Connie (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 3) (9 page)

Jess jumped in quickly, and the conversation moved into calmer waters, but Connie took no more part in it. So confusing! Why would her mother visit her relations regularly, and yet say nothing about her own family? She could not understand it in the least.

Then, just as they were preparing to leave at last, her aunt said brightly, “You must give our regards to your poor mama, Constance. How I wish we could see her more often! I suppose there is no hope of her being in London this season?”

“I cannot say,” Connie answered.

“No, for she never goes there.”

“Oh, indeed, she does. She has been there several times since Papa died.”

“Really?” Her aunt looked at her quizzically. “She went to London, yet never stayed at Heatherington House? Never even left her card? Well, that is too bad, to put up at a hotel like the merest nobody.” Her voice rose querulously, but again a touch from her husband calmed her.

“I daresay it was a very brief visit for business reasons,” Lord Melthwaite said, frowning at his wife. “There must have been many matters to settle, papers to sign, and so forth. Perhaps the house was shut up and she did not wish to open it up for a short time. An hotel is more practical in such cases, and some of them are quite tolerable, so I believe.”

“Oh no, she did not stay at an hotel,” Connie said brightly. “Mama stayed with Aunt Tilly.”

This time, Lady Melthwaite’s scream was loud enough to turn all heads towards her. Then she fell back unconscious into her husband’s arms.

10: A Wedding

The three ladies sat in silence in the carriage as it swayed over the ruts and splashed through puddles. Through the window, Connie caught an occasional glimpse of the rump of Lord Reginald’s horse trotting along ahead of them. It was difficult to see much else, for her eyes would keep filling with tears.

They were more than half way back to Drummoor when Lady Harriet gave a low chuckle. “Well, I must say, Connie, your family is most intriguing. I have the liveliest wish to know more of Aunt Tilly. You must find out all you can about her, in order to satisfy my curiosity, for I warn you, I shall not be satisfied until every secret—” She made a clucking noise. “Oh dear, do not cry. There is nothing to dismay one in having disreputable relatives, you know. We all have them. Emma is such an excitable creature, and so stuffy that ten to one you will find that Aunt Tilly married someone in trade, and there is no more to it than that. There, there, do not take on so!”

“I am very sorry,” Connie said through her sobs, in a whisper.

“For myself, I should be more interested to know why Lady Sara tells her own brother so little about her family,” Jess said. “That seems very queer to me.”

“I am sure Mama had very good reasons for that,” Connie said with some heat. “Indeed, why should she talk about domestic matters when she is a guest elsewhere? Parties at Tambray and Hepplestone are so gay that I daresay she never had a moment to think about us.”

Jess arched her eyebrows. “Hepplestone, perhaps, but nothing gay ever happened at Tambray, I would wager. I am sorry to speak ill of your relatives, Connie, but your aunt and uncle are dry old sticks. That is to say, your uncle is, and your aunt is very much under his thumb. I am not sure they even know how to enjoy themselves.”

This piece of spite was all the more irritating to Connie because it was precisely in agreement with her own opinion. She chose to be offended, however, and stared in silent vexation out of the window for the rest of the journey, the only happy aspect being that her annoyance with Jess had quite dried up her tears.

The subject could not be forgotten, however, for the Dowager Marchioness insisted on hearing all about the visit, and so the whole story came tumbling out. Lady Harriet chose her words carefully but there was no disguising their import.

“The Lady Matilda?” Lady Carrbridge said. “Oh, yes, I remember the scandal. A viscount, it might have been, and then there was a whisper about a member of the royal family, although I never did discover who. But what of it? Such things happen in the best-ordered of families, and it is not so terrible that one would bother to fall into the vapours. But Emma always was dreadfully silly. Dear me, Lady Matilda! I have not heard a word about her in an age. And so she lives in London still, and your mama goes to visit her? Well, well.”

~~~~~

Connie was already in bed that evening, and rereading the last letter from Belle before the candle was quite burnt down, when there was a scratching at the door, followed almost instantly by its opening and Jess Drummond’s head appearing round it.

“May I come in for a minute?”

“Oh — of course, if you wish.”

Jess slipped into the room, and closed the door softly behind her. Setting her candle down beside Connie’s, she perched on the side of the bed, pulling her wrap closer around her.

“I wanted to apologise to you, Miss Allamont,” she said quietly, all her usual ebullience quite gone. “I was very rude about your uncle and aunt, and I fear I offended you. Sometimes my tongue runs away with me, and… no, that is no excuse. I should know better. I am ashamed of myself. Can you ever forgive me?”

“What did you say that was untrue?” Connie said, smiling wryly. “They
are
dry old sticks. And that house! Not a curve or so much as a candle-snuffer out of place. Symmetry is over-rated, I feel.”

Jess laughed. “It
was
very rigid, was it not? So many straight lines! That bend in the staircase must irritate them so much. I had to bite my tongue to prevent myself from asking why they do not have the whole stair ripped out and replaced with straight flights. Right angles, Miss Allamont, every house must be constructed entirely in right angles.”

That made Connie giggle. “Now
this
house is very symmetrical, but it is a pleasing symmetry, and not at all dull. Every room in perfect proportion, every wing placed in such a way as to enhance the whole.”

“Yes, it is lovely.” Jess heaved a sigh. “If only I could stay.”

“But you can! You will be living here after you are married. My dear Miss Drummond, it will be your house.”

Jess was silent for a while, then she said quietly, “I cannot see it happening. It is like a dream… You have no idea, Miss Allamont, how delightful it is to find myself living in comfort once more. Do not mistake me, for Alex and I are exceedingly grateful for the offer of employment and the schoolhouse at Lower Brinford. Truly I do not know what would have become of us without it, but the house is so
small
. I felt so cramped there, as if I were living in a hen house. And then I came here, to discover that the old ladies have one wing and the young ladies another, and the brothers yet another, and there are still innumerable rooms to spare. It is too perfect for words, but I dare not depend on it. I shall have my season in London and then… who knows what will become of me?”

“Why, you will marry the Marquess and be very rich and very grand,” Connie said, in surprise. “What else?”

But Jess shook her head, with another sigh. “He could find himself a far more suitable wife, and as soon as he reaches London, that is exactly what he will do, I am certain.”

Connie hugged her tight. “The change in your situation is excessive, I agree, and it is no wonder you are unsettled at the suddenness of it all, but you must trust the Marquess’s judgement on the matter. He is the one who knows what qualities in a wife would best suit him, after all.”

Jess’s face lit up. “Yes! You are very wise.”

Connie shook her head. “Not wise, no, but I do think that men are capable of deciding on a wife for themselves. I am sure the Marquess is.”

“I believe you are right, Miss Allamont.”

“Surely we know each other well enough to be on first name terms?”

“Oh — thank you! And now, I must go back to bed, or I shall be yawning tomorrow and the old ladies will glare at me, and make disapproving tutting noises. Goodnight, Connie.”

“Sleep well, Jess.”

This conversation gave Connie a much better opinion of Jess, for all her sympathies were aroused by her difficulties, and she could see that Jess was not at all mercenary in her dealings with the Marquess. But still, she was betrothed to him, there was no getting around that point, even if it must be kept secret for now, and Connie was determined not to interfere. Of course, there was still Lord Reginald…

~~~~~

The date set for Belle’s wedding to Mr Burford was fast approaching, and Connie wished to return to Allamont Hall in time for this event. Lady Harriet, her two brothers and Jess obligingly made the journey too, which was identical in nature to the previous one. They were several times struck by sudden showers of freezing rain, or even sleet, but the weather was never so severe as to delay them or make the roads impassable.

Connie was delighted to be home, and happy to answer her sisters’ excited questions. There was so much to tell, and every little detail was of the utmost interest to the Miss Allamonts, most of whom had never travelled beyond the confines of the local villages and Brinchester. Amy and Belle had enjoyed a month in London when they first came out, under the auspices of Aunt Lucy who had come down from Liverpool to bring them out, and Amy had herself been to Drummoor briefly some months ago, but the younger sisters had never travelled at all. So there was a keen interest in all that Connie could tell, made all the more fascinating by the supposed double betrothal of the two lords, and the delicious secrecy involved, which appealed to their romantic instincts.

Yet Connie shivered as she spoke, for sooner or later she must reach the disagreeable parts of her tale — Tambray Hall, and the matter of Aunt Tilly. What could she say that would not sound melodramatic? How to explain that the mere mention of Aunt Tilly had induced Aunt Emma to faint clean away? And, most of all, what would Mama say? But it could not be avoided.

Lady Sara said nothing at all. Connie glanced repeatedly at her mother’s face, but it was as serene as always, giving no hint of disapprobation. After a while, she left the room altogether, leaving the sisters alone. But later, when Connie was in her room with Dulcie, overseeing the unpacking of her boxes, a knock on the door heralded the housekeeper.

“Beg pardon for interrupting you, Miss Connie, but her ladyship would like a word. She is in her sitting room.”

“Whatever can Mama want?” Dulcie said, but then answered her own question. “Oh, it will be about your clothes for London, I expect. That will be it.”

Connie thought it unlikely to be anything so mundane. Meekly she crossed the landing to Lady Sara’s new sitting room, walking on her toes as if that way her arrival might be so silent as to pass unnoticed. The room had been a bedroom for guests originally, but it had been so seldom used for that purpose that, after Papa’s death, it had been refurbished to become her mother’s private retreat. Connie had never been inside it before. Knocking timidly on the door, when her mother answered she opened it just enough to peer into the room.

“Do not loiter on the threshold like a housemaid, Connie,” Lady Sara said. “Come in, do.”

Obediently, she stepped inside and carefully closed the door.

“You wished to see me, Mama?” she said, as she made her curtsy.

Her mother stood beside the fire, one arm resting on the mantlepiece, her fingers running over the decorative swirls on an ornate clock.

“I wish to know why you think it necessary to tell the whole world our business.”

Connie hung her head, feeling tears very close. “I beg your pardon, Mama. I did not know…”

“What did you not know?”

“That… that I should not talk about… certain things.”

“Certain things?” Her mother uttered a ripple of laughter. “You mean Aunt Tilly? No, I suppose you would not know that she is excluded from all good society. How could you, indeed?”

“Is she?” Connie said, lifting her head abruptly. “How is that possible, when
you
visit her, Mama?”

That brought gusts of laughter from Lady Sara. “Oh yes, I am such good
ton
that I bestow consequence and respectability on everyone I encounter. Oh, Connie, you are such an innocent. Sit, child, and let me explain it to you.”

Lady Sara settled on a silk-covered chaise longue, and Connie perched on a matching chair. They were very elegant pieces, she decided, and the yellow Chinese wallpaper was the perfect foil for them. Her mother had excellent taste.

“I know you see me only as your mama,” Lady Sara said. “When I am here, that is, of course, exactly what I am. That is
all
I am. But I am also the Lady Sara Heatherington of Hepplestone, daughter of the Earl of Harkwood, and when I go there, or to Tambray, that is exactly who I wish to be. My life is divided into little boxes, Connie, and when I am in one box, nothing else exists. When I go to London, well, that is another box. When I go into Shropshire… you understand what I am saying, I am sure.”

“I think so, Mama,” Connie said, although it was all terribly confusing. “So I may not mention Aunt Tilly to anyone?”

“It would perhaps be better to maintain a discreet silence on that subject. As for Ernest and Frank, and your sisters’ marital arrangements — these are of no concern to anyone outside our immediate family, I am sure. People do like to gossip, and I have the greatest dislike of being the subject of gossip. You did not mention Mr Eddington, I hope?”

“No, Mama.”

“Good. Do not do so. Your Aunt Emma is a very worthy person, no doubt, but she always thinks the worst of people. She would be bound to put an erroneous interpretation on my friendship with Mr Eddington, and we would not want to throw her into more paroxysms of hysteria, would we?” She laughed again, quite merrily, as if Aunt Emma’s hysteria were a great joke.

Connie could think of no sensible response, so she lowered her head again, hands neatly folded in her lap.

“Well, so you are to go to London after all,” Lady Sara went on. “That was a sly piece of work, to take up with Lord Reginald in that devious manner, but you were always so good at manipulating people to get your own way. You will do very well in London, I make no doubt, and I am pleased that there need be no expense or inconvenience to me. I just hope you do not fall into error. London is so seductive, it is very easy to be led astray, so take care, child. Now off you go, and close the door behind you.”

~~~~~

Amy’s wedding had been a pleasantly quiet affair, for Mr Ambleside had no close relatives still living, and only a pair of cousins made the journey. As Connie now knew, none of Amy’s relations had even been informed of the occasion.

Belle’s wedding, however, was very different. Mr Burford was amply provided with brothers and aunts and cousins, he had notified them all well in advance of the wedding, and a great many of them liked him well enough to travel from Yorkshire. Or perhaps the attraction was his sudden very large inheritance, a change in circumstance which tends to attract even the most reticent and distant of kin. Whatever the reason, they filled all the guest bedrooms at the Hall, spilled over into the parsonage at Lower Brinford and squeezed into every available inn in Lower and Higher Brinford.