A Chance Encounter

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 i

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 Elizabeth would have withdrawn; she had no wish to eavesdrop.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 a

"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 a

"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, ru

"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 fu

"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 ca

"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?"