He would not come back into the house with her. He would not take the umbrella with him either, even though the rain was coming down heavily. He stood watching her climb the steps and rap the knocker against the door and step inside when it opened almost immediately. But then there was an impasse. She closed the umbrella and stood looking down at him on the pavement. He turned and strode away, water already dripping from the brim of his hat.
Elizabeth watched him go until he was almost out of sight, even though she was being partially rained upon. And her heart ached. She wanted to call him back. She wanted to dash after him. She did neither. He was a young man with a young man’s dreams, and she…She was past dreams. She was past even practical plans for her own future. She would endure. She had done it before and she would do it again. But she felt now that she would never be happy, that shecouldnot. And she would not drag him down with her merely because he was kind and gallant and had persuaded himself that he really wanted to do what his conscience urged him to.
She was very tempted to walk right on by the drawing room and continue upstairs to her room. She stood for a moment outside the doors, drew a deep breath, smiled, and walked in.
“The heavens have opened up,” she said, taking off her bonnet and fluffing up her hair, though it was really quite wet in front.
“Colin did not come in with you?” Wren asked, clearly disappointed.
“No,” Elizabeth said. “I believe he felt too wet. He held the umbrella more over me than himself, and he would not take it with him.” She crossed the room to warm her hands at the fire. There was a bit of a silence behind her.
“It was kind of him to come here and show some concern for you,” Aunt Lilian said.
“Yes,” Elizabeth said, and added what she had not intended to say. “He offered me marriage. It was extremely kind of him. I said no.”
“Well, of course he did,” Cousin Louise said. “And of courseyoudid.”
“He would have felt obliged to make you an offer,” Cousin Mildred agreed, “especially after what happened at White’s this morning. But it would have been absurd, to say the least. Lord Hodges did the right thing and so did you, Elizabeth.”
“I am very sorry, Elizabeth,” the dowager countess said, “that the two of you were put in such an awkward situation by Sir Geoffrey Codaire, who really ought to have known better. Young Lord Hodges is fond of you, as you are of him. I observed that at Christmastime. I only hope neither of you will allow the events of the past twenty-four hours—not even as long—to cloud your friendship. You are, after all, practically brother and sister.”
“No such thing will happen, I assure you,” Elizabeth said, smiling again as she turned from the fire and sat in the chair beside it.
Her eyes met those of Cousin Matilda, who was hovering as usual slightly behind her mother’s chair on the other side of the hearth. Matilda was looking steadily back at her, and an unexpected understanding passed between them. One was so often inclined to dismiss Matilda as a sort of caricature of the aging spinster who had devoted her life to her mother’s care. But family lore had it that as a young girl she had refused a number of eligible suitors her father had chosen for her because she had a romantic attachment to a younger son of a gentleman of no particular account and no fortune. Elizabeth did not know the truth of the story, but something in Matilda’s expression inclined her to believe it.
Matilda poured a cup of tea, added two teaspoons of sugar, and brought it to Elizabeth.
“Matilda,” her mother said. “That tea will be cold by now.”
“Lizzie does not take sugar in her tea, Matilda,” Elizabeth’s mother said.
Elizabeth took the cup and saucer and smiled. “It is perfect,” she said, “and just what I need after being chilled to the bone outside. Thank you, Matilda.”
“Mama insists that you will wish to go to Riddings, Lizzie,” Alexander said. “But if you would prefer, you may go to Brambledean and we will join you for the summer.”
“We would love to have you,” Wren added.
“I am not going anywhere,” Elizabeth said after sipping the tea and schooling her face not to show her disgust at the oversteeped, lukewarm, horribly sweet beverage. “I am staying right here. And tomorrow I am resuming my normal way of life. Why should I not? The gossips may make much of me for a day or two, but they will soon grow tired of old news.”
“Oh, Elizabeth,” Anna said, clasping her hands to her bosom, “that isexactlywhat I would expect you to do. May I call on you in the morning and we will go shopping together?”
“I suppose,” Avery said, sounding faintly pained, “I am about to be presented with a bill for another bonnet, am I, my love?”
“Youwill not be presented with anything, Avery,” Cousin Louise said tartly. “Your secretary will.”
“Quite so,” he said agreeably.
“May I come too?” Jessica asked. “If you are going to have to pay for one bonnet, Avery, it might as well be two.”
“I am proud of you, Lizzie,” Uncle Richard said with a wink.
I thought you would trust me.
There had been a world of pain in his voice. As though she had rejected him because she did not trust his motives or his ability to know his own mind or to be steadfast in his devotion to her if she married him.
Was there truth in what he had said? He could not possiblywantto marry her. He could not possibly be happy with her. Not in the long term. He needed someone…
But what did she know of his needs?
