A Chance Encounter

Chapter 3

A few days later Mrs. Rowe and Cecily ordered out the old, ponderous carriage from the coach house and left to pay an afternoon call at Ferndale. The main purpose of the visit was to issue an invitation to Mr. Mainwaring and his house guests to a dinner party the following week. Mrs. Rowe had pondered long on what entertainment she should organize. Should it be a full-scale ball? Would that be too ostentatious? Should it be an afternoon picnic? Was that too informal on so short an acquaintance? On Elizabeth's advice she finally settled for a dinner party, which had, anyway, been her first idea. As Elizabeth pointed out, a dinner party was free to develop in any direction. Music in the drawing room after dinner, or a few tables of cards, or even an informal dance to the music of the pianoforte could all be arranged with the minimum of fuss, depending upon the mood of the party.

Elizabeth did not accompany the ladies to Ferndale. Instead, she sat down to write her weekly letter to her brother. Although they rarely saw each other and although she steadfastly resisted all his urgings to come home, brother and sister remained very close. From his regular letters Elizabeth felt as if she knew exactly what was happening on the estate and in the neighborhood. She felt well-acquainted with her sister-in-law, whom she had met only twice, and with her nephew, Jeremy, whom she had seen only on the occasion of his christening.

The letter writing was interrupted, though, by the arrival of Ferdie Worthing and his sister, Lucy. Elizabeth was amused to discover that they had come to invite the Rowes and herself to a ball at the squire's home the following week, two days before Mrs. Rowe's dinner party. How chagrined her employer would be! Brother and sister had issued their invitation to Ferndale that morning, and had been accepted.

"I suppose Cec is quite excited by the arrival of the two gentlemen," Ferdie commented gloomily.

Elizabeth smiled. "She seems pleased with all the visitors," she replied. "She became quite friendly with Mrs. Prosser when we were out walking a few days ago."

"Those two men are bound to be dangling after her, though," Ferdie predicted. "They are both top-of-the-trees, you know. And Cec is the prettiest girl in these parts."

"You forget your sister and Anne Claridge, to mention only two," Elizabeth said, amused at the obvious jealousy of the boy.

"Oh, I know I'm no beauty," Lucy said philosophically. "If Mama would just admit it too, I should be so much more comfortable. She is determined I should make a brilliant match and sees the marquess and Mr. Main-waring as likely prospects. I shall hate it, Miss Rossiter. I know she will be forever pushing me at them while they are here."

"I am sure she will not do anything to embarrass you unduly," Elizabeth soothed. "She must have your own happiness at heart, after all."

"Ho, you don't know Mama," Ferdie added.

"I do hope to find a husband during the Season next year," Lucy added. "But I shall be quite contented with an ordinary man whom I can respect."

Elizabeth smiled reassuringly and changed the subject. She felt sorry for Lucy Worthing. She was a thin girl, with a narrow, pale face and yellow-blond, hair. She would be quite striking if she aimed for elegance in her appearance and if her hair were arranged in a smooth, sophisticated style. Instead, her mother insisted on white or pastel-shaded clothes, with as many bows, frills, and flounces as could be reasonably added to each garment. Her hair was a mass of ringlets. Obviously the mother assumed that the more she decorated her daughter, the greater the appearance of beauty she would give. The opposite was true.

The pair did not stay long. Once Ferdie realized that there was little chance of Cecily's returning within the hour, he was ready to begin the ride back home again. Elizabeth promised to pass on the invitation to the ball, though she had already decided to refuse herself. The less she saw of the Marquess of Hetherington, the happier she would be.

The following week was one of great excitement among the leading families of Granby and the surrounding countryside. Although entertainments were not unusual, they were normally very predictable events. Very rarely was there any stranger to add interest. And now there were five strangers, and all of them fashionable and apparently wealthy. The austere good looks of Mr. Mainwaring and his connection with the neighborhood, and the title, vitality, and charm of the Marquess of Hetherington everywhere set the hearts of hopeful mothers and their daughters fluttering. The haughty beauty of Miss Norris inspired awe and admiration everywhere.

Elizabeth finally met this lady a few days before the ball, when she rode over with the rest of the Ferndale party to invite Cecily to walk. Elizabeth was in the rose garden cutting some blooms for the house when they arrived. Mrs. Prosser and her sister walked over to talk to her while they all waited for Cecily to run upstairs for a bonnet and parasol. Elizabeth was very glad that the men went inside the house for some refreshment. She had felt a painful stab of the heart at the sight of Hetherington. Like the other gentlemen, he touched his hat in acknowledgment of her presence. Unlike them, he did not smile.

Mrs. Prosser introduced her sister to Elizabeth as Miss Amelia Norris. Elizabeth did not know why she so condescended. The girl was a handsome brunette, though her beauty was marred by a perpetually haughty expression. She succeeded now somehow in looking down her nose.

"Ah, the companion of dear Cecily," she commented, making the word companion sound like the lowest of menial occupations, and making Cecily sound anything but dear.

Mrs. Prosser was left to maintain a conversation with Elizabeth. "Mrs. Rowe has told me that you are a sister of John Rossiter," she said kindly. "I knew his wife slightly. She made her come-out in the same year as Amelia. I believe I met him once, too. They made a charming couple."

"Yes, indeed," Elizabeth replied, "and now they have a son of whom we are all proud." She smiled.

"Yes," Miss Norris added languidly, "Louise was, I believe, one of those girls who feel that they must attach some gentleman during their first Season or they are failures in life." The implication was that she had far more wisdom and good taste.

"But it was a love match, I believe," her sister said.

"Sometimes love can be combined with good sense," Miss Norris continued. "When Robert and I marry, there will be no sense of unseemly haste."

"Are you betrothed?" Elizabeth was startled enough to ask.

Haughty eyebrows arched above cold brown eyes. "We have an understanding, Miss Rossiter," she deigned to reply. "I feel almost sorry for all these country girls, who all seem to believe that they can attach the interest of either Robert or William."

She smiled arctically, and Elizabeth understood. Miss Norris had heard, no doubt, that Hetherington had walked all the way to town and back arm in arm with Cecily just a few days before. She was issuing a covert warning to the girl through her companion.

"Come, Bertha," the girl said sharply now, and started for the entrance to the house, where the gentlemen were emerging with Cecily. Elizabeth noticed that she quickly gained possession of Hetherington's arm before it could be decided how the six persons should pair off. He smiled easily down at her and covered her hand with his for a brief moment. Cecily shot Elizabeth a brief, frightened glance as Mr. Mainwaring extended an arm to her. But Elizabeth was not to be drawn. Her presence on this occasion would be decidedly de trop. She walked into the house with her armload of roses. Although Mr. Prosser had exchanged a few, brief pleasantries with her, and even Mr. Mainwaring had bid her good afternoon, Hetherington had not so much as glanced in her direction.

---

Elizabeth ended up attending the Worthing ball after all. She had been determined not to go, and finally Mrs. Rowe had accepted her decision.

"I should find myself in an intolerable position, ma'am," Elizabeth had explained. "It is impossible for me to behave like a regular guest. Yet your appearance there will make my presence as a chaperone superfluous."

"But, Beth," Cecily had pleaded, "a ball is so exciting. You cannot possibly wish to sit at home when you have been invited."

"It is a great shame that you must feel yourself inferior just because you have paid employment," Mrs. Rowe said. "If the truth were known, my dear Miss Rossiter, I am sure you are better born than that Worthing woman. Certainly you never behave with the vulgarity that she displays quite frequently. But as you wish, my dear. I shall not insist you attend if you feel you would be unhappy."

But Elizabeth's relief was short-lived. On the morning of the ball Mrs. Rowe awoke with one of her migraine headaches. Remaining in bed all day and having Elizabeth treat her with vinaigrette and lavender water and compresses failed to bring about a sufficient recovery to enable her to attend the ball. Elizabeth, therefore, was forced to deputize as Cecily's chaperone.

It did not take her long to get ready. She changed into her best gray silk dress with its high neckline and long, tight sleeves. She did wear a white lace collar as a small concession to the festive occasion. Her hair, though, she knotted at the base of her neck in its usual style.

She waited with Mr. Rowe in the drawing room. But Cecily was not late. She was too eager not to miss a moment of the festivities. She looked remarkably pretty, Elizabeth thought, in her rose-pink ball gown, the new one that Miss Phillips had made for her. Mrs. Rowe was sure the gown was fashionable. The neckline was low-cut, the sleeves short and puffed, the skirt falling in loose folds from a high waistline. The girl's cheeks were flushed with excitement and her eyes shone. Her fair hair hung in soft curls around her face and along her neck. Short ringlets fell from a knot on top of her head.

"I see you are bent on being the belle of the ball, puss," Mr. Rowe said.

"Oh, will I do, Papa?" Cecily asked anxiously, pirouetting inside the doorway.

"Fine as fivepence," he declared.

Elizabeth smiled her agreement.

Cecily looked at her companion. "Oh, Beth," she said, "I do wish Mama had insisted that you have a new evening dress made. I do love you, honestly I do, but must you always wear gray?"

"I shall be sitting among the chaperones," her companion replied lightly. "A fine dress would be totally wasted, now, would it not?"

Cecily made an exasperated sound and turned to her father, who was holding out her wrap to cover her shoulders.

"Shall we go, ladies?" he asked. "And, Miss Rossiter, will you please remember that your coach will turn into a pumpkin promptly at midnight?"

They were not the first to arrive at the ball, but they were before the Ferndaie party. Elizabeth was glad. She was able to find herself a chair in the most shadowed corner of the ballroom. Mrs. Claridge soon joined her there.

"I shall sit with you, Miss Rossiter," she said. "At least I can be sure that if you decide to speak at all, it will be good sense. I have heard nothing in the last few weeks but speculation on which girls will be the lucky brides of our two gentlemen visitors. If you ask me, if these gentlemen are still single-and they are neither of them younger than five and twenty-it is unlikely that they will choose any of ourlocal beauties."

Elizabeth murmured her assent.

"I have warned my Anne not to expect anything more than perhaps a country dance with one or other of them," the vicar's wife continued. "I also hear, Miss Rossiter, that the Marquess of Hetherington is all but betrothed to Miss Norris. I do think it rather a shame, don't you? He is such a charming and attractive man. She seems somewhat disagreeable. However, perhaps that is a false impression."

Elizabeth found that she could lend part of her attention to the continuous prattle of Mrs. Claridge while she watched the proceedings in the ballroom. Thus she saw the arrival of the guests of honor. She could hardly have missed it, anyway. A noticeable hush descended on the ballroom as all attention was directed to the entryway.

All five of the guests looked superb, but Elizabeth found to her own annoyance that she had eyes only for Hetherington. He looked quite magnificent, she thought, in cream satin knee breeches and dull gold waistcoat and evening coat. His white linen positively sparkled. He looked full of healthy vitality in contrast to Mr. Mainwaring, who was dressed in black, a fashion that had shocked the ton when Mr. Brummell had first introduced it.

Hetherington was smiling his particularly attractive smile at his hosts. Elizabeth shrank further into the shadowed corner and tried to look as if she were engrossed in the conversation with Mrs. Claridge, but even so she felt exposed. She had the strange sensation that Hetherington had singled her out immediately.

If he had seen her, he gave no sign. He danced first with Amelia Norris and then with Lucy Worthing, whose hand had just been relinquished by Mr. Mainwaring. Then he danced with Cecily, and his whole manner changed, Elizabeth felt. What had been polite good manners with his other partners became warm interest with Cecily. Perhaps the change was not obvious to other onlookers, but Elizabeth knew him well enough immediately to assess his feelings. And she worried. Cecily was a giddy young girl in many ways, but there was a sweetness in her nature that would develop with maturity if given a chance. She did not wish the girl to be beguiled by such a practiced and heartless charmer. She determined that she would perform her duties as chaperone with extra diligence. Mr. Rowe had retired to the card room already. It was up to her to see that Cecily did not spend too much time with the marquess and that he had no chance to be alone with her.

Unexpectedly, Mr. Prosser asked Elizabeth for the supper dance. She had not intended to dance at all, did not feel it was appropriate to do so, especially dressed as she was. But as she was about to refuse, she saw out of the corner of her eye that Hetherington was asking Cecily to dance again. If she herself danced with Mr. Prosser, she would have an excuse to go immediately into the supper room afterward and keep an eye on her charge. She smiled and placed her hand in his.

It was a country dance. Mr. Prosser led his partner to join the set of which Hetherington and Cecily were already part. Cecily waved gaily to her. The girl's partner looked through her. When the pattern of the dance forced them to dance together for a few moments, he looked at her out of cold blue eyes and remarked, "You are looking remarkably fetching tonight, Miss Rossiter, in your gray silk."

"Thank you, my lord," she replied in kind. "I thought you would appreciate my efforts."

We are just like a couple of spiteful children, she thought in some dismay as the music forced them to move in opposite directions. The next time they came together, neither said a word.

Mr. Prosser led Elizabeth into the supper room and directly to the table already occupied by Mr. Mainwaring and Lucy Worthing, Ferdie Worthing and Amelia Norris, and Hetherington and Cecily. To her further dismay, her partner pulled out for her the chair next to Hetherington and waited until she had seated herself.

Elizabeth was aware that, had she not felt so conscious Of her proximity to the marquess, she might have been highly entertained by the proceedings of the following half-hour. Mr. Mainwaring and Lucy made labored conversation from time to time, but in the main listened to that of others at the table. He was top-lofty, Elizabeth decided severely. He considered himself above his company. Poor Lucy was looking her worst in a lemon-colored evening gown loaded with matching lace. Nervousness made her complexion even paler than usual.

Ferdie and Miss Norris were almost openly tuning in on the conversation across the table, Ferdie glowering moodily at his aristocratic rival to Cecily's affections, Miss Norris showing haughty disapproval.

Hetherington directed his attention to Cecily, talking to her in a bantering manner, almost like father to child, flattering her quite outrageously, and devouring her with his eyes. This last Elizabeth observed in one swift glance. She did not want to be seen watching him. Cecily was glowing happily, apparently quite unaware of the currents of hostility pulsing across the table.

Finally, Mr. Prosser engaged Elizabeth in conversation and she found herself genuinely interested in his accounts of experiences in Portugal. Soon she was engrossed.

Hetherington's voice brought her back to reality. "You must favor us with your opinion, Miss Rossiter," he was saying, directing the full force of his charming smile at her.

Elizabeth looked up, startled, leaving Mr. Prosser in midsentence. "On what topic, pray, sir?" she asked.

"Miss Rowe and I cannot agree on the location for a picnic on Saturday," he explained. "I favor the riverbank on William's estate. There is a particularly shaded and peaceful area about a mile north of the house. Miss Rowe favors the site of a ruined church on a hill three miles away. What is your opinion, ma'am?"

Flustered as she was by the unexpected attention, Elizabeth could still find time to wonder why he should suddenly decide to speak to her on such a trivial matter.

"A great deal depends on the state of the weather, my lord," she replied. "The river site would be perfect for a very hot day. The church site would be more suited to a cooler day because it is more open. Brilliant sunshine would make it uncomfortable."

"Ah, and do you add weather predictions to your other talents?" he asked, looking so directly into her eyes that Elizabeth was having difficulty breathing regularly.

"I am afraid not, my lord," she replied.

"How absurd you are, Robert," the shrill voice of Amelia Norris said across the table. "I would have thought you had outgrown such childish pursuits as picnics."

He smiled brilliantly back at her. "You may stay at home with your embroidery if you wish, Amelia," he said. "But I am sure that Miss Rowe and I will find others to join us. William, I am sure, will come, and Henry and Bertha. How about you, Worthing, and your sister?"

Ferdie glowered at Cecily, and Lucy blushed a painful red, but both accepted.

"And you, Miss Rossiter?" Hetherington asked.

"If Mrs. Prosser is to be present, I hardly think that my presence as chaperone will be necessary," Elizabeth replied calmly.

"Yes, I do not feel that any servants will be necessary to Mir party," Amelia Norris commented acidly.

Hetherington smiled again. "Ah, so you have decided to come after all, have you, Amelia?" he said, and turned back to Elizabeth. "But I was not inviting you as a chaperone, Miss Rossiter; I was inviting you as a guest."

Their eyes held for a painful moment. The orchestra could be heard turning up again in the next room. Mr. Mainwaring stood up. "Shall I return you to your mother, Miss Worthing?" he asked. "I believe the dancing is about to start again."

Everyone rose to return to the ballroom. Under cover of the general bustle, Hetherington spoke quietly to Elizabeth. "I wonder if you have the courage to come?" he said, the cold ice back in his eyes and voice. "And to wear a color other than gray."

Elizabeth did not reply. She turned and took Mr. Prosser's arm. Soon she was back in her shadowed corner, listening once more to Mrs. Claridge. She danced only once more that night, with Mr. Rowe, who asked if her glass slippers were pinching her feet yet.

---

Elizabeth did not sleep much that night. At first she worried about Cecily and about whether she should intervene or not. Someone of Hetherington's charm and experience was dangerous to an innocent like Cecily. And Mr. and Mrs. Rowe might not be able to see behind the facade of charm in time to save their daughter from a broken heart. Only Elizabeth knew that he was capable of subordinating all else to his personal interests. Was it her duty to warn Cecily, or at least Mrs. Rowe?

On the other hand, Elizabeth reasoned, there had been nothing improper in his behavior tonight. He had danced with Cecily only twice; he had danced with Anne Claridge, Amelia Norris, and one other lady as many times. His manner to Cecily at the supper table, although markedly attentive, had not been exactly flirtatious. The man was, after all, supposedly betrothed to Miss Norris, though Elizabeth had seen little evidence of any strong attachment on his part.

And what of Cecily? She had been flushed with pleasure when dancing with Hetherington and at the supper table. But she had looked much the same all evening. She had not looked particularly as if she were languishing after the marquess when she was not dancing with him.

Elizabeth decided that she should wait before saying anything. She was very reluctant to admit to a previous acquaintance with Hetherington. She would observe the two of them at the dinner party two days later and at the picnic on Saturday.

Why had Hetherington so pointedly invited her to that picnic? He had given every sign of loathing and despising her before that invitation. Elizabeth was very inclined not to go, but she really did feel it her responsibility to keep an eye on Cecily. Anyway, the man had dared her to go, had he not?

Why was he so hostile? Elizabeth was completely puzzled. She might have expected him to be embarrassed after the way he had treated her. But hostile?

Their newfound love had developed slowly after that night when, finding themselves unexpectedly alone together, they had kissed. For several weeks they had met as frequently as before, but always in public. Their friendship had grown. Soon Elizabeth had considered him to be her closest friend. She looked forward to meeting him. With him she felt free to pour out her innermost thoughts. It was to him she had confided her worries over her father, who was drinking more and sinking further and further into debt. She had confided her worries over her beloved John, her fear that when the time came, he would have no estate to inherit.

After his one declaration of love, Robert had not broached the matter again for several weeks. Only a new tenderness in his eyes and an occasional squeeze of the hand had convinced her that she had not imagined the episode at the ball. Finally he had spoken. He had invited her to drive with him in the park. He had chosen paths that were somewhat less public than the promenade that all the ton frequented on afternoons when it did not rain.

"Elizabeth," he had begun, "you believe that I love you, do you not?"

"Yes," she had replied, looking across at him. He was tight-lipped and frowning, an unusual expression for him.

"You must wonder why I have made no reference to the fact in three whole weeks," he had continued, his voice strained. "After my behavior on that one evening, I owed you an offer of marriage the next morning."

"No," she had said. "I kissed you too, Robert, and I do not believe we did anything so very wrong. I should hate to think that any man felt obliged to offer for me merely because he had kissed me."

"You misunderstand," he had said, distressed. "I want to marry you, Elizabeth. God, how I wish to marry you! But I am afraid I cannot."

Elizabeth had stared at him, wide-eyed.

His eyes had gone hard. "My father is not wealthy," he had said, "and I depend entirely upon him for my living. He opposes my taking any sort of employment and keeps me very much in leading strings. When I am five and twenty, I shall inherit the money left me by my mother. It is not by any means a fortune, but I shall be able to be independent on it."

"You do not need to tell me all this, Robert," Elizabeth had said doubtfully.

"Oh, yes, I do," he had answered viciously. "Do you not see what has happened? For three weeks I have been trying to persuade my father to allow me to make you an offer. It will not do. I must dangle after an heiress. It is useless to argue that I am a mere younger son, that if he were to turn over my mother's money to me now, as he could if he wished, he would be free of responsibility for me. I must marry wealth. I appealed to my uncle, my lather's younger brother, to intercede for me. Uncle Horace was always an indulgent man when I was younger. But he is worse than Papa. He believes that I should marry both position and fortune. He is as rich as Croesus, by the way. I can see no way out, Elizabeth, except to ask you to wait for three years. I can hardly expect that of you."

"Three years is a long time, Robert," she had replied. "Anything can happen in that time to change the situation. For now, it is enough to know that you love me." But she had been painfully aware that this was probably the only Season in London that she would be allowed, that they might have to spend three years without even seeing each other before they could wed.

Robert had drawn his horses almost to a halt and gazed across at her. "And you, Elizabeth?" he had asked. "Do you love me? Will you wait for me?"

"Yes," she had answered with all the ardor of extreme youth. "I love you, Robert, and I shall wait forever if I must."

He had glanced hastily around, but there were other riders in sight. He had had to content himself with lifting her hand, drawing her glove down to bare her wrist, and pressing his lips to the pulse there.

"I shall always love you," he had said, and Elizabeth had believed him.

She laughed harshly now as she stood at the window of her room in the Rowes' house, made light by approaching dawn. Forever did not last very long, she reflected.