Cecily was also excited. "Is it not great fun to be going to Ferndale, Beth?" she enthused in the carriage. "I have heard that the ballroom stretches the whole width of the house. Their housekeeper told ours that Mr. Mainwaring had to send all the way to Bath to purchase enough candles to fill all the candelabra. Imagine!"
"He has hired an orchestra from Bath, too," Mrs. Rowe added, nodding until her feather plumes waved back and forth. "Mr. Prosser told Mrs. Claridge so. I do hope Mr. Mainwaring or the Marquess of Hetherington will lead you into the first dance, Cecily. I do declare, one of them ought when we have exceeded everyone else in our civility to them."
"It does not signify, Mama," Cecily said. "Ferdie has asked me for the first dance."
"Fiddle!" said her mother. "You can dance with Ferdie anytime during the twelvemonth, my love."
"And you, Cinderella," said Mr. Rowe, looking across the carriage at Elizabeth, "is tonight the night for Prince Charming?"
"Indeed, I hope so, sir," she replied seriously. "I very much fear that my glass slippers will shatter before I have the opportunity to leave one on the house steps."
"You should not tease her, Mr. Rowe," his wife scolded. "I am quite sure that Miss Rossiter could make a very eligible connection if she but set her mind to it."
"Quite, my love," Mr. Rowe replied indulgently. "I might have suggested Mr. Dowling. He is eligible enough, though a thoroughly dry old stick. But I very much fear his heart may have been conquered already by the Worthing chit. No, Miss Rossiter, I am afraid it will have to be Prince Charming or no one for you."
"My sentiments exactly, sir," she said cheerfully as she gathered together her skirts and took the outstretched hand of the liveried footman who assisted her from trie carriage.
Mr. Mainwaring had asked Mrs. Prosser to be his hostess at the ball. The two of them stood at the doorway of the ballroom greeting their guests, who had been invited from miles around. They greeted Elizabeth after the Rowes, Mrs. Prosser with a kind smile and Mr. Mainwaring with a warm smile and a firm shake of the hand.
"I hope you have not forgotten to reserve the first waltz for me," he said for her ears only.
Elizabeth smiled and passed into the ballroom. It was indeed a grand place, stretching the width of the house, its long wall consisting almost entirely of French windows that opened onto a stone balcony. The room was brilliant with candlelight, heavy with the perfume of masses of flowers. A sixth sense drew her eyes across the floor to Hetherington, who was looking particularly dazzling in a midnight-blue satin coat and lighter-blue knee breeches, with gold waistcoat and sparkling white linen. Amelia Norris, in white lace covering lavender satin, held possessively to his arm. But he also was looking across at her, Elizabeth realized with a jolt, his eyes wandering coolly over her from head to foot. She looked sharply away.
Elizabeth felt almost young again during the first half of the ball. She danced almost every dance, with the Reverend Claridge first of all, then with Mr. Rowe and Mr. Prosser. Mr. Mainwaring claimed her for the fourth dance, a waltz.
"Ah, at last," he said, his eyes smiling down at her as he placed a strong hand against her back and moved her into the music. "Now I may relax, ma'am, in your company."
"Oh, beware, sir," she warned, "I am still very likely to tread on your toes during the dance."
"I will not believe it," he protested. "You are by far too charming and too graceful, ma'am."
"Yes," she replied lightly, "but I like to appear modest by pretending that I am not perfect."
He laughed at the exact moment that Hetherington, staring tight-lipped into Elizabeth's eyes, danced by with Cecily.
Elizabeth tilted her chin upward.
"Miss Rossiter," her partner was saying, "I said a short while ago that I never seemed to notice how you were attired. But I have noticed this evening that you look particularly lovely."
Elizabeth blushed, startled by the sincerity of his tone. "Why, thank you, sir," she said. "I feel very daring, you know, putting aside my gray and venturing into such a startling color as blue."
He smiled. "I do not like to see you in employment," he said. "You grace this ballroom more than any other lady present. It angers me that most of them consider themselves grander than you." His tone had become suddenly serious. He was looking very intently into her face.
Elizabeth did not know how to reply. The conversation, which had begun as light banter, had taken a turn that she found disturbing. "I am honestly employed because I choose to be, sir," she replied carefully. "And, indeed, these people have always treated me with great kindness. I have never felt condescension, not from the local families, anyway."
He danced with her in silence for a while, still gazing down at her averted face. "I have made you uncomfortable, ma'am," he said quietly at last. "I am sorry. I did not mean to do so. I only meant, in my clumsy way, that I wish I might call on you and invite you to drive and ride with me. But I can do so only if I invite others and have you come along as a companion or chape rone. I resent the situation."
Elizabeth looked up at him, startled again. She could think of nothing to say.
"Have you promised the next dance?" he asked. "I should like to walk with you in the garden. It is lighted and there will be others out there. You need not fear that I mean anything improper."
Elizabeth hesitated. "I should be delighted to dance with you again later in the evening," she said, "but I cannot think it would be quite the thing to leave the ballroom with you, sir. I am but a paid companion, after all."
He sighed as the music drew to an end. "Let it be the supper dance, then?" he said. It was a question.
"It would be my pleasure," she murmured as he led her to a vacant chair close to an open set of French windows. As soon as he had moved away, Elizabeth slipped through the windows and leaned against the rail of the balcony, half-shielded by a large potted plant. The air felt refreshingly cool against her burning cheeks. She forced herself to relax, tried to force her whirling thoughts into some order.
Had Hetherington been right about Mr. Mainwaring? It certainly appeared as if he admired her. And Elizabeth was not quite sure how she felt about that. After several years of living on the fringes of life, so to speak, it was not unpleasant to know that one had attracted the notice of a distinguished gentleman. And Mr. Mainwaring was certainly that. He was undoubtedly handsome, with a very masculine physique. Although reserved to a marked degree, the man had a hidden warmth and intelligence that would surely make him a pleasant companion. Had she met him under any other circumstances, she felt that she might have been tempted to try with him to put the past behind her and make a future for herself that was less bleak than the existence she had been living.
But Hetherington had made that virtually impossible. It was not that Elizabeth was frightened off by his disapproval or his demands. It was simply that, having seen him again, she knew that she would never be free of him. Although she now found his presence oppressive, despised him for his past, was cynical of his false charm, and almost hated him for what he had done to her life, she still felt bound to him as strongly as she had ever been. She could never love him again, but she could never stop loving him, either. She would always know when he was in the same room, and she would always be as physically aware of him across the length of a room as if he were actually touching her. Although she could never be happy in that situation, she could not in all fairness encourage the attentions of another man. Could she? -Elizabeth closed her eyes and pictured how pleasant it would be to allow Mr. Mainwaring to call on her, to escort her on various outings. Of course, it was all a wild dream, anyway. She could never enter into high society again. There would always be the few who might have known and would remember. And it would be unfair to drag an innocent man through that old scandal.