Connie (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 3) by Mary Kingswood Page B

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