Only once during the week was she forced to face the Ferndale party. They all came over one afternoon to take Cecily driving. Elizabeth escaped from the drawing room immediately to fetch a shawl from the girl's bedroom. She handed it to Mr. Mainwaring on her return and would have left. He detained her for a moment.
"I am sorry that we cannot offer to take you up too, Miss Rossiter," he said, smiling down into her eyes from his great height, "but the phaeton will be full by the time we collect Miss Claridge from the rectory."
She smiled briefly. "Indeed, sir, I shall be glad to catch up on a hundred and one little tasks," she assured him.
"We shall see you at the ball?" he asked.
"I-I am not sure yet, sir," she stammered, very aware of Hetherington sitting silent in a chair close by, not participating in the general conversation of the room.
"Ah, but it would be unkind of you to refuse to come," Mr. Mainwaring continued. "I particularly included you in the invitation, ma'am."
"I am much obliged to you, sir," she said, surprised. "I shall attend, then."
He smiled, the expression making his handsome face unexpectedly boyish. "Thank you, ma'am," he said. "Will you save the first waltz for me?"
Elizabeth curtsied and left the room. She had not dared to glance at Hetherington and yet despised herself for caring that he had overheard. She would go to the ball, she decided, and she would dance the first waltz with Mr. Mainwaring-if he remembered, that was. But she had the feeling that he would claim the dance.
Chapter 6
Elizabeth had never actually been inside the house at Ferndale. She had driven past the imposing wrought-iron gates supported by massive stone pillars, of course, and had often gazed at the impressive park that stretched within. During the winter, when the trees were bare, she had even been able to spot the house. But the closest she had ever come to it had been the day of the picnic when she had driven over with Cecily.
She gazed now with interest at the fairly new building. It had been erected a mere fifty years before by Mr. Mainwaring's predecessor when he had been a young man. Elizabeth admired its simple classical lines as she waited with the Rowes for a footman to put down the steps of their carriage and assist them onto the carpet that had been laid out down the marble steps for the occasion.
She felt a sense of anticipation and one of slight dread. ()n this occasion she was clearly a guest rather than a companion. She had already had her hand solicited for a dance by the host himself. She was wearing a new dress and felt very daring and self-conscious. It was of silk of the palest blue. It was her own creation, very simple as became her station. It was high-waisted with short, tight sleeves and a modest neckline that ended well above the level of her bosom. But it was the first dress she had owned in over five years that was not gray, the first one that did not have long sleeves. She had not quite dared to try a different hairstyle, but she had pulled a few tendrils of rich chestnut hair free of the knot at her neck and allowed them to trail down her neck and her temples.
Cecily was also excited. "Is it not great fun to be going to Ferndale, Beth?" she enthused in the carriage. "I have heard that the ballroom stretches the whole width of the house. Their housekeeper told ours that Mr. Mainwaring had to send all the way to Bath to purchase enough candles to fill all the candelabra. Imagine!"
"He has hired an orchestra from Bath, too," Mrs. Rowe added, nodding until her feather plumes waved back and forth. "Mr. Prosser told Mrs. Claridge so. I do hope Mr. Mainwaring or the Marquess of Hetherington will lead you into the first dance, Cecily. I do declare, one of them ought when we have exceeded everyone else in our civility to them."
"It does not signify, Mama," Cecily said. "Ferdie has asked me for the first dance."
"Fiddle!" said her mother. "You can dance with Ferdie anytime during the twelvemonth, my love."
"And you, Cinderella," said Mr. Rowe, looking across the carriage at Elizabeth, "is tonight the night for Prince Charming?"
"Indeed, I hope so, sir," she replied seriously. "I very much fear that my glass slippers will shatter before I have the opportunity to leave one on the house steps."
"You should not tease her, Mr. Rowe," his wife scolded. "I am quite sure that Miss Rossiter could make a very eligible connection if she but set her mind to it."
"Quite, my love," Mr. Rowe replied indulgently. "I might have suggested Mr. Dowling. He is eligible enough, though a thoroughly dry old stick. But I very much fear his heart may have been conquered already by the Worthing chit. No, Miss Rossiter, I am afraid it will have to be Prince Charming or no one for you."
"My sentiments exactly, sir," she said cheerfully as she gathered together her skirts and took the outstretched hand of the liveried footman who assisted her from trie carriage.
Mr. Mainwaring had asked Mrs. Prosser to be his hostess at the ball. The two of them stood at the doorway of the ballroom greeting their guests, who had been invited from miles around. They greeted Elizabeth after the Rowes, Mrs. Prosser with a kind smile and Mr. Mainwaring with a warm smile and a firm shake of the hand.
"I hope you have not forgotten to reserve the first waltz for me," he said for her ears only.
Elizabeth smiled and passed into the ballroom. It was indeed a grand place, stretching the width of the house, its long wall consisting almost entirely of French windows that opened onto a stone balcony. The room was brilliant with candlelight, heavy with the perfume of masses of flowers. A sixth sense drew her eyes across the floor to Hetherington, who was looking particularly dazzling in a midnight-blue satin coat and lighter-blue knee breeches, with gold waistcoat and sparkling white linen. Amelia Norris, in white lace covering lavender satin, held possessively to his arm. But he also was looking across at her, Elizabeth realized with a jolt, his eyes wandering coolly over her from head to foot. She looked sharply away.
Elizabeth felt almost young again during the first half of the ball. She danced almost every dance, with the Reverend Claridge first of all, then with Mr. Rowe and Mr. Prosser. Mr. Mainwaring claimed her for the fourth dance, a waltz.
"Ah, at last," he said, his eyes smiling down at her as he placed a strong hand against her back and moved her into the music. "Now I may relax, ma'am, in your company."
"Oh, beware, sir," she warned, "I am still very likely to tread on your toes during the dance."
"I will not believe it," he protested. "You are by far too charming and too graceful, ma'am."
"Yes," she replied lightly, "but I like to appear modest by pretending that I am not perfect."
He laughed at the exact moment that Hetherington, staring tight-lipped into Elizabeth's eyes, danced by with Cecily.
Elizabeth tilted her chin upward.
"Miss Rossiter," her partner was saying, "I said a short while ago that I never seemed to notice how you were attired. But I have noticed this evening that you look particularly lovely."
Elizabeth blushed, startled by the sincerity of his tone. "Why, thank you, sir," she said. "I feel very daring, you know, putting aside my gray and venturing into such a startling color as blue."
He smiled. "I do not like to see you in employment," he said. "You grace this ballroom more than any other lady present. It angers me that most of them consider themselves grander than you." His tone had become suddenly serious. He was looking very intently into her face.