"A Chance Encounter" - читать интересную книгу автора (Balogh Mary)

Chapter 2

It was Elizabeth Rossiter who saw the visitors arriving the following afternoon, all on horseback. One was a lady, she could see. Elizabeth had returned just half an hour before from a visit to the rectory. She had taken flowers from the garden to decorate the church while Cecily paid a call on Anne to divulge all the information she had learned at the dinner table the evening before. Now Elizabeth was sitting in the window seat of the drawing room, her embroidery in her lap. Mrs. Rowe and Cecily were looking through patterns, though the directions for the new dresses had been given to Miss Phillips days before.

"I should warn you, ma'am, that I believe we are about to have visitors," Elizabeth said calmly. She did not look through the window again for fear that the riders would look up and laugh at her curiosity.

Mrs. Rowe shrieked. "Mr. Mainwaring?" she asked. "And I would put on this old lace cap after luncheon when something told me that I should wear the new."

"Beth," Cecily cried, "is my gown creased? Have my ringlets lost their curl? That new bonnet will flatten my hair so."

"You look your usual pretty self," Elizabeth assured her. "And I am sorry now that I alarmed you both. The visitors must call upon Mr. Rowe first. It is just possible that they will not call upon you ladies at all today."

"Oh, yes," Mrs. Rowe agreed, "and it would be just like him to keep them all to himself in the library and never think of bringing them to the drawing room."

But five minutes later Mr. Rowe had ushered the three gentlemen and a lady into the drawing room and was performing the introductions. Mrs. Rowe and Cecily were on their feet. Everyone seemed to be moving and talking at once, as Mr. Mainwaring, Mr. and Mrs. Prosser, and the Marquess of Hetherington were introduced to the ladies of the house.

Only Elizabeth was still seated, frozen into the shadows of the window seat where she had shrunk when the visitors first entered the room. Her eyes were fixed on the marquess; for the moment no one else existed in the room. My God, but he had not changed! She saw a man onlv a little above average height, but graceful and athletic in build. His fair hair was as shiny and as thick as it had been then, his face just as open and full of vitality. It was not exactly a handsome face, but the dancing blue eyes and the perfect white teeth made the beholder unaware of the fact.

He was bowing now over Cecily's hand, gazing into her face with frank admiration. Robert. Elizabeth had frequently wondered what it would be like to see him again. Well, now she knew, some dispassionate part of her brain told her. Numb. Totally and completely numb. But not for long.

Mrs. Rowe turned with a magnanimous gesture to the employee that she insisted on treating like a lady. "I wish you to meet Cecily's lady companion, Miss Elizabeth Rossiter," she said, directing all eyes to the window seat.

But Elizabeth was aware only of the slightly jerky movement made by Hetherington as he heard the name and turned in her direction. For a timeless, frozen moment their eyes met. Blank disbelief, sudden recognition, and shock flashed across his face all within seconds. It was unlikely that anyone except Elizabeth even noticed.

Then, his expression wiped clean of all expression except polite reserve, he inclined his head with a muttered "ma'am," while the others were presumably doing the same, and Elizabeth, snapping back to reality, rose to her feet and curtsied.

He seated himself with his back to her and engaged Cecily in conversation while Mr. Mainwaring and Mrs. Prosser talked to Mrs. Rowe. Mr. Prosser, a man in his early forties, Elizabeth estimated, balding and slightly paunchy, strolled over and conversed with her for a few minutes, though she could not recall afterward what had been the topic. After twenty minutes, the company departed with promises of future visits and invitations.

Another half-hour passed before Elizabeth could escape from the raptures of her employer and her charge. Mrs. Rowe was vastly impressed with the good looks and the presence of the owner of Ferndale. Cecily seemed more pleased with the rank and the charm of the marquess. But on one thing they were agreed: Cecily would surely be able to engage the interests of one of the two men, or possibly of both. Had not the marquess had eyes for no one else? Had not Mr. Mainwaring positively glowered when his friend sat next to Cecily before he had a chance to do so himself?

At the earliest opportunity Elizabeth retired to her own room on the pretext of having to wash her hair before dinner. She was very badly shaken by the unexpected encounter and felt that she needed a few hours in which to assess what had happened and what its implications for her immediate future would be.

She had never really expected to meet Robert again. She had known, of course, that he was now Marquess of Hetherington. The vast difference in their ranks should have ensured that their paths would never cross. Elizabeth had tried to make doubly sure by taking a position with a less-than-prominent family in a place quite remote from London, where she assumed he spent most of his time, and from Hetherington Manor in Sussex, where he had his country seat.

But it had happened by some bizarre twist of fate. And she thought again of how achingly familiar he had looked in the drawing room earlier before he had become aware of her presence. She supposed there must have been some changes had she had the chance to look more closely to show that he was now a man of eight and twenty rather than two and twenty, but the experience of six years before seemed to have left no mark on him. He had appeared as friendly and as charming as he ever had. Elizabeth wondered if there were any visible sign of change in her. But she knew that there must be. Even though her name had brought his eyes in her direction earlier, it had taken him a moment to recognize that she was the same Elizabeth Rossiter he had known.

Of course she had changed! Elizabeth thought back to the young, eager girl that she had been when she arrived in London at the age of twenty. She had worn her chestnut hair long, in thick curls and ringlets. Her aunt's hairdresser had advised her not to imitate the current fashion for cropped hairstyles; her hair was too rich and too healthy, he declared. Her aunt's dresser had decided that Elizabeth's complexion needed no artificial aids. Her cheeks always had a natural bloom. Her gray eyes were large and always looked directly into a companion's. Her figure was slender but unmistakably feminine. She was of average height.

Elizabeth remembered that she had had many admirers, who had shamelessly flattered her beauty. But although she had laughed, she had had to believe in their sincerity. She had no wealth or dowry that could have attracted mere fortune-hunters. After the hard years spent keeping her father's home, she had thrown herself with unabashed zest into the activities of the Season. The fashion was to appear bored, but Elizabeth had refused to conform. She had ridden, driven with a variety of escorts, and attended balls, routs, Venetian breakfasts, soirees, and a dizzying array of other events.

Yes, Robert must have noted a huge difference in her. I Elizabeth's eyes strayed to the mirror over her dressing table. Her hair was as rich and as healthy as it had been, but was worn now in a severe knot. Her face was pale; it appeared to have lost its youthful bloom. And her prim gray governess's gown hardly compared to the white and pastel-colored muslins and silks and laces that she had worn the year she met Robert.

Elizabeth was staring unseeingly now at her own image. She was reliving that first meeting at a particularly crowded and stuffy ball. She could not even remember who the hosts had been. Her aunt had introduced them. He was Robert Denning, younger son of the Marquess of Hetherington. At first he had been just another dance partner. But it had not taken many minutes for Elizabeth to respond to his charm and his obvious enthusiasm for life. He, too, ignored the trend toward affected boredom. He was very different from the languid, dandified young men with whom the ballrooms were usually filled.

When the supper dance had begun later in the evening, Elizabeth was delighted to be claimed yet again by Robert Denning. He had led her to a table apart in the supper room instead of joining a group of acquaintances, and they had talked animatedly for a full hour, sharing stories of their childhood. She had learned that he had been a lonely boy, eleven years younger than his only brother. His mother had died at his birth; his father was almost constantly in London, very involved in the business of the House of Lords; and his brother had been away at school or university during his boyhood. Robert had spent those years at Hetherington Manor with a secretary, a tutor, and a housekeeper for companions. His father, a man very conscious of his own superiority, had discouraged him from making friends of his own age in the neighborhood.

But for all that, he did not speak with bitterness about his family or his childhood. Somehow a natural sunniness of nature had carried him through unscathed. But he was restless. Life did not have much in the way of challenge to offer a younger son. He wanted to enlist, but his father had steadfastly refused to buy him a commission.

Elizabeth had parted from him at the end of supper to dance with other partners. She would not, she reflected now, have been heartbroken if she had never seen him again. It had certainly not been a case of love at first encounter. But she remembered feeling a pleasant hope of meeting the charming, fair-haired man again. She had thought they could become friends.

Elizabeth became conscious of her own reflection again. How she wished now that they had not met again! Or did she? Someone somewhere had said that it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Did she agree? She was not quite sure. But she did know that if she arrived at the dinner table with unwashed hair, someone might think to comment on the fact.

She rang the bell and instructed the maid to bring several jugs of hot water.

Elizabeth finally calmed herself that night by deciding that she need not see Hetherington again. It was true that he was a house guest at Ferndale for an undetermined length of time, true too that there was almost certain to be some social interchange between the Rowes and the Ferndale party. But she need not be a part of any of the meetings. She was a mere servant. And even though she was Cecily's companion, she guessed that Mrs. Rowe would herself be anxious to accompany her daughter to any social functions that might arise from the new arrivals. Elizabeth's presence, then, would be superfluous. She went to sleep comforted by her thoughts.

Two days later she did not feel so hopeful. She and Cecily were outdoors sketching in the warm summer air when a servant came from the house to say that Mrs. Rowe wanted them immediately. Elizabeth did not recognize the phaeton drawn up before the door, but that very fact alerted her to the identity of the visitors who were obviously inside. She went straight to the schoolroom with the easels and sketching pads while Cecily, fluffing the muslin of her light summer dress around her and checking her curls with eager hands, disappeared in the direction of the drawing room.

Ten minutes later Cecily herself appeared in the schoolroom, her cheeks flushed, her eyes shining.

"Mr. and Mrs. Prosser and the Marquess of Hethering-ton have invited me to walk with them," she said breathlessly, "and Mama says I may go, provided you come too. We may even go as far as Granby, Beth, as Mrs. Prosser wants to purchase some ribbons."

Elizabeth arranged the charcoal pieces more neatly on their shelf, her back to Cecily. "It is a delightful day for a walk," she said calmly. "You must go, Cecily, but I cannot think my presence necessary. I am sure your mama will consider Mrs. Prosser chaperone enough."

Cecily pulled a face. "But I particularly wish you to come, Beth," she coaxed. "You see, I feel shy. I shall not know what to talk about."

Elizabeth smiled. "What?" she teased. "I have never known you to be at a loss for words before, Cecily."

The girl looked rather shamefaced. "Say you will come, please, Beth. You are always so sure of yourself. I know you will not feel a qualm at being in such company."

Elizabeth felt completely trapped. "Oh, very well," she said finally, and went to her room to fetch a straw bonnet.

Mr. and Mrs. Prosser smiled cordially when the two ladies returned to the drawing room. Hetherington bowed stiffly in Elizabeth's direction and smiled dazzlingly at Cecily.

"You look most charming, Miss Rowe," he said, eyeing appreciatively the blue bonnet and parasol that complemented the white muslin of her dress. "Shall we leave?" He extended his arm to the girl, and she laid her hand within it.

On the stroll to Granby, two miles distant, Elizabeth was left to walk behind with the Prossers. She found them good company. Mrs. Prosser, a plain but sensible woman in her middle thirties by Elizabeth's estimation, did not say much, but her husband conversed easily, not suggesting any condescension to the inferior status of his companion. He made her feel a social equal, in fact, as he talked about the welcome they had received from several families in the neighborhood. He talked about his life in the diplomatic service, about a year he had spent on government business in Lisbon.

All the while Elizabeth watched the couple walking ahead of them, arm in arm, talking and laughing together. Hetherington was obviously turning the full force of his charm on this new victim, she decided bitterly. She had once considered that charm to be natural and unforced. Elizabeth felt an actual pain in the region of her throat as she saw the fair head bend closer to Cecily's to listen to something she was saying. As he had once done with her.

When the group reached Granby, Cecily immediately led the way to a haberdasher's and turned eagerly to Mrs. Prosser, so that the five people came together.

"Mrs. Leigh has a fine selection of ribbons," Cecily said. "Shall we see if she has what you need?"

"Yes, indeed," Mrs. Prosser answered. "And do come with me, Henry. You always say I do not have a fine eye for color."

Elizabeth made to follow the trio into the shop but was forestalled.

"I am quite sure you do not need four people to help you choose one length of ribbon, Bertha," Hetherington said. "Miss Rossiter and I will entertain each other by taking a turn down the street. Ma'am?"

He was holding out an arm to her. Blue eyes that she had never seen so steely were boring into hers. The other three members of the group disappeared inside the shop. Elizabeth ignored the proffered arm. She could not bring herself to touch him. But she did turn away from the doorway and begin to move along the street.

They walked in loud silence for a few yards.

"I did not expect to find you so come down in the world, Miss Rossiter," he said without looking at her. Could that icily polite voice be Robert's?

"Being a governess and companion is respectable employment, my lord," she replied stiffly.

"But you expected more, did you not?" he asked.

Elizabeth looked across at him in astonishment. His words had been sneering. "I do not know how you can say that," she said, trying desperately to hide the slight shake in her voice. "I was never wealthy, and never looked to be."

He looked back at her now, and the sneer was in his face too. "Except once," he said, and looked away from her again.

Elizabeth would not ask him what he meant. She raised her chin and continued to walk beside him. It was he again who broke the silence.

"Time has not been kind to you," he said quietly. "You look a perfect fright, Elizabeth."

Had she not been almost blinded by hurt, Elizabeth might again have been surprised by his lack of manners and by the anger in his voice.

"Thank you," she said, her own voice now shaking with suppressed anger. "I am six and twenty years old, my lord. Alas, women cannot be expected to retain their beauty forever. And the clothes befit my station. I did not have it in mind to please you when I dressed this morning."

They walked on in angry silence.

"We should turn back," Elizabeth said at last. "The purchase of the ribbons must be almost complete."

He turned obediently and they began to walk back in the direction from which they had come.

"And what happens to you when Miss Rowe marries?" Hetherington asked. "The day will come quite soon, you know." The sneer was back in his voice.

"Then I shall find another family in need of a governess," she said, "or I shall go home and be maiden aunt to my nephew. John has a son, you know. But whatever I do, it is no affair of yours, my lord."

"Maiden?" he said softly, looking across at her with one eyebrow raised.

Elizabeth flushed but did not answer. Cecily had emerged into the street, followed by the Prossers. Soon they were all walking back home again, Mr. Prosser with Elizabeth, followed by Hetherington with a lady on each arm. He was oozing charm and good humor again, Elizabeth noticed.

---

Both Cecily and Mrs. Rowe were ecstatic when the visitors from Ferndale had departed in their phaeton.

"I had hoped that you would make an impression on Mr. Mainwaring, Cecily, my love," Mrs. Rowe said, "but to have taken the attention of the marquess! Why, he had eyes for no one else. Did you not notice, Miss Rossiter? I declare, it was probably his idea in the first place to come this way and invite Cecily to walk with them."

"The marquess is such a pleasant man," Cecily confided to Elizabeth a short while later as they ascended the staircase to their rooms to prepare for dinner. "As soon as we began to walk, I forgot about my shyness and felt quite as if we had been friends for years. His title has not made him a conceited man. He is charming, is he not, Beth? You should know. He was kind enough to walk with you while Mrs. Prosser was choosing ribbons."

"Oh, yes, he is certainly charming," Elizabeth conceded. As she went on her way to her own room, she hoped that Cecily would not fall in love with Hetherington. The girl was too young and inexperienced in the ways of the world to fall prey to a man whose own interests always came first, a man who could hurt another apparently without a qualm.

She went through the motions of changing into the gray silk dress and brushing and reknotting her hair while her mind dwelled deeply on the encounter with Hetherington that afternoon. She had known that he could be cruel, that he was basically heartless, but she had never had face-to-face proof of the fact before. The voice and the facial expression that she had witnessed during that walk along the street in Granby had made him a stranger to her. She had never seen him cold, sneering, sarcastic before. He had behaved as if he hated her. But why? She was the one who had been wronged, hurt almost beyond bearing six years before. Was it conscience that had made him turn upon her with such contempt?

Elizabeth had tried to hate him in that first year when the pain had been intense enough to drive her almost out of her mind. But even then she had not been able to. The best she could do eventually was to dull all feeling, so that a mere empty ache would gnaw at her when her mind strayed to that episode in her life. She had trained herself to think of him, if at all, as he was at the beginning of their relationship.

Their friendship had developed through frequent meetings at ton events. Always he would seek her out and spend as much time with her as propriety allowed. But at first it had been pure friendship. They had sparked a note of sympathy in each other. They had found it easy to talk about their deepest feelings and dreams. Elizabeth had told him all about her life at home, her dreams of a home of her own in which family ties would be close, in which love would be the ruling spirit. He had told her about his home life, his sense of alienation from his family. He found his father and his brother too stern and joyless, too much attached to the city, with too little love of the land. They considered him a misfit, a nuisance. Both frowned upon his wish to enlist, yet neither could suggest a useful employment for this younger son. They seemed to expect him to be an idle man-about-town although the family had very little money. Living in a style that he considered appropriate to his rank, the marquess had put too much stress on the income from his estates.

Love had taken her quite unawares. They had both been attending a ball, but were not together because they had already shared the regulation two dances. Elizabeth had been wearing new slippers, which pinched her toes so badly that she was convinced that she must have at least one blister. The house belonged to the parents of one of her intimate friends. She had hobbled to the library, hoping that her aunt would not miss her presence for a while. She closed the door quietly behind her and sank into the nearest chair with an audible sigh. Moonlight from the full-length windows sent shafts of dim light across the carpet.

"Can it be that the indefatigable Elizabeth Rossiter is actually fatigued?" a teasing and familiar voice had asked.

Elizabeth, startled, had looked across to see a dim form occupying a wing chair beside the fireplace.

"Robert, how you startled me!" she had said. "And what are you doing here, pray?"

"Sulking because I cannot dance with you again," he had replied.

Elizabeth had laughed. "What flummery!" she had said lightly. "Anyway, sir, if you really wish to dance with me, you may do so right here. The orchestra can quite plainly be heard. But you must permit me to remove my slippers and allow my blisters some breathing room."

She had been joking. But he had got up from his chair, come across the room to her, and knelt in front of her chair.

"Poor Elizabeth," he had teased gently, "smiling politely at all your admirers in the ballroom and secretly nursing two feetful of blisters." He had lifted her feet one at a time and removed the shoes. She had sighed with exaggerated contentment, and he had laughed.

"Come," he had said, taking her by the hand, "now you may dance in comfort and I may have the partner of my choice."

But she had stumbled over the abandoned slippers as she rose to her feet and lurched clumsily against his chest. They had both laughed. And then somehow they were not laughing anymore. Their arms went around each other and his lips had found hers in the darkened room.

It had been a long and sweet kiss, her first. She had been surprised by the warmth and softness of his lips, by the feel of his breath against her cheek, his hands roaming her back, and the strength and firmness of his body against hers. But most of all she had been surprised by the strength of her own reaction. The moment had seemed electrically charged. She had felt as if her body temperature had shot up. Eventually they had pulled apart and gazed at each other, wide-eyed.

"I should not be here with you, Robert," she had said shakily. "Aunt Matilda will be looking for me."

"You are right," he had agreed, and then, anxiously, "Elizabeth, have I offended you? I did not intend to take advantage of our being alone together, I swear."

"I am not offended," she had assured him.

He had reached out one hand and run his fingers lightly down one cheek and along her jawline. "I have known for some time that I love you," he had said. And he had bent his head again and lightly touched his lips to hers. "You must go, my love, before you are discovered here with me."

And she had gone, after squeezing her feet painfully into the slippers again. She had been dazed, astounded by the discovery that she, too, had loved for some time without realizing it.

Pushing the last pin into the coil of hair at the nape of her neck, Elizabeth again found it difficult to reconcile that memory of a tender, loving Robert with the afternoon's encounter with the cold, unfeeling Marquess of Hetherington.