He bowed over her hand, which was still extended, and kissed it formally. "Thank you, ma'am," he said. "That is all I wished to know." And before she could take her leave, he brushed past her and left the room.
Really, the whole situation had ended most satisfactorily, Elizabeth told herself several minutes later as she cheerfully packed her bags ready for the next day's journey. The years had been painful because of her terrible disillusionment over Robert's behavior. Now that she knew that he had been in no way to blame, and now that he knew that she had been innocent, the past could be allowed to fall into memory. And she would be happy to remember those weeks of courtship in London, those few days of marriage in Devon. She was free now to remember Robert as he had been, graceful and yet very masculine, handsome, sunny-natured, affectionate, passionate. She would be able to remember their encounters in the last few months with some pleasure, certainly without bitterness.
But she could not revive her feelings for him, of course. She had finally killed those five days before when she had realized her extreme stupidity in opening her heart to rejection and pain yet again. She had learned her lesson well this time. But she was very pleased that he had come. It was good to know that that unkind letter from his secretary had not been dictated by Robert himself.
Yes, Elizabeth concluded with a smile as she folded the skirt of her best gray silk very carefully into the portmanteau, it was all over now, and a very satisfactory ending it was, too. She had been a little surprised when Robert had left so quietly. She had expected more trouble with him. But that was good, too. It showed that he understood the good sense of her decision.
Elizabeth repeated all these thoughts to Louise, who came into her room and sat quietly on the bed to watch her pack, and at the dinner table to John, who smiled and told her that she knew what was best for herself, that he would not try to interfere in her life anymore.
Elizabeth was pleased to avoid the emotional confrontations she had expected. Both John and Louise conversed on general topics during the evening. Neither tried to dissuade her from accepting her new employment; neither even mentioned the necessity of taking a ladies' maid on the journey with her. They had finally accepted her adult right to make her own decisions and to order her own life.
Louise cried a few tears as she kissed her sister-in-law good-bye the next morning on the stone steps outside the house. John hugged her rather too hard and too long. But Elizabeth felt a sense of relief as she set her face for the village, seated beside her brother's groom in the gig. It had been surprisingly easy to begin a new life.
When she asked at the inn for Mr. Chatsworth, Elizabeth was directed to a traveling coach in the yard outside. The Yorkshireman had requested that she await him there. A footman standing by the open door helped her inside, assured her that her bags would be taken care of, and closed the door.
She found herself in an interior of opulent luxury. Well-cushioned seats of gold velvet were complemented by a paler-gold rug and brocade wall and ceiling coverings. Brown velvet curtains were looped back from the windows, but could give total privacy and darkness to the travelers whenever the master wished, Elizabeth judged. When she sat down rather uncertainly on one of the seats, she sank into warm softness and felt the coach sway slightly. It was very well sprung.
Mr. Chatsworth was a very wealthy man, then. The long journey to his home would be a reasonably comfortable one, despite the deplorable condition of most British roads. But Elizabeth began to feel uneasy. It had been fine yesterday to imagine that she would be quite safe traveling alone with a strange man. She was wearing her plainest wool dress and pelisse, her most no-nonsense bonnet. Together with a chilly, distant manner, her appearance would serve to dampen any ardor that the man might be capable of, she had thought. But now she was not so sure. She remembered the speculative way in which Mr. Chatsworth had looked her over the day before. And she looked again at those velvet curtains.
She felt the coach sway again and heard voices outside. The coachman was apparently climbing into his seat. The door opened again and the footman's face appeared momentarily. Elizabeth leaned a shoulder against the side of the coach and set her face into what she hoped was a polite but chilly smile.
"Good morning, my lady," the Marquess of Hether-ington said with his wide white grin as he vaulted into the coach and took a seat next to her. The door closed quietly.
"What are you doing here?" Elizabeth demanded, sitting bolt-upright. She staggered forward at the same moment as the coach was set into motion.
Hetherington put out a steadying arm, but she shook it off.
"What is happening?" she asked. "Where is Mr. Chatsworth? And what are you doing in his coach?"
"To answer your questions in order, love," he said, beginning to check them off on his fingers, "the coach has begun to move; on his way to London, I would imagine, to find himself a new governess; and this is my coach, not his." He smiled at her.
She stared back, wide-eyed. "I have a position with him," she said frostily. "I demand you let me down, my lord."
He crossed his arms on his chest and placed one booted foot against the seat opposite. "My apologies," he said, still grinning hugely. "I told the man that he could not have my wife as a governess for his children. I enjoyed doing so. I disliked the man on sight. You would not have been safe with him, Elizabeth."
"Not safe with him!" she sputtered. "You are the one abducting me! Stop immediately, or I shall, I shall…"
"Shall what?" he asked, chuckling. "Throw yourself out of the coach? The doors are locked, love. Scream? The horses may be alarmed, but my men are more than capable of handling them."
Elizabeth sank back into her seat again and glowered at her tormentor. "What do you want?" she asked.
He grinned again. "You," he answered.
"I am here against my will," she said, "and yesterday I said no. How can you expect to achieve anything from such a situation?"
He settled his shoulders against his corner of the coach and looked at her. The grin had faded, though he still smiled. "I have excellent hopes," he said. "I have ached for you for six years, and you have suffered too, I know. I love you now as I have from the beginning, and you love me. I believe we have a chance for a good marriage."
"What makes you believe that I love you?" she asked frostily.
"I have it on excellent authority," he replied. "William Mainwaring, Mr. Rowe, your brother and sister-in-law."
She looked sharply across at him. "Mr. Rowe?" she asked, frowning.
"He told me so at Bath a few days ago," he replied.
"At Bath?"
"How do you think I knew you were here?" he asked with a sigh. "When I found my uncle in Paris, I thought that my wanderings were over. But when I arrived in Granby to claim you, I was told the Rowes were in Bath. I found them there, but not you, love."
Elizabeth turned to stare out the window. "Robert, take me back," she said, "or let me down here. Please."
"No, I cannot do that, love," he said very quietly.
She sat stiffly in her place, staring sightlessly at the passing scenery. Several minutes passed in silence.
"Robert," she said at last, "you cannot take me to your home like this, with no warning, with no one knowing who I am. Your staff will all think me some kind of doxy."
He chuckled. "A very strange kind of doxy dressed like that," he said. "You do look a perfect fright, you know, Elizabeth. Did you hope to hold Chatsworth off with such a costume? You would not have succeeded. Your charms show through quite shockingly." He reached out a hand and flicked a chestnut curl on her neck.
Elizabeth turned to him with pleading eyes. "I cannot go to Hetherington Manor with you, Robert," she said, "indeed I cannot. I am not ready. Please take me back."