His uncle! She had caught herself several times when Hetherington was still there wishing that they had a normal marriage. A few times she had had to restrain herself from joining him in a game with the baby. She would have enjoyed sharing some of that relaxed warmth. She would have liked just one of those radiant smiles to be directed fully at her.
She found that she particularly hugged to herself the memories of the brief physical contacts they had shared. Looking back on that morning at the inn when she had awoken to find herself lying in his arms, she realized with a pang all that she had missed through her broken marriage. Every morning should be like that morning, except that she should have been able to wake him and see him smile at her, turn to her, and pull her into a close embrace. She remembered those moments in the nursery when they had all realized that Jeremy was finally out of danger. He had laughed at her, teased her, but there had been some tenderness surely in the way he had held her and comforted her until her tears had dried. And surely there had been some feeling in his good-bye. He had kissed her on the mouth and said that he wished their marriage had turned out differently.
Elizabeth smiled bitterly. Was he regretting what he had done? Was he wishing that he had stood by his marriage vows even when circumstances changed? It was satisfying in one way to believe so. But it was a hollow victory. She had lost him. It mattered not that she still loved him against all reason, and that perhaps he regretted losing her. The truth was that they could never revive their relationship. There was too much hatred, bitterness, and distrust behind them. They could never forget, and she did not believe that she could ever forgive entirely. Even if she could, she would never be able to trust him again.
It was better this way. He had gone, and to London, not Ferndale. Clearly he did not intend that their paths should cross again. She knew that her only chance of attaining peace of mind was never to see him again. Yet how could she forget him? Dear God, how was she to live without him?
And so that week passed, with Elizabeth alternately relieved and tortured. The only solution was to go back to her position and begin all over again the task of reconstructing her serenity and her independence. She appointed a Monday for her journey, and resisted all the entreaties of both John and Louise to stay longer or forever.
At John's insistence, Elizabeth traveled in his coach and took with her a maid as companion. It was a very different journey from the one she had made a few weeks before with Hetherington. The coach was ponderous. Although they set out in the morning, they were little more than halfway by nightfall. Elizabeth and the maid stayed together at an inn, where they received deferential treatment because the innkeeper had not much business. They enjoyed the comfort of a private parlor as well as a roomy bedchamber that boasted an extra cot for the maid. The coach finally rolled to a halt in front of the Rowes' house in the middle of the following afternoon.
Elizabeth received a warm, if confused welcome. Mrs. Rowe was quite incapable of deciding what she should call her employee, until Elizabeth laughingly put an end to her stammerings.
"Ma'am," she said, "circumstances forced the Marquess of Hetherington to reveal what neither of us would otherwise have told a soul. We were married for a very brief time. But it was a mistake. It was six years in the past, and although we are still married in the eyes of the law, we are in reality strangers whose paths happened to cross again for a while. But we mean nothing to each other. I beg that you will treat me just as you did before you learned the embarrassing truth. Indeed, I am the same person."
"Well, it is very gracious of you to say so, I am sure," Mrs. Rowe replied. "But I always did say that there was something quite distinguished about you, Miss Rossiter. I shall respect your wishes, of course. And indeed we are honored to have you as Cecily's companion. But I do feel it a sad shame, my dear, that you and the marquess are estranged. Such a charming gentleman! I did think he was sweet on Cecily at one time, but I can see now that it was just his manner to appear courteous to all ladies. Now, Cecily, my love, you must be sure to do as I do and treat Miss Rossiter just as if she were not a marchioness."
Cecily's eyes twinkled. "I shall endeavor to remember, Mama," she said meekly. "Beth, do come upstairs if you have finished your tea. I shall help you unpack, though I do believe you have brought back with you almost as little luggage as you took."
Elizabeth got to her feet, but she turned to Mrs. Rowc before following Cecily from the room. "May my brother's coachman and maid rest here for tonight, ma'am, before setting out for home tomorrow?" she asked.
---
News of Elizabeth's return spread quickly, and most of her acquaintances paid a visit to the Rowe house within the next few days. All of them were driven to a certain extent by curiosity. News of her real identity and exalted rank had not escaped anyone's ears. All, though, were brought equally by a genuine affection for Elizabeth, who had won respect during her years as Cecily's governess and companion.
Lucy and Ferdie Worthing were the first to call the day after Elizabeth's return. Ferdie greeted her with courtesy, but it was clear that the real object of his visit was Cecily. Elizabeth watched with some amusement as the girl reacted with impatience and contempt to his account of a cockfight that he had attended the day before. He answered her just as sharply. Soon they were in the throes of a full-scale squabble. Elizabeth wondered if they would ever achieve a more tranquil relationship. It was difficult to tell if they loved each other well enough to consider matrimony at some time in the future. But it did not matter. They were both mere children. They had time.
Lucy was making stilted conversation. They soon exhausted the topics of the weather, Elizabeth's health, and that of all her family. The girl stammered her way through an account of the Reverend Claridge's sermon the previous Sunday. Elizabeth finally decided that she must intervene.
"Miss Worthing," she said, "do you not know me? I am Elizabeth Rossiter, with whom you have been most comfortable these several years past. Are you shy with me now because of the story you have heard about me?"
Lucy darted her a glance and blushed. "I am sorry," she said. "I cannot forget, you see, that you are the Marchioness of Hetherington. And I do not even know what I should call you."
"You must call me what you have always called me," I Elizabeth said laughingly. "I was a marchioness when you first knew me, Lucy, and I have not changed since then. It is just a word, you know. I have never really acted the part of such a grand lady, and I have no wish to do so."
"Oh, but are you very unhappy?" Lucy asked. "The marquess is such a very dazzling man. I like him. Does it not hurt you to live apart from him?"
Elizabeth smiled. "Not at all," she lied. "Our marriage happened a long time ago, Miss Worthing, and lasted but a very short while. We have both made a new life since. Now we are no more than strangers."
"I do beg your pardon," Lucy said. "I should not have asked you these questions. But, you see, I cannot imagine marrying someone and then leaving him. Was yours an arranged marriage?"
"I am afraid we do not even have that excuse," Elizabeth replied. "No, at the time we supposed it to be a love match."
"I do not understand," Lucy said. "When Ira and I marry, we shall be blissfully happy for the rest of our lives."
"And I hope you are right," Elizabeth replied fervently. "Your attachment to Mr. Dowling still exists, then?"
The girl's face lit up so that she looked almost pretty for a moment. "He has decided that he will spend the winter in London too, Miss Rossiter, so that we may see each other occasionally. It is a great sacrifice for him, because he hates the city, but we cannot bear to be apart for several months, you see." She giggled. "Mama will be furious when she knows."