Melinda Hammond (16 page)

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Authors: The Dream Chasers

BOOK: Melinda Hammond
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‘We?’ muttered Lady Bilderston, in failing accents.

‘Why, yes, Godmama! I would have liked to track down this Mrs Bates, and punish the man responsible for Nan’s injuries, but that does not seem to be possible, and so we must be thankful that we have at least saved the child, and now I shall need your help in finding a post for Nan’s young man!’

* * * *

A night’s sleep did much to restore Nan’s spirits, although it brought no solution to her plight. However, she was content to remain at Fanshawe Gardens, confident that Miss Marchant would soon find an answer. Eustacia pondered the problem as she joined Caroline Lagallan for their afternoon ride in the park. They soon came upon the Major and his brother, and Vivyan, noting her distracted air, asked after her protégé.

They had fallen a little way behind the others, and Eustacia glanced about her to make sure they were not overheard before giving Mr Lagallan a full account of Nan’s adventures.

‘The poor child is still in some discomfort, and her eye is badly swollen, but she is very much better this morning. I left her shelling peas under Cook’s watchful eye.’

‘And you plan to marry her off to this Tom? I wish you luck there!’

‘You think it an impossible task? Perhaps, but I think that once Tom becomes used to the idea that he is to be a father, he will regret sending Nan away.’ Her brow wrinkled. ‘My biggest problem is to find him a suitable post, if Nan is correct that his present employer won’t allow him to marry. Godmama does not require another footman, and in any case I do not think London is the best place to bring up a baby; I would prefer to find them something in the country. I have written to Grandpapa, asking him to make enquiries in the neighbourhood, but I cannot expect to hear back for some time yet.’

‘I am surprised you have not asked me to help you place them.’

Her eyes flew to his face, but she was reassured by the gleam in his dark eyes, and returned his smile.

‘You have done so much for me already, Vivyan. I vowed I would not trouble you with this. Unless, of course,
you
are looking for a footman?’

‘No, brat, I am not! But you and young Alleyne will be setting up your own establishment very soon, will you not? You will be sure to need extra staff.’

Eustacia frowned.

‘Perhaps,’ she said doubtfully, remembering Rupert’s behaviour the previous evening. ‘However, I would much rather have Tom and Nan settled before then.’

Mr Lagallan smiled down at her.

‘You are working very hard on behalf of this maid, Stacey.’

‘She reminds me of what might have become of
me,’
she replied in a low voice. ‘Nan came to London to find Tom, and arrived penniless, friendless — very much like my own case, if you had not happened by.’ She looked up, a smile trembling on her lips. ‘I owe you so much, my friend.’

For a long moment green eyes held black, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. Her heart began to pound heavily as she read the message in his intense gaze.

‘Eustacia—’

Mr Lagallan was interrupted by a cheery voice hailing him, and Mr MacCauley trotted up.

Well met, Viv, my friend! And Miss Marchant, your most obedient servant, ma’am!’

Mr Lagallan glared at him. ‘Well, Nathan?’

Mr MacCauley’s smile did not falter.

‘Couldn’t ride by without a word, my friend.’ His grey eyes narrowed. ‘I trust I am not interrupting anything?’

Eustacia felt her cheeks grow hot.

‘Not at all,’ replied Vivyan, in his easy style, moving forward to shield Eustacia from MacCauley’s gaze. ‘So have you settled your affairs now, Nathan?’

‘Aye, almost. Been with the lawyers all morning - dashed officious breed! Wanted proof positive of my identity before they would part with a penny. Not that there’s a great deal, when all’s said—’ He broke off, glancing apologetically at Miss Marchant. ‘But you don’t want to listen to me prosing on about these legal matters! Suffice it to say that I have a snug little property in Dorset. I am a man of substance, Viv, like yourself!’

Mr Lagallan returned a non-committal answer, and after a few more moments Mr MacCauley touched his hat and trotted off, Miss Marchant gazing thoughtfully after him. Vivyan glanced at her.

‘I mistrust that look, Stacey. What plans are you hatching now?’

A pair of green eyes turned innocently towards him.

‘Nothing, sir! Only ... a property in Dorset! Do you think perhaps he will be requiring more servants?’

‘No!’ Mr Lagallan frowned at her. ‘Stacey, I forbid you to foist that young woman and her beau on to Nathan MacCauley! He’s an adventurer, m’dear. Best leave well alone.’

‘So, too, were you an adventurer,’ she reminded him.

‘But I, my dear, have the advantage of a considerable fortune. Unless I am very much mistaken, Nathan MacCauley will have little to show of his inheritance once he has settled his bills in Town. He has been living pretty high, you know.’

‘So you think he cannot help me?’

‘I
know
it! Besides, you don’t even know yet if this Tom will agree to your plans.’

* * * *

Eustacia was well aware of that fact, and it was with some trepidation that she escorted Nan to the little gardens to meet her beau later that week. With the aid of one of Lady Bilderston’s footmen acting as a messenger, and a handful of silver coins, Miss Marchant had persuaded Tom to meet Nan on his free afternoon. As she took Nan to the gardens, she spotted a thin young man pacing up and down one of the walks. She guessed his identity before Nan had uttered his name, and restrained her companion from running to meet him.

‘Wait, child. We do not want to frighten him away.’

The young man eyed them warily as they approached, but Eustacia put on her most friendly smile to greet him.

‘You must be Tom. I am delighted to meet you. Nan has told me all about you.’

Tom flushed, and stammered something inaudible. She continued, ‘You know that Nan is going to have your child?’ A hunted look appeared in the slightly protuberant blue eyes. ‘It
is
your child, is it not? Pray tell me the truth, for believe me I only want to help you.’

He hung his head. ‘Yes’m.’

‘Then do you not think you should marry Nan?’

‘I should o’course, but I can’t! ‘Is lordship’d cast me off if ‘e was to find out. Strict, ‘e is, and don’t allow none of ‘is under-staff to be wed.’

‘Well, what if I was to find you a suitable post with some other gentleman? One who would not object to your having a wife. Would you marry Nan then?’

‘Ah, s’pose I might do,’ he said slowly. ‘If I could be sure it was as good a position as this’n.’

Nan gave a loud sigh. ‘Oh, Tom!’

He looked at her, a shy smile lighting his rather vacant features. He held his hand out.

‘I’m sorry, Nan, about what I said t’other night. I was afeard, y’see.’

Nan hugged him. ‘Course you was, Tom. I understands
that.’

Miss Marchant turned away to inspect a colourful flower-bed, giving the two young people a little time to become reconciled. However, after a lengthy period she gently reminded Nan that they should be getting back. The young couple clung together for a final embrace, then Tom gently pushed the girl away from him.

‘Go on now, off you go with Miss,’ he said. He glanced up. ‘And you’ll find me a place where Nan and me can be together — a place in a gentleman’s ‘ouse?’

‘Of course I will.’ Eustacia firmly suppressed her doubts.

She guided Nan back through the gardens, cudgelling her brains to hit upon some scheme for their salvation.

‘We must find someone who can employ the both of you,’ she told Nan. ‘What can you do, child?’

‘Well, Miss, I dunno.’ Nan thought for a moment, then she said: ‘I can milk cows!’

Eustacia’s spirits sagged.

‘I was thinking of something more genteel for you, such as a lady’s maid.’

‘I never met no ladies afore, Miss, ‘cepting yourself.’

‘Well, never mind. What else can you do — what did you do at home, did you help your mama?’

‘Why, yes’m. Mam was always poorly, so I helped with the babes, and cooked, and kept house.’

‘Well, now, that is
much
better!’ remarked Eustacia, brightening. ‘I have no doubt we will be able to find a household where you can both be useful.’

Nan nodded, smiling up at her so trustingly that Eustacia knew she would not rest until she had secured the future for these young lovers.

* * * *

Walking Snuffles the next morning, Eustacia pondered the problem but could find no answer. She wondered if she should ask Rupert to help her, but immediately abandoned the idea. Mr Alleyne had been noticeably cool about her adoption of Nan, and had argued strongly that the girl should be returned to her home where she should throw herself upon the mercy of the Parish. Miss Marchant’s tentative suggestion that Nan and Tom could join
their
household once they were married so appalled Mr Alleyne that Eustacia had hastily disclaimed, but Rupert’s lack of understanding convinced her that they should
not
marry.

She was quite sure now that she did not love Rupert, but how was she to tell him so, when he was determined upon the match? She had been about to confess everything when her grandfather interrupted them, and once Rupert had declared himself to Sir Jasper she felt as if there was no escape from the match, especially with Sir Jasper so in favour of it. The only flicker of light was that there had been no formal announcement, but even so it seemed that everyone knew their secret. To cry off now would bring hurt and disappointment to all those she loved most, including Rupert, unless he could be brought to see that they were not suited.

She was deep in thought as she entered the little park, and did not see Mr MacCauley waiting just inside the gates until she had unclipped the dog-leash and Snuffles had trotted off to enjoy his customary exploration of the gardens. The gentleman was walking towards her, smiling, and her heart sank, for she very much wanted to be alone. To turn and leave was unthinkable: Snuffles was so used to the walk now that it was unlikely he would return to her until they had completed the circuit. Bracing herself, Eustacia gave no more than a slight smile to the gentleman, and glanced behind her to assure herself that her maid was in close attendance.

‘Miss Marchant! Your servant, ma’am!’

‘How do you do, Mr MacCauley?’

‘Very well, ma’am, thank you. But I have not seen you here recently - I had begun to think you were avoiding me!’

‘I cannot tarry, sir, for I promised Lady Bilderston I would attend her—’

‘And I would not detain you for the world, ma’am! I will merely accompany you on your walk.’

Miss Marchant shook her head. ‘That is kind of you, sir, but truly, I prefer to walk alone this morning.’

His brows drew together. ‘My dear ma’am, what has wrought this change in you? If I have in some way offended—’

‘No, no, Mr MacCauley, I assure you it is nothing like that! Merely that I wish to be alone.’

But the gentleman was not to be put off. He fell into step beside her.

‘Now, my dear Miss Marchant, we are such good friends that I cannot think you will object if I walk with you, especially when I tell you that I have made the acquaintance of a friend of yours - Mr Rupert Alleyne.’ He returned her startled look with a bland smile. ‘Yes, quite so. We met at The Cocoa Tree a few nights ago. A very pleasant young man, Mr Alleyne, and one who enjoys the patronage of Mr Lagallan, I believe.’

Eustacia was cautious.

‘They are acquainted, I know no more than that,’ she said.

‘Mr Alleyne is fortunate to have such a friend.’ Mr MacCauley’s smile became more fixed. ‘A man could do a great deal with someone like Mr Lagallan to recommend him.’ He switched his gaze back to Eustacia. ‘And now I understand that you are to marry Mr Alleyne.’

Eustacia felt her cheeks flame, and saw the triumphant look in Nathan MacCauley’s eyes. She said, with as much cold dignity as she could muster: ‘You are mistaken, sir!’

‘Am I? True, there has been no announcement, but neither is it public knowledge that you came to London to find Mr Alleyne.’

She stopped, the colour draining from her face as quickly as it had come.

She tried to laugh. That is nonsense! I have no idea where you heard such a tale.’

She set off again, quickening her pace, but the gentleman fell into step beside her once more.

‘Can you not guess? I had it from Mr Alleyne himself. Oh, don’t worry, my dear, I have not told anyone else, but our dear young friend was banged up to the eyes by the time we left The Cocoa Tree. He was so full of wine that I had to give him my arm to get him home safe. Quite maudlin he became, telling me how unworthy he is of your undying devotion, and how you ran away from home and persuaded Mrs Lagallan to bring you to London.’

Miss Marchant tossed her head. ‘I think you have said quite enough, sir. Please leave me!’

‘I wonder how he would feel if he learned that it was
not
Mrs Lagallan who brought you to London,’ he leaned closer and whispered, ‘but her rakish brother-in-law?’

Eustacia was so startled by this that she dropped the dog-leash. Mr MacCauley retrieved it for her, a knowing smile curving his lips.

‘Well, well, my dear — will you deny that, too?’

‘Of course I deny it!’ she said, coldly. ‘What - what a preposterous idea!’

‘Perhaps I should take this — ah —
preposterous
idea to Mr Alleyne? And then, of course, there is Miss Pensford to consider. Rumour has it she is about to become engaged to the gentleman in question.’

Eustacia hesitated, then she dismissed her maid, telling her that Mr MacCauley would see her home.

‘Not, of course, that there is any truth in this nonsense,’ she told him, ‘but servants can be such tattle-mongers.’

‘I quite understand you, my dear, and such a story as this could be very damaging if it became known, could it not?’

‘It would be denied, of course.’

‘Oh? And what about the little matter of the landlords at Marlborough and Reading, and at The Golden Cockerel?’ He saw her startled look, and triumph flashed in his eyes. ‘Once I had heard Mr Alleyne’s tale I made enquiry, and found that Vivyan Lagallan and his — er — cousin had stopped overnight at a certain hostelry in Marlborough, and then of course I met this self-same
cousin
at The Star in Reading, and again at The Golden Cockerel. How could I forget the tender touch that soothed my fevered brow through the night?’

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