Elizabeth gazed sightlessly through the window again. Was there any way that she could prove that Robert's uncle had lied? If she traveled to London and found him out, would he admit the truth to her? And, more important, would he admit it to Robert? But how could she, a mere woman, a mere governess, travel alone to London and seek out a man of Horace Denning's stature? It could not be done unless she took someone along with her. John? Would he go? Was it just a mad scheme, anyway?
Elizabeth was suddenly overtaken by a gigantic yawn. She realized how difficult it was becoming to keep her eyes open. She would think of it in the morning.
---
"Beth? Beth, where are you?" Cecily's voice preceded her up the staircase until she burst into the schoolroom, where Elizabeth was kneeling in the middle of the contents of a box of old books.
"Gracious! What are you doing?" Cecily asked.
"Your mama wants me to sort through your old books," Elizabeth replied, "and pick out any that may be of use in the new school that is to open in the autumn."
"Oh," replied Cecily. "Why, I remember this old reader." She bent and picked up a book with a worn brown cover and water-stained yellow pages.
"You sounded excited as you were coming upstairs," Elizabeth commented. "You were certainly yelling my name in most unladylike fashion. Is there another picnic planned?"
"Oh, much, much more than that," Cecily cried, dropping the book and dancing around the room. "Papa has said we are to go to Bath for a few weeks. Think of it, Beth. The Pump Room. The Assemblies. And you are to go with us. Are you not of all things delighted?"
Elizabeth smiled. "Delighted for you, Cecily," she said, "though you should not get your hopes too high, perhaps. Bath is not as fashionable as it used to be, I understand. You are likely to find mainly older people taking the waters, you know. However," she added, seeing the girl's crestfallen face, "I am sure you will enjoy the change of air and scenery. And at least you will see some new faces."
"Yes," Cecily added, "and I shall not have Ferdie glowering at me every time I smile at another gentleman. Oh, Beth, and we shall visit all the modistes and you shall help me choose my winter wardrobe."
"I am afraid not," Elizabeth said quietly. "I plan to your mother if I may take a month's holiday. I know I have just come back from a leave of absence, but I h;i\‹ some pressing business that must be attended to. I shall not feel so guilty if I know you are all going to Bath, as I know your mama will delight in accompanying you every where."
"Oh, but, Beth, it would not be such fun without you," the girl wailed. "Must you go now? Can you not wait until after we come back?"
"I am afraid not, Cecily," Elizabeth replied, setting aside some of the books in a separate pile and returning the others to the box. In fact, she had made up her mind only when Cecily had mentioned Bath that she must go home and persuade John to go to London with her. In all likelihood nothing could be accomplished even if John agreed to go. Horace Denning would refuse to see them or deny all their accusations. The chances were very good, in fact, that he would not even be in London during these summer months. But she had to try. Her own love for Robert was a strong pain that she would have to bear for the rest of her life if she must. But if there was a chance that he loved her too and that their separation had not been of their own making, then she felt compelled to try to make possible a reconciliation. She had to put every ounce of effort into the attempt.
There was no point in delaying. Elizabeth immediately sought out Mrs. Rowe and explained to her why she could not accompany them to Bath. In the event, though, she did not ask for a holiday. She resigned from her position. Although she had not given herself time to think through the decision carefully, she knew that she was doing the right thing. Her usefulness to Cecily was over; she was not really earning her salary. If she must work for a living for the rest of her life, then it was time that she inquired after a situation as a governess again. And perhaps most important of all, it seemed only fair that she move away from the vicinity of Ferndale. William Main waring would probably not wish to return there as long as he knew that she was close by. Yet, that was his home and he had told her that he loved it and intended making it his principal residence.
Three days later, therefore, having said her good-byes to all her acquaintances and given promises to write, Elizabeth took a tearful farewell of the employers, whom she now looked upon more as friends.
"Beth, I shall hate not having you to confide in or to scold me," Cecily said, hugging her hard.
"Now, you come back here whenever you wish, my dear Miss Rossiter," Mrs. Rowe said. "I am sure we shall always find a place for you. I have never met a more genteel young lady, I do declare." She kissed Elizabeth on the cheek and then blew delicately into her lace handkerchief.
Mr. Rowe drove Elizabeth into Granby, where she was to catch the morning stage. She had insisted on that mode of travel despite the objections of her employers. The stagecoach was in the inn yard already, but the coachman was taking refreshments inside.
Mr. Rowe turned to Elizabeth as she sat beside him in the gig. "Good-bye, Cinderella," he said, patting the gloved hands that lay in her lap. "I am sorry to see you go. I believe that Prince Charming has already won the prize but has not come with the glass slipper to claim it. Am I right?"
"Sir?" she asked, startled.
"Young Hetherington," he said. "He risked a great deal when he admitted that you were his wife, you know. I could not understand why you came back alone again afterward."
She smiled at him. "It is a long story, I'm afraid, sir.'
"Yes," he agreed, "they usually are. Come along, my dear. You find an inside seat and I shall see that your portmanteau is tied on securely."
Elizabeth was fortunate enough to secure a window seat. Mr. Rowe came to the door before the coachman closed it. "Good-bye, my dear," he said. "Dorothy and Cecily will wish to hear from you, you know."
She nodded, too choked to speak, and felt unspeakable relief when the coach lurched once and pulled out of the inn yard onto the cobbled street of Granby.
It was a very different journey from the one she had made with Hetherington. It was much slower and more tiresome. They stopped many times to pick up and deposit travelers. They snatched refreshments whenever possible and stopped for the night at an inn where the rooms were less than clean and the service less than courteous. By the time she reached the village two miles distant from John's house, Elizabeth was glad to leave her portmanteau at the local hostelry and walk home in the fresh air, despite her stiffness and tiredness and despite the gathering dusk.
John and Louise were dining when the butler let her into the house. There was great excitement when she was shown into the dining room.
"Elizabeth!" Louise shrieked, rising from the table to display slightly more bulk than when her sister-in-law had seen her last. "We were just talking about you. Oh, how splendid that you have come home again. Are you here to stay this time? And who brought you? Oh, how naughty of you to just come without letting us know. Are you hungry? I shall have an extra place set this instant."