One Snowy Night (26 page)

Rebecca’s
spirits sank. She wanted to find out whether Willingham had been put safely in
a carriage, and even more than that she wanted to know what Joshua had been
about to say to her when Willingham had groaned.

I asked you
once
. .
. he had begun, but what had he been about to say?

She hardly
dared hope he had been about to renew his proposal. Surely a man as ruthless as
Joshua would not, after declaring he would never offer her his hand again,
change his mind? But even so, she could not help hoping . . .

There was
nothing for it, however. If Louisa was feeling ill, they must leave.

Besides, she
comforted herself, Joshua would be attending their card party on the following
evening. It would not be long before she saw him again.

But despite
her reasonable comforting, she found that the following evening seemed a
lifetime away.

Nevertheless,
it could not be helped.

‘Of course I
don’t mind,’ she said, with more tact than truthfulness. ‘We will call for the
carriage to be brought round right away.’

Together she
and Louisa went out into the hall.

She had
thought they might see Joshua half-carrying, half-supporting Mr Willingham out
to the carriage, but there was no sign of him in the hall. Either he and Odgers
had already gone, or they had not yet had a chance to leave the library. Well,
whichever it was, they would soon be on their way, putting Willingham where he
could do no more harm.

The Marsden
carriage was brought round, and before long she and Louisa were in the carriage
as it rattled through the streets, back to their rented
Manchester
home.

I asked you
once
. .
. she thought, looking out of the window at the darkened streets as she
recalled Joshua’s words.

Yes. He had
asked her once.

The question
was, would he ask her again?

Serena Quentin’s handsome
face was marred by a scowl. Despite her best endeavours she had been unable to
force Mr Kelling into a compromising position. He had managed to avoid every
trap she had laid for him during the course of the evening, and what was worse,
he had done it with a mocking smile on his lips - as though he saw through all
her subterfuges and meant to thwart her, she thought angrily.

What right did
he have to resist her charms? And, more importantly, what right did he have to
turn her into a laughing stock? For if she did not manage to bring him to heel
she would be just that: a laughing stock. Lavinia Madely would see to that.

Catching sight
of Lavinia at that moment, her anger was fuelled by the scorn in Lavinia’s eye.
Throwing back her shoulders she decided bold action was necessary and, walking
defiantly out of the room, she went in search of Joshua.

She did not
have far to go. No sooner had she reached the hall than she heard a door
opening and, to her surprise, she saw Joshua emerging from the library. But it
was not that which surprised her, it was the fact that, instead of walking out
of the room in a natural fashion, he was half-supporting, half-carrying someone
else.

Mr
Willingham!
she thought with a sudden shock.

Mr Willingham,
who scarcely ever drank, and certainly never drank enough to render him incapable.

Her curiosity
rose.

What was the
meaning of it? And who was the second gentleman - if such a rough looking
creature could be given that description - supporting Mr Willingham at the
other side?

She shrank
back as Joshua half-supported, half-carried Mr Willingham through the hall and
out of the house.

And then fate
played into her hands, for Mr Willingham suddenly rallied and made an effort to
break away from his captors. As he did so he slipped on the highly-polished
floor. He clutched at Joshua, trying to regain his footing, but it was no use.
He was seized again and carried bodily out of the front door. At the same
moment there was a slight clinking sound, and a flash of gold caught Serena’s
eye. Something had fallen from Joshua’s hand.

His gold
signet ring! Mr Willingham must have dislodged the precious item during his
struggle. A plan already forming in her mind, she picked it up and examined it.
It was the ring his godfather had given him. She remembered him telling her all
about it when, on seeing the initial engraved on it, she had teasingly enquired
who the lady might be. He had told her there was no lady in the case, and when
she had playfully tried to take it from his finger he had resisted, saying the
only lady he would ever permit to try on that ring was his future wife.

His future
wife. He had said those very words. And what’s more, Lavinia Madely had heard
him.

A triumphant
smile crossed her face. What did it matter if she had not been able to force
Joshua into a compromising situation? She had been able to do something far
better: avail herself of his signet ring.

She slipped it
onto her long white finger. It was rather large, but never mind. It could be
made to serve her purpose, and that was all she cared about.

Exultantly she
swept back into the ballroom - only to discover, after much fruitless
searching, that Miss Lavinia Madely had already left.

But no matter.
Lavinia was due to attend Rebecca Foster’s card party the following evening.

Serena, in
triumphant mood, was prepared to wait.

The following afternoon,
Rebecca was sitting in the drawing-room, making plans for the mill. But it was
no use. They could not hold her attention, and she put them aside before pacing
restlessly across the room. Arriving at the fireplace she straightened the
porcelain figurines on the mantelpiece before crossing the room again to
straighten the cushions on the sofa. She moved restlessly from the sofa to the
piano, where she straightened the music on the stand. And all the time her
thoughts were filled with the events of the night before.

She remembered
it all so clearly. Mr Willingham’s treachery, her own prompt actions, Joshua’s
mastery of the situation, and then the aftermath: Joshua’s tender looks, the
way he had taken her hands, his impassioned words. Could it be possible? Could
his feelings towards her have changed? Could he love her as much as she loved
him? She hardly dared to hope it. And yet why else would he have stroked her
hands so tenderly? Why else spoken those impassioned words?

Oh, why had
Louisa had to have a headache the night before? she asked herself. Chiding herself
a moment later for the unkind thought. If it was as she suspected, then Joshua
would speak to her that evening at the card party. And if not . . . No, she
would not even think such a thing.

She went over
to the mantelpiece and straightened the ormolu clock.

Fortunately -
for there was nothing left to straighten! - Louisa bustled into the room at
that moment, saying, ‘Oh, my dear, can you lend me your assistance? The
servants are carrying the card tables into the sitting-room, but I cannot
decide on the best arrangement.’

Rebecca was
only too glad to offer her help, and before long the tables had been
successfully organized. Then there was the greenery to be arranged - the two
ladies would have liked to provide flowers, but the season unfortunately
provided very little in this way - and the catering arrangements to be checked.
There were the footmen to instruct, the wine to be seen to and the packs of
cards to be placed on each table, so that all in all Rebecca was kept very
busy.

By five o’clock
everything was ready, and Rebecca and Louisa sat down to a light tea - a cup of
the refreshing beverage, taken with a little seed cake - before retiring to
their rooms to dress.

Joshua’s fingers fumbled
as he made a second attempt at tying his cravat.

I should be
looking forward to this evening, he told himself. I’m about to offer Becky my
hand and to make her my betrothed
.

If she will
have me.

That was the
thought that plagued him as he made a mess of yet another cravat. He gave it up
in disgust and, wrenching it from his neck, threw it to the floor, where it
landed on top of his first discarded effort.

He took up
another freshly starched piece of linen and tried again.

It did not
matter how many times he told himself that of course she would have him. That
she loved him, as he loved her.

And when had
he realized
that
? he asked himself. He did not know. It had crept up on
him gradually, but it had begun the first time he had set eyes on her in the
inn.

He gave a wry
smile as he remembered how she had stood up to him. Oh, yes, she had impressed
him even then. She had made him take notice of her, and not just as an
intriguing face and a voluptuous set of curves, but as a person. Their
following encounters had done nothing to diminish this fact, but had rather
accentuated it. Over and over again she had refused to fall in with his wishes,
and yet every time she had been right. How he had admired her for her courage
in standing up to him. And he had admired her in a different way for taking an
interest in the world around her, and for becoming involved in the mill. It may
not have been convenient for him - nothing about Rebecca was ever convenient! -
but she had taught him that men and women could be partners, something he had
never realized before.

In her he had
found his equal.

But when had
these feelings turned to love? He did not know. That had been more subtle. But
love it had become. He wanted her, needed her, in every way. He wanted to see
her there beside him when he woke up in the morning; to take breakfast with
her; to be tormented by her, delighted by her, and enraptured by her for the
rest of his life. And all this would be his . . . if only she said yes.

Memories of
her previous refusals returned to haunt him, but he resolutely put all such
thoughts out of his mind and concentrated on his cravat.

Curse Brummell
for making the wretched things fashionable! he thought unreasonably as his
fingers, made clumsy with anticipation of the evening to come, refused to tie
the required knot and a third cravat followed the first two onto the floor.

He almost gave
into a temptation to ring the bell for his valet, but he fought it. He did not
like being dressed by someone else, and although he kept a valet, the man was
there to keep his clothes clean and boots polished, and nothing more. He took a
deep breath, then began again. Abandoning all attempts to tie anything
complicated, he settled for a simple barrel knot. Finally his fingers did what
he wanted them to do, and the cravat was successfully tied.

Having
succeeded with the most difficult part of his dress, he put on his waistcoat
and shrugged on his tailcoat before inspecting himself in the cheval glass. He
frowned. The one thing missing was his signet ring.

He could not
think how he had come to lose it. No matter. He had set Odgers to looking for
it. He had more important things to think of tonight.

Running his
hands through his wild mane of hair, he picked up his greatcoat and went out to
the waiting carriage.

‘Oh, my dear, you do look
nice,’ said Louisa appreciatively as the two ladies waited for their guests to
arrive. Rebecca was dressed in an exquisitely simple high-waisted gown. Its
skirt was of white satin and its bodice was of dark red. Dark red sleeves,
decorated with a white ribbon, set it off to perfection. As a finishing touch,
a dark red ribbon was threaded through Rebecca’s ebony hair.

‘Thanks to
Susan’s ministrations and Madame Dubois’s hard work,’ replied Rebecca with a
smile. ‘And you are looking radiant.’

‘Do you think
so?’ asked Louisa, eyes shining. Her dress, an amber satin, had a double row of
flounces round the hem, matched by a frill round the discreet neckline. ‘You
don’t think it too fussy?’

‘Not at all,’
said Rebecca.

Louisa gave a
sigh of relief. ‘I do so like the frills - they are so pretty - but I was
worried they might not be quite the thing. But you have set my mind at rest.’

‘I’m sure
Edward will find them delightful.’

‘Oh, my dear,
I am so happy!’ said Louisa. ‘I only hope I may soon see you as happy as I am.’

Rebecca flushed.
Far from being happy, she was in an agony of suspense. Was it possible that her
own love would have such a happy outcome? she wondered. Or had she read too
much into Joshua’s look, and made too much of his enigmatic words?

She did not
know. And until she did, she could not be easy.

Her attention
was fortunately soon taken up with receiving the guests for the card party, who
slowly began to arrive. There was no Mr Willingham, despite the fact that he
had been invited - by now, Rebecca hoped, he would be safely handed over to the
local magistrate.

There was also
no Joshua. As the time ticked by, Rebecca was seized by a feeling of
uncertainty. Surely he meant to come?