The Dream Chasers

by Melinda Hammond

  * * *

  Eager to put her plan into action, Eustacia stepped out the next morning with Snuffles, but instead of heading for the gardens, she turned south and set off for the heart of fashionable London. Snuffles was surprised at this break in routine, but he was happy to trot along beside his young mistress, enjoying the new scents of this hitherto unexplored area. Miss Marchant was anxious not to draw attention to herself, and had chosen for the occasion a demure, dark-green walking-dress and pelisse of impeccable cut but with little ornament, and a close-fitting bonnet to cover her distinctive red hair. Thus attired, and with the guidebook clutched firmly in one hand, she set off on her task in a mood of excited optimism.

  * * *

  New Bond Street was bustling with pedestrians and carriages, and Eustacia made her way through the crowd, confident that it would not be thought improper for an unescorted lady to be walking her dog in such a busy thoroughfare. However, she felt a little less sanguine as she made her way along Piccadilly towards the Green Park, for one fashionably dressed gentleman lifted his eyeglass to study her as she passed him. The starched points of his collar were so high that he was obliged to swivel his whole body to watch her progress, and although at any other time Miss Marchant would have been amused at this behaviour, she began to wonder if it would have been prudent to bring her maid. However, such thoughts were put to flight when she reached the Green Park. The rural setting, complete with a herd of cows, and milkmaids dispensing fresh milk for a small sum, delighted Eustacia. The noise of the busy streets was muted by the trees and bushes that bounded the park, and for a while she could almost imagine that she was at home again in Somerset. But charming as this idea was, she would not let it sway her from her purpose, and she soon slipped out of the park to hurry along a quiet side street. At the junction with St James's Street she stopped, looking up and down the famous thoroughfare, hoping for a glimpse of her quarry. It did not surprise her that Rupert was not in sight, and Miss Marchant consulted her guidebook before hurrying back to the Green Park, determined to try again. It was a fine morning, and the spring sunshine made it a pleasant day for walking. Eustacia was just congratulating herself on her plan when disaster struck.

  Snuffles was also enjoying his walk on new territory, and had so far been content to trot along beside Eustacia, but as they walked along Park Place towards St James's Street, a ginger cat that had been sleeping on a sunny wall suddenly caught sight of Snuffles, and took exception to this invasion. The cat, used to leashed dogs parading on the sidewalk below him, arched its back, spitting venomously. Snuffles was a small dog, but there was enough of the wild animal in him to resent such an insult, and he voiced his displeasure by barking loudly. Eustacia scolded him and tugged on the leash, intending to walk on. Snuffles, however, could not ignore the challenge thrown out to him by the ginger torn. He squatted, digging in his heels. Miss Marchant, her attention fixed upon St James's Street, which was but a step ahead of her, gave an impatient tug on the leash.

  'Come on, Snuffles!'

  The leash went slack and, looking down, she saw with dismay that Snuffles had slipped his collar. For a moment, the three participants were frozen into a tableau before the cat realized that its adversary was no longer fettered, and took off along the street, with the spaniel in close pursuit.

  'Snuffles!' cried Eustacia, but she knew enough about dogs to be sure he would ignore her. She watched in dismay as the animals raced towards St James's Street, then, with only the smallest hesitation, she picked up her skirts and hurried after them.

  * * *

  Mr Lagallan attributed his habit of rising at an unfashionably early hour to his years adventuring on the Continent. Unable to lie in his bed while his valet brought him coffee or hot chocolate, and then waste another languid hour deciding upon which coat to put on, Vivyan preferred to fill his mornings with physical pursuits such as boxing or fencing. Having spent a profitable hour at small-sword practice with Viscount Denny, the two gentlemen put on their coats and set off from the discreet little duelling-school in King Street to walk to the viscount's lodgings off Piccadilly, where they planned to break their fast. They made their way at a leisurely pace, enjoying the sunshine and discussing plans for the coming day.

  'Going to look at Grisham's carriage-horses later,' drawled the viscount, polishing his eyeglass. 'Poor devil's quite done up, you know. Lost everything, apparently, and is selling all his cattle.'

  'Is he, by Gad? Carriages, too? Then I've a mind to come along with you, Denny, for he has a very pretty perch-phaeton that would suit me very well.'

  The viscount frowned at him.

  'Are you sure it's just the phaeton that interests you? I tell you to your head, Viv, I ain't taking you along with me if you are going to bid for his match-bays! I've had my eye on that team for ever, and I'm dashed if I'll let you steal a march on me!'

  'No, no, Denny,' said Vivyan, his soothing tones at variance with the gleam in his dark eyes. 'I may cast an eye over the horse-flesh, but I've more than enough cattle already eating their heads off in my stables.'

  'Dashed if I know why I put up with you,' grumbled the viscount, not at all reassured. 'You'll take a fancy to those bays and outbid me, I know it! And I haven't forgiven you yet for that trick you played me this morning!' he added, with a darkling look at his companion. 'Knocking the blade out of my hand—damned ungentlemanly of you!'

  Vivyan laughed, and took his friend's arm as they crossed into St James's Street. 'Denny, you know you were trying to do the same to me! The maestro had just shown us the trick!'

  Aye, only you already knew it!' declared my lord, grinning in spite of himself.

  'Well, you will learn it in time. It takes practice. The secret is in the wrist action. I was taught a similar trick by a fencing master in Orleans.'

  'Ah, yes. France.' The viscount shook his head. 'You have a sadly chequered past, my friend.'

  'I prefer to call it colourful, Denny. Merely colourful.'

  The viscount had stopped, and now raised his quizzing-glass.

  As colourful as the stockings adorning those astonishingly pretty ankles across the way?' he drawled.

  Vivyan looked up in time to see a small figure in a dark-green pelisse running along the opposite flagway, red hair streaming behind her and skirts held up to display her scarlet stockings.

  * * *

  Eustacia sped on, oblivious to the stares and catcalls that followed her progress. The wind had caught the wide brim of her bonnet and tugged it free of her head, so that it now bounced playfully at her back as she ran. Ahead of her, the ginger cat darted round a corner with Snuffles almost snapping at its tail. Eustacia reached the turning in time to see Snuffles disappearing into one of the alleys that criss-crossed the area behind the fashionable buildings which fronted St James's Street. She hurried on, peering into each alley and calling to the spaniel. When she heard a bark, she knew she was closing in on her quarry, and quickened her step again. As she entered a narrow, cobbled mews she saw two men ahead of her. They were wearing rough workmen's clothing and one was holding a struggling Snuffles under his arm.

  'Oh, you have caught my dog—thank you,' she panted, as she approached. 'He slipped his lead, you see.'

  'Did 'e now? Well, that was very clever of the little fellow.'

  'Perhaps you will hold him while I put his collar around his neck—'

  'Not so fast, young miss.' The other man stepped forward, putting up one dirty hand. 'Seems to me we've rescued this dog of yours, and that should be worth somethin', eh, Jacob?'

  Eustacia stopped. 'I'm sorry, I do not understand you.'

  'Well, it's clear this is a very valuable little animal, and 'is family should be grateful to get 'im back. Very grateful, wouldn't you say, Jacob?'

  The other man's eyes gleamed, and a black grin split his face.

  'Aye, Mack, grateful enough to pay a reward, I do reckon.'

  'A reward!' exclaimed Eustacia. 'I am sorry, but I have no money with me.'
<
br />   'Well, if you ain't got no gelt on ye, then it'll have to be that fine string o' pearls around yer neck. . .'

  Anger sparkled in Miss Marchant's eyes.

  'My pearls! How dare you? This is blackmail! I insist you hand over my dog immediately.'

  'Insist?' declared Jacob. 'You hear that, Mack? The little lady insists! It seems she don't want her dog back. But p'raps she'll change 'er mind when he starts to yelp a bit. . .'

  Eustacia's flushed cheeks paled. 'You wouldn't hurt a little dog!'

  'Oh yes they would, my dear,' drawled a voice at her shoulder. 'But if they value their skins, I think they will give you back your dog now, and unharmed.'

  Eustacia spun round to see Mr Lagallan standing behind her, his swordstick drawn from its case and glinting wickedly in the pale sunlight.

  The two men stopped grinning.

  'We was just 'aving a joke with the lady,' said the one named Jacob, putting Snuffles on the ground and stepping back, his eyes never wavering from the swordstick.

  'Aye, we never meant no 'arm,' averred his companion, slowly retreating.

  'Then I suggest you go on your way, and we will say no more about the matter.' Vivyan spoke pleasantly, but the swordstick waved gently to and fro before him, a silent menace.

  Muttering, the two men turned and hurried away, and had disappeared by the time Eustacia had fastened Snuffles's collar securely about his neck.

  'Vivyan, thank you!' she exclaimed, rising and shaking the dust from her skirts. 'I was never more pleased to see anyone in my life— except when I was stuck in a tree, of course!' She smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling. 'You are forever rescuing me.'

  'It is becoming a habit! Here, let me hold that leash while you put on your hat. Then I will escort you home.'

  'Thank you.' Eustacia retrieved her bonnet, which was hanging behind her, secured only by the ribbons that had knotted about her neck. T wore this to cover my hair,' she explained, bundling her tangled locks into the hat's crown. 'But it was not secure, and flew off when I started to run. There—do I look more respectable?'

  'A very little!' retorted Vivyan. He handed her the dog-leash and pulled her free hand on to his arm as he escorted her out of the alley.

  'I think it would be best if we went this way, into Green Park,' he said. 'It would not do to go back into St James's Street. And perhaps you would like to tell me just what you were doing, running about in that hoydenish fashion?' He glanced down at Snuffles who, exhausted by his exertions, was trotting along quietly at Eustacia's heels. 'But perhaps I can guess most of it.'

  'Well, there was a cat.'

  'Ah. Then, of course, everything becomes clear.'

  'It hissed at Snuffles, and he slipped his collar and chased after it.'

  'Naturally,' said Vivyan, solemnly.

  'Well, it is natural for dogs to chase cats,' argued Miss Marchant. 'What could I do? I could not leave Godmama's pet to lose itself in these streets. I was obliged to run after him.'

  'Through St James's Street?'

  'That was unfortunate,' she conceded, 'but since so few people know me yet, perhaps it is not so very bad.'

  'That may be true, but I, on the other hand, am extremely well-known, and I was obliged to race after you. Pray spare a thought for my reputation.'

  Miss Marchant stopped and looked up at her escort, anxiously scanning his face. Then, seeing the amused gleam in his dark eye, she relaxed.

  'Oh, were you on the strut, sir?' she asked him, innocently. 'I had no idea you were a—a Bond Street beau. It would, of course, accord ill with your status to be seen running.'

  'No, my sweet saucepot, I am not a Bond Street beau, and it will accord ill with my status to be seen strangling you, but that event will very likely come to pass if I have any more of your insolence!'

  Eustacia laughed, and squeezed his arm.

  'I am so glad you were at hand to rescue me, Vivyan! It was very wrong of me to bring Snuffles so far from his home, and I am cross with myself for not checking his collar was secure, but thank you for not scolding me, and telling me how foolish I have been, for I am very well aware of it, I assure you, and could not be more sorry!'

  'And may one enquire why you were in that vicinity in the first place, brat?'

  Eustacia bit her lip.

  'I—I was looking for Rupert. I did not mean to go down the street at all,' she hurried on. 'I was walking Snuffles here in the Green Park, but the guidebook showed me several roads leading through to St James's Street, so I thought I could walk as far as the corner and . . . and look, just in case Rupert should be in sight. And everything was going so well, until we came upon that cat! Vivyan, do—do you think I have done irreparable damage to my reputation?'

  He suppressed a grin. 'Not irreparable, my dear, but that carrot-top of yours is distinctive. Fortunately, you have lived very secluded, so few people will recognize you, and it is to be hoped that when Lady Bilderston introduces you into society, no one will connect the decorous Miss Marchant with the red-haired minx seen racing through town today. When is your first party?'

  'Five days' time. Lady Trentham's ball.'

  'Five days—a lifetime! Don't fret, my little nymph, anyone who saw you today will surely have forgotten the incident by then!'

  Miss Marchant was not so confident, but she said nothing of her adventures to Lady Bilderston, and even found the escapade fading from her mind as preparations for her first outing into society drew near.

  * * *

  On the evening of the Trentham ball, Miss Marchant stood before her mirror, gazing in wonder at her reflection. 'Godmama, it is perfect!'

  Lady Bilderston smiled over her shoulder.

  'The gown is very beautiful, and so are you, my love.' Eustacia turned, tears making her eyes shine an even deeper green.

  'How am I ever to repay you for all you have done for me? This gown is twice as grand as anything I have ever had before—better even than the gown Aunt Jayne chose for mypresentation!' She smoothed her hands over the material. The thin silver gauze hung like gossamer over the underdress of green satin, dainty green slippers peeped out from the edge of her skirts, and Cardwell had presented her with a pair of green gloves to complete her toilet. An emerald ribbon was threaded through the red-gold curls, and Lady Bilderston herself was obliged to blink away a tear.

  'Now, don't cry, my love,' she said, patting Eustacia's hands. 'You don't want to make those pretty eyes of yours red. Eliza—Lady Trentham—is a very good friend of mine, and the world and his wife will be filling her salons tonight, so it is important that you are looking your best. Do you know, I am enjoying your visit much more than I ever thought I would, and I am very glad I had Celeste make up this gown for you. I am sure that your Aunt Jayne is an admirable creature, but when your trunks arrived, and I saw those abominable pinks she had chosen to trick you out in—and with your colouring, too! It was no wonder you did not take when she presented you.'

  Miss Marchant's eyes twinkled mischievously.

  'But Godmama, everyone knows that pink and white are the only colours for a debutante!'

  Aye, if she's a brunette!' came the retort. 'They serve only to make your complexion look sallow. No, we were very right to pack them all away, and I have told Celeste she must have at least three more of your gowns ready by next week.'

  'Oh, Godmama!' Eustacia hugged her ruthlessly. 'I feel just like Cinderella!'

  Lady Bilderston gave a fat chuckle.

  'Well then, my dear, the carriage will be at the door at any moment: let us get you to the ball before all your finery turns back to rags!'

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Trentham House was already full when they arrived, and, glancing at the coaches lined up behind them, Eustacia wondered how they would ever fit so many guests into the house. Their hostess was an old friend of Lady Bilderston's and she greeted them with a triumphant smile.

  'Such a dreadful squeeze, my dears, I declare we shall be excessively uncomfortable. It will be such a succe
ss!'

  Miss Marchant was a little awed by so many strangers, but her spirits lifted when she spotted Major Lagallan and his wife across the room. Making a mental note to seek them out later, she gave her attention to the young man being introduced to her, and as he led her on to the dance-floor, she forgot her own nervousness and attempted to put him at his ease. Lady Bilderston nodded and smiled her encouragement, and went off to join her friends for a cosy gossip, confident that her young charge would not be without a partner for the best part of the evening.

  * * *

  When Mr Lagallan arrived, shortly before eleven, he found Eustacia in high spirits. During a break in the dancing, he made his way towards her.

  'Well, Miss Marchant, are you enjoying yourself?'

  The glowing face that was turned towards him gave him his answer. He grinned.

  'I suppose I am too late to claim a dance with you?'

  'Heavens, yes. I am engaged for every dance! But you can expect nothing else if you will arrive so late!'

  'Shrew!'

  Her eyes sparkled.

  'No, how can that be when I am merely telling the truth? But, Vivyan, tell me honestly—do you like my gown?'

  She stepped back, spreading her skirts and twirling before him. Vivyan grinned inwardly as those nearest raised their brows: it would seem Miss Marchant was unaware that fashionable young ladies should never display such enthusiasm at a party!

  'It is very beautiful, don't you think? Godmama had it made up for me.'

  He raised his glass to study her. 'Very fetching.'

  'Is that the best you can do?' she demanded. 'You should know, sir, that I have received some very fine compliments this evening.'