Amy (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 1) (6 page)

Dulcie! Of course. And another sister nearby, deep in a fashion journal. That would be unexceptional, and he might hold to his resolution while awaiting an opportunity to sit beside Amy.

So he moved across to sit between Dulcie and the other sister, whose name escaped him, although she politely set aside her journal to talk to him. He had no idea what was said. He talked more or less at random, his eyes wandering frequently across the room to where Sir Osborne was still holding Amy’s attention, in the most particular manner.

He held himself in check for several minutes. But then Amy happened to look up and see him. Was that a tremulous smile upon her lips? And those eyes — so speaking! They were summoning him, he would swear to it.

Without another thought, he jumped up and crossed the room in three strides. “I am astonished to see you out so late today, Hardy.”

Sir Osborne started. “What’s that, Ambleside? Why should I not be about?”

“Why, because of the rain, naturally. Appearances can be so deceptive, and even though all is calm now, I do believe quite a storm is expected. A great deal of rain. You will not like to be out in it, I am sure. I recall your distress when your carriage became mired in Hog’s Lane.”

“Indeed, no! Most kind in you, sir, to warn me. Do you hear, Mama? There is rain coming, and we must be away before it turns everything to mud, you know.”

“Rain? Oh, dear! We must hurry, Osborne. Clarissa, come along, dear. We are leaving.”

It was too easy for words, and in the bustle and exclamations and farewells, Mr Ambleside slipped triumphantly into the chair beside Amy.

6: A Proposal

The walk home to Allamont Hall was a relaxed one after the visit to Lady Humbleforth. Language practice was set aside, and the object of study was nature. Spring and summer provided ample flowers and leaves and bird’s nests to show Papa and to draw, and autumn offered fruits and nuts and seeds to plant in abundance. But winter was holding Brinmorton Woods in its chilly clasp, and there was not a toadstool or a bird to take note of.

Amy looked about her for anything of interest, but there was no need to talk, so she was occupied with her own thoughts. They were, for once, happy ones. The attentions of Lady Hardy and Sir Osborne were bemusing. She did not understand why they had distinguished her in that way for she could hardly suppose that her dowry would be of interest to a man as wealthy as Sir Osborne. Nevertheless, it was gratifying. It was the longest conversation she had ever enjoyed with either of them.

However, the real reason for her happiness was, of course, Mr Ambleside. Ever since Connie had said that she felt no especial warmth towards him, Amy had begun to consider the possibility for herself. Granted he was above the average age for a wealthy man to marry. Why, he must be five and thirty, at least. But he hardly looked a day over thirty, and was free of afflictions, despite Connie’s talk of gout. Besides, Amy was no longer so young herself, and really, eleven years was nothing, if there was affection in the case.

There was the nub of the matter. What did her heart say to her? There were thoughts, secret thoughts, that she had not shared with any of her sisters. Of all the gentlemen of her acquaintance, Mr Ambleside was by far the most amiable. He never made her feel awkward or uncomfortable, and if she stumbled over her words, he waited without impatience until she had got them out. She felt so at ease with him.

He had been very pointed in his attentions so far. Not that it meant anything… he was merely showing courtesy to her as the eldest… it was no more than kindness in him, she knew that. She could never hope to secure such a man, not even in her most outlandish dreams. And yet… he had sought her out several times now. That did seem very pointed. She would not dare to allow herself to hope, but—

“
Amy!
” Dulcie’s shrill voice cut through her reverie.

“I beg your pardon. I was concentrating on the holly hedge. What were you saying, Dulcie?”

“We were talking about a certain gentleman, whose name I need not mention, and how attentive he was to
someone
,” she said teasingly.

Amy coloured at once. It was almost as if Dulcie had read her thoughts!

Connie giggled, and Dulcie clucked at her. “Oh, not
you
! Why should you be thinking I spoke of you? No, I meant Connie, of course. Surely you marked it?”

That made Amy flush even more violently. How stupid of her to misunderstand, to imagine they were talking about her. She hung her head, quite unable to speak.

“I did not notice any particular attentions to Connie,” Belle said, and Amy blessed her calm tones. Belle was always so sensible.

“Oh, tush, Belle, then you must have been blind,” Dulcie said, and Connie giggled again. They had reached the gate into the lane, and they quite came to a stop as Dulcie ran round in front of Amy and Belle. “He saw her the very second he entered the room, and as soon as he had made his greetings to Lady Humbleforth, he came straight to Connie’s side, and engaged her in very deep conversation. It must have been deep, for he looked very earnest. What was it you talked of, sister?”

That brought another little laugh. “I hardly know,” Connie said, gazing at her feet. “I cannot tell you a word
I
said, at any rate, and whatever
he
said… I cannot say, I am sure.” She blushed rather prettily. Amy envied her that ability, to look so sweet and delicate and innocent when she blushed. Her own face turned to fire, she was sure.

“Who are you speaking about?” Belle said, in her straightforward way.

“Why Mr Ambleside, sister, for sure,” Dulcie said. “Did you not notice how long he talked to Connie?”

“Yes, and I also noticed how much he watched Amy, and that he chased away Sir Osborne Hardy to sit by her.”

But Connie and Dulcie both protested, and then Grace began to wonder aloud if perhaps Mr Ambleside still preferred Connie. “He was so particular in his attentions, you know. All those flowers he sent!”

“Perhaps we might let
him
decide whom he prefers,” Belle said crossly. “It is of no consequence, anyway, since Connie has already said that she feels no affection for him.”

In the silence that followed, Connie pulled her cloak tighter. “I did say that, I believe,” she said in a tiny voice. “I thought… I
still
think he is quite old, a lot older than me. I felt… that I admired and respected him, as a man of consequence in the neighbourhood, and no more than that, and if perhaps I did once have a little tendre for him, it was quite gone away. But today… the way he talked to me, so particular, as if he were trying to tell me something of significance…  I do not think I am quite as indifferent as I believed.”

Amy’s heart sank to her boots. She had barely begun to hope, and now it was all snatched away. But no, there had never been any hope, since it seemed that Mr Ambleside had always preferred Connie, and his regard for her had never wavered. He had tried to offer for her, been rebuffed, and had gone away to the wilds of Northumberland to nurse his broken heart. As soon as word came that his suit might be received more favourably, he flew like the wind back to Connie’s side. It all made sense. She had only to regret her foolishness in allowing herself to think of him as a possible suitor.

The Allamont sisters walked the rest of the way home in silence, each sunk in her own thoughts, whether happy or sad.

~~~~~

Amy was very low for some days. It would not be the least bit surprising if Mr Ambleside had a preference for Connie, for what could be more natural? She had never noticed the preference herself, but she was not a very observing person in that way. And if Connie had a preference for him, in return, then there was no more to be said. She could not set her own barely-formulated hopes against Connie’s happiness.

It was dispiriting, however. Now that the very possibility of a match was lost, she was sure that Mr Ambleside would have suited her very well, and she would have liked to marry him above all things. Such an amiable man, and always so kind to her. Then there was his lovely house, and the gardens — oh, the gardens! So much better situated than at the Hall, and with a better aspect, and not much done to them yet. She could see so many possibilities — a stream here, a rose garden there, a shrubbery walk, some woodland… How wonderful it would have been to have the ordering of it.

But it was not to be. Her list of suitors was diminished. Not that she had any expectations of Sir Osborne, nor of Mr Wills, either, who had gone to London. Only her cousin James, who seemed to have no shame, regularly paid court to her in the most outrageous fashion, finding some excuse to ride over almost every day.

“I have brought you a new book just come from town,” he would say cheerfully, forgetting that they were not permitted novels. Or perhaps, “Here is a piece of music I thought you might enjoy learning.”

“Why do you do such things?” she said to him crossly. “This music is for the pianoforte, and I am trying to master the harp.”

“Well, that is prodigiously funny!” he said. “I have brought entirely the wrong thing. But it is of no consequence. I will take it away again. What do you like? You must tell me, so that I can woo you in proper form, coz.”

“I wish you would not woo me at all. You never looked at me until I had seventeen thousand pounds.”

“And the Hall,” he said, his expression serious for a change. “Never forget the Hall, Amy. Should you not like to be mistress of Allamont Hall? You would not even have to change your name, and we would get along famously, you and I. What could be better?”

“Almost anything,” she snapped, her patience quite exhausted, but he laughed at her again, his good humour irrepressible. She went on, “Besides, my brothers are to inherit the Hall. There is still hope that they will be found. Mr Plumphett has put notices in all the newspapers.”

“Ha! Ernest and Frank? They are gone for good, I wager. Off to the New World to make a better life for themselves. That is what I should do, if ever I were to run away from home. Stow away on a ship going to the West Indies, and then become very rich. They have slaves there, you know, so everyone is rich.”

She was too cross to answer him. If only she could consider Mr Ambleside a suitor! Her cousin’s attentions would not plague her half so much if she felt there was even the smallest chance with Mr Ambleside. But it seemed he was lost to her, and the disappointment made her short-tempered.

~~~~~

Amy had dutifully reported Lady Hardy’s words on the indulgence of grief to her mother, who accepted them with her usual placidity.

“Lady Hardy is all consideration,” she murmured. “Her care for me is beyond anything. I cannot conceive how I should go on without her guidance.”

She did, however, exert herself to attend church thereafter, and occasionally accompanied her daughters on their visits in the neighbourhood.

Amy had no expectation of seeing Sir Osborne or his mother again for some time, since the two families were not on regular visiting terms, and the Hardys had their own chapel to keep them at home on Sundays. To her astonishment, however, Lady Hardy condescended to visit Lower Brinford church the very next Sunday, throwing Mr Burford into spasms of nervous stuttering, and rendering even Mr Endercott less than articulate. The presence of two titled ladies at once overwhelmed their ability to form coherent sentences.

Emerging from the church, Lady Sara smiled benignly at Lady Hardy, and the two ladies exchanged stiff remarks on the weather for a minute or two. Amy stood meekly behind her mother, feet together, hands clasped in front of her, hoping that she would not be required to speak. Better still, perhaps her ladyship would not even notice her there.

But Lady Hardy noticed everything. Her eyes raked Amy from head to toe. “Humph. Good day to you, Miss Allamont.”

“Good day, my lady.” Amy curtsied. By the time she had risen, Lady Hardy had turned away and was making her farewells to Mr Endercott, who was bobbing his head up and down like a chicken.

“What is she doing here?” Belle whispered in Amy’s ear. “I have never seen her here before.”

“Hush!” Amy hissed, agitated. “You know Papa does not like us to speak on Sundays unless addressed.”

Belle looked as if she would say more, but instead she subsided, nodding. It was the turn of Grace and Hope to ride in the carriage with Mama, so the remaining Allamont sisters walked home, with not a word spoken the whole way.

Two days later, soon after breakfast, Amy was in the music room, practising upon the harp. She had tried a range of instruments over the years, achieving proficiency with none of them, but Papa had insisted that every young lady should play, so she continued to make the effort.

A short knock on the door was followed moments later by Young, the butler.

“Begging your pardon, Miss, but Lady Hardy is here.”

“Oh.” Her bewilderment was absolute. “What is to be done? I daresay Mama is not yet dressed.”

“I do not know about that, Miss, but it is you Lady Hardy is asking for.”

“Me?” Amy jumped up in agitation, knocking over the music stand. “
Only
me?”

“Yes, Miss. I have taken the liberty of showing her ladyship into the book room.”

“The book room. Yes. The fire is lit?” He nodded. “Good. The book room. Lady Hardy.”

Seeing her frozen in terror, the butler helpfully held the door open for her, and then there was nothing for it but to walk through, head held high.

Trembling with fear, Amy crept down the stairs. What could Lady Hardy possibly want with her? Could she wait until her mama was by? No, she could hardly leave the relict of a baronet waiting while her mother was laced into her gown.

In the hall, she froze again. But there was Young, ever helpful, holding the door of the book room open for her.

“Miss Allamont, my lady,” he announced.

And then the door clicked shut behind her, and Amy was alone with Sir Osborne’s mother.

Lady Hardy was sitting in Papa’s chair by the fire, the great leather wings dwarfing her, whereas Papa had filled it comfortably. How incongruous to see Lady Hardy’s thin frame sitting there, like a child trying to fill the place of a grown man. She was so thin, and in her purple coat she looked like a stick of rhubarb. She looked Amy up and down, and Amy could not tell whether her assessment was favourable or not.

“Come forward, child. Do not loiter by the door as if you wish to run away.”

But she did wish to run away! If only she could. If only her mama were with her. Or Belle — she was so sensible, she would know exactly what to say. But obediently she crossed the floor to stand before Lady Hardy, just as she had stood before her father so many times, reciting Greek or Latin or French, or an extract from the Bible or Shakespeare. She dipped a curtsy, then stood in the correct position, feet together, hands clasped before her.