He did not wish to go. It would not do to become involved in any way with a girl of a different class. Mainwaring had always frowned heavily on those men – and there were many-who felt that women of a lower class were theirs for the taking, that virtue counted for nothing if the female were not a lady. He had never been able to bring himself to use even a dancer or a prostitute. He could see them too clearly as women, persons, who at some time had been down on their luck and forced to sell the only commodity that was wholly theirs. His little wood nymph should be left alone to enjoy whatever solitary pleasures she gained from her "special place," as she had called it.
Yet he found that by the Monday he could no longer stay away. He needed to be alone, he told himself. It was a beautiful day and a walk would do him good. She would probably not be there anyway. After all, it could not be easy for a girl to get away from home in the middle of the day. But it was a pretty place, her spot by the stream. He would go and see it again.
At first he thought that she was not there. There was no one today leaning over the stream studying the colors and movement of the water. He tried to convince himself that he was not at all disappointed. And then he saw her, perched high up in an oak tree, apparently perfectly relaxed, not clinging for safety by so much as a single hand. She was gazing upward, quite unaware of his presence.
William Mainwaring smiled with genuine amusement. He had to quell the desire to laugh outright.
"Hello, wood nymph," he called. "Are you learning sky today, or is it branches?"
She looked down. "You are mocking me," she said. "If you were up here, you would see that the clouds are moving fast across the sky, but it is not windy here. Is not that extraordinary? Do you imagine there is a gale blowing up there?"
"I can only be thankful that there is no gale down here," he said. "You would be blown out of the tree like a leaf in autumn."
"Nonsense," she replied. "I am perfectly safe. I have climbed this tree a thousand times or more."
"Wood nymph!" he said. His voice was almost a caress. "Would you please humor a poor earth-bound mortal and come down from there?"
He marveled at how surefooted she was as she descended quickly. She must be very used to walking in bare feet, he thought, if she did not hurt them against the bark of the tree. He held up his arms when she reached the lowest branch.
"Let me help you," he said.
"I have jumped it safely a thousand times," she replied, but she put her hands on his shoulders and allowed him to swing her to the ground.
She looked delightfully wild, he thought, with her large, rather dreamy gray eyes and tangled tawny hair and with her faded shabby dress that ended a full inch above her bare ankles. He reached out to take a leaf from her hair.
"Am I disturbing you, Nell?" he asked. "Would you prefer it if I went away again?"
"That seems a strange question to ask when I am the one trespassing on your land," she said, her voice a little breathless. "But no. Come and sit on the bank. I need to wash my feet in the stream."
He watched her settle herself on the grass and dangle her feet over the edge after hitching her skirts almost to the knees. He smiled, crossed to her side, and sat down. She was really very beautiful in her own way. Untamed beauty. He hated to think of anyone trying to force her to be a conventional barmaid or scullery maid or whatever other occupation must be open to her. He hated to think of her drudging over household tasks. She should always be free. The thought passed unbidden into his mind that he had it in his power to free her. He could set her up in comfort if he wished so that she would always be free from any chance of a life of drudgery. He quelled the thought.
"Do you know any poetry, Nell?" he asked.
"Poetry, sir?" she asked, looking across at him wide-eyed.
"Probably not," he said, answering his own question. "I must bring some books and read to you. You would like the works of some of the new poets, I believe."
"Why?" she asked.
"I think some of them share your complete absorption with nature," he said. "William Wordsworth, for example. He believes, you know, that there is a spirit behind all of nature. A tree is not just something pretty to look at. It somehow has a spiritual force." He laughed. "You probably do not know what I am talking about, do you?"
"Oh yes, I do!" Helen said eagerly. "Yes, I do, and that is exactly how I feel. Do you too?"
William Mainwaring smiled again into the bright face so close to his. "I admire his poetry and read it quite frequently," he said. "But I must confess that I have not given a great deal of serious thought to his philosophy. But then I have never known the man. I do know you, wood nymph, and I believe your passion might be infectious."
He had not meant it quite the way it sounded when it came out of his mouth. The girl looked intently at him. Her cheeks flushed and her lips parted, but there was nothing coquettish in her manner. Perhaps it was his realization of that fact that made her so irresistible. Mainwaring leaned forward before he had any conception of what he was about to do and kissed her.
He lifted his head almost immediately. She had offered no resistance. Her lips had been warm and soft beneath his. Those rather dreamy eyes of hers were still looking into his.
"I wanted you to do that," she said unexpectedly, and she leaned imperceptibly toward him.
This time he put an arm around her shoulders and turned her to him before kissing her. And he could feel the blood pounding against his temples as her breasts came against his coat and her lips parted beneath his. He threaded his free hand through the loose tangles of her hair and tentatively explored her lips with his tongue. The soft warmth drew him in and soon he was reaching into her opened mouth, touching her tongue with his, stroking the roof of her mouth until she shivered against him. He kissed her closed eyes, her chin, her throat, and finally, her mouth again.
A village girl. Just a poor village girl. What was he doing taking advantage of such innocence? He put her head against his shoulder and held it there while he looked up into the branches of the trees, trying to impose sanity on his mind. Had he completely taken leave of his senses? He had never before allowed himself to be carried away by sheer desire. He had never had a woman. He had kissed only one other. He closed his eyes tightly. Elizabeth! How could he sully his love for her with these feelings of mere desire for a young girl with whom he could have nothing in common beyond a fondness for a wood and a stream?
William Mainwaring put the girl gently away from him and smiled at her. "I should not have done that," he said. "I am sorry, Nell. I do not wish to frighten you into believing that you are no longer safe here. I assure you that it will not happen again."
She gazed seriously back at him. "I am not sorry," she said, "and I am not frightened. Are you going to leave now?"
"Yes," he said, "I think I had better go."
"Will you come again?" she asked. "Will you read me those poems?"
He had stood up. But he stooped down now and put a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yes, wood nymph," he said softly. "I shall come and read to you. There is a whole world of which you must be unaware that I would wish opened to you."
He smiled at her and drew his thumb lightly over her lips before straightening up again and turning to stride away through the trees and quickly out of her sight.
Helen did not immediately leave. She noticed, in something of a daze, that one of her feet was still dangling in the water. She pulled it out and tucked both feet under the hem of her dress, not bothering to dry the wet one first. What a coil she was in! In the past half-hour she had broken just about every rule that should guide her actions as a lady. The first meeting with Mr. Mainwaring could be discounted. She had not expected him then. She could not be expected to feel any guilt about talking to him on that occasion. Mere civility had demanded it, even if not the deception. But this time!