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, 'bout 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 a little 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 undipped 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 the 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?'
Eustacia put up her chin. 'That is no concern of mine, I assure you.'
'Strange, then, that this cousin should bear such a striking resemblance to yourself—the red hair and green eyes. Very remarkable, and well remembered by the landlords at these hostelries. And I know from my enquiries, Miss Ma
rchant, that Vivyan Lagallan has no cousin matching that description! A fine tale to take to Miss Pensford.'
Miss Marchant frowned.
'What do you want?'
'Just a little of what is due to me, a place in society. You know that Lagallan and I were travelling-companions a few years ago. Neither of us had a penny to scratch with, yet here he is now, the darling of the ton, courted wherever he goes—what harm would it have done him to introduce me to his world? But no, he refused me, and yet he has taken that boy Alleyne under his wing, introduced him to his clubs—it should be me, me receiving such favours, not that pup!' He broke off, his face working as he considered the injustice of his situation, then he said in a calmer tone, 'But you don't want to hear me ranting in this way.'
'No, sir, I do not. All I know is that your dangerous lies could be very injurious to—to people whom I hold in affection. I would like to avoid that.'
'Good, that's very sensible of you, Miss Marchant. I knew we would deal together.' He reached out to touch her arm, but she snatched it away as if she had been burned.
'So, what is it you want—money? I have little enough of that, I assure you.'
'Money, well, that would be welcome, but— no, more than that.' MacCauley paused. 'I want an entree to Society.'
She laughed at him.
'But how can I help you there? I might be able to persuade my godmother to introduce you to one or two of her friends, but—'
'Oh no, my dear, that would not do at all. No, I have thought it all out. I want you to marry me.'
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Eustacia stopped in her tracks and turned to stare at Nathan MacCauley, then she threw back her head and laughed. The gentleman regarded her patiently, his own good humour unimpaired.
'Mock me all you want, my dear, but consider: if I take this story to Rupert Alleyne, do you think he will marry you, once he knows that you were traipsing all over the country dressed as a boy, the mistress of Vivyan Lagallan?'
Her eyes flashing with rage, Eustacia brought her hand up and struck him once, hard across the face. MacCauley flinched, but his sneering smile did not falter.
'That is not true!' she exclaimed.
'No?' he purred. 'Once I have told my tale, there are enough clues, enough little details that I know to make Society question, and then doubt. Even if Mr Alleyne is besotted with you, do you think his father would allow the wedding to go ahead? Much better that he thinks you have changed your mind, than that he should ever know the truth, eh?' He paused to allow his words to sink in. 'And then we come to Miss Pensford. A very genteel girl, I understand, from a family that abhors scandal. Such a deal of unpleasantness, and with your assistance we could avoid it all. Come, Miss Marchant—Eustacia! We have grown to know each other quite well, have we not? You may not love me now, but I am a considerate man, and you will not find me ungenerous. Once I am established, I am even prepared to let you go your own way, as long as you are discreet.'
Miss Marchant dragged her scattered wits together, trying to think rationally. She said scornfully: 'If, if I were to give up Mr Alleyne and marry you, I should very likely be cut off without a penny, without a friend. After all, you have not always been respectable, have you?'
His smile did not reassure her.
'Perhaps not, but you would find it difficult to prove, my dear. The only evidence that could have harmed me was in the letters you so kindly retrieved for me.' His smile deepened unpleasantly as Stacey paled. 'Oh, I know, you wish now that you had kept them, do you not? But you may be sure that I destroyed those letters before I left The Golden Cockerel. My past is now as clear as, shall we say, Vivyan Lagallan's.
T have no doubt that your family will be angry at first, but I watched you driving out with your grandfather, and walking here, in this very garden. It is clear he dotes on you. I have no doubt you could persuade him to make the best of it. After all, I am not ineligible, you know. I have my property in Dorset. Mayhap my wealth is not as great as Mr Alleyne's, but Sir Jasper would no more want this story published than Lagallan, would he?'
'You would not tell him!'
'Well, my dear, that very much depends upon yourself. If you wish, you may give him to understand that you mistook your heart. I don't think the old man would wish you to be miserable.'
They had arrived back at the gateway, and Snuffles was now trotting up to Eustacia, expecting the usual titbit. Miss Marchant bent to clip the leash on to the dog's collar. 'I—I need time to consider.'
Mr MacCauley shrugged, and thought of his creditors, whose letters and bills were filling several drawers of his desk.
'I will give you until next Saturday.'
'But that is barely a week!'
'That should be long enough for you to decide, and for me to obtain a special licence. I know you have attained your majority, so there'll be no need for a flight to the border!' He grinned at her. T will expect you here on Saturday morning, with an answer.'
Then, with a flourishing bow, he lounged away, whistling.
* * *
Feeling physically sick, Eustacia hurried back to Lady Bilderston's house and locked herself in her room. Considering the situation, she realized she was much more angry than afraid. If she had been carrying a pistol, she thought she would have shot Nathan MacCauley there and then, with very little remorse. This pleasant vision occupied her thoughts for a few moments, but then she turned her mind to find a more practical way out of her difficulties. None occurred. Her first impulse was to turn to Vivyan, but he had taken Caroline and the children to Worthing. Besides, she was not sure that he could help her: if he challenged Nathan MacCauley to a duel, it was certain that MacCauley would make sure the story was known beforehand, and then the damage would be even worse! She considered confessing everything to Rupert, but he would be so horrified she quaked at the very thought of his reaction. No, she thought miserably, she must find a solution for herself.
* * *
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 of her 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 goddaughter'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.'
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