Belle (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 2) Read Free Page A

could be found striding through woods and fields examining the many aspects of nature to be found there and increasing his collection of butterflies, birds’ eggs and leaves, as the season provided. On the seventh day, he ministered to the spiritual needs of the parish, marking the seasons by the great festivals of his profession — Christmas, Lent, Easter, Whitsuntide, Michaelmas and on through the months and years, without variation.
    Mr Burford had arrived at Lower Brinford with all the enthusiasm natural in a man entering his first parish as curate. At three and twenty, he could congratulate himself for the achievement of an excellent situation — a pleasant and undemanding parish, with his own cottage with plenty of room for his books, and the unexpected delight of Miss Hope Allamont, whose beauty and amiable nature had quite won his heart. He had no prospect of winning her hand, for he could not expect to support a wife for many years yet, but she had thrilled him to his soul by smiling favourably upon him. And yet now, almost two years later, he looked at Mr Endercott and saw himself in twenty years, unmarried and unadventurous, declining into the dullest life imaginable. It was a depressing prospect.
    But he smiled, as always, and brought a chair forward for Mr Endercott.
    “There, sir. May I pour you a glass of something. I have a little ratafia on hand.”
    “Thank you, no. Ah, I see you are hard at work, Burford. Is this your sermon?”
    “It is, yes.”
    “You have written a great deal. What is your text?”
    “The first book of John, chapter three verse eleven.”
    He grunted, eyebrows lowering. “Love again, Burford?”
    “One can always find something new and enlightening in the concept of Christian love, Mr Endercott.”
    “Oh, certainly. Love is a splendid ideal, but perhaps our preaching needs to remind our parishioners to beware of the perils of earthly love, also. Something about sin, perhaps, Burford? We would not wish anyone to fall into sin, and our little flock does need regular prompting on the subject, I feel.”
    “Ah. Sin. Perhaps the first book of Peter, chapter four verse eight?”
    “The multitude of sins - yes, that would do very well. Splendid. Carry on, Burford, carry on. I shall see you at dinner tonight and we may discuss the finer points of the verse, if you wish. I shall see myself out.”
    Mr Burford watched him cross the road to the parsonage. Then, with a sigh, he tore up his sermon and began again.
    ~~~~~
    Belle had written immediately to Mr Plumphett regarding Mr Jack Barnett, and had stayed at home the following day in the expectation of an early reply. However, the portly shape of Mr Plumphett himself arrived at the earliest possible hour.
    “My dear Miss Allamont! Such a dreadful business! I can scarce believe it myself. Such presumption in this young man! Such effrontery! I confess, in all my years I have never seen—”
    “Quite so, Mr Plumphett. How kind you are to come so quickly. I am much obliged to you. Will you come in to the book room?”
    He hesitated, twisting his hands. “Ah. Well, now. Are any of your sisters at home, Miss Allamont?”
    “They have just this moment left to walk to the village with Miss Bellows.”
    “Ah. And Lady Sara is still from home, I understand? I am not quite sure…”
    “Mr Plumphett, I do not think there can be anything improper in a gentleman of your profession and age and unimpeachable respectability talking privately, even to an unmarried woman, about a family matter. I am no longer a schoolroom miss, and have not been for some years. However, if you will step into the book room, we will leave the door open and Young may observe that the proprieties are maintained.”
    “Very well, Miss Allamont, very well.”
    “May I offer you some refreshment? It is a long ride from Brinchester.”
    “Thank you, thank you. Too kind. I confess that a glass of Madeira would be most acceptable.”
    When he had settled into his seat,