A Chance Encounter

Chapter 16

Elizabeth did not relinquish her hold on the handles of the doors. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"It seems that you ask me that every time we meet," he said, "and I always have the same answer. I wish to talk to you."

"I have no interest in anything you may have to say to me, my lord," she said coldly, "and I have nothing whatsoever to say to you. Good day."

She stepped backward and began to close the doors in front of her.

"Elizabeth," Hetherington said, and he was still smiling, "how rag-ma

Elizabeth deliberately stepped inside the room and quietly closed the doors behind her. She crossed the room until her own blazing eyes looked directly into his intense blue ones.

"I understood that you were busy, my lord," she said. "Pardon me, it was extremely busy, was it not, John? I understood that you were to write to me when you had more leisure. Have you found yourself with a great deal of leisure, my lord, so much so that you have found the time to pay me a personal visit? Pardon me for not being quite overwhelmed by your generosity. You are at least five days too late. I do not believe, Robert, there is anything you could say to which I would deem it worthwhile to listen."

He tipped his head to one side and regarded her closely. The smile was gone from his lips, though it was still in his eyes. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

Elizabeth clamped her teeth together and glared back at him.

"I believe she is referring to that letter you had your secretary write," Louise said timidly.

"Carson?" he said, frowning and turning his gaze on Louise.

She nodded.

"You have had a letter from Carson?" he asked Elizabeth, looking at her closely once more.

She continued to stare stonily at him.

"Why did he write to you, love?" he asked gently. "I was unaware that he even knew of your existence." He turned to Louise when it became obvious that Elizabeth was not going to answer him. "Do you know what this is all about, Louise?" he asked.

She looked hesitantly, first at her sister-in-law and then at her husband. "After Elizabeth had written to ask you to come here," she said, "she had a letter from your secretary to say that you were too busy either to write or to visit, but that you would write as soon as you were able."

"You asked me to come?" he said, turning back to Elizabeth in wonder.

When she still did not answer, the rest of what Louise had said seemed to penetrate his mind. Unexpectedly, he chuckled. "Carson was my father's secretary," he explained. "He was more like a parent to me when I grew up than my own father was. Now he seems to feel that every female has designs on my title and my fortune, not to mention my person. He has taken it upon himself to protect me. This is not the first time I have had evidence that he has discouraged bold females in my name."

"You mean you knew nothing of Elizabeth's letter?" John asked stiffly.

Hetherington looked at Elizabeth as if it were she who had asked the question. "Do you not know me well enough," he asked, "to know that I would have come to you as fast as horse could gallop at any time I had received such a letter from you in the last six years?"

Elizabeth looked blankly back into his now entirely sober face.

"After I saw you at Mr. Rowe's house," he said,, "I returned home for one night. I have been traveling ever since. I have not been home at all. Please believe me, Elizabeth."

John rose to his feet. "Come, Louise," he said, "our presence is not needed here."

Elizabeth whirled on him. "I do not wish to be left alone," she said. "I have nothing to say to the Marquess of Hetherington. And I have a great deal to do. I leave for Yorkshire tomorrow morning with Mr. Chatsworth. He has hired me."

"Elizabeth," John said, and his voice was unusually stern, "if I have to lock you in this room, I shall force you to speak with Hetherington this time. It seems to me that the two of you have had your marriage blighted by misunderstandings and suspicions and missed opportunities. This time, talk! At least then, if you continue with this idiotic notion of moving to the wilds in order to teach other people's children, it will be a decision made out of sanity and common sense."

Elizabeth, stu

Neither of them broke the silence for a while. Elizabeth stood, still facing the door. Hetherington stood a few feet behind her. He spoke first.

"Why did you wish me to come, Elizabeth?" he asked.

She did not turn. "It was nothing," she said. "It does not matter."

"It does matter," he insisted. "Whatever it is, it was important enough to you a week ago that you sent for me. And I know you well enough to realize that, to do that, you would have to go against all the pride you have built up in the last years. Do you not believe me when I say that I know nothing of your letter? Is that it?"

"I am weary, Robert," she said, turning to face him, "so weary of the misunderstandings, the waitings, the confrontations. I have trained myself since losing you to avoid strong feelings and unpredictable circumstances. I have learned to value tranquillity."

"And have you been happy?" he asked gently.

"Happy?" she repeated, eyes flashing. "Happy! Happiness is a much-overrated emotion, my-lord. I was very happy once and I ended up more miserable than I knew it was possible to be. I am not interested in happiness. I wish to be left in peace."

"With your Mr. Chatsworth?"

"Yes, with Mr. Chatsworth and his wife and sons. I can start a new life there and forget again. Oh, God, I want to forget."

"Elizabeth!" he said with such quiet tenderness that her eyes flew to his face and her senses reeled for one unguarded moment. He pushed himself away from the mantel and walked past her.

"We were so young, were we not?" he said, walking to the window and gazing through it. "I ca

Elizabeth had moved only enough that she could watch him where he stood by the window. She did not say anything.

He turned to look at her. "If you will not tell me why you summoned me, may I tell you why I came?" he asked.

"It seems I have no choice but to listen," she said, but there was no hostility in her voice. She moved to the wing chair beside the hearth and sat quietly on the edge of the seat.

"I knew when I spoke with you last," he said, "before I left you, that you had spoken the truth. I knew what must have happened. All I could think of doing was reaching my uncle and forcing the truth out of him. That proved a most difficult and most frustrating task."

He walked across the room and took the chair opposite Elizabeth. He watched her downcast eyes as he spoke.

"I went home for one night and then went to London. The man he had left there to care for his house told me that he had gone fishing in Scotland with friends, though he did not know the exact location. It took me almost two days to discover who the friends were and where exactly they had gone. I was weary enough when I arrived there, but when I found the place, the friends informed me that my uncle had returned home just two days before. Somehow I had missed him on the road. To cut a long story short, I finally ran him to ground in Paris less than a week ago."