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as Amelia. I believe I met him once, too. They made a charming couple.”
    â€œYes, indeed,” Elizabeth replied, “and now they have a son of whom we are all proud.” She smiled.
    â€œYes,” 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.
    â€œBut it was a love match, I believe,” her sister said.
    â€œSometimes love can be combined with good sense,” Miss Norris continued. “When Robert and I marry, there will be no sense of unseemly haste.”
    â€œAre 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.
    â€œCome, 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 bidden 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.
    â€œI 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.”
    â€œBut, Beth,” Cecily had pleaded, “a ball is so exciting. You cannot possibly wish to sit at home when you have been invited.”
    â€œIt 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.