A Chance Encounter

Chapter 6

Elizabeth had never actually been inside the house at Ferndale. She had driven past the imposing wrought-iron gates supported by massive stone pillars, of course, and had often gazed at the impressive park that stretched within. During the winter, when the trees were bare, she had even been able to spot the house. But the closest she had ever come to it had been the day of the picnic when she had driven over with Cecily.

She gazed now with interest at the fairly new building. It had been erected a mere fifty years before by Mr. Mainwaring's predecessor when he had been a young man. Elizabeth admired its simple classical lines as she waited with the Rowes for a footman to put down the steps of their carriage and assist them onto the carpet that had been laid out down the marble steps for the occasion.

She felt a sense of anticipation and one of slight dread. ()n this occasion she was clearly a guest rather than a companion. She had already had her hand solicited for a dance by the host himself. She was wearing a new dress and felt very daring and self-conscious. It was of silk of the palest blue. It was her own creation, very simple as became her station. It was high-waisted with short, tight sleeves and a modest neckline that ended well above the level of her bosom. But it was the first dress she had owned in over five years that was not gray, the first one that did not have long sleeves. She had not quite dared to try a different hairstyle, but she had pulled a few tendrils of rich chestnut hair free of the knot at her neck and allowed them to trail down her neck and her temples.

Cecily was also excited. "Is it not great fun to be going to Ferndale, Beth?" she enthused in the carriage. "I have heard that the ballroom stretches the whole width of the house. Their housekeeper told ours that Mr. Mainwaring had to send all the way to Bath to purchase enough candles to fill all the candelabra. Imagine!"

"He has hired an orchestra from Bath, too," Mrs. Rowe added, nodding until her feather plumes waved back and forth. "Mr. Prosser told Mrs. Claridge so. I do hope Mr. Mainwaring or the Marquess of Hetherington will lead you into the first dance, Cecily. I do declare, one of them ought when we have exceeded everyone else in our civility to them."

"It does not signify, Mama," Cecily said. "Ferdie has asked me for the first dance."

"Fiddle!" said her mother. "You can dance with Ferdie anytime during the twelvemonth, my love."

"And you, Cinderella," said Mr. Rowe, looking across the carriage at Elizabeth, "is tonight the night for Prince Charming?"

"Indeed, I hope so, sir," she replied seriously. "I very much fear that my glass slippers will shatter before I have the opportunity to leave one on the house steps."

"You should not tease her, Mr. Rowe," his wife scolded. "I am quite sure that Miss Rossiter could make a very eligible connection if she but set her mind to it."

"Quite, my love," Mr. Rowe replied indulgently. "I might have suggested Mr. Dowling. He is eligible enough, though a thoroughly dry old stick. But I very much fear his heart may have been conquered already by the Worthing chit. No, Miss Rossiter, I am afraid it will have to be Prince Charming or no one for you."

"My sentiments exactly, sir," she said cheerfully as she gathered together her skirts and took the outstretched hand of the liveried footman who assisted her from trie carriage.

Mr. Mainwaring had asked Mrs. Prosser to be his hostess at the ball. The two of them stood at the doorway of the ballroom greeting their guests, who had been invited from miles around. They greeted Elizabeth after the Rowes, Mrs. Prosser with a kind smile and Mr. Mainwaring with a warm smile and a firm shake of the hand.

"I hope you have not forgotten to reserve the first waltz for me," he said for her ears only.

Elizabeth smiled and passed into the ballroom. It was indeed a grand place, stretching the width of the house, its long wall consisting almost entirely of French windows that opened onto a stone balcony. The room was brilliant with candlelight, heavy with the perfume of masses of flowers. A sixth sense drew her eyes across the floor to Hetherington, who was looking particularly dazzling in a midnight-blue satin coat and lighter-blue knee breeches, with gold waistcoat and sparkling white linen. Amelia Norris, in white lace covering lavender satin, held possessively to his arm. But he also was looking across at her, Elizabeth realized with a jolt, his eyes wandering coolly over her from head to foot. She looked sharply away.

Elizabeth felt almost young again during the first half of the ball. She danced almost every dance, with the Reverend Claridge first of all, then with Mr. Rowe and Mr. Prosser. Mr. Mainwaring claimed her for the fourth dance, a waltz.

"Ah, at last," he said, his eyes smiling down at her as he placed a strong hand against her back and moved her into the music. "Now I may relax, ma'am, in your company."

"Oh, beware, sir," she warned, "I am still very likely to tread on your toes during the dance."

"I will not believe it," he protested. "You are by far too charming and too graceful, ma'am."

"Yes," she replied lightly, "but I like to appear modest by pretending that I am not perfect."

He laughed at the exact moment that Hetherington, staring tight-lipped into Elizabeth's eyes, danced by with Cecily.

Elizabeth tilted her chin upward.

"Miss Rossiter," her partner was saying, "I said a short while ago that I never seemed to notice how you were attired. But I have noticed this evening that you look particularly lovely."

Elizabeth blushed, startled by the sincerity of his tone. "Why, thank you, sir," she said. "I feel very daring, you know, putting aside my gray and venturing into such a startling color as blue."

He smiled. "I do not like to see you in employment," he said. "You grace this ballroom more than any other lady present. It angers me that most of them consider themselves grander than you." His tone had become suddenly serious. He was looking very intently into her face.

Elizabeth did not know how to reply. The conversation, which had begun as light banter, had taken a turn that she found disturbing. "I am honestly employed because I choose to be, sir," she replied carefully. "And, indeed, these people have always treated me with great kindness. I have never felt condescension, not from the local families, anyway."

He danced with her in silence for a while, still gazing down at her averted face. "I have made you uncomfortable, ma'am," he said quietly at last. "I am sorry. I did not mean to do so. I only meant, in my clumsy way, that I wish I might call on you and invite you to drive and ride with me. But I can do so only if I invite others and have you come along as a companion or chape rone. I resent the situation."

Elizabeth looked up at him, startled again. She could think of nothing to say.

"Have you promised the next dance?" he asked. "I should like to walk with you in the garden. It is lighted and there will be others out there. You need not fear that I mean anything improper."

Elizabeth hesitated. "I should be delighted to dance with you again later in the evening," she said, "but I cannot think it would be quite the thing to leave the ballroom with you, sir. I am but a paid companion, after all."

He sighed as the music drew to an end. "Let it be the supper dance, then?" he said. It was a question.

"It would be my pleasure," she murmured as he led her to a vacant chair close to an open set of French windows. As soon as he had moved away, Elizabeth slipped through the windows and leaned against the rail of the balcony, half-shielded by a large potted plant. The air felt refreshingly cool against her burning cheeks. She forced herself to relax, tried to force her whirling thoughts into some order.

Had Hetherington been right about Mr. Mainwaring? It certainly appeared as if he admired her. And Elizabeth was not quite sure how she felt about that. After several years of living on the fringes of life, so to speak, it was not unpleasant to know that one had attracted the notice of a distinguished gentleman. And Mr. Mainwaring was certainly that. He was undoubtedly handsome, with a very masculine physique. Although reserved to a marked degree, the man had a hidden warmth and intelligence that would surely make him a pleasant companion. Had she met him under any other circumstances, she felt that she might have been tempted to try with him to put the past behind her and make a future for herself that was less bleak than the existence she had been living.

But Hetherington had made that virtually impossible. It was not that Elizabeth was frightened off by his disapproval or his demands. It was simply that, having seen him again, she knew that she would never be free of him. Although she now found his presence oppressive, despised him for his past, was cynical of his false charm, and almost hated him for what he had done to her life, she still felt bound to him as strongly as she had ever been. She could never love him again, but she could never stop loving him, either. She would always know when he was in the same room, and she would always be as physically aware of him across the length of a room as if he were actually touching her. Although she could never be happy in that situation, she could not in all fairness encourage the attentions of another man. Could she? -Elizabeth closed her eyes and pictured how pleasant it would be to allow Mr. Mainwaring to call on her, to escort her on various outings. Of course, it was all a wild dream, anyway. She could never enter into high society again. There would always be the few who might have known and would remember. And it would be unfair to drag an innocent man through that old scandal.

Elizabeth's thoughts were finally penetrated by the sound of voices coming from the far side of the potted plant that hid her from view. She recognized the voices immediately as those of Hetherington and Amelia Norris. Their voices were restrained, but they were arguing, she realized. Elizabeth would have withdrawn; she had no wish to eavesdrop. But she could not move away and back into the ballroom without being seen. And she realized that the conversation had been going on for some time, although she had only just become consciously aware of it. If they saw her now, they would naturally assume that she had been listening. She sank even farther into the shadows, against the stone balustrade.

"You know very well that our friends expect an announcement at any moment," she was saying.

"I know no such thing, Amelia," he replied amiably. "If our friends really do so, their expectations can come only from you, my dear."

"How can you say so!" Her voice shook with suppressed fury. "You have been playing with my affections, Robert. You would make me the laughingstock."

"Indeed not," he denied, his tone more serious. "I have never led you to believe that I held you more dear than a friend, Amelia. I am sure that no one has been misled. Your reputation is in no way sullied."

"You are despicable," she spat out. "You must know that my sister is in daily expectation of hearing that you have offered for me. I am sure that every rustic in this godforsaken corner of England must be expecting an announcement. Have I been dragged here under false pretenses when I could have been enjoying the pleasures of Brighton?"

"Amelia, my dear, please keep your voice low," Hetherington cautioned. "I accepted an invitation here because William is a particular friend of mine. I heard purely by chance that you were also coming as sister of Henry Prosser's wife. I was pleased. I have always found you lovely and pleasant company. But you must not read more significance into our being here together. Indeed, I am distressed to know that you have misunderstood the situation."

"Misunderstoodf" she replied. "It is the little Rowe chit, is it not, Robert? How foolish you make yourself, running after a little schoolroom miss that would not hold your interest for a month. Can you contemplate what marriage with her would be like? You would have that dreadfully vulgar Mama forever visiting you and sunning herself in the glory of having a marquess for a son-in-law. And you would probably be saddled with that solemn drab of a governess, or companion, or whatever she calls herself."

"Amelia," he said, his tone colder, harder than it had been, "I am not contemplating matrimony with any woman, and am not likely to in the future. I am sorry, my dear. I am sure that you can make a brilliant match if you will. But it would not be fair to encourage you to dangle after me. I may not marry even if I wished to."

There was no answer to his words, but after a few moments Elizabeth could hear a rustle of skirts and assumed that Miss Norris had swept back into the ballroom in high dudgeon. She dared not move. She had no way of knowing if Hetherington had accompanied his companion. She was relieved a short while later to hear a deep sigh from the other side of the plant and then the unmistakable sound of his footsteps moving away. Only then did she feel free herself to return to the welcome warmth of the ballroom.

The excitement of the evening was still not over. Mr. Mainwaring claimed the supper dance with Elizabeth, as he had promised, and led her in to supper. He seated her at a table with Cecily and Ferdie Worthing. These two were engaged in a spirited argument about an incident from their childhood when they had been caught by the gamekeeper of the previous owner of Ferndale trespassing and eating apples from the orchard. The argument concerned which one of them had been responsible for getting them both caught.

Elizabeth and Mr. Mainwaring listened in amusement to the epithets that flew between the heated pair. Ferdie was "idiotic, stupid, and clumsy," and Cecily "silly, slow, and shrill."

Cecily snorted. "It was funny, though, was it not, Ferdie, when you told him you were the squire's son and he realized that he could not thrash us?"

"I say, Cec," Ferdie replied with enthusiasm, "you put on a jolly good show of crying and wailing. The only time in my life I ever heard you cry."

"It worked, though," she said proudly.

"Yes, I was the only one who was punished," Ferdie said dryly. "The dratted man sat me down at the foot of a tree and told me that if I wanted apples, I could have them. He made me eat one after another until I was sick."

"You ate eight and a half," Cecily remembered.

"And have never eaten one since," he added.

They all laughed. Mr. Mainwaring touched Elizabeth's hand briefly and smiled directly into her eyes. She had been glad of the lively conversation provided by the younger pair. She was thankful now for another interruption. Lady Worthing had touched her on the shoulder.

"May I speak with you a moment, Miss Rossiter?" she asked.

Surprised, Elizabeth rose to her feet and followed the older lady into the deserted ballroom. Squire Worthing was there, too.

"Miss Rossiter, will you help us?" the squire's lady asked. She was obviously distraught.

"What is it, ma'am?" Elizabeth asked, helping the lady to seat herself, taking her vinaigrette from her nerveless fingers and waving it in front of her nose.

"Lucy is missing," Squire Worthing said gruffly. "Has been missing for an hour or more. We do not wish anyone else to notice but cannot find her ourselves."

"We know you to be discreet," his wife continued, "and perhaps you would be less conspicuous moving about than we are. The silly girl must be hiding somewhere and does not know how much time has passed."

"Gracious!" said Elizabeth. "Is she alone, ma'am?"

Lady Worthing hesitated. "I believe Mr. Dowling is absent too, Miss Rossiter," she said. "Oh, it is too provoking. I quarreled with Lucy just this afternoon. What does she want with that dull, undistinguished man when her father and I are sacrificing a great deal in order to take her to town next winter?"

Elizabeth bit her lip. "I shall walk into the garden," she said. "Rest assured that I shall keep looking until I find her. There is no chance that she has left altogether, I suppose?"

"Our carriage and Dowling's are both still in the stables," Squire Worthing replied.

"Then there really is nothing to be worried about," Elizabeth said practically. "I am sure it is as you say, ma'am. They have just forgotten the time." She smiled and hurried away.

She stepped out through the French windows onto the balcony and down the steps at one end. Lanterns had been hung in the trees close to the house. Elizabeth wandered over the lawn and peered among the shrubs that surrounded it, but was afraid to go farther as the lighting was not good and she did not know the grounds at all. She decided that Lucy would probably not have wandered beyond that area for the same reasons. She must return to the house, it seemed.

The house was difficult to earch for all the same reasons. Most of the rooms were in darkness and Elizabeth had never been inside the house before. She dreaded being caught apparently snooping. But she felt compelled to continue with the search. She felt responsible for the apparent attachment between Lucy Worthing and Mr. Dowling. It was her advice at a dinner table that had set Lucy talking to this neighbor, whom she had not noticed before. And it seemed that the girl was in trouble with her parents, who looked higher for a husband for their daughter than to a mere gentleman farmer.

Elizabeth crept down the stairs into the downstairs hall. There was no one there. Apparently all the servants were busy either abovestairs with the refreshments or in the kitchen below. She turned a door handle and peered cautiously into a darkened salon. It appeared to be empty, though she whispered Lucy's name and listened a moment before closing the door again. She repeated the performance at a smaller room that appeared to be Mr. Main-waring's office, and at another, larger room that was obviously a well-stocked library. From this room she had an answer.

"Come inside, Elizabeth, if you must," a cool and familiar voice said from the depths of a large leather chair close to a window at the far side of the room.

"I shall not disturb you, my lord," she replied hastily. "I am looking for someone."

"Why would you search for Miss Worthing in a part of the house obviously not being used for entertainment?" Hetherington asked.

"Er, I merely thought she might be lost," she replied weakly.

"No, you thought she might be enjoying a secret tryst with her country swain," he said with heavy sarcasm. "And being the good and straitlaced companion that you are, you must interfere. She could do so much better if she went to London and hung out for a suitable husband, could she not?"

Elizabeth was angry. "You do not know why I am looking for Miss Worthing, my lord," she said, "and you do not know me. I have no desire either to explain or to justify myself to you. Excuse me, please. I must find Miss Worthing."

"Relax," he said, the sneer still in his voice. "She has been found already by the worthy squire and his wife. She and Dowling were in here with me. We were having a pleasant and quite unexceptionable conversation. It was totally improper, of course, for Miss Worthing to be here with two gentlemen, unchaperoned, but sometimes one forgets such niceties. I suppose the young lady will be whisked home early in deep disgrace."

"I am sorry for it," Elizabeth said, "but really her parents' actions are no concern of yours or of mine."

"No, they are not," he agreed. "Come inside and shut the infernal door for goodness' sake, Elizabeth. You look like a bird poised for flight with one hand on the door like that."

Elizabeth did not know why she did as he asked. He just seemed different tonight, sitting there in the darkness. He seemed unthreatening. She crossed the room and sat on the padded window seat.

"You have been drinking," she remarked.

He laughed. "And I believe you have become a puritan," he returned.

"You used not to drink at public entertainments," she said.

"And you used not to moralize, ma'am," he retorted.

"I was not moralizing," she replied, "merely wondering what troubles you."

There was silence for a few moments. Then he laughed softly again. "It seems to me that we have found ourselves in this situation once before," he said.

"Yes," she agreed softly.

They could find nothing to say for a while. They sat silently, remembering. Elizabeth closed her eyes and wished herself back to that previous occasion when Robert had first kissed her and told her that he loved her. If only they could go back, wipe out the intervening years. If only she could change the way he was, make him become permanently what he had seemed to be then.

"I suppose the young always imagine the good times will last forever," he said quietly, echoing her thoughts. "It is a rude awakening, is it not, to discover that people change, or that they have other facets to their character that we did not suspect?"

Elizabeth could feel tears welling in her eyes and a tickling in the back of her throat. She stared down at the dim outline of her hands, but could not trust her voice for a while. At last she got to her feet.

"I should not be here, Robert," she said, willing her voice to steadiness. "I must go."

"It is a long time since I heard my name spoken like that," he commented. "You always did have a special way of saying it, like a caress."

"Good night," she said, and moved past his chair.

He caught her wrist as she passed and stopped her progress. "You are right," he said, his words slightly slurred. "I have been drinking. And drink makes me sentimental. Tomorrow I shall be able to see you as you really are again and I shall despise myself for having detained you here. But for tonight, Elizabeth, I find you infinitely desirable."

He lifted her hand toward him and pressed his lips to her palm. He held her wrist afterward, closing her fingers over the spot that he had kissed. He got abruptly to his feet, dropped her hand, and faced the window. "Go now," he said harshly, "before I forget that there can never be anything but enmity between you and me."

Elizabeth turned and found her way out of the room more by instinct than by conscious direction. She stood outside, her back against the door, for a whole minute, fighting the bitter tears, deliberately taking deep, slow breaths to calm herself. Finally she forced herself to climb the stairs again and enter the ballroom. She made sure that there was a dance in progress before she did so, and made her way to an obscure alcove of the room, where she escaped attention until the final dance, when Mr. Rowe found her.

"Ah, Cinderella," he said, "I thought you were lost. I was convinced that Prince Charming must have chased you away already."

"Yes, he did, sir," she replied cheerfully, "but I considered it too far to ride home on a pumpkin, so I crept back inside through a rear door."

"Ah," he said. "Wise, if unromantic. Do come and dance, Miss Rossiter."