* * * *
She was no further forward when Wednesday arrived, and she prepared for Lady Bilderston’s party with a feeling of impending doom. She knew she was looking wan, and pinched her cheeks until they were stinging, but to no avail. Lady Bilderston attributed her god-daughter’s lack of spirits to too many late nights.
‘I have been so diverted by your visit that I have failed to make sure you had sufficient rest. And now you have brought that — that young person into the house, causing mayhem—’
‘Oh, dear,’ exclaimed Eustacia. ‘Is Nan very troublesome?’
‘Well, no,’ conceded my lady. ‘In fact, Cook says she is a good girl, and very handy about the kitchen, but you know what I mean! I cannot keep her here, my love, and heaven knows I cannot think of anyone of my acquaintance who would take her, in her condition!’
‘Oh, Godmama, how tiresome of me to foist her on to you! But you must not trouble yourself about Nan, for I am determined to find a suitable placement for her and Tom.’ She hugged Lady Bilderston, heedless of that lady’s protests not to crush her gown. ‘You are the best of godmothers, ma’am!’
‘Yes, yes, but that does not change the fact that you are looking very pale, my love, and that will not do. We will not go to Almack’s tomorrow, and perhaps we should cry off from Lady Addingham’s ball on Saturday. A few days’ rest will restore your spirits, I am sure. Now, what do you say?’
Thinking of her forthcoming meeting with Nathan MacCauley, Eustacia could only nod: suddenly she would have given everything to be safely back in Somerset, and to find that all this had been a dream. But it was real, and Eustacia knew her duty: she stood with her godmother at the top of the sweeping staircase and greeted the guests, smiling and chatting as if she had not a care in the world.
When Rupert arrived, he kissed her cheek dutifully, failed to notice her unnatural pallor and wandered off to mingle with the rest of the guests. Miss Pensford arrived shortly after, with her parents, and Eustacia observed that Mrs Pensford had thrown off her mourning-clothes and was wearing a very elegant gown of blue satin, several shades darker than the celestial-blue lustring other daughter’s robe, but equally expensive. As if to add to her depression, Eustacia realized that if Mrs Pensford had now ended her mourning for her cousin, there was little to prevent the announcement of Miss Pensford’s engagement to Vivyan. Such lowering thoughts did nothing to lighten Eustacia’s mood, but she covered it well, and no one talking to Miss Marchant would have guessed the turmoil within.
Soon after supper, she entered the salon and saw Rupert and Helen Pensford sitting together, deep in conversation. When at last Rupert moved away, Miss Pensford’s eyes followed him, and there was such a look of longing and despair on her usually impassive countenance that Eustacia felt her stomach turn over. It seemed impossible to Eustacia that Helen should prefer Rupert to Vivyan. A sudden realization burst upon her: she could scarcely believe it. She told herself it was impossible, but the idea, once born, was not to be brushed aside lightly. Excusing herself from the next dance, much to the chagrin of her partner, Eustacia slipped between the chattering spectators and watched. It soon became apparent that Mr Alleyne’s eyes strayed far too frequently towards Miss Pensford, and when he spoke to her, that young lady’s pale cheek became suffused with a delicate blush.
‘Of course,’ muttered Eustacia. ‘What a fool I have been not to see it before!’ A mischievous twinkle gleamed in her eyes: it was now even more necessary to rescue Vivyan, and make two other people happy at the same time!
* * * *
The following morning found Miss Marchant in a whirl of activity, and by the time she took Snuffles for his morning walk, she had already sent Nan upon an errand and arranged for her groom to bring her mare to the door at noon. Lady Bilderston, coming out of her bedroom just as Eustacia was descending the stairs, expressed her amazement at her god-daughter’s energy.
‘Surely you are not riding at this hour?’ she exclaimed, observing Eustacia’s riding-dress.
‘Why, yes, ma’am.’ Eustacia glanced down at the bandbox she carried in one gloved hand. ‘I — um — I discovered a rent in one of my gowns, and I thought I would drop it in to Madame Sylvie while I am out today.’
‘My dear child, if you have torn a gown there is no need to bother the modiste with it. Let me take it, and my woman shall set a stitch in it directly—’ She reached out to take the bandbox, but Eustacia whipped it away.
‘No, no, it - it is far too bad to be repaired here! I am sorry, Godmama, I did not wish to tell you, but I see I must confess. I caught it on a splinter when I was in the garden last week, and it is quite ripped! I was hoping to have it repaired before you knew anything about it. Pray, ma’am, let me do this, or I shall never forgive myself.’ On these words Eustacia ran lightly down the stairs, stopping at the bottom to blow her godmother a kiss before she danced out of the house.
Shaking her head, Lady Bilderston made her way downstairs at a more sedate pace, muttering under her breath about the unpredictability of her god-daughter.
* * * *
On Saturday morning Mr MacCauley was waiting within the gardens for Eustacia, and as she approached he made his bow, then turned to walk beside her.
‘Well, Miss Marchant — do you have an answer?’
She ignored his proffered arm.
‘First, tell me something of your property in Dorset. Is — is it a large estate?’
Mr MacCauley drew himself up.
‘Large enough. There is the home farm, and several acres of woodland. Haven’t seen it for years, but I doubt if it has changed much. My uncle did not enjoy good health, I understand, and the property has been run by his agent for the past dozen years.’
‘So it will have servants, footmen and chambermaids, and the like?’
‘By heaven, yes! I ain’t a pauper, you know.’
‘Then yes, I have decided to accept your offer - to buy your silence!’
‘A wise decision, my dear, if I may say so. Well, there’s a little church in Highgate. As soon as I’ve made all right with the curate—’
‘Pray, sir, let me finish! There are . . . terms’
He frowned at her, suddenly wary.
‘Terms?’
‘Yes. I am attending Lady Addingham’s ball this evening, and I want you to bring a travelling-coach to the door at eleven o’clock. From there we will travel to The Sun at Frith, where I have already secured rooms for us, and sent on my luggage—’
‘And why all this havey-cavey business, Miss? If you’re agreeable to marrying me, why don’t we just come out and tell your godmother?’
‘Because Mr Alleyne is very likely to shoot you, when he learns I have rejected him for you!’ She added mendaciously, ‘And I understand that he is a crack shot, too. No, it will be better if we tie the knot before we tell my family. And you need not think there will be any impropriety — my maid will be in attendance.’
‘Well, I don’t like it! How do I know you won’t double-cross me?’
‘You have my word upon it!’ She fixed him with her direct gaze. You can arrange a carriage for tonight, can you not?’
‘Well, of course I can, but I can’t help thinking there’s something dashed smoky about this whole thing!’
It took Miss Marchant some time to persuade Nathan MacCauley to agree to her plan, but her success elated her, and when she walked into Lady Bilderston’s morning-room some half an hour later, her eyes were still shining with her triumph.
‘Stacey, my love, have you been out already? I thought you were going to rest today.’ Lady Bilderston was seated at the little writing-desk, but now she leaned down to pat Snuffles, who had trotted up to her, flanks heaving from his exertion, but his tail wagging in greeting.
‘I am feeling so much better today, Godmama! In fact, I have asked Merlow to bring Bianca round in twenty minutes.’
‘My dear child, you cannot be thinking of riding today!’
*Why not? I am not in the leas
t tired now. You must not fret, ma’am, I shall be back in plenty of time to prepare for tonight’s party.’
‘Oh, but I was this minute writing to Lady Addingham with our apologies. I had quite forgotten to tell her that we would not be attending.’ She saw Eustacia’s blank look, and added: ‘You will remember that we decided we would forgo the party tonight, for you were looking so worn out, and when I suggested we should rest you agreed—’
‘Oh, heavens, did I really? Pray do not send it!’ cried Eustacia. ‘Dear ma’am, I have promised so many people that I shall be there, I could not possibly cry off!’
‘But, my dear, you have been looking so pale of late—’
‘But I am not pale now, Godmama, am I?’
‘Well, no, but—’
Eustacia fell to her knees before her godmother and clutched at her hands.
‘Dearest Godmama, pray tell me that we may go! I have been so looking forward to this ball, and besides, you yourself told me you wanted to wear the new lilac crepe that so becomes you, and what better occasion than this!’
‘Oh . . . very well, if you have set your heart on it, my love, but after this, you must promise me you will give up at least some of your engagements. If you go home looking positively haggard your grandfather will lay the blame at my door.’
Eustacia felt the hot tears pricking at her eyes.
‘You may be easy, then,’ she said. ‘I promise you, everything will change after this evening!’
* * * *
With so much to plan and organize, Miss Marchant wasted no time in fruitless speculation about the future, and an hour later she was trotting across Westminster Bridge and following her groom south on the Brighton road.
Nan’s visit to Bruton Street the previous day had elicited the information that Mr Lagallan would be returning directly to London from Worthing, and was expected to arrive in town mid-afternoon. Her groom assured her that she was travelling on the main route into Town, and she could only hope that nothing had occurred to change Mr Lagallan’s plans. She passed the turnpike at St George’s, trotted quickly past the asylum, and set off across Kennington Common. As the last of the houses disappeared, her groom brought his horse alongside hers, looking nervously about him.
‘There is no need to worry, Merlow,’ she remarked with more confidence than she felt. ‘Surely it is much too early for highwaymen?’
‘I’d be happier if we was back in the town, Miss.’
‘And we will be, hopefully, before too long! You did say this is the main road from Worthing, is it not?’
‘Aye, Miss, it is, but why you should want to ride out so far is a mystery to me.’
‘And so it shall remain, but not for much longer, I hope, for I am growing uncomfortably hot!’
‘Well, that’s hardly a surprise, Miss, if I may say so!’ declared Merlow, casting an eloquent glance at the heavy redingote she was wearing over her riding-habit. Feeling the sun on his own back, Merlow looked up at the cloudless blue sky and silently shook his head at the mysterious ways of the gentry. Ignoring him, Miss Marchant squinted into the distance, putting up one hand to shield her eyes from the sun.
‘Is - is that a coach coming towards us? I - I think . . . yes!’
She sighed with relief as she recognized Mr Lagallan’s high-stepping bays. The carriage was approaching at speed, and she brought her mare to a halt in the middle of the highway, waving frantically at the coachman.
The horses checked, and as the equipage came to a halt she saw Vivyan’s dark head appear at the window. Throwing the reins to her groom, Eustacia slipped easily to the ground.
‘Good afternoon, Vivyan! How fortunate I should come across you.’
‘Is it?’ Mr Lagallan’s dark eyes glinted at her as he jumped down from the carriage, but she met his suspicious gaze with her own innocent look.
‘I have been exploring, you see, but the sun is so hot, and I had just begun to feel a little faint.’
‘Well, no wonder at it, when you are wearing that dashed heavy surcoat! Here, let me help you take it off.’
‘I thought it might rain,’ she murmured, not meeting his eyes as she unbuttoned the coat.
‘Then you would have done better to stay at home!’ he retorted.
She did not reply, but swayed slightly against him. His face softened.
‘Come along then, brat, you’d better let me take you back.’
In a fading voice, Eustacia instructed Merlow to take her mare back to the stable, and allowed Mr Lagallan to help her into the carriage. Vivyan threw the offending surcoat on to the seat then climbed in beside her. Eustacia glanced at him from under her lashes, noting his stern expression.
‘It is very good of you to come to my assistance.’
‘It is my pleasure, ma’am.’
She began to pull off her gloves. ‘You are angry with me: you always become punctilious when I have offended you.’
‘You should not be here, alone in the carriage with me. What tricks are you playing now, Stacey?’
‘None, I assure you. Is Caroline quite settled in Worthing?’
‘Yes. She and the boys are comfortable enough. She has some thoughts of buying a house there, and plans to start looking for a suitable property once Philip joins them at the end of the month.’
‘And will you go back?’
‘No. I have an appointment with Miss Pensford’s father tomorrow, to draft out the notice of our engagement.’
There was an uncomfortable silence. Eustacia’s eyes roamed around the coach, looking everywhere except at her host — at the thickly padded squabs, the carriage-pistols gleaming in their leather holsters, the polished brass handles on the doors. Aware that Vivyan was watching her, she closed her eyes and pretended to sleep. The carriage rattled on, and she heard him sigh.
‘What a damnable coil!’
She did not move, but her heart went out to him: she was more determined than ever that her plan must succeed.
* * * *
As the carriage pulled into Fanshawe Gardens, Eustacia stirred and opened her eyes.
‘Oh, are we here so soon?’
Vivyan was already jumping down from the carriage. Eustacia rose and shook out her skirts, and as she did so her fine leather gloves flew out on to the flagway.
‘Oh, dear — I had forgotten they were in my lap! And my surcoat!’ As Vivyan stooped to retrieve the gloves, she turned back to gather up her coat before descending from the carriage.
With her coat draped over one arm, and her gloves held tightly in her free hand, Eustacia could only smile at Vivyan.
‘Forgive me if I do not shake hands with you, but pray believe that I am truly grateful to you for helping me! Will I see you at Lady Addingham’s tonight?’
‘No, I think not.’
Eustacia digested this information with no visible signs of disappointment: in fact, it suited her better that she would not have Vivyan’s percipient gaze upon her that evening. She looked up at him, trying to fix every detail of his dear face in her memory.
‘Goodbye, Vivyan.’ She hesitated, as if she would say more, then turned and ran lightly into the house.
It was not to be expected that Lady Bilderston would remain in ignorance of Eustacia’s return in Mr Lagallan’s carriage, but Eustacia waved aside her godmother’s concerns and insisted upon preparing for the party, declaring that she had never felt better in her life. Lady Bilderston could not deny that her god-daughter was indeed in quite her best looks; there was a healthy glow to her cheeks, and her green eyes sparkled as she sat before her mirror while her maid skilfully fixed a number of creamy rosebuds amongst her curls.
Lady Bilderston looked a little perturbed when Miss Marchant came downstairs with her thick travelling-cloak over her arm, but if she preferred to shroud herself in its heavy folds rather than a more elegant silk wrap, my lady felt unequal to the task of arguing. Instead, she merely shrugged her plump shoulders and led the way to the waiting coach.
* * * *
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Later, in the grand ballroom of Addingham House, Lady Bilderston watched her god-daughter whirling around the dance-floor, and had to admit that the child showed no signs of her earlier malaise. Indeed, she thought she had rarely seen her so animated, laughing at Mr Alleyne who, by contrast, was looking unusually solemn. Lady Bilderston thought, too, that Miss Pensford was not in her best looks, but that might have been due to Mr Lagallan’s absence. Rumour had it that the couple were about to announce their engagement, so it was no wonder if the poor child was missing her beau!
Miss Pensford’s lack of spirits had not escaped Eustacia’s notice as she moved through the dance, and she remarked upon it to Rupert, asking in a teasing voice if he had quarrelled with her.
‘I? No, of course not!’ replied that gentleman, startled. The dance had ended, and he glanced over Eustacia’s head towards Miss Pensford. ‘Perhaps — perhaps I should speak to her, just to ensure that I have not unwittingly been uncivil.’
Miss Marchant’s green eyes gleamed. She said solemnly, ‘Yes, I think that’s a good idea, Rupert.’ Noting his worried look, her own eyes softened, and after a moment she said, ‘But before you do so, I think we should talk. Come with me, Rupert, it is important.’ She led him towards the tall windows that opened out on to the terrace. ‘Let us step out into the garden, where we may be private.’
‘Stacey, I am not sure we should,’ murmured Rupert, hanging back. ‘The proprieties—’
‘Oh, to the devil with the proprieties! It’s too late for me now!’ she added quietly to herself, thinking of her plans for later that evening. She tugged at his hand. ‘Believe me, Rupert, this is very important! Pray don’t be prudish.’
She dragged him down the shallow steps and into one of the shadowed walks that ran off at each side of the wide lawn. The clear sky was darkening, and the first stars twinkled above them. Only when Eustacia was sure they were alone did she stop and turn towards him. She stared up at him, meeting his puzzled look with her own determined gaze.
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