The pair did not stay long. Once Ferdie realized that there was little chance of Cecily's returning within the hour, he was ready to begin the ride back home again. Elizabeth promised to pass on the invitation to the ball, though she had already decided to refuse herself. The less she saw of the Marquess of Hetherington, the happier she would be.
The following week was one of great excitement among the leading families of Granby and the surrounding countryside. Although entertainments were not unusual, they were normally very predictable events. Very rarely was there any stranger to add interest. And now there were five strangers, and all of them fashionable and apparently wealthy. The austere good looks of Mr. Mainwaring and his connection with the neighborhood, and the title, vitality, and charm of the Marquess of Hetherington everywhere set the hearts of hopeful mothers and their daughters fluttering. The haughty beauty of Miss Norris inspired awe and admiration everywhere.
Elizabeth finally met this lady a few days before the ball, when she rode over with the rest of the Ferndale party to invite Cecily to walk. Elizabeth was in the rose garden cutting some blooms for the house when they arrived. Mrs. Prosser and her sister walked over to talk to her while they all waited for Cecily to run upstairs for a bonnet and parasol. Elizabeth was very glad that the men went inside the house for some refreshment. She had felt a painful stab of the heart at the sight of Hetherington. Like the other gentlemen, he touched his hat in acknowledgment of her presence. Unlike them, he did not smile.
Mrs. Prosser introduced her sister to Elizabeth as Miss Amelia Norris. Elizabeth did not know why she so condescended. The girl was a handsome brunette, though her beauty was marred by a perpetually haughty expression. She succeeded now somehow in looking down her nose.
"Ah, the companion of dear Cecily," she commented, making the word companion sound like the lowest of menial occupations, and making Cecily sound anything but dear.
Mrs. Prosser was left to maintain a conversation with Elizabeth. "Mrs. Rowe has told me that you are a sister of John Rossiter," she said kindly. "I knew his wife slightly. She made her come-out in the same year as Amelia. I believe I met him once, too. They made a charming couple."
"Yes, indeed," Elizabeth replied, "and now they have a son of whom we are all proud." She smiled.
"Yes," Miss Norris added languidly, "Louise was, I believe, one of those girls who feel that they must attach some gentleman during their first Season or they are failures in life." The implication was that she had far more wisdom and good taste.
"But it was a love match, I believe," her sister said.
"Sometimes love can be combined with good sense," Miss Norris continued. "When Robert and I marry, there will be no sense of unseemly haste."
"Are you betrothed?" Elizabeth was startled enough to ask.
Haughty eyebrows arched above cold brown eyes. "We have an understanding, Miss Rossiter," she deigned to reply. "I feel almost sorry for all these country girls, who all seem to believe that they can attach the interest of either Robert or William."
She smiled arctically, and Elizabeth understood. Miss Norris had heard, no doubt, that Hetherington had walked all the way to town and back arm in arm with Cecily just a few days before. She was issuing a covert warning to the girl through her companion.
"Come, Bertha," the girl said sharply now, and started for the entrance to the house, where the gentlemen were emerging with Cecily. Elizabeth noticed that she quickly gained possession of Hetherington's arm before it could be decided how the six persons should pair off. He smiled easily down at her and covered her hand with his for a brief moment. Cecily shot Elizabeth a brief, frightened glance as Mr. Mainwaring extended an arm to her. But Elizabeth was not to be drawn. Her presence on this occasion would be decidedly de trop. She walked into the house with her armload of roses. Although Mr. Prosser had exchanged a few, brief pleasantries with her, and even Mr. Mainwaring had bid her good afternoon, Hetherington had not so much as glanced in her direction.
---
Elizabeth ended up attending the Worthing ball after all. She had been determined not to go, and finally Mrs. Rowe had accepted her decision.
"I should find myself in an intolerable position, ma'am," Elizabeth had explained. "It is impossible for me to behave like a regular guest. Yet your appearance there will make my presence as a chaperone superfluous."
"But, Beth," Cecily had pleaded, "a ball is so exciting. You cannot possibly wish to sit at home when you have been invited."
"It is a great shame that you must feel yourself inferior just because you have paid employment," Mrs. Rowe said. "If the truth were known, my dear Miss Rossiter, I am sure you are better born than that Worthing woman. Certainly you never behave with the vulgarity that she displays quite frequently. But as you wish, my dear. I shall not insist you attend if you feel you would be unhappy."
But Elizabeth's relief was short-lived. On the morning of the ball Mrs. Rowe awoke with one of her migraine headaches. Remaining in bed all day and having Elizabeth treat her with vinaigrette and lavender water and compresses failed to bring about a sufficient recovery to enable her to attend the ball. Elizabeth, therefore, was forced to deputize as Cecily's chaperone.
It did not take her long to get ready. She changed into her best gray silk dress with its high neckline and long, tight sleeves. She did wear a white lace collar as a small concession to the festive occasion. Her hair, though, she knotted at the base of her neck in its usual style.
She waited with Mr. Rowe in the drawing room. But Cecily was not late. She was too eager not to miss a moment of the festivities. She looked remarkably pretty, Elizabeth thought, in her rose-pink ball gown, the new one that Miss Phillips had made for her. Mrs. Rowe was sure the gown was fashionable. The neckline was low-cut, the sleeves short and puffed, the skirt falling in loose folds from a high waistline. The girl's cheeks were flushed with excitement and her eyes shone. Her fair hair hung in soft curls around her face and along her neck. Short ringlets fell from a knot on top of her head.
"I see you are bent on being the belle of the ball, puss," Mr. Rowe said.
"Oh, will I do, Papa?" Cecily asked anxiously, pirouetting inside the doorway.
"Fine as fivepence," he declared.
Elizabeth smiled her agreement.
Cecily looked at her companion. "Oh, Beth," she said, "I do wish Mama had insisted that you have a new evening dress made. I do love you, honestly I do, but must you always wear gray?"
"I shall be sitting among the chaperones," her companion replied lightly. "A fine dress would be totally wasted, now, would it not?"
Cecily made an exasperated sound and turned to her father, who was holding out her wrap to cover her shoulders.
"Shall we go, ladies?" he asked. "And, Miss Rossiter, will you please remember that your coach will turn into a pumpkin promptly at midnight?"
They were not the first to arrive at the ball, but they were before the Ferndaie party. Elizabeth was glad. She was able to find herself a chair in the most shadowed corner of the ballroom. Mrs. Claridge soon joined her there.