A Chance Encounter

Elizabeth did not lie down. She drew a chair to the window and sat looking out. Indeed, it would be madness to venture out, armed as she was only with a heavy pelisse and half-boots. And it would be equal madness to force Mr. Mainwaring to call out a closed carriage when it would get bogged down in the mud in no time at all. Yet even so, she felt wretchedly uncomfortable with her situation. She felt herself to be an intruder, and her ambivalent position as an employed lady did not help her confidence. However polite Mr. Mainwaring's guests might be, they must surely view her as a servant and feel that she did not really belong with them at the di

No, she must go down. She gazed in despair at the gown laid out on the bed. She must wear it. Her own clothes had been whisked away by a maid to be cleaned. Even if they were dry in time, they were not suitable for evening wear. And she could certainly not venture downstairs in the warm but ample dressing gown that she was currently wearing. It had been the plainest gown that Amelia Norris possessed, and she had been noticeably reluctant to lend even that. But its neckline was a great deal lower than anything Elizabeth had worn since she had been a debutante, its sleeves were short and puffed, and its hem was delicately scalloped. And it was of the palest primrose yellow. Mrs. Prosser had lent her a pair of gold slippers. They were a size too large, but Elizabeth was not pla

Finally, when the dresser came to see if she could be of any help, Elizabeth dressed herself. She blushed with mortification when she looked at herself in a mirror. She looked like a girl again, her delicately curved figure accented by the flimsy material of the gown. There was altogether too much bare flesh in evidence for her comfort. The skirt was slightly too long. She would have to hold it up whenever she was on her feet. Her hair still streamed down her back in thick chestnut waves. She hastily gathered together all her hairpins and grabbed a brush. Soon the hair had been tamed into a knot that sat even more severely on her neck than usual.

A tap at the door heralded the return of the dresser. She brought with her a pearl necklace and a warm white shawl from her mistress. Elizabeth was grateful for both. The pearls somehow made her neck and bosom seem less bare. The shawl was something to hide behind.

It took a great deal of courage to leave the room and descend the staircase to the drawing room. As fortune would have it, only Hetherington and Mr. Mainwaring were yet present, the former looking startlingly handsome in black. They both rose to their feet and stared at her as she timidly entered. Mr. Mainwaring crossed the room in a few long strides and took her hand in his. He smiled dazzlingly.

"I am delighted to see, ma'am, that you are none the worse for your ordeal this afternoon," he said. "And please give me leave to say that you look quite beautiful." He raised her hand to his lips. "Would you not agree, Robert?" he added.

Elizabeth had been aware ever since she entered the room of Hetherington standing with his back to the fire, his face pale, his lips tightly drawn together. He was watching her intently.

He lifted his glass now in a mock salute. "Charming," he said, and raised one eyebrow.

"Do come to the fire, Miss Rossiter, and let me get you a drink," Mr. Mainwaring said, apparently noticing nothing out of the ordinary in his friend's attitude.

He led her to a chair close to where Hetherington was standing, then crossed the room to a sideboard where an array of decanters and glasses had been set out.

"It is the hairstyle that is the real coup de grace," Hetherington murmured, looking into the dark liquid in his glass.

"Thank you, my lord," Elizabeth said sweetly. "I knew I might depend upon you to make me feel at home."

"I thought you might be depended upon to do that for yourself, ma'am," he muttered so that Elizabeth felt herself near to bursting with rage by the time a smiling Mr. Mainwaring put a glass into her hand.

Fortunately, the other two ladies entered the drawing room at that point, soon to be followed by Mr. Prosser. Conversation became general and the party adjourned to the dining room. Elizabeth, viewed kindly by at least three of her table companions, found that the meal was not such an ordeal as she had anticipated. She felt almost cheerful by the time Mrs. Prosser rose to lead the ladies into the drawing room.

Amelia Norris made no secret of the fact that she did not feel it her duty to entertain or socialize with a mere Koverness.

"Come, Bertha," she said, "play for me while I sing."

Mrs. Prosser groaned. "Must we?" she asked. "It seems we have done little else in a week. I was hoping to have a comfortable coze by the fire with Miss Rossiter."

"There is nothing else to do," Amelia snapped, "and you know that Robert likes to hear me sing."

Mrs. Prosser sighed. "Will you excuse us?" she said to Elizabeth. "Do you sing or play, perhaps?"

"Only very indifferently," Elizabeth replied, shaking her head. "I shall enjoy listening to you."

When the gentlemen entered the drawing room a while later, it was to find Elizabeth sitting a little removed from the fire and the other two ladies at the piano at the other end of the large room.

"Ah, Henry," his wife called, "I need you here to turn the pages of the music for me."

He crossed the room amiably and stood behind his wife's stool. Hetherington too strolled across to the pianoforte and leaned an elbow on it while he watched Amelia singing.

"May I join you, ma'am?" Mr. Mainwaring asked, and seated himself beside her on the sofa.

They conversed about the recent weather, about common acquaintances, about the social activities they had both engaged in since his arrival. He told her about some changes he pla

"Does this mean that you plan to make Ferndale your frequent home, sir?" Elizabeth asked.

"Oh, yes," he replied. "I like it here very much. My estates in Scotland and northern England are rather too remote for frequent visits, and London is rather too busy and too superficial for my tastes. I believe I shall spend a large part of each year in residence here."

Elizabeth smiled. "I am sure your neighbors will be very happy to have Ferndale occupied again," she said.

He looked at her intently. "And you, ma'am?" he asked. "Will you be happy to have me live here?"

"I?" she said. "Why, yes, sir, I value your acquaintance."

Hetherington had moved back across the room and sat now in the chair closest to the fire with his book. He propped one foot against the hearth rail and appeared to become immediately absorbed in its pages. Elizabeth judged that he was out of earshot of their conversation unless he made a deliberate attempt to listen.

"Will I be speaking out of turn, ma'am," Mr. Main-waring continued, "if I say that you are one of the main reasons why I have decided to make Ferndale my principal home?"

Elizabeth looked at him, troubled. "It is perhaps unwise to allow one person to influence one's decisions," she said. "People can disappoint us, you know."

He was silent for a while, watching her. "May I hope, Elizabeth?" he asked.