They sat watching Jeremy as he toddled across the lawn and finally sat down with a plop amid a crowd of daisies and began systematically pulling the heads off them.
"He is not going to come," Elizabeth said tensely.
Louise did not pretend to misunderstand. "Give him time, love," she said. "You do not know what he was occupied with when your letter arrived. Perhaps he was not even at home. He will come, never fear."
"What makes you so sure?" Elizabeth asked.
Her sister-in-law was firm. "I did not know you six years ago," she said, "and although I heard the story from John, perhaps I can see things more objectively than either you or he can. When I met the Marquess of Hetherington when Jeremy was so ill, I was fully prepared to dislike, even hate him. But I could not, Elizabeth. He has a charm that is not all of the surface. He was genuinely concerned about the baby and about my health. And you may not believe this, love, but I could see that he was very concerned about you. I know he disliked your working for a living and dressing like a governess. But it was more than that. I suspected that he loved you. I told John so, but of course he would not have it, either. But I have hoped ever since that somehow you would resolve your differences. I have even schemed for ways of bringing the two of you together again. He will come, Elizabeth, I know it. Even if it is not today or tomorrow," she added.
Jeremy had tired of the daisies and was headed for the trees that led to the lake. Elizabeth was forced to chase him and then to devise a game that would head him back toward his mother. The topic of conversation was changed, by tacit agreement, when they did rejoin Louise. The three of them went inside for tea.
The following two nights and the day in between were torture for Elizabeth. She wanted to take comfort from what Louise had said. She wanted to believe what her own senses had told her at her last meeting with Robert. In her heart she was convinced that he would want to hear what she had to say. But her head told her that she could watch that driveway until she was old and gray, but that Hether-ington would never ride along it toward her.
She sat at her window on that second night, unable to sleep, unwilling to wait like this any longer. Notwithstanding John's advice, she was going to have to go to Hetherington Manor herself. Surely he would not refuse to see her if she came. Even if he rejected her story, even if he refused to believe that she had known nothing of the agreement between her father and his uncle, she would have the satisfaction of knowing that she had done all she could. And at least then she would be certain. If rejection was to be her fate again, she could at least then begin the dreary task of piecing together a meaningless life. Anything was better than this endless waiting. Perhaps even, as Louise had suggested, Robert was away from home. Although she would still then have to await his return home, she would be able to do so with some renewal of hope. Tomorrow, after breakfast, she would talk to John. She was sure that he would not refuse to accompany her.
Elizabeth slept for the rest of the night, somewhat comforted by her decision to do something.
Her plans were disrupted the following morning, however, by the arrival of a letter from Hetherington Manor. Elizabeth knew as soon as John came into the breakfast room and handed it to her, that it was not from Robert. But she broke the seal feverishly and spread the letter out on the table. It was a short, terse note from his secretary, telling her that his lordship wished to inform Miss Rossiter that he was extremely busy at present and was unable either to answer her letter or to pay the requested visit, but that he would do the former when he found himself at more leisure.
Elizabeth sat, stunned, reading the note over three or four times without realizing that she did so. John came up quietly behind her and read it over her shoulder. He reached down and took it, folded it, and put it away in his pocket.
"Perhaps you were right," he said wearily, seating himself beside her at the table. "Perhaps I should have taken you to Hetherington. Maybe the message in your letter was not clear enough. What do you wish to do, love? I am entirely at your disposal."
When Elizabeth looked up at him, her face was flushed and her eyes flashing. "What do I wish to do?" she repeated. "Nothing! Nothing more, John. I would not speak to the Marquess of Hetherington now if he came through those doors at this moment on his knees. I must give him audience whenever it is his gracious pleasure. I was forced to allow him to bring me here when Jeremy was sick; I had no choice in the fact that he stayed here for days disturbing my peace; I was forced to speak with him and suffer his insults and his unwelcome advances after William had gone to him. I must suffer all these things because I am merely a wife. Yet when I request a meeting with him on a very important matter, I do not even merit a reply in his own hand. He gives me a set-down by way of a secretary. No more, John. I have done with that man."
"Steady, love," he said soothingly, laying a hand on her arm. "Let us be very sure this time. I shall go to see him. He will hear my explanation, I warrant you."
"If you take one step in his direction, I will never speak to you again," his sister cried, pushing back her chair and getting to her feet. "I would be most obliged, John, if I never hear his name in this house again."
She swept out of the room, leaving her brother scratching his head in perplexity. A visit to his wife's bedroom, where he shared her breakfast and a lengthy consultation, did nothing to solve the problem. After six years of misunderstanding and bitter hard feelings, it seemed that this marriage was not going to be easily resurrected.
Elizabeth, meanwhile, had gone to the drawing room, taken paper, ink, and pens from the desk there, and returned to her own room, where she was soon busy drafting a notice to several London newspapers offering her services as a governess. She would personally see that the notices went out with that day's mail, she decided, so that they would appear in print in two days' time. She resolved to take the first post offered, especially if it was far away from London.
---
Five days later Louise was still watching the driveway for Hetherington and looking through the day's mail for a letter from him. She was convinced that the other letter had been a mistake, that somehow he would come and allow Elizabeth to tell her story. She was convinced that love would triumph in the end.
For his part, John was still in a quandary. He felt he owed it to his sister this time to help her, to find out Hetherington and explain to him what her letter must have only hinted at. Surely the man would want to come himself to see her if he knew the truth. On the other hand, Elizabeth had very specifically begged him not to have any contact at all with her husband.
Elizabeth was the only one who was not troubled. Since the morning when the letter had arrived, she had blocked Hetherington from her mind and her heart. With a cheerfulness that alarmed her brother and sister-in-law, she helped Louise with household duties, played with Jeremy, and prepared for her own return to service. She had bought several yards of gray wool material and was making herself some serviceable gowns. Although it would be several months before her hair would be long enough to be forced into its old, severe style, she found that she was able to coil the curls at the back so that her appearance became somewhat less frivolous.
Five days after she had sent her advertisement to the newspapers, Elizabeth began to look for a reply. She had none by the morning post, but a messenger in the early afternoon brought word that a Mr. Chatsworth was at the local inn and would be pleased to interview Miss Rossiter that same afternoon for a position as governess.
"Pray do not go, Elizabeth," Louise begged when she was shown the letter, "or send word that your services are no longer available. Indeed, we need you here and we love you."