The wood nymph m-2

by Mary Balogh

  Mainwaring had paled, but he had had the presence of mind to turn his curricle away from the main promenade so that their quarrel would not be conducted in such a glaringly public setting. He turned to look at her now, pain in his eyes. "Nell," he said, "there is so much I want to say to you. I have behaved badly, I will admit, but there is much you do not understand. I would like to have the chance to talk to you. There were no barriers between us when we first met. Yet now it is as if a stone wall had been erected between us."

  "I wish it had!" she retorted. "I have nothing to say to you, sir, not now or ever. I wish to go home."

  "Nell…"he said.

  She turned on him, angry again. "And I have told you before," she said, "that that is not my name. I wish you to stop this curricle immediately, sir, and set me down. I find that I would prefer to walk home than have to remain in your company a moment longer."

  "That will not be necessary," he said. "I shall take you home."

  "Set me down," she commanded. "I wish to walk."

  "No, I cannot do that," he replied. "I have brought you out with your parents' knowledge, and it is my responsibility to see you safely home again."

  "Yes," she said, "and I am so safe with you, am I not, William? You will protect me from all the horrors that might face me if I were on foot and alone. Who knows? Some unprincipled man might even consider abducting me."

  "That is unfair," he said, his face still pale and set into stern lines. "You know that what happened between us, Nell, was no abduction. You were as willing and as eager as I."

  "Yes," she agreed, "to my everlasting shame. Take me home, sir, at once, and I charge you as a gentleman to leave me alone in the future. I might have to see you again in the coming weeks, but I have no wish to talk to you again. Or to your friends," she added.

  They drove back to Charles Street in silence. Mainwaring did not enter the house, but lifted Helen to the ground, bowed, and turned back to his curricle as soon as a footman opened the door.

  Chapter 12

  Elizabeth Denning was in the nursery, bouncing her son on her knee. Most of the time he watched her solemnly, drooling wetly from an open mouth. Occasionally he would delight her with a wide smile. It was definitely a smile, she had decided. It was no longer just wind. Somehow he had got into his fist the ribbon that tied her dress below her breasts and was trying to direct it into his mouth.

  "No, no, lambkin," she said, gently wresting the ribbon from his fingers. "I cannot walk around for the rest of the morning with a damp and bedraggled ribbon hanging down my front, you know. Shall we find a toy for you?"

  She lifted him high in the air as she stood up, and he smiled his toothless smile again. "Just like Papa, lambkin," she said, laughing up at him, "except that you do not yet have his lovely white teeth."

  "And a good thing too," a cheerful voice said from the doorway. "Even a toothless son is giving me quite enough competition for my wife's affections. I gather that you have finally admitted, my love, that John really can smile. Quite an accomplished little mite, is he not? But then, how could he avoid being so when he has two such parents?" He bent and kissed the baby on top of his blond curls and his wife on the lips.

  "It is your modesty, you know, Robert, that has always attracted me to you," Elizabeth said, lifting her head and kissing him in return.

  He grinned. "Here is a strange invitation," he said, raising a card that he held in one hand. "I thought I had better find you out and see what you think before replying."

  "Oh?" she prompted.

  "Harding is organizing a party to take out to his Richmond home for a couple of days," he said. "He feels that the distance is far enough that his guests should stay overnight. He wants us to make two of the group."

  "Really?" Elizabeth said. "We hardly know him, do we? To what do we owe the honor? It really is an honor, you know, Robert. Lord Harding hardly ever entertains. I do not believe many people have seen his home."

  "I have been thinking about it," Hetherington said. "Harding has been paying court to that eldest daughter of Claymore's. I imagine the matter must be serious. His name has not been linked with that of any woman since the death of his wife years ago. The outing is probably for her benefit."

  "And you think our connection with the earl and his family is the reason why we have been invited?" Elizabeth asked.

  "Well," he replied, "William was almost the only person they knew when they arrived here, and we must have been among their earliest acquaintances. If Harding wishes to please the girl, he has probably been careful to invite people she knows."

  "Then William will also have been invited?" she said.

  "Probably," he replied. "Do you think we should accept, Elizabeth?"

  "I hate to think of leaving John for a whole day and a night," Elizabeth said hesitantly. "But it is tempting, Robert. I must confess a curiosity to see Lord Harding's home. And it would be ill-mannered to refuse, would it not?"

  "I shall return an acceptance then," he said. "Perhaps we will be needed to rescue William from the lions' den."

  "Oh, Robert," she said, "you do not think that perfectly horrid sister will be there, do you? But of course, it is highly probable. I had not thought of that. She will be bound to ruin the whole outing and I shall be very hard put to it to be civil to her."

  He laughed. "My love," he said, "I do not believe you could be rude to anyone if you tried. Although, when I think about the matter, I can remember some pretty blistering insults you once let fry in my direction."

  "Why did William take her driving yesterday?" Elizabeth asked. "I still cannot understand it, although we talked and talked about it yesterday."

  "I believe it is as I said then," Hetherington replied. "William feels sorry for her and is trying to coax her out of the dismals. He has a kind heart, you know."

  "Yes," she agreed, "but there should be limits to the amount of sacrifice one is prepared to make for an ungrateful person. Oh, I hope she does not come, Robert. We shall have to protect William from her if she does."

  Hetherington grinned broadly. "You are quite irresistible, you know, Elizabeth, when you are angry," he said. He swept the baby into his arms and placed him down on the floor, where a blanket was spread with toys. "I am sorry, John, my boy, but I have a pressing need to hug your mama."

  "Robert!" she scolded as he took her into his arms. "Do have a care. Nurse may be back at any moment."

  "And would have an immediate heart seizure to find me holding and kissing my own wife," he said, smothering any further protests with his mouth.

  ***

  All three of the Earl of Claymore's daughters had been invited to accompany Lord Harding to his home and to stay there for one night. Emily was clearly gratified. She had already confided to her mama that if he were to offer for her, she would accept. He was considerably older than she, of course, but he had all the dignity, position, and consequence that she looked for in a husband. And there was no denying that he was a handsome man despite the fact that he was more than forty years old. His invitation suggested that he was seriously considering making her an offer. One did not invite a casual acquaintance to one's home.

  Melissa too looked forward to the visit. She had not taken very well with the ton thus far. She had had her fair share of partners at the two balls they had attended, and she had even been sent a few bouquets after those entertainments. But no gentleman had yet singled her out for marked attention. She was somewhat disappointed that Mr. Mainwaring had shown no inclination to renew the attachment that had seemed to be budding between them during the summer. Not that she had intended being friendly with him, but it was provoking to be denied the opportunity to set him down. If Emmy could only become betrothed to Lord Harding, she felt, her own position could only be enhanced. It was likely too that he had invited guests other than themselves to his home. Perhaps some of them would be interesting people.

  Helen accepted the invitation and even showed mild enthusiasm about it in the presence of her famil
y. But she did not want to go. She did not want to go anywhere, in fact. The depression that had been heavy on her since their arrival in London and, indeed, before that had not lifted at all. It was impossible for it to be lifted, in fact, but she supposed she had been looking for some miracle to happen. Her gloom had only deepened. How much longer would she be able to go on like this, in a state of indecision and inaction?

  Try as she would, she could not shake William Mainwaring from her mind. Why, oh why, had he had to decide to come to London at the same time as they? It was impossible to avoid him, utterly painful to see him. And he made it worse by going out of his way to be close to her and speak to her.

  He had wanted to explain his past behavior when they had driven together in the park. Should she have listened? It might have been interesting to hear the story he had made up. But it would have hurt beyond anything to have heard him lie on top of everything else. And there could be no real explanation of what he had done.

  It would not be so hard to bear if she could only stop loving him, she thought, or if it were possible to blot out the past and begin life afresh. But neither action was possible. She had only fully admitted to herself that she still loved him after that drive together. It was no good trying to pretend she did not. She would never deceive herself. But she did not want to love him. He was guilty of behavior that she could never forgive. Had he had the courage to come to her during the summer to explain that he was going away because he could never marry a girl of a different class, she might at least respect him for honesty. But as it was, she could afford him no respect at all.

  So it seemed she was doomed to love and hate William. She would not have thought it possible to feel both emotions at once, but it was. And she could not continue to see him. What if he persisted in noticing her? She would really lose her temper at some time and disgrace not only herself but also her whole family. Funny to think of disgracing them by merely losing one's temper! As it was, she had behaved very badly. She did not care about the way she had spoken to him both at the ball and in the park. But she knew she had been rude to the Hetheringtons, without any cause whatsoever except that they were his friends. William had been quite right about that. It was probably that fact that had made her so angry with him.

  She even wondered if she owed an apology to the marquess and his wife. But it was hard to apologize when the offense had not been a really open one. And she did not feel like apologizing. She really did dislike them. But why? Just because they were William's friends? If she was totally honest with herself, she would have to admit that there was more to it than that. They were such an attractive couple, good-looking and vibrant with life, while she felt so dull and so lackluster, especially now. And they were so clearly happy with each other. They were not two individuals, but a couple, it seemed. She had to admit to jealousy, a burning envy. Much as she had tried to convince herself to the contrary, she would have liked a marriage like that. But it was impossible now.

  She would go with Emmy and Melly to Lord Harding's house, Helen decided, but after that she would have to do something, make some decision about her future. She could not go on much longer like this. Until then she would block all her problems from her mind.

  ***

  Lord Harding had all his guests gather at his London home so that they might travel to Richmond together. It was a beautiful day, one of those crisp days of autumn when the sun shines and the air is still and one feels that summer is heavy and lifeless in comparison. He was in a good mood. Lady Emily Wade and her two sisters had accepted his invitation; his courtship of the former was progressing quite satisfactorily. Once he had seen her in the setting of his favorite home and assured himself that she suited it, he would pay a call on her father and make arrangements for the nuptials. He had no doubt that she would accept him.

  As for his other guests, all had accepted and had arrived on time for a morning start. There were his sister, Sophie Lane, and Sir Rupert Davies; young Timothy; his sister's friend, Miss Janet Ashley, and her brother, Mr. Rodney Ashley; Mr. William Mainwaring; and the Marquess and Marchioness of Hetherington. He was not closely acquainted with any of the last three, but they were apparently friends of Lady Emily's, and he wished her to feel comfortable during the outing.

  William Mainwaring had guessed that Helen would be one of the party. The purpose of the visit was an open secret. If Harding were planning to make the eldest girl his bride, it stood to reason that the other two sisters would be among his guests. He was not quite sure how he felt about the situation. Since his drive in the park with Nell, he had not been at all sure that it was possible to break through the barrier she had erected between them. If he was to talk to her again, he would have much preferred a more private setting than they were likely to find during these two days.

  He did not trust her, either, to confine her disapproval to him. He could have faced with some resignation the prospect of her singling him out for a public setdown. But he feared that she would again treat Robert and Elizabeth with less than good manners. Perhaps she would even go beyond that. He would have to try to avoid such a situation if he possibly could. Perhaps he could ignore her completely.

  Could he do so, though? He was not sure that it was possible. He could not see her without feeling a strong attraction to her. This, despite the fact that she made no effort to look her best or to behave in a pleasing manner. Seeing her sullen, ill-mannered, and obviously unhappy made his heart ache. She had been such a vibrant yet dreamy little thing when he first knew her. She had seemed a part of the beauty and innocence of the woods around her. And the weight of responsibility was heavy on him. Had he caused the change in her?

  He feared there was no doubt that he had. She had given herself to him without thought or conscious decision there in the woods. It had been an unreal atmosphere, in which she had been unable to apply the codes that her upbringing must have instilled in her. And clearly she was bitterly regretting what had happened. She felt herself ruined, no doubt, unable to throw herself wholeheartedly into the life of the ton, unable to encourage any other man. Yet she would not accept his offer. She saw him as her seducer and hated him for it. She would not marry him even for the sake of restoring respectability to her life. Dear Nell! She was high-principled, after all.

  The ladies rode in two carriages, while the men rode close to them. Helen and Elizabeth had each made an effort to be in different carriages. Neither felt comfortable at the prospect of being thrown into company with the other for almost two whole days. Helen, in fact, was badly shaken. She had not known who Lord Harding's guests were to be. It had never once crossed her mind that perhaps William and the marquess and marchioness would be of their number. She knew of no friendship between her sister's suitor and them. It took her a while to realize that it was her sister's connection to them that had caused them to be invited. Of course. Lord Harding was clearly trying to fix his interest with Emmy. He had invited those three because they were her earliest acquaintances in London.

  Helen felt utterly trapped. It was a relatively small party. It would be impossible to avoid them for all the hours that lay ahead. And it was too late by the time she knew the truth to find a way out of going herself. She was already at Lord Harding's London house. So she sat in the carriage, listening halfheartedly to the animated conversation between Sophie Lane and Janet Ashley, sitting side by side on the seat opposite. Emmy and Melly were in the other carriage with the marchioness. Helen was suffocatingly aware of William, tall and handsome and grim on his horse outside, in view almost every time she looked out of the window, though he did not approach the carriage once during the journey.

  ***

  The afternoon and the formal dinner passed agreeably for almost everyone. A late luncheon was awaiting them when they arrived, and afterward the ladies retired to the rooms that had been prepared for them to rest after the journey. Later Lord Harding took some of his guests on a walk around his very large garden, while the less energetic stayed in the house to pla
y billiards or merely to converse around the cozy fire that had been lit in the drawing room. They all retired again before dinner in order to rest and get ready for the evening.

  Lord Harding was feeling pleased with himself by the time dinner was over. Lady Emily Wade had behaved with the modest self-assurance that he desired in a wife. She had admired his home and his garden, yet with a restraint that did not suggest a greed to make them her own. She had sat to his right at both luncheon and dinner and had conversed sensibly with both him and her near neighbors. Perhaps, if the opportunity presented itself, he thought, he would talk to her later in the evening. She was, after all, of age, and talking to her father was a formality rather than a strict necessity.

  Melissa was feeling moderately contented. She had succeeded in singling Mr. Rodney Ashley out from the rest of the group that had gone walking earlier and found him to be an agreeable young man, even if not a particularly forceful character. She had made a point of being close to him when dinner was announced, and he had led her in and seated himself next to her. At least she was showing Mr. Mainwaring that she was in no way pining for his attentions.

  William Mainwaring himself was beginning to breathe more easily. So far he had succeeded in keeping both himself and the Hetheringtons away from Nell. All three of them had chosen to remain at the house during the afternoon. He was not sure if Elizabeth and Robert, like him, had deliberately stayed back when it became clear that Nell intended to go. It hurt him more than he would admit to feel that perhaps his friends were deliberately avoiding her, but it was nevertheless a relief. She was very quiet today. He had hardly heard her voice, even at the dinner table, when she was sitting two seats removed from his. But it was not a contented quiet, he felt. Her face was pale and rigidly set. He did not wish to provoke any unpleasantness in public.