Melinda Hammond (15 page)

‘Goodness, there is Mary Leavenham! Breeding again, I see. And Eliza Trentham - look, Stacey, she is waving! Pray acknowledge her, my dear, she is such a good friend!’

Obediently, Eustacia looked up to wave to Lady Trentham.

‘Oh, look, Godmama! Over there. Is that not Viv - Mr Lagallan?’

‘Why yes, child. I believe you are right. But who is that with him? Young Viscount Denny, I think, and several other young bucks.’

Eustacia waved energetically.

‘He has seen us!’ she declared, smiling, as Mr Lagallan raised his hand in salute. ‘I wonder if he will come to our box?’

Rupert scowled. ‘I hope he will not attempt it, for the performance is about to begin, and you will not wish to be interrupted. Come, Stacey, will you not try this marzipan? It is very good.’

* * * *

Mr Lagallan did not interrupt them, but Stacey had little time to miss him: there were the delightful sweetmeats to be sampled, and the play to entertain her, so that when the little party left the theatre shortly after midnight Eustacia was more in charity with Mr Alleyne than she had been since her arrival in London.

‘A truly splendid evening, Rupert. Thank you so much for arranging everything just so!’

With Miss Marchant’s sparkling glance upon him, a delicate flush tinged Rupert’s fair cheek. He muttered a disclaimer and, setting his hat firmly over his blond curls, he escorted the ladies out of the theatre.

Despite the hour, the piazza was full of voices, shouting to make themselves heard over the noise of the carriages which jostled for a space to pick up their patrons. Eustacia’s head was still buzzing with the performance, and she could not be still. She walked away from the crowd at the theatre entrance, knowing that Lady Bilderston’s coach would not be able to get near for some time yet. As she approached the corner of the building, she heard a sound; a human voice, she thought. Someone whimpering. Moving cautiously towards the shadowy side alley, Eustacia tried to blot out the noise of the crowd behind her, and this time she distinctly heard a low moaning, then the sound of someone sobbing. She peered into the blackness.

‘Who’s there?’ she called.

Silence greeted her. She tried again, stepping a little further into the alley.

‘Please show yourself, I want to help you.’

After a long moment, a figure detached itself from the shadows and moved slowly towards her. Eustacia saw it was a young girl, holding a worn red cloak about her shoulders. Dusky curls escaped around the edges of her mob cap, and as the girl lifted her head Eustacia caught her breath at the swollen lip and ugly bruising that disfigured her face.

‘Oh, you poor child!’ exclaimed Eustacia, with ready sympathy. ‘What has happened to you?’

She reached for the girl, guiding her out of the darkness with one arm around her trembling shoulders.

‘Who did this to you?’ she asked.

‘A gen’leman.’ The girl spoke with difficulty through her cracked and swollen lips. ‘Acos’ I wouldn’t - I wouldn’t—’

‘No gentleman would do this!’ muttered Miss Marchant. ‘Come, my dear, tell me where you live. I shall take you home.’

Tears spilled over the bruised cheeks.

‘I ain’t got no ‘ome. I — I ran away, see. Got a ride on a wagon into Lunnon.’

‘Did you think to get work here?’ Eustacia asked, her voice warm with sympathy.

The girl shook her head.

‘I — I come to find Tom. ‘E’s my beau, see, and ‘e come to Lunnon to be a footman in a lord’s ‘ouse. ‘E said ‘e would send fer me, but I couldn’t wait. I ‘ad to tell ‘im, to tell ‘im . . .’

‘Tell him what, my dear?’

The girl burst into tears, sobbing loudly, and Eustacia drew her into her arms, her warm heart touched by such misery. By this time, Lady Bilderston had come in search of her goddaughter. At the sight of Miss Marchant with her arms about the decidedly shabby figure, my lady threw up her hands.

‘Mercy me, what is this, Eustacia? What is amiss here?’ she demanded, as she approached with Mr Alleyne beside her.

Eustacia’s green eyes glittered angrily as she looked over the sobbing girl’s head.

‘This poor child has been attacked. I found her crying in the alleyway, and she tells me she does not live in London. We must take her with us, Godmama, and look after her until we can take her safely home again.’

Lady Bilderston drew back in horror.

‘My dear child, you cannot take up a perfect stranger!’

‘Well, neither can we leave her here,’ reasoned Miss Marchant.

Mr Alleyne pulled out his purse.

‘If you wish, I will give the girl the fare for a hack to take her home.’

‘She
has
no home!’ declared Miss Marchant. ‘She — she ran away to London.’

A small crowd was beginning to gather, and Rupert looked about him uneasily.

‘Stacey,’ he hissed, ‘look at her clothing. She is a serving-wench.’

‘She is no less a child!’ retorted Eustacia, her arms tightening around the shaking form.

‘M-Miss Marchant, I beg you — leave her.’ said Rupert. ‘We are beginning to attract attention.’

Eustacia looked up, noticing for the first time the interested faces gathered about them. She was unconcerned with their curiosity, and soon returned her attention to the girl, who was still sobbing quietly.

At the edge of the crowd, a gentleman in a silk evening cloak lowered his quizzing-glass and flicked an amused glance at his companion.

‘I can see no scarlet stockings, old friend, but would that be. . . ?’

Mr Lagallan’s mouth twisted into a wry smile.

‘Yes, Denny,’ he murmured, ‘it would!’

Eustacia fixed Lady Bilderston with an anxious gaze.

‘Godmama, pray say we may take her up with us.’

Well, that is — I — oh, my child, how can you be sure she is telling the truth?’

‘Quite so,’ agreed Rupert, trying to take control. He held out his hand towards Miss Marchant. ‘Come along now,’ he said firmly. ‘This is not your concern.’

‘It is the concern of
every
Christian!’ she flashed, her eyes very bright.

‘If I might make a suggestion?’ said a voice.

Eustacia looked round as Mr Lagallan stepped out of the crowd. He was smiling, but not unkindly. He bowed to Lady Bilderston.

‘Ma’am, I believe I saw your carriage but a few yards away: perhaps Mr Alleyne should direct it here?’
He watched as that young gentleman nodded eagerly and hurried off, then he turned back to the ladies. ‘I think, my lady, it would do no harm to take the girl with you, if Miss Marchant is set upon it.’ His lips twitched as he surveyed the crowd around them. ‘You can then continue this discussion in — ah — a more private mode.’

Lady Bilderston pouted.

‘I have to say I think you are right, sir.’ She gave a sigh. ‘Very well. Come, Stacey, bring the child.’

The carriage rumbled up to them, scattering the onlookers, and Rupert jumped down ready to hand in his charges. His jaw dropped when Eustacia approached, her arm still firmly about the girl’s shoulders.

‘Y-you cannot take her in the coach!’

‘Well, I don’t know what else we are going to do with her!’ snapped Lady Bilderston, exasperated.

The smile in Mr Lagallan’s eyes deepened.

‘Denny and I will make room for you in my carriage, Alleyne, if you would prefer that,’ he said softly.

Rupert’s lips thinned. He said stiffly, ‘Thank you, but I think I know my duty!’

Eustacia bundled the girl into the coach.

‘Pray do not come with us if you are going to be horridly cross, Rupert!’

‘He is not cross, my dear,’ drawled Vivyan. ‘He is merely concerned at the tongues that will wag over this!’

Miss Marchant’s chin went up.

‘Let them wag!’

In the far corner of the carriage, Lady Bilderston threw up her hands.

‘My dear child, pray do not talk so! Mr Alleyne, do not stand there in the doorway - are you coming with us or not?’

‘Of course he is.’ Mr Lagallan gave Rupert a gentle push. ‘Go to it, Alleyne. It’s a rare thing in these modem times for a gentleman to have such an opportunity to rescue a damsel in distress!’

As Mr Alleyne climbed into the coach, muttering under his breath, Eustacia glanced out of the window at Vivyan, a slight doubt shadowing her eyes. Meeting her glance, he smiled, and Eustacia relaxed, insensibly cheered by his silent support.

The coach rattled through the dark streets, and Miss Marchant kept her arm about the young girl, thankful that the tears had now subsided to the occasional sob.

‘Do you know,’ she said, handing the child her own snowy handkerchief, ‘I think we would go on more comfortably if we knew what to call you. What is your name, my dear?’

‘N-Nan,’
came the stumbling reply.

‘Nan. What a pretty name. And you came to London to find your beau?’

‘Yes’m.’

‘Well, perhaps tomorrow I shall help you to find him.’

‘Oh, no!’ Nan turned two dark and tearful eyes towards Miss Marchant. ‘No, ma’am, ‘tis no use! I’s already seen ‘im, but ‘e says — ‘e says. . . .’ She stopped, fighting back a fresh bout of tears.’ ‘E says ‘e can’t ‘elp me, bein’ as ‘ow ‘e’s new to ‘is post.’ She twisted the handkerchief between her fingers.

‘T-Tom says ‘e can’t consider a wife until ‘e’s first footman, at least!’ Tears ran down her bruised cheeks. ‘ ‘E don’t want to marry me, miss! I d-don’t think ‘e ever thought of marryin’ me!’

‘Oh, my poor child! Did Tom do this to you?’ Miss Marchant gently brushed the dusky curls from the girl’s wounded forehead.

‘Oh, no, miss, that weren’t Tom! After I see’d ‘im this mornin’, I thought p’raps I could find work, that mebbe Tom’d change ‘is mind, when ‘e’d ‘ad chance to get used to me bein’ around. B-but no one’d take me, ‘cos I ain’t got no letters tellin’ ‘em that I’s honest and ‘ard workin’. Then Mrs Bates comes up to me, very kind, like, and she says I could stay with ‘er, and she’d look after me, and if I was a good girl, and did as I was bid, I should ‘ave a room of me own, and — and a good wage.’ Eustacia felt a shudder run through the girl’s body. ‘She — she took me to ‘er ‘ouse, and put me in a room with … with a man. “There you are, sir,” she says. “A ripe peach for ‘ee, fresh from the country.” And then she goes out and – and locks the door.’

Lady Bilderston tutted, and Mr Alleyne shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

‘Really, Eustacia, I think this should wait—’

‘Nonsense, Rupert. It is better that the child finish her tale as soon as may be. Go on, Nan, pray do not be frightened.’

The girl shuddered again, and glanced up at the shadowy figures around her.

‘E — ‘e kissed me,’ she whispered. ‘But it — it wasn’t like Tom’s kisses. These were hard, and, and—’ She broke off, burying her head against Stacey’s shoulder. ‘I — I wanted ‘im to stop, Miss, but ‘e only laughed, and when I tried to push ‘im away, that’s when ‘e belted me.’

Eustacia felt the tears welling in her own eyes, and she had to blink them away.

‘Poor Nan,’ she muttered. ‘Don’t worry, my dear, no one shall hurt you again, you have my word on it. Is that not right, Godmama?’

‘Yes, yes, but how did the child come to be in the alley beside the theatre?’

‘I — I escaped through a window.’

‘Oh, good for you!’ declared Miss Marchant. ‘And no one came after you?’

Nan shook her head.

‘There was an ‘eavy candlestick on the table, and I — I ‘it the man with it. ‘E fell to the floor. I don’t
think
I killed ‘im.’

‘Little matter if you did,’ muttered Eustacia. ‘I think we should inform the magistrates!’

Rupert uttered a strangled cry.

‘Stacey! Would you have us embroiled in
murder?’

‘I would have the villain pay for his crimes!’ retorted Eustacia, fiercely. She looked down at the girl. ‘Nan, dear, do you think you could find Mrs Bates’s house again?’

But Nan merely shook her head, declaring that she had been walking for over an hour, and had no idea of her route.

‘Well, I’ve no doubt this little episode has given you a distaste for the town,’ remarked Rupert. ‘If Lady Bilderston will be kind enough to give you a bed for the night, I will find you the fare to go home in the morning.’

‘But I
can’t
go ‘ome, sir!’ wailed Nan. ‘I can’t never go ‘ome!’

‘Hush, child, pray do not distress yourself,’ said Miss Marchant, hugging her. ‘Why do you say you cannot go home?’

The girl hiccupped.

‘Acos’,’ she whispered, ‘acos’ I’m with child.’

Chapter Twelve

At these words, Lady Bilderston sank back in her seat with a low moan, and Rupert was obliged to smother an oath. Only Eustacia seemed unaffected. She did indeed blink, but did not remove her arms from the girl’s plump shoulders.

‘Is it Tom’s baby, Nan?’ she asked, gently.

The girl nodded.

‘And does he know?’

‘Y-yes.’

‘And still he will not marry you?’

‘ ‘E — ‘e said ‘tisn’t ‘is — ‘e said I’m a — a — but I
ain’t!’
cried Nan. ‘Believe me, Miss, I ain’t allowed no one near me but Tom, and then ‘im only because ‘e said ‘e’d wed me.’

‘And so he shall,’ declared Eustacia. ‘He shall be
made
to marry you.’

‘Stacey! Pray, be serious!’

‘I am most serious, Rupert.’

‘But he has refused to own the child!’

‘I expect that was because he was frightened,’ opined Eustacia, sagely. ‘We must talk to him, assure him that he shall find a post where he may support his family. an even better post than his present one! Who is his present employer, Nan?’

‘L-Lord Erringden.’

‘Erringden?’ cried Rupert. ‘Why, he is one of the richest men in England!’

Nan nodded. ‘Tom’s uncle is second footman at one of ‘is lordship’s ‘ouses, and ‘e put in a word for Tom.’

‘Well, I can see that any young man would think himself fortunate to find such a position,’ admitted Eustacia. ‘But we must hope that he can be persuaded to own up to his obligations to this poor girl, and marry her. If that is what you would like, Nan?’

‘If she would
like?
Oh by heaven!’ exclaimed Rupert, striking his forehead. ‘Stacey, this is madness!’

‘No, no,’ she said, soothingly. ‘It is a tangle, I admit, but nothing we cannot solve.’