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.
‘So, mi
ss — this is how you spend your time in London!’
Chapter Eleven
The two young people jumped apart and turned to look at the elderly gentleman standing in the doorway. Miss Marchant recovered first, saying joyfully,
‘Grandpapa! I had no idea you were here!’
‘So I see,’ said Sir Jasper, his countenance relaxing slightly as he noted her evident pleasure in seeing him. He allowed her to help him to a chair.
‘Pray, sir, sit down here and tell me what has brought you to London?’
‘You have, blister it!’ he declared, glaring at her from under his bushy grey brows. ‘You were supposed to be staying with that fool of a governess near Bath, and the next moment I get Bella’s letter telling me she’s invited you to stay and asking me to send on your clothes! Well, of course I agreed to it – often thought Bella should have put herself out more for you – but how did you get here, lass, eh? Your governess could tell me nothing of that, save to say that you had set off alone! Your Aunt Jayne is prostrate, thinking you have abandoned your family, so as soon as the doctor told me I was fit to travel, I set off to see for myself just what sort of scrape you had fallen into.’
‘No scrape at all, Grandpapa,’ Eustacia said soothingly, dropping to her knees in front of the old gentleman. She possessed herself of his hands and turned her expressive green eyes upon his face. ‘Oh, Grandpapa, it is such a tale that I could not put it all in a letter to you, but really, there was no need for you to post all the way to Town; I am sure Lady Bilderston told you I was perfectly safe.’
‘Bella is a soft-hearted old fool!’ he exclaimed, disposing scathingly of Lady Bilderston. ‘Safe? Ha! What is your godmother about, to leave you alone with this young man?’
‘What? Oh, of course, I had forgotten about Rupert.’ Eustacia sprang to her feet. ‘Grandfather, this — this is Mr Rupert Alleyne. You will remember we met him at the assemblies in Burnett — at least, Aunt Jayne met him, but you were recovering from your last illness, sir, and did not attend. Mr Alleyne was staying with his uncle, Sir Tristam, at Burnett Lodge.’
‘Eh? Alleyne, did you say?’ Sir Jasper peered at the young man. ‘Hmm, I know your uncle, of course, but that’s no reason for you to be alone here with my granddaughter.’
‘No, sir, but you see, I can explain—’
‘Hush, Rupert, perhaps it would be best if you left us,’ interposed Eustacia. Mr Alleyne looked stubborn.
‘No, Stacey, I think I should—’
‘What’s going on here, will someone tell me?’ demanded Sir Jasper, banging his cane on the floor.
‘Yes, Grandpapa, all in good time, but first Mr Alleyne is leaving.’
‘Oh no I’m not!’ declared that young man, with such force that both Miss Marchant and her grandfather stared at him. He ran his tongue over his dry lips. ‘It is not right that you should deal with this on your own, Eustacia. Sir Jasper, it — it is very fortuitous that you have arrived, sir, for I — I want to marry your granddaughter!’
Two pairs of eyes were fixed upon him. Eustacia clasped her hands together and lifted them to her mouth.
‘Oh, Rupert, no!’
Mr Alleyne nodded, his face very pale.
‘Yes, Eustacia. I came here today to tell you that this shilly-shallying must end.’ He turned back to Sir Jasper, standing before him with the air of a schoolboy determined upon confession.
‘You should know, sir, that it is all my fault that Miss Marchant came to London. She set out to find me, unworthy as I am, because I had — had given her to believe that I loved her, which I do, of course!’ he added quickly. ‘I — I left Somerset in the belief that it would be better for us both if we parted, but Eustacia has shown such — such devotion, such unswerving loyalty, that—’ He broke off, biting his lip. ‘Sir Jasper, it is my dearest wish, and Miss Marchant’s, that you allow us to be married at the earliest opportunity.’
Eustacia stared at Rupert, tears starting in her eyes.
‘Oh, Rupert!’ she whispered.
He gave her a strained smile.
‘I know I should have spoken sooner, it was cowardly of me to put it off.’
Sir Jasper tapped his cane again.
‘Are you telling me that this — this liaison started in Burnett?’
‘Grandpapa—’
‘Yes, sir. I behaved reprehensibly towards Miss Marchant. I should have called upon you then, but I thought, I thought it too soon, that our affection would not last.’
‘Grandfather, I think we should talk,’ said Eustacia, her face as pale as her kerchief.
‘Plenty of time for that later,’ declared the old man, waving away her arm as he pushed himself out of his seat. ‘Alleyne — I remember you now: I knew your father, too, many years ago. Fine man.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘He had several estates, I believe. Are they still in the family?’ He shot a fierce glance at Mr Alleyne, who nodded.
‘Yes, sir. We have properties in Berkshire and Dorset, as well as the hunting-lodge in Leicestershire, and of course the estate in Yorkshire . . .’
‘Splendid, splendid. And you are his eldest son?’
‘His only son, Sir Jasper.’
‘Excellent! Well, well, I think we can clear up this business now, if the two of you are so set upon the match. If my Stacey came all the way to London to find you, sir, she must be serious about you! Well then, Mr Alleyne, give me your hand! You have my blessing.’
Somewhat bemused, Mr Alleyne took the proffered hand. Eustacia gave a little whimper.
‘Well, well,’ exclaimed Sir Jasper, smiling now, ‘a fine day’s work! I will compose a notice for the Gazette, and—’
‘No!’ Eustacia’s cry brought her grandfather’s eyes upon her. Flushing, she said more quietly, ‘Grandpapa, I — I think we must wait until Rupert has had time to discuss this with his father. I — I would not want him to think we are in unseemly haste to wed.’
‘Hmm, I suppose you are right,’ agreed Sir Jasper. He smiled at his granddaughter. ‘Now, I expect you are wishing me elsewhere, eh, puss? Very well, I shall go and find your godmama, and give her the good news!’ He nodded towards Mr Alleyne. ‘I’ll give you ten minutes alone with my granddaughter, but no more, or we shall have all the tongues a-wagging!’ Then, chuckling to himself, Sir Jasper walked slowly out of the room.
Eustacia gazed across the room at Mr Alleyne.
‘Well,’ said the young man eventually, ‘there it is. We are engaged.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Eustacia, in a hollow voice.
‘I did not think it would be so easy,’ he confessed. ‘I - I think my father might be a little harder to persuade.’
‘Yes.’
Rupert looked at her, his eyes narrowed.
‘Stacey — what is it, are you ill? This is what you wanted, is it not?’
Pulling herself out of her reverie, Eustacia summoned up a bright smile.
‘But of course! I came all the way to London just for this moment!’
Mr Alleyne took her hand.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘I’m glad I’ve made you happy.’ Gently he kissed her lips, then drew back, flushing and laughing. ‘Sorry — I mean — I must go!’
With another half-smile he left the room, and for several minutes Eustacia did not move, merely stared at the door. Then, with a sob, she fled to the seclusion of her bedchamber.
* * * *
It could not be expected that such news would remain a secret. Lady Bilderston made only her closest friends privy to the engagement, and in the strictest confidence, so that by the time Eustacia arrived at Almack’s a few days later, everyone was congratulating her. Even Miss Pensford, in her cool way, told her how fortunate she was.
‘Mr Alleyne is the most charming young man in London, Eustacia. I hope you will make him happy.’
‘At least as happy as you will make Vivyan!’ retorted Miss Marchant. She was immediately sorry for her outburst, but Miss Pensford was in no way discomposed.
>
‘There is a difference in our circumstances,’ came the cool reply. ‘Yours is very much a love-match, whereas Mr Lagallan and I are marrying for far more practical considerations, therefore there is no reason why our union should not be a success.’
Eustacia stared at her.
‘Do you feel nothing for him, then? Surely you must agree he is the most handsome gentleman in Town?’
‘To be truthful, no,’ replied Helen. She added, not meeting her friend’s eyes, ‘I — I do not find dark men attractive.’
Unable to think of a suitable reply that would not seriously jeopardize their friendship, Miss Marchant left her, but their conversation came to mind again when Vivyan approached Stacey later that evening.
‘I have come to beg a dance with you, while I still may,’ he announced, his dark eyes glinting.
‘You have heard, then.’ She tried to smile, but was uncertain of its success.
‘Yes. Caroline told me. She had it from Lady Trentham this morning. Congratulations.’
Thank you.’ She stole a glance up at him. ‘You sound a little . . . angry.’
‘Do I? My apologies. I am perhaps a little disappointed that you did not tell me yourself.’
‘It — it was meant to be a secret. My grandfather arrived in town three days ago, and Rupert immediately approached him, but it was agreed that nothing should be announced until Rupert has had the opportunity to talk to his father.’
‘I see. And where is the fortunate bridegroom tonight?’
‘He is here, somewhere.’ She looked about her. ‘Yes, over there — in fact, he is dancing with Helen.’ For a moment she watched them; they were laughing, their fair heads almost touching. Mr Lagallan voiced her thoughts.
‘They make a handsome couple.’
‘Yes. Yes, they do.’
He did not miss the wistful note in her voice, and glanced down at her.
‘What ails you, brat?’
She sighed. ‘I fear I have enjoyed a surfeit of parties. I feel . . . stifled, somehow.’ She gave him a brief smile. ‘Is it not ironic that now I have achieved everything I worked for, I should want something different? If I was in the country, I should go for a long ride, and gallop away these crotchets.’
Melinda Hammond Page 10
