Yet she knew that she had to go. Tonight he would know the truth. For the rest of her life, long after he was married to Melly, perhaps, she would wonder what would have happened had she gone to meet him. It was altogether possible, of course, even probable, that he would not come. He must have a great many social commitments with which to fill his afternoons. She would go and consider herself fortunate if he did not appear.
William Mainwaring was in a similar quandary for different reasons. He had suffered a half-hour of guilt and remorse as he had walked home across the fields the afternoon before. He should not have gone to see her. Meeting a young girl alone in the woods was a potentially dangerous situation under any circumstances. In his case it was perhaps doubly so. He was unhappy; for almost a year he had been separated from the woman he loved and would never possess, and he had recently been reminded very forcefully of the fact. He was lonely and felt more so among these strangers who would not leave him to his own solitude.
She had come almost like a gift from heaven, his little wood nymph. A gift from the devil, more like! She was beautiful and she was very unusual and he wanted her more than he had imagined he would ever want a woman after Elizabeth. He had wanted very much earlier to lay her down on the bank and to lift her skirts and bury all his hurts inside her. He could only imagine what it would be like. He had lived an almost totally womanless existence despite his one-and-thirty years. But he had wanted Nell, had been closer than he cared to think to giving in to the temptation. And he did not think that she would have resisted. That fact alone scared him. The responsibility, the decision, was entirely his.
He could not do that to her. She was probably an innocent. He would have all the responsibility of having taken her virginity if he gave in to his desires, and would perhaps ruin forever her chances of making a contented marriage. If he felt an honest affection for the girl, perhaps there would be some excuse for him. But how could he offer any woman even the smallest part of his heart when it all belonged entirely and forever to Elizabeth? He would be using the girl purely to soothe his physical frustrations. Somehow he felt that Nell deserved better than that. For all that she was a poor and uneducated girl, she had feelings as he or anyone else had and she deserved to be loved by the man who would possess her first.
By the time he reached home after his encounter with Helen, Mainwaring had decided that he must go no more to the woods. He must not see the girl again. He must make a more determined effort to mix with his neighbors, to keep himself occupied so that he would not have the time either to brood about his lost love or to think with lust about Nell. In an effort to put his resolve into immediate effect, he had stridden to the stables, saddled his horse himself, and ridden into the village to return a book that the vicar had loaned him the previous week.
It was while he was riding down the village street that he had met the two elder daughters of the Earl of Claymore. He had raised his hat, made his bow, and prepared to ride on. But Lady Melissa Wade had stopped with the obvious intention of conversing with him, while the other girl had bowed rather haughtily and passed into the milliner’s shop behind her. Lady Melissa had asked him if he was to attend Lord Graham’s ball the following evening. Her intention' had been obvious. She must have known very well that he would be there.
Nevertheless, Mainwaring had fallen into the trap almost willingly. If he must forget the past, and if he must resist the temptation presented by the little wench, then what better way was there to do both than to attach himself to another lady? He must only be careful not to so single her out as to feel himself honor-bound to offer for her.
“May I hope that you will reserve the first set for me, Lady Melissa?” he had asked, smiling down at her. “Or am I too late and your card is filled already?”
She had tittered. “Really, sir,” she had said, “you are not in London now. We do not generally choose partners before the ball begins, you know. But I should be delighted to reserve the set for you. What a delightful horse you have, Mr. Mainwaring. He is very obedient despite his great size and strength.”
“We have been a long way together,” he had said, patting his horse’s flank.
“Indeed?” she had said. “I was under the impression, sir, that you did not have much love of horses. Riding is one of my greatest pleasures. I insist on exercising my horse myself each morning, no matter what the weather.”
“Perhaps we could ride together one morning,” he had suggested politely.
“Oh,” she had said, raising surprised eyes to his, “what a perfectly splendid idea. I would have to ask Papa if I may, of course. But I think he will agree, provided I take a groom with me.”
“Until tomorrow evening, then,” he had said, raising his hat and bowing to her again before riding off to the vicar’s house with the grim satisfaction of having done the right thing to try to set his life in order.
That had been the day before. But somehow matters did not appear so simple in the light of morning. It was a particularly beautiful day. He had no commitments until the evening. And when he went into his library to select a book to read on the terrace outside, he took down, without conscious choice, his copy of Lyrical Ballads. The volume opened on its own to a much loved poem—one about Lucy. And he smiled as he read about her:
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A Maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love:
A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
—Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.
William Mainwaring looked up and smiled. The poet might almost have been describing his wood nymph. Nell. And she would be waiting for him that afternoon perhaps, wondering if he would keep his promise to read her some of these poems. There was something of a poet in her, something of an artist, he felt sure. If only she could have had the benefit of an education, she probably would have been a very interesting person. Not that there was anything dull about her now. She would enjoy hearing these poems, he was convinced. Should he go and read them to her?
Could he go and keep himself from touching her? Just yesterday at this time perhaps he could have answered in the affirmative with some confidence. But he had touched her already, and that brief embrace had awoken a hunger in him that he did not believe he could easily quell. It would be far safer to stay away. Far safer for her and far better for his self-respect. He did not like himself for hungering after one woman while loving another.
Perhaps the very best thing he could do with his life would be to marry Lady Melissa Wade. He did not think he was flattering himself to believe that she would accept him. She was a pretty girl with her fair hair and blue eyes, and she seemed amiable enough. He could never love her, or feel any deep affection for her in all probability, but then, chances were that she would not expect any such devotion. With her his life would take on some stability. With her he would be able to satisfy those physical cravings that the girl in the woods had just reawakened. And with her he would be beyond temptation. He did not believe that his conscience would allow him ever to stray to another woman if he had a wife to whom he owed his loyalty.
He got up from his seat on the terrace and wandered back to the library. But he did not put the book back on the shelf. He tapped it against his free hand and stared sightlessly at the titles before him. If it was to be so, if he really was to take such an irrevocable step, perhaps it would be safe to see Nell one more time. After all, he had almost promised her that he would go. He would see her that afternoon and begin his serious courtship of Lady Melissa that evening at Lord Graham’s ball. It was very possible that the girl would not be there, anyway, and then matters would be taken out of his hands.
William Mainwaring strode out of the library and took the stairs up to his room two at a time, the volume of poems still clasped in one hand.
* * *
Despite the precaution she had taken of hiding her shabby cotton dress close to the western edge of the wood and putting it on before going to the clearing by the stream, Helen was again the first to arrive there. Indeed she thought he was not coming. Time seems long when one is waiting for someone one is not even certain will come, especially when one dare not fill in the time with a book or a sketchpad. She was sitting a little back from the stream, sheltering from the heat of the sun beneath the shade of a large tree, when he came. She sat cross-legged, her chin resting on one fist. She did not move when she saw him come.
