afford to buy a commission in the army, or a good living in the church, I assume.”

“No, nothing of the sort. He feels a teaching post might suit him, but so close to the start of the term all the likely positions are already filled.”

“Would a village school be too demeaning for him? For we shall soon need a schoolmaster for Lower Brinford.”

“I had not thought… I assumed he was trying for a larger establishment.”

“There is not a large salary, but there may be boarders to bring in a little extra income, and there is a house provided. It might suit him for a while, until he has time to look about him for something better fitted to his abilities.”

“It is a splendid idea. Should I mention it to Miss Grace?” He felt a flutter of alarm at the prospect of holding such a conversation with so young a lady. He would immediately become tongue-tied and then what would he do?

“Mr Ambleside has engaged himself to look about for a schoolmaster. You should apply to him, I believe.”

Ah, the relief! He could talk to Ambleside without fear of his words drying up, and they could discuss the question rationally. “I shall do that, Miss Belle.”

~~~~~

Belle was impressed with Burford’s perspicacity in the matter of the keys, and his willingness to help her track down the missing boxes was delightful. It was all because of Hope, of course, she understood that, but still it was a relief to have a man at hand who was both sensible and practical. Ambleside was most amenable too, but his greater age made him a more distant figure to her. She could not imagine him crawling round on the floor to examine the undersides of rugs and chairs. Burford was only a year or so older than Belle herself, and that made him feel quite like a brother, someone to share a joke with and send for in any difficulty. She spent the rest of the meal musing on his kindness, and Hope’s good fortune in securing the affections of a man of such worth.

When the ladies withdrew to the drawing room, Lady Sara and Miss Endercott took their accustomed places either side of the fire. The sisters would have dispersed themselves about the room in twos and threes, but their mother said, “Now gather round, girls, for I have a piece of news for you.”

Obediently they formed a half-circle around her chair, arranged in order of age, as their father had always insisted. It was no longer necessary, but at times when they were all together, the old habit imposed itself and they fell naturally into the traditional pattern.

Lady Sara gazed at her daughters, her face serene. She was always calm, and Belle had never heard her mother raise her voice or show violent emotion. Whether that meant that she felt none, or was merely good at concealing her feelings was something Belle had never determined to her own satisfaction.

“Well, girls, our time of mourning is almost at an end. I propose to mark it with a dinner, inviting as many of our acquaintance as may be fitted around the table. It will be a suitable time for Amy and Mr Ambleside to make their betrothal known to the world, although I suspect the world is quite well aware of how things are between them. You may compile a list of all those you wish to invite and a menu, for my approval. It will be practice for the time when you will all have your own establishments.”

Belle was as pleased as anyone at the prospect of beginning to entertain again. She had never found balls to be particularly enjoyable, but a large dinner with friends was always agreeable. Amidst the squeals of delight from the others, she said, “When is it to be, Mama?”

“Three weeks on Tuesday.”

There was immediate silence. “But… but that is the anniversary of Papa’s death,” Amy said. “Had you forgotten, Mama?”

“How could I forget? It marks the end of our year of mourning. You girls may wear colours again and attend balls, and even I am permitted to emerge from seclusion. Mr Endercott will join us in a moment to read a sermon, so we will speak no more of it tonight. Tomorrow you may begin your preparations, and if you wish to invite one or two guests to stay at the Hall overnight, that would be acceptable. I shall myself have a guest staying. Ah, here are the gentlemen now.”