Melinda Hammond (12 page)

‘There are certainly some very ill-bred people amongst the crowds,’ returned Miss Pensford, ‘but I was never anxious for myself, I assure you.’ She smiled warmly at Mr Alleyne, whose fair cheek reddened slightly.

‘I am sorry I lost you in the crowd, Stacey,’ he murmured, as Miss Pensford engaged Mr Lagallan in conversation. ‘One moment you were beside me, then Helen — I mean Miss Pensford — was so alarmed by the jostling—’

‘It does not matter, Rupert, I am very well able to take care of myself.’

The flush on his cheek darkened.

‘You are angry with me. I have apologized, Eustacia; I don’t see what else I could do. Surely you did not expect me to abandon Miss Pensford?’

‘No, of course you could not do that,’ Eustacia replied, wearily. ‘Let us say no more of it. No harm has been done, and I did enjoy the Cascade. Let us also enjoy the supper that Godmama has so kindly provided for us.’

She turned her attention to the refreshments laid out before them. Lady Bilderston might look dubiously at the wafer-thin slices of ham and chicken, and wonder if there was sufficient to satisfy the appetites of six persons but Eustacia, having enjoyed a hearty dinner a few hours earlier, happily partook of the custards and cheesecakes, thanking her godmother profusely for such a splendid treat.

‘Are you sure you should be eating so much, in view of your recent malaise?’ murmured Vivyan, handing her a glass of punch.

Eustacia chuckled. ‘I only hope Mr MacCauley does not observe me!’

‘Oh? I thought you detested the man.’

‘Well, and so I do, but I do not wish him to know that I duped him!’

Vivyan laughed at her, and shook his head, before his hostess claimed his attention.

* * * *

Lady Bilderston had ordered her coach for midnight, well aware that the behaviour within the gardens could deteriorate alarmingly as the night wore on. Mr Lagallan’s presence made it possible for each of the ladies to have their own escort out of the gardens, and at the gate the party broke up, with Vivyan inviting Mr Alleyne to accompany him to his club to finish off the night with a few games of chance. Rupert hesitated, but Lady Bilderston nodded benignly at him.

‘Yes, do go, Mr Alleyne. You may be certain that with my footman up on the box, and Colonel Brentwood to attend us, we will be perfectly safe.’

Thus reassured, the young man climbed into Mr Lagallan’s carriage for the journey back to town. Mr Alleyne was a little in awe of Vivyan, envying the older man his poise and knowledge of town life. However, nothing could have exceeded Mr Lagallan’s friendliness that evening. He soon put Mr Alleyne at his ease, introduced him to his circle of friends at Brooks’s, and looked after him so well that when they eventually left the club just as the first grey streaks of dawn were visible in the sky, that young gentlemen felt obliged to express his gratitude.

‘I have not enjoyed an evening in Town so much, sir!’ he said, pumping Mr Lagallan’s hand vigorously.

‘Yes, yes, thank you,’ said Vivyan, pushing the young man into his coach. ‘Allow me to drive you home.’

Mr Alleyne fell back against the squabs with an ecstatic sigh.

‘Most wonderful evening,’ he declared, his cheeks flushed from the quantities of wine he had imbibed.

Mr Lagallan watched him, a slight smile on his lips.

‘Enjoyed Vauxhall, did you?’

‘Oh, indeed! Vastly entertainin’!’

‘But one has to be vigilant,’ remarked Vivyan. ‘It is not the place for a lady to go unattended.’

‘You are thinking of Stacey, I mean, Miss Marchant.’ Rupert looked uncomfortable. ‘I should not have allowed her to fall behind, but what could I do? Miss Pensford needed my arm and the path was too narrow for us all.’

‘Of course.’

Mr Alleyne flushed. ‘I know she is — that you are — what I mean is, Stacey told me that you and Miss Pensford are as good as engaged,’ he confided, ‘so you must know how much she dislikes crowds, and she is such a sweet, shy creature—’

‘And Miss Marchant is much better able to look after herself?’

‘Yes, that is it!’ declared Rupert, gratified at his host’s understanding. ‘Stacey is a — a most redoubtable girl!’

‘Well, I am happy that you think so, since I understand that you and she are to be married.’

There was a long silence, broken only by the clatter of the carriage as it rattled over the cobbles.

‘Yes,’ said Rupert at last. ‘I suppose you heard that from your sister-in-law. I know she and Stacey are very close, must be, since Mrs Lagallan brought Stacey to London.’ He peered across at his companion, who appeared as a shadowy figure in the darkened carriage. ‘I suppose you know the full story?’

‘I believe you met Miss Marchant in Somerset, where she lost her heart to you. Would you think me very forward if I said that you don’t seem very happy with your engagement?’

Mr Alleyne bit his lip but the camaraderie of the evening and the wine he had drunk overcame his natural reserve and he blurted out: ‘No, damn it, I’m not! Oh, Stacey is a fine girl, and I admit that in Somerset I did perhaps pay her a little too much attention, but how was I to know she would follow me to London?’

‘How indeed? Your father, I understand, does not approve of the marriage?’

‘Well, I don’t know about that. I only said that to Stacey so she would not think I was deserting her for no reason. I didn’t want to hurt her, you see.’

In the darkness, Mr Lagallan’s hands clenched into two purposeful fists, but he forced himself to stay calm.

‘So would it not be better to make a clean breast of it now, and tell her the truth?’

‘How can I?’ cried Mr Alleyne, shrugging. ‘She has come all this way to find me! It would break her heart if I were to draw back. Besides, it is not such a bad match; there is nothing my father could object to.’

‘But you don’t love her.’

‘
Love
? No, I. . .’

The carriage had come to a halt, and Mr Alleyne realized they had arrived at his lodgings. He thanked Mr Lagallan again for his hospitality, and climbed unsteadily out on to the flagway. As the coach pulled away, Mr Lagallan stared out of the window at the deserted streets, then with sudden violence he slammed his fist into the leather squabs.

Chapter Ten

The spell of fine weather continued, and Lady Bilderston could only marvel at Eustacia’s energy. They might return from a rout or a masked ball in the early hours of the morning, but as my lady was sipping at her morning chocolate she would be informed by her maid that Miss Marchant had been up for some time, had taken Snuffles for his customary walk, and was even now engaged in some useful employment such as practising her music or dabbling with her watercolours.

In the afternoons, Eustacia rode out or walked with some of her growing number of friends, returning with just enough time to change for dinner before accompanying her godmother to the theatre or yet more parties. Such a busy schedule gave Eustacia little time for reflection, and that was exactly what she wanted.

When she had left Somerset, Miss Marchant’s ambition had been simple: to find Rupert and marry him. But after two months in London, she found matters were a little more complicated. Rupert had agreed that they should be married as soon as he had spoken in person to his father. Since the evening at Vauxhall, she had not seen Vivyan, and she had to admit that she missed him. She glimpsed him occasionally at balls or assemblies, escorting Miss Pensford, but although he might acknowledge her with a bow and a slight smile, he never approached her. Eustacia wondered if she had in some way offended him, but when she did have the opportunity to tax him with this, he merely laughed. They were at one of the fashionable balls which occupied the evenings of the
ton,
and the movement of a country dance had thrown them together momentarily. Knowing it might be her only chance, Eustacia asked him bluntly if he was avoiding her.

‘Of course not. Why should I do so?’

She wrinkled her nose.

‘Well, that I don’t know, but … I never see you any more!’

He smiled at her.

‘That is only to be expected,’ he said gently. ‘We both of us have obligations.’

There had been no time for more, but for Eustacia the enjoyment of the evening was at an end. She felt as if a cloud had descended over her, dimming her happiness.

And then there was Nathan MacCauley.

After their meeting at Vauxhall, he had sent her a small bouquet of flowers and a card, expressing his hope that she was quite recovered. Lady Bilderston was naturally at a loss to understand the message, and since Eustacia could not give her the full story, her godmother was amused to think that she should have a secret admirer. Miss Marchant decided that her maid must accompany her on any future outings, and she was thankful she had taken this precaution, because it seemed that Mr MacCauley was always on hand whenever she left the house. He had taken to walking in the little park, and he was often to be found riding in Hyde Park at the fashionable hour, always with some excuse to come up to talk to her.

Remembering their first meeting, Eustacia knew she must be careful in her dealings with the man, but he could be a charming companion, ready to tell her of his days adventuring through France with Vivyan, something that Mr Lagallan was reluctant to do. Eustacia listened with rapt attention to his lively discourse, even laughing aloud at the more comical of their escapades. At such times she forgot her suspicions and began to look upon Nathan MacCauley as a friend.

Mrs Lagallan, observing her young friend walking with Mr MacCauley, determined to warn her of the danger of being too intimate with the gentleman, and uttered her caution when they next rode out together.

Eustacia turned an innocent gaze upon her companion.

‘You think I am too free with Mr MacCauley?’

‘I am in no position to judge that, my dear, I am merely concerned that the man is an adventurer.’

‘No more so than Vivyan.’

‘But Vivyan’s wildness has been somewhat tamed by his responsibilities. He has his estates to run now. From what he has told me, Nathan MacCauley has no such ties.’

‘He is not so fortunate, then, as Vivyan,’ murmured Eustacia. She noticed Mrs Lagallan’s look of alarm and laughed. ‘You need not worry, Caroline, I am in no danger of encouraging Nathan MacCauley.’

With this, Caroline had to be content, but she voiced her worries to her brother-in-law at the first opportunity. They were in the morning-room at Bruton Street, where Caroline was arranging roses in a glass bowl.

‘Poor Stacey, she has no gentleman to protect her,’ she remarked.

‘She has Rupert Alleyne. He could soon send MacCauley to the right about.’

‘But you know MacCauley, Vivyan. Could you not have a word with him?’

Mr Lagallan laughed, but there was no humour in his voice.

‘MacCauley is already suspicious of my involvement with Stacey; I don’t want to stir that up again. Besides, I have no right to protect her. Let Alleyne do it.’

But Miss Marchant did not discuss Nathan MacCauley with Rupert. In fact, she discussed very little with Mr Alleyne, for the sad truth was that Miss Marchant was no longer sure of her own heart. The stern, preoccupied young man she now saw bore little resemblance to the carefree Rupert Alleyne who had romanced her in Somerset. Then, she had been thrilled to listen to his whispered endearments as they danced together, and to exchange stolen kisses in a secluded garden, but here in London Mr Alleyne was so circumspect he was almost pompous. When she had set out for London, Eustacia had believed she would throw herself into Rupert’s arms and tell him everything, but she now knew that was impossible. He was shocked to think that she had run away from home and travelled in the company of Caroline Lagallan: how much worse he would think her if he knew the truth, and there was no way she could explain to him about Nathan MacCauley’s behaviour without revealing something of her true journey to Town.

She mulled over this problem whilst riding in the park, and as she made her way back to Fanshawe Gardens she was so engrossed with her concerns that she did not notice Mr Alleyne on the flagway until he called to her. She looked up.

‘Rupert! Are you coming to see me?’

‘Yes, I was on my way to tell you that I have had word from my father: I wanted to discuss it with you.’

‘I see.’ She jumped nimbly down from the saddle and handed her reins to the waiting groom.

‘Miss Marchant, Stacey! I—’

‘Pray step inside with me, Rupert, and we will discuss it.’ Eustacia gave him a rather strained smile and accompanied him into the house. ‘I am glad you have come,’ she said, drawing off her gloves and tossing them together with her hat on to a side table, and waving away Avebury, the butler, who was coming towards them. ‘Come into the morning-room, Rupert.’

‘If I may have a word, Miss—’ began the butler.

‘Not now, Avebury.’ She gave him a distracted smile. ‘Pray tell my lady that I have returned, if you wish, but please make sure that Mr Alleyne and I are not disturbed.’

Without waiting for a reply, she swept Rupert into the morning-room, firmly closing the door upon the servant. Rupert walked into the middle of the room, then turned to face Miss Marchant.

‘Stacey, my father has written to tell me he will not be returning to Town until the autumn.’ He paused, twisting his fine York gloves between his fingers. ‘The thing is, I told you we could not go ahead with our engagement until I had spoken to him.’

‘I know, Rupert, and at first I was angry at that, but it was wrong of me to be so impatient. You see, I know now—’

Mr Alleyne, locked into his own dilemma, scarcely heard her. He said bluntly, ‘Well, this cannot go on until the autumn. I have treated you abominably.’

‘No, Rupert, it is my fault. It was wicked of me to follow you to London. I should not have put you in this situation.’

‘But I will make it up to you, Stacey. My mind is made up; I do not deserve you, but—’

Miss Marchant ran forward and took his hands.

‘Please, Rupert, listen to me before you say any more!’

He looked down at her, frowning at her unusually serious expression, but before Eustacia could speak again they were interrupted by a stern, autocratic voice from the doorway.