Elizabeth smoothed the letter on her lap and smiled down at it. John never gave up trying to lure her home. And the temptation was great, she had to admit that. She could not go back, though, and be dependent on her brother. She could not break in on the family circle there. Although she was really no more than a servant where she was, at least she was supporting herself on her own earnings. She had a measure of independence and self-respect.
She was jolted from her reverie by the sound of approaching voices. She recognized the rather shrill tones of Amelia Norris and the softer, higher-toned voice of Cecily. Perhaps they had left Hetherington in the house. She lowered her head to her letter again, hoping they would pass by without seeing her.
"Hiding, Miss Rossiter?" a deeper voice said from the graveled entryway of the arbor.
"Not at all, my lord," she replied coolly, looking up into his face. "I did not know that my presence was requested."
"What are you doing out here?" Miss Norris asked.
"I have been reading a letter, ma'am," Elizabeth replied, ignoring the impertinence of the question.
"And who is it from, pray?"
Elizabeth's eyebrows rose. "From my brother, ma'am," she said.
"Ah, yes, the one who married Louise," she said. "An unwise marriage for her, I thought. His estate is still as impoverished as it was, I suppose?"
"My brother's affairs are no business of mine, ma'am," Elizabeth replied stiffly.
"He must be doing poorly if you are forced to work for a living," Miss Norris persisted. "And I suppose Louise is breeding whenever she may?"
Elizabeth flushed with anger. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Cecily busily examining the rose blooms, looking embarrassed. She looked directly at Hetherington, who was reclining against a stone wall having the unmitigated gall to look amused.
"Pardon me, ma'am," she said distinctly, goaded as much by that half-grin as by the rudeness of her interrogator, "but I do not choose to discuss my family's affairs with a stranger."
The haughty head tipped back and Elizabeth found herself being viewed along the length of a very aristocratic nose.
"Really, Miss Rossiter," she said shrilly, "I usually do not condescend to show interest in servants. I do so on this occasion only because dear Cecily seems to regard you so highly. In future I shall know how to treat you. You give yourself airs, miss."
Cecily turned away from the flowers looking most distressed.
"Oh, pray," she said, "do not be angry, Miss Norris. You do not understand, you see. Beth is a friend, not really a servant."
Hetherington pushed himself lazily into a standing position. "Amelia, now that you have established the superiority of your breeding, I believe it is time we returned to the house to take our leave of Mrs. Rowe," he said.
Elizabeth was amazed to see that the barb had not found its mark. Miss Norris looked at him with gratitude and turned immediately toward the house. Hetherington offered his arm to Cecily, cocked an ironical eyebrow at Elizabeth, and followed her.
---
Her own troubled feelings aside, Elizabeth found the evening of the Rowes' dinner party to be an entertaining one. Her employer had insisted that she attend.
"It is quite absurd, my dear," she said, "that you should be obliged to eat belowstairs or above in the schoolroom when you are quite as genteel as the best of our guests. No, you must come, Miss Rossiter. And I don't want any headaches on the night. I know you very rarely get headaches."
Elizabeth gave in. She decided to make the best of a bad situation and be an observer. And already there were signs that there might be much to observe: Miss Norris and Hetherington, Cecily and Hetherington, Ferdie and Cecily, Mr. Mainwaring and all the hopeful young girls of the district.
She found herself seated at table between the Reverend Claridge on her left and Lucy Worthing on her right. There were sixteen persons at the table, with the result that conversation was not general. Elizabeth listened to a health report of all the parishioners on the vicar's visiting list for part of the meal. Most people avoided the reverend as a bore. He tended to speak in a monotone, with long pauses between phrases, and about topics that were dear to his heart but to no one else's. But Elizabeth knew him as a kindly man, devoted to his parishioners, even the poorest of them, and an affectionate husband and father to his large brood. She sat and listened with patience, a smile of interest on her face.
Eventually Lucy Worthing claimed her attention.
"Miss Rossiter," she almost whispered earnestly, "how is it that you converse so easily with other people? I think and think of what I may say to someone and I can never think of a single thing."
Elizabeth smiled reassuringly at the girl. "I perceive you have been left to the company of Mr. Dowling too long," she said, glancing at the gentleman farmer sitting on Lucy's other side. "He never has two words to rub together."
"But I am the same with everyone," the girl said miserably. "You saw at Mama's ball how I could not converse with Mr. Mainwaring. I felt so uncomfortable. And all the while you were talking with Mr. Prosser as if you would never run out of ideas."
"Is it important to you that you be able to converse with Mr. Mainwaring?" Elizabeth asked, looking into her companion's face.
Lucy flushed. "Not necessarily," she replied. "But, you see, I have to meet gentlemen like him when I go to London. And I dread it, Miss Rossiter."
Elizabeth thought for a moment. "Perhaps the problem is that you are always thinking of what you may say," she said finally. "Have you ever asked yourself what your neighbor would like to say? If you know of an interest of his, one well-placed question will probably set him to talking for a long while. If you do not know his interests, a lew questions will probably reveal them. You see, the secret of good conversation is perhaps to listen well and to look interested in what you hear."
Lucy stared at her, fascinated. "Oh, do you really believe so?" she asked.
"I wager," said Elizabeth with a smile, "that if you were to turn to Mr. Dowling and ask about his hogs, he will hold your attention for the rest of dinner."
Lucy looked doubtful. "Hogs?" she said.
Elizabeth nodded and turned to the Reverend Claridge, who had directed some comment her way. A few minutes later she noticed that Lucy was at least talking with her neighbor.
The ladies retired to the drawing room a full half-hour before they were joined by the gentlemen. Amelia Norris seated herself at the pianoforte.
"Do come over here, Bertha, and sing," she said shrilly to her sister.
Mrs. Prosser did not move for the moment. "Perhaps Miss Rowe sings or plays," she suggested politely.
"Oh, but, please, you must favor us with a few pieces," Mrs. Rowe begged. "I am quite sure that with London singing masters, your style and repertoire will be superior."
Amelia began to play, a self-satisfied look on her face. She accompanied her sister for a while and then they changed places. Amelia was leaning against the pianoforte singing "Robin Adair," making a thoroughly pretty picture, when the gentlemen entered the room. She was facing slightly away from the door and pretended to have been unaware of their arrival, because she completed the song and affected great surprise at the applause that succeeded it.