Mary Balogh - The wood nymph

She flushed and pushed at her husband's shoulders. "William!" she said breathlessly. "You have come too? I am delighted to see you." She held out a hand to him. "But I am not at all sure that you have done the right thing to come here. Helen will be upset, you know."

He accepted her hand and bowed over it unsmilingly. "I am afraid I invited myself quite unashamedly," he said. "How is she, Elizabeth? I had to make one more attempt to speak to her. If I can see after a day or two that it is no good or that I upset her too much, I shall leave without having to be told to do so, I assure you."

"I did sound inhospitable, did I not?" she said contritely. She linked an arm through his and led him toward the door. "You must be tired if you have ridden all the way from London. Do come up and have some refreshment."

"It seems that having my wife rush from the house like a schoolboy was welcome enough for me," Hetherington grumbled cheerfully, following them into the house and up the stairs to the drawing room.

Helen was still seated at the escritoire, the pile of discarded papers now spilled over onto the floor. She turned as the door opened, the beginnings of a polite smile on her face. When she saw Mainwaring, she scrambled to her feet, brushing yet more papers to the floor.

"Oh," was all she could think of to say.

He hurried across the room, took a nerveless hand from her side, and raised it to his lips. "Nell," he said, searching her eyes with his, "how are you?"

She stared back without a word for a few moments, during which time the room seemed curiously quiet. "Oh," she said again. And then, loudly, accusingly, "Oh, someone has told you!"

And she brushed past him, ran the length of the room, and pushed her way with lowered eyes past a silent Elizabeth and Robert and out into the hallway.

“Wh at do you think will happen?" Elizabeth asked.

"I believe he will fall asleep at any moment," Hetherington said, brushing a cheek against the soft curls of his son, who had become very quiet against his shoulder, except for the sounds he made as he sucked on one fist. "And it is not before time. I am near exhaustion from playing so hard."

"I did not mean with John, silly," she said, smiling at him from her perch on the window seat. "And he would have fallen asleep long ago if you had not persisted so long in tickling him and getting him overexcited. I meant with Helen and William. It has been dreadful since yesterday' afternoon, has it not?"

"I did not find last night half-bad," Hetherington said, ogling her over the baby's head and grinning broadly when she blushed. "But, yes, you are right. Last evening was most uncomfortable with that little chit with her nose in the air, quite ostentatiously talking to none of us, and William his most gloomy, taciturn self."

"This morning was awful too," Elizabeth said. "All four of us seem to have had the same idea-to breakfast early before the others were down. And there we all were again, you and I making polite conversation to two deaf-mutes."

"If they had been deaf-mutes, all would have been well," Hetherington said. "We might have carried on a cozy, personal conversation. The situation is going to be impossible for you, Elizabeth. Are you really intending to stay with this girl until after the birth of her child? She must have six months to go at least. She is the most morose little brat it has ever been my misfortune to meet."

"Oh no," she said hastily. "That is really a misconception, Robert. I have got to know her in the past week, and really she is a very vital and a very interesting girl. Very intelligent, I think, and artistic. She was beginning to settle down and relax. I have come to like her very much. I cannot help feeling that William mistimed his visit quite dreadfully. She needs time, Robert, and a great deal of it. Now she is right back to the state she was in when I brought her here."

"Yet I must sympathize with William," Hetherington said. "He really does dote on her, you know. I have been feeling sorry for him, but from what you say, perhaps he has not made such an unwise choice. But really, he has got himself into a dreadful mess. The girl wants nothing to do with him, and he obviously knows that she is with child."

"Yes, was that not dreadful?" Elizabeth said. "Helen still believes, I think, that we have told him. And then when she left the room yesterday, he asked us what it was he was supposed to have been told. You could just tell that he knew very well, but he was afraid to put it into words just in case he was wrong. And of course we could not say anything."

Hetherington sighed loudly. "Elizabeth, is this little tyke asleep yet?" he asked, turning so that she could see the child's face. "I am sure he must be. There are no longer loud sucking noises assailing my ear, anyway."

"Yes, he is," she said, getting to her feet. "Put him down in his crib."

They both stood gazing down fondly at the sleeping baby. "Do you think he has gone to find her?" Elizabeth asked.

" 'He' being William, I suppose," Hetherington said. "I would think it very probable. She disappeared with painting equipment right after breakfast and has not been seen since. He disappeared soon after luncheon and has not reappeared. I would imagine that somewhere on our grounds, my love, there are two people either glowering at each other in sullen silence – that seems the most likely possibility with those two -or having a battle royal. I hope for the latter. It is more likely to accomplish something."

"Oh, I do hope so too," she said. "Hope that something is accomplished, that is. They should be together, Robert. Not just for the sake of the child, but for their own sakes. They are a rather odd couple, but in a strange sort of way I think they suit admirably."

Hetherington wound an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. "Do you know," he said, "much as I am fond of William, I am mortally tired of talking about his love life. I would much prefer to talk about my own."

"You have problems too?" she asked, laying her head on his shoulder.

"Yes, certainly," he agreed. "I am feeling in dire need of making love to my wife, and yet I find myself in a room that is likely to be entered by a nurse at any moment."

"Let us go to our room, by all means," Elizabeth said, "and I shall see if I can think of a solution on the way."

He nudged her head away from his shoulder and grinned down at her. "I expected shocked protests about what the servants would think if we disappeared to our bedchamber together in the middle of the afternoon," he said.

"Will they know, do you think?" she asked, coloring. "It is just that a week was such a long time, Robert."

He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. "You proved that to me last night, darling," he said. "Come and show me again. Take my arm, ma'am, so that we will present a respectable appearance to any servants who happen to be lurking about."

Helen had left the house as soon as she could after breakfast. She had hastily gathered together her painting materials, donned a warm cloak, and fled to the grove below the lower lawn, out of sight of the house. She was horribly embarrassed and confused. She wished she might never have to go back to the house. She did momentarily consider the idea of dropping her supplies and keeping on walking or running, but it was a stupid urge, of course. She had nowhere to go, and neither belongings nor money with her. Anyway, she had run or avoided her problems for too long.

She might have known that William would come with the marquess. It had probably been planned all along. But she felt betrayed to think that Elizabeth had said nothing to her, and even more so to think that the Hetheringtons must have told him about her condition. She had been inclined at first to judge them very harshly. But she was tired of always thinking the worst of people. They had doubtless thought that they were acting for the best. William was their friend and they must have concluded that he had a right to know the truth. And indeed he did. She had been wrong to keep it from him for so long.