Melinda Hammond (2 page)

After only the briefest pause Miss Marchant said, ‘Would you indeed, sir? That is excessively kind of you - and a great relief, too, for I have never travelled by mail-coach before, and although I am sure it is very exciting, I have never purchased tickets, or paid vails on the road, and I was not at all sure how I would go on.’

Vivyan gave orders for the coach to continue on to Marlborough and sat back in his corner, realizing with a wry inward smile that he was now committed to a most reprehensible course of action.

His companion, however, had no such qualms and appeared to be in the very best of spirits, chattering away as if they were old friends. By the time they reached Marlborough, he had learned that Miss Marchant lived with her grandfather and widowed aunt near Radstock. The preparations for her cousin’s forthcoming nuptials seemed to have been consuming all the family’s attention for several months, and it appeared to Vivyan that Miss Marchant had been left to amuse herself during the previous summer. Her innocent remarks only reinforced his suspicion that Rupert Alleyne had whiled away an enforced retirement to the country with a flirtation that had left the young lady desperately in love.

‘We must decide what I am going to call you, if you are to continue with your disguise,’ said Mr Lagallan as they drove into the inn-yard.

Miss Marchant wrinkled her nose.

‘Well, at home everyone calls me Stacey. Will that do?’

‘Excellent. The landlord here knows me, so we must pass you off as some sort of cousin. You had best call me Vivyan, at least when we are in company.’

The landlord ushered them into a private parlour, where a cheerful fire had been prepared, and while a serving-maid laid out a substantial supper, Mr Lagallan demanded two rooms for the night. The landlord’s tentative suggestion that they should share a room, since the inn was quite full, he quelled with a haughty stare, afterwards turning his stern gaze upon Miss Marchant, who had subsided into giggles as the door closed upon their host.

"The poor man thinks you are very high in the instep! He will have to turn away trade, you know.’

‘He will be amply rewarded for his trouble.’

‘Oh!’ Eustacia reached into her pocket and brought forth a small purse.

Vivyan frowned. That was not meant as a cut at you.’

‘No indeed, but I cannot let you pay for me.’ She held out a handful of coins. ‘You will take it, please, sir. I will not be beholden to you!’ She smiled as he took the money. ‘There, we can be friends again! Shall we have supper now?’ She walked towards the little table, where their meal had been laid out.

They sat down to a supper of hashed venison, potted trout and cold ham, finished off with cheese and melon.

‘Have you been visiting friends in Somerset, sir?’ said Miss Marchant, feeling that conversation was required.

‘Something of the sort.’

‘It is a very fine county; I am told the sport is excellent.’

"Very likely, but I saw little of it at Combe Charlton.’

Miss Marchant’s company manners deserted her. She stared at him.

‘Combe Charlton? Are
you
the beau who came to propose to Helen?’

Vivyan’s brows snapped together. ‘I was invited to join the family for a few days.’

‘I am sorry if I have offended you, but the Pensfords are our neighbours, and it was common knowledge that Helen had caught – I mean – '

‘You know Miss Pensford well?’ asked Vivyan, ignoring her discomfiture.

‘We have known each other since we were in the schoolroom. Aunt Jayne was quite determined that I should be presented before Helen, for she said I would be quite overshadowed by her, and she is right, of course. Helen is very beautiful. Quite empty-headed, but a man does not want a clever wife, Aunt Jayne says.’

‘Aunt Jayne could be wrong.’

‘But she isn’t, is she? You have offered for Helen!’

Mr Lagallan found himself at a stand, and turned the conversation into safer channels. Eustacia followed his lead and chattered away merrily, but when she glanced up some time later she found that Vivyan had stopped eating and was watching her, a slight smile curling his lips. She raised her brows at him, tilting her head to one side.

‘Why do you look thus at me, sir?’

‘I was thinking how few women of my acquaintance would be so unconcerned, dining alone with me, and wearing a man’s clothing, no less!’

Miss Marchant flushed and a slight frown clouded her eyes.

"You must think I am very forward, but when one is in love it makes one act rashly.’

‘Imprudently, at all events,’ he murmured.

She hung her head, saying in a small voice, ‘I suppose it
was
imprudent of me.’

‘I was not thinking of you, child.’ He rose and held out his hand to her. ‘Come, Stacey. Let us take our coffee by the fire.’

* * * *

After supper, Mr Lagallan escorted his young charge to her room. He urged her to lock her door, hinting at pickpockets and night thieves, and waited in the corridor until he had heard the reassuring click of the lock before making his way to his own bedchamber.

Chapter Two

The next morning they made an early start, for Mr Lagallan hoped to reach London without a second overnight stop. A flock of geese on the road at Froxfield held them up for a while, but after that they picked up speed and Vivyan remarked to his companion that they should be in Town by the evening. He received no reply and looked down at his companion: Miss Marchant was staring silently out of the window.

‘This is not like you, Miss Marchant, to be so quiet.’

‘No, I am sorry. It is just that I have been wondering what to do when I get to London. I can hardly arrive at Rupert’s door dressed this way.’

Mr Lagallan’s lips twitched. ‘You think Mr Alleyne would not approve of your apparel?’

‘Oh, I am sure he would understand, once it was explained to him, but it would be very difficult to keep it from the servants, and just think of the scandal — and I am sorry if you consider that a cause for laughter!’

‘No, of course it isn’t.’ Mr Lagallan made a heroic attempt to look serious. ‘I quite see your dilemma. Let us think what we can do. Is there no one else you know in Town who would help you, no aunts or cousins?’

‘No one. Except my godmother, Lady Bilderston.’

‘A godmother? Well, that is excellent news.’

‘Oh no it isn’t,’ came the damping reply. ‘I have never seen her - at least, I suppose she saw me, as a baby, when Mama was alive, but all I know of her is that she sends me little gifts on my birthday. She has never made the least push to enquire after me.’

‘But you know she lives in Town?’

‘Yes, for I am obliged to write to thank her for her gifts, and her direction has never changed.  Fanshawe Gardens.’

‘A fashionable area, certainly. I feel sure she will not fail to help you.’ He found himself subjected to a glance that held more than a hint of doubt and he flicked her cheek with one finger. ‘Don’t look so anxious, nymph! I’ll tell you what we will do: my brother and his wife are in town, in Bruton Street. We will go there first. My sister-in-law will be delighted to help us.’

Eustacia brightened. ‘Truly? She will not think it odd that I – that you and I – ’ She trailed off, colouring.

Vivyan considered how he would explain to Caroline that he had carried out his intention of proposing to one young lady, but had brought another back to London with him. His eyes danced.

‘Lord, no,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Caroline knows me too well to think there is anything odd in this caper!’

Her mind set at rest, Miss Marchant could continue her journey in comfort and she was soon asking Vivyan if they would stop for lunch.

‘I quite understand that you do not want me to leave the coach when we change horses, but I am
very
hungry.’

‘Poor nymph, it is unkind of me to keep you cooped up for so long! But I am planning to stop at Reading, at The Star. They keep a very good table, as well as some excellent brandy!’ Eustacia noted the twinkle in his dark eyes, but he merely continued: ‘We will take an early lunch there, but we must not tarry: I want to reach London before dark.’

* * * *

Miss Marchant surveyed the remains of their substantial lunch – boiled fowl, roast partridge and potted char had been provided, together with tarts, cheese and pickles.

‘That was delicious!’ she declared, when she had tried every dish. ‘How much do I owe you, sir?’

Mr Lagallan waved a hand. ‘It is my treat, Stacey, as long as you will pour the coffee.’

Miss Marchant thanked him prettily and picked up the coffee-pot. She was determined that he should not pay for her accommodation on the road, but she reasoned that there could be no objection to accepting lunch from him. Hers was a sunny nature, and she had quickly responded to Vivyan’s natural charm: she considered him now as a good friend and stood upon the easiest of terms with him. She was well aware that his dark good looks and rakish air might make him a dangerous companion for a young woman, but she knew herself to be in love with Mr Alleyne. Mr Lagallan treated her with a friendly camaraderie that she was able to respond to in the friendliest way, knowing herself to be in no danger of succumbing to his obvious charms. She looked up to find him watching her.

Why do you look at me, sir?’ she said, her head on one side.

‘Merely that you seem to be enjoying yourself.’

‘Oh, I am! This is my first adventure, and I am enjoying myself immensely.’ She added shyly, ‘I do not think I should have found it half so entertaining if I had not met you, sir. I have to thank you for taking such good care of me.’

‘I cannot think of many who would agree with you! Your relatives would say that I should have returned you to your home immediately.’

The landlord scratched upon the door. ‘Beggin’ your pardon, sir. Your coachman asked me to tell you that the carriage is ready.’

Mr Lagallan nodded. ‘Tell him we will be with him directly.’ He looked at his companion. ‘Come, it is time to be on our way.’

Eustacia went before him into the passage, where she almost collided with a gentleman in an open boxcoat, entering the inn. With a word of apology she stepped aside, but the gentleman had stopped and was staring at Mr Lagallan. He pushed his curly-brimmed beaver hat back on his fair head and grinned.

‘Viv! Viv Lagallan! As I live and breathe, how do you do, sir?’

‘How do you do, Nathan?’

‘Well, well — are you here on business?’

‘On my way to London, as a matter of fact. Escorting my young cousin,’ he added, as the gentleman’s grey eyes rested thoughtfully upon Stacey.

‘Cousin, eh? Pleased to meet you, young sir. Nathan MacCauley’s the name, and I’m a friend of your cousin - a very old friend, eh, Viv?’ He turned his wide smile back upon Vivyan. ‘And this is very well met, Lagallan! A word with you, before you go, sir.’

Vivyan nodded at Miss Marchant.

‘Pray get in the coach, Stacey. Check that the luggage is loaded, and tell my man to walk the horses.’ He watched her move away before turning again to the gentleman beside him.

‘Well, MacCauley? As you can see, my team is waiting. I can give you but a moment.’

‘Yes, yes, I understand. Let us step into the parlour  . . . ah, you did not finish the coffee. May I?’

‘As you wish.’ Vivyan perched himself on the edge of the table, one booted leg swinging gently. ‘What are you doing in England? The last time we met you were running a snug little gaming hell in Rome.’

‘And so I was, Vivyan my friend, but the dibs weren’t quite in tune, and things became a trifle . . . uncomfortable.’

‘Ran out of money, did you? That doesn’t surprise me. I remember that high-flyer you had living under your protection.’

Mr MacCauley looked hurt.

‘Ah, yes. Celestine. I admit to you, my friend, I was taken in there. Damned disappointing, I must say. She was not at all grateful, and when I think of all the money I spent on her! But let’s not dwell on that. Do you remember how we travelled through France together, living on our wits? Those were happy days, Viv.’

‘Happy? Plunging from one scrape to another?’ exclaimed Mr Lagallan. He gave a reluctant grin. ‘There was no time for boredom, certainly! But that don’t explain why you have returned to England.’

MacCauley refilled his coffee-cup.

‘An uncle of mine has died and left me a little money, so I thought I might set myself up in London. Turn respectable, like yourself.’

Vivyan laughed. ‘Heaven help us!’

MacCauley grinned. ‘I know, the world’s turned on its head, ain’t it? But it’s true. I’ve a mind to give up this adventuring, but first there’s a few matters of - ah - business to tidy up.’

‘Such as supplying a little smuggled brandy to this inn?’

Nathan MacCauley looked affronted. ‘I gave up that line of business when you did, my friend! No, the rooms are very reasonable here, and most suited to a gentleman like myself. And it’s convenient for what I have to do. Once I’ve concluded my business here, I shall go to Town and live like a gentleman, mayhap even find me a rich little wife.’

Mr Lagallan’s lip curled. ‘I’d like to see it!’

‘That’s why I’m so glad I ran into you. You could help me, my friend: introduce me to your circle.’

‘I hardly think so!’ laughed Vivyan, rising. ‘My friends are no pigeons for your plucking, Nathan.’

‘But I am a reformed man!’

‘Give me proof of your - ah - reformation for the next twelve months and we’ll talk again. Until then, goodbye, MacCauley.’

* * * *

Miss Marchant was almost bursting with curiosity when Vivyan finally climbed into the coach.

‘Who was that man?’ she demanded as the carriage clattered out of the yard. ‘You did not seem very pleased to meet him.’

‘I was not. I wanted to get you safely to London without meeting anyone I know.’

‘Oh yes, of course. But is he a good friend?’

‘Let us say that I knew him in my less reputable days.’ He glanced down to find Eustacia regarding him with wide eyes, and he laughed. ‘Many years ago I fell in with a group of free-traders — smugglers, my dear! Nathan MacCauley was one of them.’