Rebecca's Refusal

by Amanda Grange

  “Thank you, but I have no intention of selling.”

  “You won't get a better price from anyone else. I would expect you to take advice on what your half is worth, and I would give it to you without haggling. You have only to —”

  At that moment the door opened and Canning, the butler, entered the room. “Mr Munce is here,” he told Charles. “You asked to be informed the moment he arrived.”

  “Yes, thank you, Canning,” said Charles. “Will you excuse me?” he asked. “I have some urgent business to take care of. I won't be long.”

  He left the room.

  “I hope he remembers to—” began Hetty worriedly. She put down her cup with a clatter. “I had better remind him. Will you excuse me?”

  She stood up.

  “Charles?” she called, following him out of the room. “Remember to tell Mr Munce that —”

  What Charles was to tell Mr Munce was lost as Hetty's voice faded away down the corridor.

  Joshua, who had risen on Hetty's departure, sat down again. Returning to his conversation with Rebecca he said, “You have only to name your price, and I will buy you out at once.”

  “That is very generous of you,” remarked Rebecca, feeling strangely unsettled now that she was alone with Joshua. Although his large body was relaxed, there was definitely something uncivilized about him, but she must not let him know that she was uneasy, for he would be sure to exploit any signs of weakness. So steeling her nerve she said firmly, “They are not for sale.”

  “You can't have a half share in a mill,” he said with a look of tolerant amusement. “You're a woman —”

  “I believe Grandfather was aware of the fact,” she remarked.

  “I'm not unaware of it myself.” His eyes became sharply focused and trailed over her body, making her feel restless and hot. She unfolded her fan and wafted it in front of her in an effort to cool herself down.

  As if the action had reminded him that he was in Hetty and Charles's drawing-room, and with Jebadiah's grand-daughter, Joshua's eyes returned to her face. “A half share in a mill is worthless to you,” he said reasonably. “I'll pay you a handsome price, and you can put the money to better use.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “If Grandfather had wanted me to have money he would have left me money, but he didn't. He wanted me to have half of the mill and I intend to keep it.” She looked at him defiantly.

  He returned her look levelly. “Are you always so stubborn?” he asked. He crossed one booted foot negligently over the other and settled more comfortably in his Hepplewhite chair, resting his arm along its back.

  “Stubborn?” Her eyes opened wide. “I am not stubborn.”

  “Oh, but you are. You refused to give up your room at the inn without a struggle, and now that I am offering to buy your shares in the mill you have dug in your heels and refuse to sell. Tell me, Rebecca, do you ever agree to anything?”

  “Of course,” she returned.

  “Name it,” he said with a sardonic smile.

  “Really, this is ridiculous,” she said, opening her fan again. “I fought for my room for very good reasons, and I am refusing to sell you my shares for reasons which are equally sound.” Her words were common sense personified, but she was growing more and more unsettled under his gaze.

  “I cannot force you to sell —” he remarked with a lift of his eyebrows.

  “Then at least we are agreed on something,” she interjected.

  He gave a wry smile, but then his mouth became ruthless again. “But if you change your mind, just let me know.” His voice took on a new, more practical, quality. “In the meantime, I will of course keep you updated on everything of importance that happens with regard to the mill —”

  “That won't be necessary,” Rebecca interrupted him. She was annoyed at his assumption that she did not mean to involve herself in her inheritance. “I mean to take an interest in the mill myself.”

  “Of course you do,” he acknowledged. “Which is why I'll send you regular reports.”

  “No.” She looked him in the eye. “I mean that I intend to visit the mill and learn how it operates personally.”

  Joshua shook his head. “That will not be suitable.”

  “Not suitable?” she enquired, trying to tear her eyes from his mane of hair, which was rippling in the most distracting way. “I beg to differ.”

  He regarded her sardonically. “Do you, indeed?”

  Rebecca felt her heart skip a beat. There was a challenging look in his eyes which made her intensely aware of the fact that they were alone.

  As if realizing that the atmosphere was becoming dangerous he said, “Young ladies are not meant to take an interest in trade.”

  Rebecca had the distinct impression that he had deliberately kept his voice light in an effort to restore their conversation to more normal levels, and in an effort to break the tension that had suddenly entered the atmosphere. She was grateful for it. She did not know why it was, but her conversations with Joshua seemed to be charged with a powerful force that lay just beneath the surface. And though she did not understand it, it made her skin tingle in the most alarming, and yet strangely enjoyable, way.

  “Besides,” he remarked reasonably, “mills are not very pleasant places.”

  The door opened and Charles entered the room.

  “Tell her, Charles,” he said, appealing to Rebecca's uncle. “Mills are no places for women. They are always noisy and frequently very hot.”

  “That's true,” said Charles judiciously. “They are not very nice places to be, Rebecca.”

  “That is not what Grandfather thought.” Her face broke into a sudden smile as she remembered his exact words. They had been sitting in his study when he had told her about the mill. She had been kneeling beside him, and he had been stroking her hair. She went on, “ "You're a clever, puss, Rebecca," — that's what he used to say to me. "You'll never be content with knitting by the fire, so I'm going to leave you something to get your teeth into." ”

  Joshua laughed. “Jebadiah was a rogue.” Then he frowned. “Even so, I'm surprised he left you part of the mill. He knew the dangers that were involved.”

  “I am not afraid of risking an accident,” she said. “Accidents can happen anywhere.”

  “Those aren't the dangers I'm talking about.”

  Rebecca was about to enquire further, but at that moment the door opened again and Hetty entered the room.

  “Well, that is all sorted out.”

  Joshua was about to speak, and then seemed to change his mind as to what he was going to say. “Good.” He stood up. “Thank you for the tea, it was delicious, Hetty, as always! But now I must be going.”

  “Oh! And you only just seem to have arrived,” said Hetty. “But never mind,” she said, brightening. “We will see you at Lady Cranston's ball?”

  “Only if Rebecca will promise me the first dance.” He turned to Rebecca with a provoking gleam in his eye.

  Rebecca was torn between a desire to give him a set down and a desire to be in his arms — although she had no reason to suppose the first dance would be a waltz.

  “You are too courteous,” she said.

  “Am I?” he asked. Adding enigmatically, “We shall see.”

  He kissed her hand and then took his leave.

  His kiss had left a burning imprint, and involuntarily Rebecca looked down, half expecting to see that her glove had been scorched. But seeing that it was undamaged she shook such foolish fancies away. Joshua Kelling was the godson of her grandfather, but nothing more. It was true that she found him interesting, she told herself. But that was all.

  Even so, as she joined Hetty and Charles in talking over their good fortune, she found she could not drive Joshua's image from her mind. It was there when she looked around the elegant drawing-room, hovering before her mind's eye: his mane of hair, his broad shoulders, and his copper-coloured eyes.

  It was there when she looked into the fire, dancing in the burning flames.
>
  And it was there when she laid her head on her pillow and settled down to sleep.

  Chapter Three

  Rebecca lifted the ruby necklace out of its box, remembering how much her mother had loved it. It was from her mother that Rebecca had inherited her distinctive colouring, and the rubies, which she had inherited on her mother's death, set it off to perfection. The warm red glow of the jewels brought out the red of her lips and added a warm glow to her porcelain-white skin.

  Susan fastened it round her neck, then helped her to put on the matching ruby earrings.

  “Oh, they're beautiful, Rebecca!” exclaimed Hetty as she bustled in. “And how well they go with your gown. I have always liked you in red, and that gown, with its ruby bodice and white satin skirt, is so becoming! The gentlemen will think so, too, I am sure.”

  Rebecca's mouth quirked. Her aunt was the best of women, but she had a habit of trying to find Rebecca a husband whenever she visited the capital. It was useless for Rebecca to protest that she did not want to marry; that she had never met a man who had made her long to join her life to his; and that until she did she was content to remain on the shelf. Her aunt could only see that she was three-and-twenty, and unwed.

  Rebecca picked up her fan and gave her aunt an affectionate kiss on the cheek. She could not prevent Hetty's innocent scheming, and she knew she must accept it as an inalienable part of her aunt. Besides, thought Rebecca, perhaps it was a good thing. Ever since meeting Joshua she had felt unsettled, and she wondered whether it was Nature's way of telling her that she had, after all, been too long on the shelf.

  A small voice inside her told her it had more to do with Joshua's wicked smile, challenging character and mane of blond hair — hair which inexplicably tempted her to run her fingers through it — but she refused to listen to that voice and wisely ignored it. Joshua may be unsettling and strangely attractive, but she knew from her grandfather's conversation that he was not the sort of man she should risk falling in love with.

  Falling in love! She must indeed have been too long on the shelf if she was having such unsuitable ideas — and about a man she had only just met!

  Giving herself a mental shake she recalled her wandering thoughts and followed her aunt downstairs.

  “You remember Lady Cranston?” asked Hetty as, half an hour later, they arrived at that lady's splendid London home.

  “Yes. I often met her at Grandfather's,” said Rebecca. She, Hetty and Charles made their way inside and slowly mounted the magnificent staircase as they waited to be received.

  Lady Cranston had been a friend of Rebecca's grandfather. In her youth Lady Cranston had been plain Mary Smithers, and had lived next door to Jebadiah, which was how they had come to know each other. And how Hetty and Charles now found themselves invited to her balls.

  “She knows you are staying with us at the moment, Rebecca, and has invited several gentlemen she would like you to meet.”

  Rebecca caught Charles's eye and they both smiled.

  “Your aunt won't be happy until I've walked you down the aisle,” laughed Charles.

  They reached the top of the staircase where they were greeted by Lord and Lady Cranston, sparing Rebecca from the need to reply. For whilst she could not object to the good-natured efforts of her friends on her behalf, she found the gentlemen she met in Society's ballrooms to be insipid. Their lives were so ordered and well-established that there was no room in them for the challenge and stimulation Rebecca needed. Though gently bred she had inherited much of Jebadiah's drive and she knew she could never be content with leading a life that offered her nothing but endless frivolity.

  Having been received, they went through into the ballroom.

  “What a wonderful room,” sighed Hetty as she looked around the impressive apartment.

  It was indeed wonderful. Everything about it was grand. Its proportions were generous, and its high ceiling was painted with classical scenes. Sparkling chandeliers winked and shone in the candlelight; candelabras were placed on stands between each of the gilded mirrors that ran down either side of the room, and the reflected light was dazzling. But it was not the room, however grand, that caught Rebecca's attention. It was the figure of Joshua, standing at the far end. He was talking to a handsome woman with Titian hair and green eyes who was dressed in an exquisite gown of emerald green silk. He was smiling, evidently amused by her company, which, judging from her elegance and poise, was sophisticated and witty.

  Rebecca looked away... only to be confronted by a row of the same images stretching away into the distance, reflected in the mirrors that lined the room. She turned away again, resolutely fixing her eyes on the orchestra, but she could not help noticing how fine Joshua was looking in the brief second before she averted her gaze. His hair had been brushed into some semblance of order, its dark blond contrasting with the black of his coat, the whiteness of his lawn shirt and the light bronze of his skin.

  She had turned away just in time. As though he had felt her eyes on him he looked towards her. Even though she had looked away she was aware of him, and could not help noticing him out of the corner of her eye. She saw him make his excuses to the handsome woman, and then walk towards her across the ballroom. She felt her heart begin to beat more rapidly. To steady it she reminded herself that he had been laughing with the glamorous redhead not two minutes before, and reminded herself of her grandfather's many tales about Joshua's exploits. It would be as well for her to remember them.

  Determinedly turning her thoughts into more mundane channels she forced herself to pay attention to her fellow guests: she must not stare at Joshua as he crossed the room. Instead she forced herself to consider Lady Cranston's other guests. Despite the snowy weather and the unfashionable time of year the ball was reasonably well attended, and the varied guests seemed to be enjoying themselves.

  “Ah! Here is Joshua,” said Hetty in a pleased voice, catching sight of him as he threaded his way through the other guests.

  Rebecca, by now in control of herself, greeted him politely, and Hetty and Charles did the same.

  “You haven't forgotten your promise?” he said teasingly to Rebecca as he stopped in front of her.

  She was forced to look up at him. “No indeed.”

  “Good. The first dance is about to begin.”

  He gave her his arm and led her out onto the floor.

  To her relief, the first dance was a country dance. She had been half afraid it might be a waltz. The risque dance was becoming permissible in polite society, but although she knew the steps she had never yet danced it at a ball. To have danced it for the first time with Joshua would have been alarming. To have felt his hand on her waist... would it burn, as his kiss had burned her hand?

  “... not too crowded.”

  With a start she realized that Joshua was speaking.

  By the look in his eye she could tell he guessed she had been day-dreaming. She was just pleased that he did not know what about!

  “No, indeed,” she said, accurately guessing that he had said the ballroom was not too crowded. “At least not yet. We should have plenty of room for our steps.”

  The orchestra played the opening chords and she curtseyed demurely to Joshua. In return he made her a bow.

  He took her hand for the first part of the dance. To her relief, his touch did not burn her. But instead she felt a strange shiver spread up her arm.

  I have definitely been too long unwed! she thought, annoyed with her reaction to him. Of all people, to find herself attracted to Joshua! A man who was completely impossible!

  She cast about in her mind for some topic of conversation that would keep her mind from wandering down such disturbing channels. The sight of a militiaman in uniform made her recall Joshua's warning the previous day that mills were dangerous places. She wondered whether he could have been referring to the problems caused by the Luddites, for they had been active in recent years.

  Yes, the Luddites were a suitable choice of conversation. Talking about
them would most certainly prevent her thoughts from wandering down hopelessly inappropriate paths!

  The steps of the dance parted them for a minute, but when they met again Rebecca said, “You were speaking of the dangers concerned with running the mill yesterday. Were you thinking of the Luddites?” she asked.

  Joshua gave a wry smile, as though guessing the reason for her unusual choice of conversation. But no. Of course he could not have done. She was letting her imagination run away with her — again.

  Whatever his thoughts, he fell in with her choice of conversation. “Yes. I was.”

  “Have there been any problems with them at Marsden mill?”

  “No. Marsden mill was never attacked. But that doesn't mean that we can relax in our vigilance. These are turbulent times, and we need to remember it.” The steps of the dance parted them again, but when they came together, Joshua asked, “Your grandfather spoke to you about the Luddite problem, I take it?”

  “No,” said Rebecca.

  “Then you don't know the kind of havoc they can cause,” he frowned.

  “On the contrary,” she informed him. “I know only too well. Cousin Louisa and I live in Cheshire, as you know. That is very close to the source of many of the problems. The Luddites have caused a lot of difficulties in the north of England recently, and in the Midlands as well.” Her mouth quirked humorously. “Despite being a mere woman, I have been known to read a newspaper from time to time,” she said with a sideways glance.

  He laughed. But then his expression became more serious. “Reading a newspaper is one thing; running a mill is another. I wasn't exaggerating when I said that mills are dangerous places. If you read the newspapers, you know that what I am saying is true.”

  “I know it was true,” said Rebecca. “There has been a lot of unrest, but it is over now. The ringleaders have been dealt with and that has put a stop to it.”

  “Unfortunately it may not be as simple as that. Although a lot of the Luddite ringleaders have been dealt with, the underlying problems haven't gone away, and trouble could break out again at any time. We will not know if the Luddite movement has really been broken until we have had at least two or three peaceful years. There is still a lot of resentment against the using of machines because the machines take away men's jobs, and without jobs they can't feed their families.”