A Chance Encounter (15 page)

“Here we are,” Mr. Mainwaring said cheerfully, “and I did not once upset you into the hedge.”

“What a dull and unadventurous life this is sometimes,” she replied, matching his tone and allowing him to grasp her by the waist and lift her across to dry ground.

He paid a brief courtesy call in the house before driving away again. But he left with Mrs. Rowe an invitation to dinner and an evening of charades the following week.

Mrs. Rowe turned to Elizabeth in some excitement after he had left. “How splendid for you, my dear Miss Rossiter,” she said. “I was just saying to Mr. Rowe yesterday that I should not have allowed you to venture out into that dreadful weather and that you must have got caught in the rain somewhere and caught your death of cold when Mr. Mainwaring's messenger came galloping up to the door. I was never so gratified in my life. Did you join the company for the evening?”

Elizabeth smiled calmly and gave a brief account of the card games they had played.

“You have all the good fortune, Beth,” Cecily sighed. “I knew I should have gone to town with you.”

“In fact, Cecily, it was an embarrassment,” she said soothingly. “I wore a gown of Miss Norris' that was too long and too low in the neck, and slippers of her sister's that I left behind if I did not concentrate on taking them with me as I shuffled along.”

“Oh, bless me,” said Mrs. Rowe. “But really, my dear Miss Rossiter, I do believe that Mr. Mainwaring is developing a
tendre
for you. It was really uncommon civil of him to escort you home himself when he could easily have called out his carriage and sent you home.”

“Oh, Beth,” Cecily chimed in brightly, “do consider me for a bridesmaid. I have never been one, you see.”

Elizabeth blushed, but noticed that the girl's eyes twinkled. “I believe you should look around for another bride to befriend,” she said. “You may be an old maid rather than a bridesmaid if you wait for me.”

“Well, indeed, I believe it would be a very eligible connection,” Mrs. Rowe declared. “You must have Miss Phillips make up a new gown for you by next week, Miss Rossiter. And I shall get Rose to come to you and do your hair before we go to Ferndale.”

Elizabeth laughed. “And I should be so uncomfortable that I should hide in a corner all night,” she said.

T
he neighborhood perked up with the anticipation of new entertainment at Ferndale. It was just what they all needed after the dreadful weather of the previous week, Lady Worthing confided to Mrs. Rowe when she met the latter in Granby one morning when they had both ventured outside to make some purchases and to catch up on local news.

A couple of incidents conspired to prevent the entertainment, though. Mrs. Claridge and Anne arrived to visit Mrs. Rowe and Cecily just two days after the invitations had been issued. The former brought the news that the Prossers and Amelia Norris were planning to leave within the next few days. Mr. Prosser had told the vicar that his sister-in-law was fretting over the fact that she had already missed much of the summer season at Brighton. She wished to be one of the Prince Regent's social set at the Pavilion. She had persuaded her sister and brother-in-law to accompany her.

“I am sure we shall all be better-off here without that young woman,” Mrs. Claridge said, “but I shall be very sorry to see the Prossers leave.”

“Yes, they are a most genteel couple,” Mrs. Rowe agreed.

“Oh, will Mr. Mainwaring cancel the evening of charades?” Cecily wailed. “How provoking that would be.”

“I do not see why he would, my love,” her mother comforted. “He could hardly withdraw invitations once they are given.”

“I wonder why Miss Norris came here in the first place if she so wishes to be in Brighton,” Mrs. Claridge said.

“We did hear that she was to be betrothed to the Marquess of Hetherington,” Mrs. Rowe replied. “Perhaps they, had a falling out.”

“I am glad of it,” Anne said impulsively. “He is far too handsome and amiable for her, do you not agree, Cecily?”

Elizabeth had been sewing quietly in the window seat. She had not participated at all in this conversation, had not divulged the contents of the argument she had overheard at the ball. She did speak now, though.

“Perhaps we should change the topic,” she advised calmly. “The subjects of conversation are presently riding up to the house.”

She did not feel as calm as she sounded. In her one glance through the window she had seen that the whole Ferndale party had come. And her heart turned over at sight of Hetherington. It should get easier as time went on to face him calmly, she reasoned as she resumed her sewing. Instead, it was getting worse.

She kept to her seat during the bustle of the new arrivals. Mr. Rowe had met them outside and brought them into the drawing room.

“It seems that we are to lose some of our neighborhood guests,” he announced. “Mr. and Mrs. Prosser and Miss Norris are leaving us and have come to say good-bye.”

“And very sorry I am to hear it,” his wife said, nodding graciously at the three persons indicated. “Do you leave soon?”

“The day after tomorrow,” Mrs. Prosser replied, and proceeded to seat herself close to Mrs. Rowe.

Elizabeth had looked up to find Mr. Mainwaring smiling warmly at her. She returned the smile and lowered her head to her work again.

“Miss Rossiter,” Mr. Rowe said, walking across to her and putting his hand into a pocket, “I picked up this letter of yours with my bundle this morning and have been meaning to find you out with it ever since.” He handed her a letter.

Elizabeth looked at the direction and smiled. “It is from my brother,” she said, smiling up at him. “Will you excuse me, sir, while I walk into the garden to read it?”

He nodded his acquiescence and Elizabeth gathered together her work and left the room. She took her sewing and her workbox to her room and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders before going out into the rose arbor with her letter. Even when she was there, she did not immediately break the seal and read it. She savored the moment and drank in the beauty of the scene around her. She felt that she could breathe again now that she no longer shared a roof with Hetherington. She planned to stay exactly where she was until the visitors left, though she felt she owed the courtesy of a farewell to the Prossers.

She finally broke the seal of her letter and opened it on her knee.

A few minutes later, the people gathered in the drawing room were startled by the appearance of a distraught and wild-eyed young woman who flung back the double doors as if she were making a grand entrance on a stage.

“Goodness me, Miss Rossiter, what has happened?” Mrs. Rowe cried, leaping to her feet.

“Pardon me, ma'am,” Elizabeth replied, not even having the presence of mind to call her employer out where she could speak to her in private. “I must go.”

“Go? Go where, child?” Mrs. Rowe asked.

“Home,” said Elizabeth. “My nephew is very sick. He may be d-dying. Please, I must go at once.”

Suddenly Mr. Mainwaring was guiding her to the nearest chair and Mr. Rowe was pressing a glass of something into her cold hand.

“Calm yourself,” the latter gentleman said evenly. “Tell us what was in your letter, Miss Rossiter, if you will.”

“The child toddled off a few days ago in the rain,” she said, staring only at Mr. Rowe. “They all searched but could not find him for all of one night. When they did come upon him, he was already in a high fever. And when my brother wrote me several hours later, he was even worse and like to d-die, the physician said. Ma'am”—she turned in frenzy to Mrs. Rowe—‘‘the mail coach leaves town in a little less than two hours time. I must be on it. It is faster than the stage. And my brother and my sister-in-law will need me. Louise is in delicate health again.”

“Yes, yes, my dear,” Mrs. Rowe agreed, “you must go. But not on the mail. Mr. Rowe will order out the carriage for you. It will be slower, but a great deal more comfortable and suited to your station.”

“No, ma'am,” she said, agitated. “I would not inconvenience you. And indeed speed is essential.”

Mr. Mainwaring bent over her. “I shall take you, Elizabeth,” he said, “in my curricle. It is not comfortable for a long journey, but it is as fast as any vehicle.”

“It would not answer, William,” said Mrs. Prosser. “A curricle will accommodate only two persons. And you could not take Miss Rossiter without a chaperone. It really would not do at all. Even with a curricle you would need to spend a night on the road. Your brother lives in Norfolk, does he not, my dear?”

Elizabeth looked up in an agony of frustration, about to say that she did not care a fig for chaperones or the proprieties, provided only that she reach John as soon as was humanly possible. She met the eyes of Hetherington, who was standing across the room, his face white and drawn.

“I shall drive Elizabeth home,” he said distinctly now. Everyone turned in his direction.

“Nonsense, Robert,” Amelia Norris said crossly. “None of this is your concern.”

“There would still be the need of a chaperone, Robert,” Mrs. Prosser said more practically.

“Not with me,” he said, his eyes fixed on Elizabeth's. “A woman does not need a chaperone when she travels with her own husband.”

The silent attention that was suddenly focused entirely on his person was worthy of any melodrama.

“The lady is my wife,” he said quietly, “and has been for six years.”

Pandemonium broke loose. Everyone spoke at once. But the central figures were alone in the room. Elizabeth found that she could scarcely breathe. Even the anxiety over John and Jeremy faded for a moment.

“Was,” she said. “Was, Robert. I have been your divorced wife for almost as long.”

“Have you?” he said. “That is certainly news to me.”

“Beth, this cannot be so, can it?” Cecily was asking, bright spots of color in her cheeks.

“Is this true, Elizabeth?” Mr. Mainwaring was asking.

“Robert, what are you talking about?” Amelia Norris was asking shrilly.

“Well, Cinderella!” Mr. Rowe commented.

“Miss Ross—my wife wishes to leave with all speed,” Hetherington said firmly, taking command of the situation and striding across the room toward her. “Go and pack a bag, ma'am. I shall ride to Ferndale and do likewise. I shall be back here with a curricle within the hour. You will get to your brother by noon tomorrow at the latest.” He turned, without waiting for her reply, and strode from the room.

There was a stunned silence in the room for a few moments.

“Well, bless my soul,” said Mrs. Rowe, “bless my soul.”

“Bertha,” Amelia Norris said in a brittle voice that sounded close to breaking, “let us leave here at once. I have never been so insulted in my life. Hetherington and a—a governess!” She swept from the room, her back rigid, her head held high, and did not pause to see if her sister was following.

Mrs. Prosser did follow, but she paused beside Elizabeth's chair. “You certainly do not need our presence here to complicate matters, ma'am,” she said pleasantly to Mrs. Rowe. She put a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. “I do hope that you will find all well when you reach home, my dear,” she said.

Mr. Prosser bowed to the company and left the room with his wife.

“Come, Anne,” Mrs. Claridge said, rising to her feet with obvious reluctance. It was not every day that there was such drama in the neighborhood. “It is time we took our leave, too.”

After they had left, Mrs. Rowe turned to Elizabeth.

“Well, bless my soul,” she said, “I do not know what to say.”

“Then say nothing, my love,” her husband suggested. “You can see that Miss Rossiter is in shock. I suggest that you and Cecily take her upstairs and help her pack a bag. Hetherington will be here soon.”

“Yes, yes, of course we must,” his wife agreed. “But, really, Mr. Rowe, we must call her the Marchioness of Hetherington now. Dear me, and I never even suspected.”

“Miss Rossiter has chosen her name,” Mr. Rowe answered firmly. “I see no reason why we should call her differently until she asks us to do so.”

Elizabeth, on whom her outer surroundings were beginning to penetrate again, shot him a grateful glance and looked up to Mr. Mainwaring, who was standing ashenfaced beside her chair.

“Will you take me, sir?” she asked. “I do not wish to go with
him. ”

He looked deeply into her eyes, and looking back, she could see pain there. “I cannot, ma'am,” he said in a strained voice. “I would not interfere between a man and his wife.”

She rose and left the room numbly. Mrs. Rowe and Cecily followed her upstairs, though she packed her own bag, mechanically and silently.

“The marquess is here,” Cecily said finally. She had been standing looking out the window for several minutes. She turned away from it, ran impulsively to Elizabeth, and threw her arms around her. “I do not know what happened, Beth,” she cried, “but I do know it must have been something dreadful. You are both such dear people, and I know something quite extraordinary must have driven you apart. But I love you, Beth.”