Cecily clung to Hetherington's arm as they climbed the grassy slope. Amelia strode ahead. She was staring scornfully at a half-ruined stone church when the rest of the group came up with her.
"Look at this, Robert," she said shrilly. "It is nothing but a pile of rubble. I told you that we should picnic at the river, as you originally suggested."
"So you did, Amelia," he agreed, "but I consider this an interesting pile of rubble. Tell us about it, Miss Rowe."
Cecily and Ferdie between them told about how the church had deteriorated from lack of use after the town of Granby grew up three miles away.
"The bell was taken to the town church about fifty years ago," Cecily explained, "and that seemed to be really the end. It seems such a shame. This would make a splendid setting for a Christmas evensong or for a wedding, would it not?"
All the while the small group had been tramping around the church through the overgrown grass and weeds.
"Do you remember, Cec, how we used to come up here every chance we could and try to piece together the shattered stained glass from the back window?" Ferdie asked.
"Oh, I say, yes," Cecily replied, her face lighting up with pleasure. "And didn't we have a thundering scold that afternoon of the storm when we sheltered for hours and no one knew where we were?"
"I got more than a thundering scold," he said dryly.
"You also caught cold, did you not, Ferdie?" Cecily asked. "And it was all because you lent me your coat to keep me warm."
"Let's go inside and see if any of the glass is left," Ferdie suggested.
"Oh, yes, do let's," she agreed, and they scampered for the empty doorway like a couple of schoolchildren.
"I am hot and thirsty," Amelia announced. "Escort me back down this hill, Robert."
Hetherington smiled ruefully at the pair disappearing inside the ruins and led away his angry betrothed.
"What is at the other side of the hill?" Mr. Mainwaring asked.
"Oh, merely more grass and trees, sir," Elizabeth replied. "If you wish, we may walk down there and follow the stream around the base of the hill until we reach the picnic site."
"That sounds pleasant," he said. "Shall we go, Miss Rossiter?" He held his arm for her support.
More than half an hour passed before they came in sight of the rest of the party, who were already assembled on the blankets and surrounded by the contents of the picnic hampers. Elizabeth had enjoyed the stroll. Close to the stream and beneath the shelter of the trees that grew on either side of it, they were shaded from the heat of the sun.
And she discovered that she had been right in thinking that Mr. Mainwaring was not as taciturn or as top-lofty as he had at first appeared. He began to tell her about himself. He had been brought up, after the death of his parents when he was an infant, by his maternal grandfather in Scotland. The old gentleman had been stern and something of a hermit. The place had been lonely. The boy had been brought up almost entirely by his grandfather and a crusty old housekeeper. He had been educated at home. It was not until his grandfather died when William Mainwaring was nineteen years old, that the boy fully realized that he had an estate and wealth awaiting him in in England. But he had no training for the sort of life he would face. He knew no one in England and, in fact, very few in Scotland.
He explained to Elizabeth that, although he was now thirty years old, he had never quite recovered from the strangeness of his upbringing. He found it difficult to relax and behave with the ease of manner he so admired in other men. He found it difficult to make friends, but found himself firmly attached to those he had made.
Elizabeth could not help allowing curiosity to get the better of her. "How comes it that you are friendly with the Marquess of Hetherington?" she asked. "You and he seem so different from each other."
"Robert?" he said, looking at her solemnly. "Yes, he is the sort of man I should like to be. He has an ease of manner and a charm that come naturally to him. People invariably warm to his personality. However, there is great depth to his character that you may not know on such short acquaintance, Miss Rossiter. Strangely enough, his upbringing was similar to mine in many ways. And I believe he has suffered in his life. He has a sensitivity to the hurts of others that can have come only from personal experience."
Elizabeth hid her skepticism in silence. "Around this next bend we should find ourselves close to the horses and the luncheon," she said.
"Ah," he remarked, "I had forgotten the others. You are an easy person to talk to, Miss Rossiter. Is it part of your profession to set people to talking so much at their ease?"
Elizabeth smiled. "Not at all, sir," she replied cheerfully. "Perhaps it is my plain gray dress that gives you confidence. Maybe you allow a lady's grand appearance to awe you into believing that she is a threat to you."
They had rounded the bend and were now in full view of the others. He looked down at her and laughed. "What a novel idea," he said. "And I only now noticed that you are dressed plainly. Do you always dress so? You must have a powerful personality, ma'am. One tends not to notice."
Elizabeth too laughed, but could not hide a blush at the unexpectedness of his words. "Why, sir, I do believe I have been complimented," she said, looking up into his face, and across into the tight-lipped, glowering face of the Marquess of Hetherington, who had paused in the process of pouring wine for the company. Elizabeth had enjoyed the walk and the conversation with William Mainwaring, and refused to have her mood spoiled. Joining the group, she placed a meat pasty and a buttered bread roll on a plate, and moved over to join Mrs. Prosser and Anne Claridge, who were exchanging views on the latest fashions.
As she ate and listened, Elizabeth let her eyes rove around the company. Lucy Worthing and Mr. Dowling, she was amused to see, were sitting together and conversing-or, at least, Lucy was listening to Mr. Dowling talk. The girl was looking almost pretty today with her sky-blue muslin dress that did not make her hair look too yellow or her complexion too pasty. Ferdie, Cecily, and Amelia Norris formed a group with Hetherington, but Elizabeth noticed that Cecily, flushed and slightly disheveled, was talking animatedly to Ferdie, while Hetherington, looking quite genial again, was entertaining his betrothed. He must have been angry to remember that he had invited her, Elizabeth thought, and that was why he had looked so out of sorts a short while before.
When everyone had eaten his fill and the food was packed away again, Mrs. Prosser got to her feet. "Come, Miss Claridge," she said, "show me this church of yours on top of the hill. Is it worth looking at?"
"Oh, not really," Anne said, standing up and shaking out her skirts, "but there is a splendid view from the top."
"Is there? Come, Henry, I need your arm," his wife called cheerfully.
"May I come too?" Mr. Mainwaring asked, and offered his arm to Anne Claridge.
"Miss Rossiter, I should like to discover the walk you were just showing to William," Hetherington's voice said from close to her shoulder.
Elizabeth turned, startled. She was even more surprised to see that he had put the church group between himself and those who were still sitting on the blankets, so that it was almost a private moment that they shared. He obviously meant that she was to go with him alone, not with a group.
She looked into his face for a clue to his motive. But his expression was polite, impassive. She smoothed her skirt and turned quietly to walk along the bank of the stream again toward the bend that would take them out of sight of the group. They walked in silence until they were unobserved. Then he began.