Belle (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 2) (13 page)

It was the greatest joy to Belle to spend the evening in such a way. Occasionally she caught sight of Hope watching them, her face a little pale, and Belle’s conscience pricked her, for she had been drawing Mr Burford’s attention so well that he had scarcely glanced elsewhere. But she reminded herself that Hope had a whole lifetime to enjoy his company, while Belle would be exiled to Willowbye very soon and would seldom see him. Surely she might be allowed an hour or two in pleasant conversation with a friend?

Lady Sara led the ladies through to the drawing room, a colourful flock of birds in their silks and feathers and jewels. As they disposed themselves about the room, Belle found her arm grasped.

“Hope?”

Hope glared at her. “How dare you?” she hissed, pulling Belle aside behind a large potted plant. “I know what you are about. James will not have you, so now you are out to get Mr Burford for yourself.”

“No, indeed, I—”

“You are! You are! I have been watching you, and I know what you are doing. For shame, sister! It is not fair, when he has been my beau for years. And now he will marry
you
, and what will become of me? I shall die a spinster and you will not care a bit. You are heartless and cruel, and I hate you!”

She burst into tears.

14: A Retreat

Burford sipped his port thoughtfully, listening to the conversation round the table, but saying little. The talk was all of hunting and horses and other gentlemanly pursuits, which his income would not permit even if he had the inclination. He had enjoyed riding when his father had supplied him with a mount, but he had never hunted and he found a brisk walk in fine weather to be every bit as pleasurable, especially when the brisk walk led him to Allamont Hall.

And here guilt gnawed at him. Until recently, there had been only one attraction at the Hall, one person whose red lips and bright eyes drew him again and again, one person who filled his dreams and his thoughts. But lately those dreams had begun to recede a little. When he imagined himself sitting opposite his wife beside the fire, there was a different face smiling at him.

He understood why. That day when he had gone to Garmin’s Farm and come back to find Belle still in his book room, sitting on the floor quite oblivious of the time, he had taken her into the back room and fed her bread and cheese. They had sat either side of the fire, just as in his silly little daydream, and now he could not imagine Hope in that place, only Belle. Instead of Hope’s delicate features, he saw Belle’s plainer face with those big eyes and the mouth that smiled so readily. Instead of Hope’s imaginary chatter of domestic matters, he heard Belle’s voice reading a poem, and saw her finger stabbing the page, her expressive face alive with energy. His little vision of Hope was quite gone, replaced by the stronger image of Belle, which had really happened.

Burford was not a foolish man, nor an impulsive one. He saw his danger, and determined to step back from the precipice. In other circumstances, in a different time, perhaps he could have allowed himself to fall in love with Belle. It would have been easy enough to do, for she was such an open person, amiable and friendly, and what could be more natural than to share their passion for books? In the easiest way imaginable, that would lead to other passions and thus to marriage.

Yet he must resist her allure. Hope was his true love, he told himself, the woman he desired above all others to make his wife. So when the gentlemen rejoined the ladies, he sought out Hope at once. Her face was pale as she looked up at him beseechingly, and he could almost imagine that she had been crying. If only he could brush away the last trace of tears from her cheeks, could take her in his arms and kiss her until she could barely breathe. She was so pretty, so sweet, so gentle, he hated to see her unhappy and it broke his heart to be the cause of it.

“M-M-Miss Hope? Will you take a turn about the room?”

He was rewarded by the widest of smiles. She jumped up at once, and they strolled about, she chattering artlessly and he listening, enchanted, noticing nothing but her lovely face.

It was only when he returned to his house later that evening, and sat beside the fire opposite the empty chair, that the image of Belle intruded and unsettled his nerves. Yes, he must be very, very careful.

~~~~~

The excitement of the evening lasted the Miss Allamonts for many dull days when rain kept them at home. Every moment they were together, they found some new aspect to discuss, and every caller who braved the mud brought a new perspective on the success of the dinner. Nor was their conversation always looking into the past. Now that they were out of mourning, a steady stream of invitations arrived from their neighbours, and they could look forward to the public balls in Brinchester as well.

Belle was glad it was over. Hope had barely spoken to her since their quarrel, although Belle could not quite see what she had done wrong. Burford had chosen to sit next to her, and she could hardly have ignored him. They had conversed, as people tended to do at dinner, and if they had enjoyed their discussion, well, there was no crime in that. Besides, ever since, Burford had devoted himself to Hope and had scarcely said a word to Belle. She wished that the two would soon reach a proper understanding, so that this imagined rivalry would be gone and Belle could treat Burford as a friend again. But she could see no prospect of an early marriage for them. Hope had no dowry until her five older sisters were all married, and Burford had very little money until he could obtain a living of his own.

Their mother’s visitor for the dinner had arrived three days before it, and showed no inclination to leave after it was over. Mr Eddington was not of the first quality, it had to be said, but he made no pretence to be anything he was not. He talked openly of the cotton mills he owned in Lancashire, and a jute mill in Scotland, allowed it be known that his income was in excess of ten thousand a year and asked freely for advice on buying an estate, which he planned to do within the next year or two.

Belle had met him briefly before, when he had annoyed her mother by turning up unannounced at the Hall and leaving a note expressing the wish that he might see Lady Sara again soon. His reappearance just as she emerged from her year of mourning inevitably attracted a certain amount of speculation. A wealthy man paying court to a titled lady, recently widowed and perhaps looking for a comfortable retirement — yes, Belle could see the appeal. They were much of an age, both of them handsome, and her mother seemed relaxed in his company. He looked less provincial than before, too, his garments better cut, his cravat impeccably tied and his hair in the very latest London style. Had her mother had a hand in that? If so, that was very suggestive.

It was Grace, never the most diplomatic of the sisters, who braved their mother’s wrath by asking directly. Belle held her breath, waiting for the put down. Instead, her mama smiled.

“No, indeed, I am not thinking of marrying Mr Eddington, my dear. That would be very odd in me, barely out of mourning for your papa, to be thinking of matrimony so soon. I daresay I shall never marry again. One husband is quite enough, I find. However, it is very pleasant to have a gentleman to squire me about, making no demands on me, nor I on him. He is not of the first water, it is true, but his manners in company bear no reproach, and he is perfectly amiable. I find him very agreeable company.”

And so it seemed, for she made no move to encourage him to return to his own home. He had arrived in a very smart phaeton, and when the weather was fit, he took Lady Sara driving about the countryside, and when it was not, they sat indoors playing cards or billiards. Once or twice, Lady Sara played the pianoforte while Mr Eddington sang in a pleasing tenor. And the days drifted past, and still he lingered on at the Hall.

One day, they both happened to arrive in the dining room for breakfast at the same moment, Lady Sara laughing at some teasing remark of Mr Eddington. They looked the very image of two people at ease with each other, and if Belle had not known the truth, she might have guessed them to be husband and wife.

Lady Sara said, “Girls, I shall be going into Shropshire for a few days to look at the Market Clunbury house. I am not at all sure what should be done about it, and Mr Eddington has very kindly offered to advise me.”

“It is let, is it not, Mama?” Belle said.

“It is. I shall talk to the tenant, and look about the place, and see what it is like. It might make a useful retreat for me, or it might be best to sell it off.”

“I always assumed it was intended for Ernest and Frank,” Belle said. “But I suppose we must give up hope of ever seeing them again.”

“I have
not
given up hope,” Lady Sara said, with a touch of asperity. “However, if they reappear after so many years, they cannot expect everything to be just as they left it.”

Lady Sara and Mr Eddington departed for Shropshire in the phaeton the following day, the maid, manservant and luggage following in the travelling coach, and Belle was left to wonder why her mama needed a retreat when she had a Dower House waiting for her already.

~~~~~

Burford’s feelings were very mixed at this time. He was conscious of having given Hope pain, and even though it was entirely accidental, he was mortified. But he was relieved to have seen the danger of paying too much attention to Belle, and found himself able to draw back a little. Since that evening, he had made every effort to direct himself towards Hope, and although he could not ignore Belle, for the sake of civility, yet their words were no more than the common courtesies.

He was sure he was doing the right thing, and, apart from perhaps a single lapse, he had done nothing to cause the slightest alarm in Hope. He loved her devotedly, and when his fortunes improved a little, he would ask her to be his wife.

And yet he was not quite comfortable about it, all the same. He regretted the loss of his easy friendship with Belle, those companionable conversations about books and poetry and history and… oh, a thousand and one things that interested them both, and which Hope had never shown the least inclination for. He wondered uneasily if he were destined to share his hearth with Hope in silence, because they had so few interests in common.

In some way he could not quite account for, this confusion expressed itself in fewer visits to Allamont Hall. And that in its turn imposed feelings of guilt which ate away at the corners of his mind and destroyed much of his comfort. If he went, he felt awkward and foolish, stammering and blushing with Hope, and trying to be studiedly polite but distant with Belle. If he stayed away, he longed to see Hope— no, he had to be honest with himself. He longed to see Belle just as much. What a fool he was! His only hope was that Belle would soon be married to her scoundrel of a cousin, and then he would be safe.

One morning, a charitable visit to a remote cottage followed by a brisk walk across Mr Garmin’s farmland brought him close to Allamont Hall. It was not a day when the ladies would normally be at home, but he had news to share of the imminent arrival of his friend, Mr Drummond, to teach at the school, so he decided to leave his card with a note.

However, the Allamonts’ lugubrious butler informed him that Miss Allamont and Miss Belle were at home, and led him to the book room. He found Belle bent over the desk, her father’s account books spread over the whole surface. Amy sat beside the fire, reading a book. They both looked up with smiles as he was shown in.

“Miss Allamont. Miss Belle,” he murmured as he made his bows.

“Oh, Mr Burford, how delightful in you to call even though Hope is out!” Amy said. “You are just the person I need, for I have got to a difficult passage in my Greek book and I cannot work it out at all.”

“I am very sorry to disappoint a lady, but I have no Greek at all. If you need Latin, why, I am your man for that, but Greek, no. You need Mr Endercott, if it is too difficult even for Miss Belle to help with.”

“Belle is too cross to help me.”

“Oh, surely that cannot be so,” he said before he could stop himself. “Miss Belle is all amiability.”

Belle chuckled. “Not today, Mr Burford, for I am trying to make some sense of the accounts, and I do not get on any better than Amy.”

“Then perhaps I may help with that? I was used to help my uncles with their accounts sometimes.”

“One of your uncles? Or all six of them?”

He laughed and said, “All of them, at various times. They were clever men, but every so often they would find themselves in a muddle with money. What is it you are in difficulty with?”

“Papa’s handwriting!” Belle said. “It is so tiny, I cannot always read it.”

He bent over the desk. “I see what you mean. But perhaps this will help?” He pulled a small magnifying glass from a pocket.

Belle clapped her hands in delight. “Mr Burford, you are a treasure! The very thing, and you just happen to have one in your pocket.”

He felt himself blushing. “I find it useful for reading the old parish records, where the ink has faded a little, or those tiny prayer books with very small print. You may keep this one. I have another at home.”

“Thank you! I shall get on much better now. But I must tell you, I have had some luck with finding out the number of money boxes. There are precisely six, because Papa bought one for each daughter. Each is marked on the bottom with a letter. So far, we have found ‘A’, ‘D’ and ‘H’.”

“One for each of you? Then he must have intended the contents to be your dowries. But that cannot be right. Twelve hundred pounds — why, you would not get above fifty pounds a year from that. And where does the hundred thousand pounds come from?”

“I do not know. It is all very odd, and Mr Plumphett knows nothing. I may find out something from the account books, now that I can read them. Papa was very secretive about money, and I do not think that is a good thing.”

“No, indeed. Since you now know the exact number of boxes, should you like me to continue my search for the missing ones?”

“You are very good, sir. I am much obliged to you.”

She smiled at him with such warmth that he was overcome with momentary confusion. It occurred to him for the first time that perhaps his manner had given rise to similar feelings in Belle as she had aroused in him. That would be disastrous! To be drawn to two sisters at once was bad enough, but if they were equally drawn to him, he would find himself in a tangle there was no unravelling.

To cover his discomfiture, he at once began moving around the room, trying to think where more of the boxes might be located. He had examined all the furniture and the floorboards. Now he must look at the room itself — the windows and walls.

He was successful almost at once. Behind one of the shutters, a loose piece of wainscoting lifted to reveal a cavity in the wall. Inside, he found a box wrapped in waxed cloth.