Elizabeth was much affected. It was true; she did like him. It seemed unfair that she could not love this man when she agreed that they could have a good life together, while she loved the man she despised.

"It would not be fair to marry you when I do not love you, William," she said. "Such a marriage would not work."

He drew the horses to a stop and faced her eagerly. "And did love work, Elizabeth? How long did youi marriage to Robert last? I do not know."

She looked down in embarrassment. "Two days," she replied.

"Two days?" His voice registered shock. "Do you think B marriage based on respect and friendship would so soon come to an end? Marry me, Elizabeth, please."

She looked at him, shaking her head slowly. "I do not know if I could," she said.

He smiled suddenly and visibly relaxed. "I take hope from your words and your manner," he said. "Will you promise that you will consider my proposal, Elizabeth? Indeed, I shall be greatly honored if you consent."

She smiled too. "I shall think about it, William, I promise," she said. "But I cannot at all guarantee that the answer will be yes."

He gave the horses the signal to start again and soon they were traveling lanes and roadways that brought them closer to home.

"There is to be another ball at Squire Worthing's next week," Mr. Mainwaring reminded Elizabeth. "Are you to attend?"

"Oh, yes," she said. "I shall be expected to chaperone Cecily while Mr. and Mrs. Rowe play cards."

"May I expect an answer on that occasion?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, "by next week I shall have decided."

He reached for her hand while keeping his eyes on the road ahead. "I shall live in suspense until then," he said, squeezing her fingers almost painfully.

---

The following days were not tranquil ones for Elizabeth. She was unanimously elected to accompany Cecily, Anne Claridge, and Lucy Worthing on a shopping expedition to Granby to buy new accessories for the ball. Since there had already been several entertainments that summer, it was imperative that they wear something different for this, the grandest of all occasions so far. It was Sir Harold and Lady Worthing's five and twentieth wedding anniversary and no expense was to be spared to make it a memorable occasion. As she sat with the three girls sipping lemonade, their purchases all done, before beginning the journey home, Elizabeth listened to their girlish chatter. Cousins and aunts and uncles had been invited from other counties, Lucy announced. That news certainly set Cecily and Anne fluttering, both of them quizzing Lucy about the possibility of any young and handsome male cousins. Lucy's reply that there were several, if only they came, did nothing to dampen their excitement.

Mrs. Rowe had also chosen this particular week in which to make an inventory of all her household effects. Elizabeth helped her count sheets and pillowcases and towels and dozens of other items, classifying them all as good enough for guests, good enough for the family, good enough for servants, in need of mending, or ready for the rubbish heap. When there was no bustling about to be done, she sat and mended and darned, though there seemed to be no bottom to the pile of articles still to be tackled.

But through all this activity, Elizabeth's mind was occupied by the one pervading question: what answer was she to give to William Mainwaring on the night of the anniversary? For the first few days, her inclination had been all for refusing him. She did not love him. And she did love Robert. She was married to Robert. Even if she could extricate herself from that marriage, she did not feel that she had enough to offer Mr. Mainwaring. She liked him well enough and enjoyed his company, but how could she give herself to him when her heart belonged to another man? It would not be fair to accept him, especially as he did love her.

As the days passed, however, she found her feelings changing. It was true that love had never done her much good. It had brought her very little happiness. A few weeks of courtship and two days of marriage did not provide enough happiness for a lifetime. There had been years of pain and emptiness. Perhaps a marriage based on affection and respect would prove more durable. Perhaps there would not be the peak of delirious joy that she had known with Robert. But there would not be the depths of despair, either.

Elizabeth tried, coolly and rationally, to imagine what marriage to William Mainwaring would be like. He would always treat her with kindness and respect, she was sure. She would always feel at ease and cheerful in his company. They would live at Ferndale most of the year, probably. That would certainly suit her, as she felt a deep affection for the people of the neighborhood. They might also spend some time at his estates in the north. She had often thought that she would like to see Scotland.

She pictured life as it would be if she declined the proposal. She would stay with the Rowes until Cecily married, she supposed. That might be for one or two years longer, certainly not more. And then she would seek a position elsewhere as governess or companion. It was the life she had planned for herself and quietly accepted until a few weeks previously. Now the prospect filled her with a nameless terror. Marriage would take away something of the loneliness and uncertainty of the years ahead. She would have a husband's companionship and, probably, children.

It was that final thought around which the whole decision finally hinged. Elizabeth passionately wanted children of her own, and she was six and twenty already. She could have those children if she married William Mainwaring. But it was for Robert Denning's children that her body ached.

Elizabeth prepared carefully for the ball. Whatever her decision was to be, she wanted to feel confident of her attractions on that night. She had Miss Phillips make her a dress of cream silk with an overdress of matching lace. Gold ribbons encircled the high waist, and gold embroidery made the hemline glitter. Most drastic of all, she had her hair cut short around the crown of her head and longer at the neck. Hair that had been wavy when long and thick now clustered in soft curls around her face and down her neck.

"Anyone looking at you and Cecily now," Mr. Rowe remarked at dinner the evening after she had had it done, "would be hard-pressed to decide which is the young girl and which the lady companion."

"Upon my soul," his wife agreed, "it is a vastly becoming hairdo, my dear Miss Rossiter."

"You will cast me quite in the shade, Beth," Cecily added cheerfully, "now that you have got rid of that dreadful old-maidish hair knot. You are so beautiful, I am mortally jealous."

The Rowes were among the last to arrive at the anniversary ball. Cecily was immediately borne away by an excited Anne Claridge. Elizabeth soon saw the reason why. There were two strange young men present, both passably good-looking, as well as three strange young ladies and a few older adults. She assumed that they were the relatives that Lucy had talked about the week before. It did not take long for Lucy to introduce all the young people to her two friends, or for each of them to be led triumphant into the dance by the male cousins.

But Elizabeth did not devote all her attention to these young people. She had immediately looked around for William Mainwaring. He was dancing with Lady Worthing, who had already left the receiving line when the Rowes arrived. He was looking extraordinarily handsome in the black evening clothes that became him so well. He saw her and smiled in her direction, but good manners kept his attention on the conversation of his partner.

Elizabeth watched him covertly. He was indeed a matrimonial prize: handsome, rich, well-mannered. He could not, generally speaking, be called charming. His manner with everyone but her was still somewhat stiff and remote. But she felt that the people of the neighborhood liked him and accepted him as master of Ferndale. She waited cheerfully until he should ask her to dance.