Melinda Hammond Read online

  THE DREAM CHASERS

  Melinda Hammond

  Chapter One

  ‘Philip, I promise you I have had enough adventuring. When a man reaches thirty it is time he took a wife and settled down.’

  Major Lagallan exchanged a laughing glance with his own dear spouse, and Mrs Lagallan shook her head at her brother-in-law.

  ‘Vivyan, I do not believe you are serious!’

  Mr Lagallan grinned across the dining-table. ‘For shame, Caro. I thought you at least would applaud my intention!’

  ‘If you are truly sincere in your wish to marry, I am glad of it. But tell me a little about the woman who has affected this change in you.’

  ‘She was the toast of London last season: Helen Pensford.’

  Mrs Lagallan frowned. ‘I have never met her, I think. You must remember, Viv, that we did not come to London last year, what with little Philip coming down with chicken-pox, and then Charles had that dreadful cough. When the doctor suggested a little sea air would be beneficial, I took both boys to Worthing. But tell me about Miss Pensford. Is she truly a beauty?’

  ‘Oh, a veritable diamond.’ Vivyan Lagallan lifted his wine glass and stared thoughtfully at the dark contents. ‘Her breeding is impeccable. The Pensfords own a considerable estate at Combe Charlton, near Bath. Helen is their only child. Very little wit, but she dances like an angel.’

  ‘Oh dear.’

  He laughed at the look of dismay upon his sister-in-law’s countenance. ‘What! Are you jealous, Caro?’

  The lady’s eyes twinkled.

  ‘Not a bit, you know I made my choice years ago, and have never regretted it!’ She reached out a hand to her husband, who caught her fingers and carried them to his lips. She smiled, and continued, ‘No, Viv, what I fear is that Miss Pensford sounds far too dull for you. Pray do not laugh at me, I am serious! You have lived all your life for adventure and excitement, and I do not care how beautiful the girl may be, if she is a ninny-hammer she will bore you within a month.’

  ‘Well, I hope you are wrong.’ Vivyan refilled his glass and sat back, a faint smile playing about his lips. ‘I am travelling into Somerset tomorrow to propose to the lady!’

  She bit her lip, frowning at him. ‘I hope you will not regret it, my dear!’

  * * * *

  Vivyan recalled his sister-in-law’s words as his travelling-chariot pulled away from Combe Charlton a week later. Perhaps Caroline was right: having spent only a few days in Miss Pensford’s company, he was inordinately relieved to get away. The visit had gone exactly as planned: the lady’s family had made him welcome, gratified that he had taken up their invitation to take pot-luck with them. His proposal had been accepted, if not with rapturous delight then with satisfaction, and the fact that he had spent the past decade living abroad was easily forgotten when put against his considerable fortune. A family bereavement kept the Pensfords in Somerset, but they promised to travel to London later in the season, and it was agreed that no official announcement should be made until then. Vivyan gazed out of the carriage, and as the pale April sun disappeared behind a bank of trees that bordered the road, he wondered if he had made the greatest mistake of his life.

  * * * *

  His reverie was cut short when the carriage lurched suddenly and came to a stand amidst shouts from the coachman and much blowing and stamping from the team of high-bred bays. Mr Lagallan jumped down from the carriage to enquire the cause of their delay, and the coachman touched his hat to him.

  ‘A bag, sir. Someone threw a bag into the road - made the leaders shy, and no wonder!’

  Following the coachman’s outstretched finger, Vivyan spotted a large portmanteau lying at the edge of the road. Walking up to it, he pushed it gently with the toe of one of his shiny Hessians.

  ‘Now how the devil did that get there?’

  ‘It is mine.’

  Mr Lagallan looked around.

  ‘Up here! In the tree.’

  Looking up, Vivyan saw a ginger-haired figure, dressed in a brown woollen suit, gazing down at him through the branches.

  ‘Well now, lad. What do you mean, to be frightening my horses so?’ he demanded.

  ‘Please accept my apologies for that, sir. I did not mean it to happen. You see, I scrambled up here to avoid a group of drunken men who were on the highway. I was about to climb down again when I heard your carriage and thought I had best wait until you had gone by, but my bag slipped down out of my grasp.’

  ‘Well, I think you had better slip down, too,’ remarked Vivyan. ‘The coast is clear now.’

  ‘That’s just it,’ said the youth. ‘I fear I am stuck. You see, I have been here for so long that I’ve grown very stiff, and I don’t think I can climb down.’

  Vivyan laughed. ‘Well, you don’t look too heavy. Lower yourself off that branch, boy, and I will catch you.’

  Looking very relieved, the lad swung down from his perch and dropped into Vivyan’s arms. He caught the boy easily, and found himself looking down into a pair of clear green eyes. Without releasing his grip, he observed the red hair, scraped back from a wide brow and confined at the neck with a ribbon, and the clear skin with a sprinkling of freckles on a straight little nose. Mr Lagallan’s dark eyes gleamed.

  ‘Damme, you are not a boy at all!’ he exclaimed, a laugh in his voice. ‘I think you must be a wood nymph!’

  The body in his arms wriggled to free itself but his grip tightened.

  ‘Oh, no! I shall only let you go if you promise not to run away. I want to know what you are doing alone on the highway, dressed in those clothes.’ There was no reply. Vivyan said cheerfully, ‘Come now, Miss, you owe me that much for rescuing you.’

  The green eyes flashed. ‘You did not rescue me!’

  ‘Oh? And how else were you going to get down from that tree?’ This drew a reluctant twinkle from those engaging eyes, and Vivyan gave her his most charming smile. ‘Let us agree that I assisted you! Now, nymph, will you promise?’

  ‘Oh, very well.’

  He set the girl on her feet, and she stepped back a pace to straighten her rough clothes, saying as she did so, ‘Thank you. I am on my way to Bath to catch the night mail to London. I thought it would be safer to travel as a boy, but when I saw that group of men approaching, I thought it best to hide in the tree until they had passed.’

  'Very wise,’ said Vivyan gravely.

  ‘Yes, but they did not pass by! They decided to rest on this very spot, and I was obliged to remain in the tree for hours’. They were only just out of sight when you came by. Perhaps you saw them on the road?’

  ‘Sadly, no. I was, er, sleeping, until your bag dropped from the tree.’

  ‘I am so sorry about that! And I am truly grateful for your assistance, sir, but if you will excuse me, I must press on if I am to reach Bath today.’

  Reason told Mr Lagallan that a sensible man would bid this young person adieu and be on his way. But Vivyan had never claimed to be sensible.

  ‘I am myself going that way - perhaps I could take you up as far as Bath?’ he smiled at her doubtful glance. ‘I promise you will be quite safe: I always travel with a pair of loaded carriage-pistols — look, you could reach one easily if you need to defend yourself.’

  An answering smile gleamed in her own eyes. ‘Thank you sir, but I doubt that would be necessary.’

  ‘Well, on a more practical level, there is a rug . . . and a hot brick for your feet, if you would like it.’

  The temptation proved too great. The girl nodded.

  ‘Thank you. You are very kind. I do feel quite chilled, after sitting still for so long.’

  Mr Lagallan picked up the portmanteau and tossed it to his footman, then after a word to his coachman, he handed the girl into the carr
iage.

  Warming her toes on the hot brick, and with the travelling-rug tucked about her legs, his companion gave a sigh of contentment.

  ‘That is so very comfortable! Thank you.’

  Think nothing of it. But if we are to be travelling-companions, should we not introduce ourselves? My name is Lagallan.’

  ‘How do you do? I am Eustacia Marchant.’

  Vivyan’s lips twitched at the absurd formality, but he asked soberly, ‘And how comes it that you are travelling alone to London, Miss Eustacia Marchant?’

  ‘I am going to be married!’ She saw his look of surprise, and a dark flush crept into her cheeks. ‘I am going to find Rupert Alleyne. We fell in love during last autumn, when he was staying with his uncle, near Charlton Temple.’

  Mr Lagallan remained admirably serious at this matter-of-fact statement.

  ‘And does Mr Alleyne know you are coming to see him?’

  ‘No, but it is imperative that I find him, before he proposes to someone else!’

  ‘And - er - is he likely to do so? If he loves you, that is.’

  ‘He does love me, very much, but Aunt Jayne says his parents are arranging an - an advantageous alliance for him. But if he loves me, I do not see that he should marry anyone else, do you? And it is not as if I am a pauper,’ continued Miss Marchant, considering the matter. ‘When I am five and twenty I shall inherit my mother’s property, and of course there is grandfather’s fortune, too, when he dies — oh!’ Her hands flew to her mouth, and her eyes danced as she looked at Vivyan, sitting opposite her. ‘That sounds very heartless, but indeed I am very fond of Grandpapa, and have lived very happily with him for years - in fact, I can remember no other home, for my parents died when I was a baby.’

  ‘And how old are you now?’

  ‘I have just turned one and twenty. I know that I look much younger than that,’ she added confidentially. ‘I was presented two seasons ago, and it was not a success. I think I was far too young, then, but Aunt Jayne says she is already much distracted by the arrangements for my cousin Cordelia’s wedding and cannot bother with me again until that is over, and Grandfather is far too old to travel to London, so there is no one to come with me, and I must find Rupert before it is too late!’

  ‘And you have not seen — er — Rupert since last year?’

  ‘No. He left Somerset in September, and Mrs Alleyne - his aunt, you know — had a letter from him at Christmas explaining that he was obliged to remain with his papa. So I quite see that he could not come back then, but now Mrs Alleyne is hinting that he is looking about him for a rich wife, and I cannot let that happen!’

  ‘But, forgive me, I know I must seem very dull-witted, why should — er — Rupert marry someone else if he loves you?’

  ‘Aunt Jayne says he will do so to please his papa, but surely, if I go to London and we explain to Mr Alleyne, he must see that we truly love each other?’

  The green eyes were turned trustingly upon Vivyan and he hesitated before making a reply. How could he explain to this absurd child that the young man had most likely looked upon their romance as nothing more than a mild flirtation to pass the time?

  He said gently, ‘Miss Marchant, let me advise you to go home. I will happily break my journey to take you there myself, and if you like I will carry a letter to young Mr Alleyne. I cannot believe that he would want you to be travelling the country in this way.’

  The young lady’s countenance took on a stubborn look.

  ‘No, you are very kind, sir, but I must find him. You see, I very much fear that if I do not see him and talk to him myself, he will be persuaded to sacrifice himself in marriage to an heiress.’

  ‘But surely your family will be missing you: you cannot wish to alarm them.’

  Her sunny smile dawned again.

  ‘No indeed, but they will not worry, for they think I am staying with my old governess! I persuaded Miss Frobisher to invite me to stay for a few weeks. Since she lives but five miles from Bath, I knew I could easily walk there to catch the mail.’

  ‘Do you mean to tell me the lady is a party to your madcap scheme?’

  ‘Oh yes, for she quite sees that one must make a push to secure one’s happiness. Besides, I knew she would be able to fit me out with a boy’s suit, for she has several nephews, all of whom come to stay with her at times.’

  Vivyan dropped his head in his hands.

  ‘Miss Marchant, you are incorrigible!’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It was not a compliment!’

  ‘But you do see that I am determined to get to London and find Rupert? If he should marry someone else, it would be the end of all my dreams!’ She glanced out of the window. ‘Goodness, we have reached Bath already! I am deeply grateful to you, sir, for I was very much afraid that the delay on the road would mean I would be walking into Bath in the dark.’

  Gazing down into Eustacia’s trusting face, Mr Lagallan realized the impossibility of dropping the child at The White Hart and leaving her to make her own way to London.

  ‘Miss Marchant, if I may make a suggestion? Even in that disguise I cannot think it wise for you to travel alone. The dangers awaiting such an innocent as yourself are legion. I am even now on my way to Town, and if you will not allow me to escort you home, which is the course of action I would most strongly advise, then I would rather take you with me than let you jaunter about the country unattended.’

  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 lai
d 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.’