Amanda Grange - Rebecca’s Refusal

“Rebecca? Are you all right?” Joshua asked again.

His hands were on her shoulders. His warm, firm touch was reassuring.

It was strange that his hands could be reassuring, she thought inconsequentially. She had never associated Joshua with reassurance. And yet his body was communicating an unmistakeable sense of confidence.

“Yes,” she told him. “Yes. I'm all right. Just a little shaken, that's all.”

“Fools like that shouldn't be allowed to own a horse,” said Joshua. “Bringing the animal out in this weather was bad enough, but trying to force it to go at speed was an act of gross stupidity. It's no wonder the animal slipped. Fortunately, no one was hurt. You're not hurt, are you, Rebecca?” he queried in concern.

“No.”

“Good. The shock will pass,” he told her gently. “Still, the sooner we get to Sloane Street the better. You have had a nasty fright.”

“It is nothing, I do assure you.” Already she had collected herself, and was ready to brush off the incident.

“My dear,” said Hetty, hurrying up anxiously with Charles: the two of them, hearing the commotion, had looked round, and when they had seen what was happening they had come rushing back. “What a dreadful thing to happen. I am beginning to think we were wrong to walk in such treacherous weather. We should have waited for a hansom instead. I thought you were going to be knocked down for sure.”

Rebecca set about reassuring her aunt. “No. I was never in any danger. It was just an unfortunate accident, that's all. Don't worry, Aunt Hetty; there's no harm done.”

“Damn fool shouldn't have been out on the roads if he can't control his animal,” said Charles. “Poor horsemanship if ever I saw it. Wouldn't have happened in my young days. We knew how to handle our cattle back then.”

Exclaiming over the incident they continued on their way, arriving in Sloane Street without further mishap. Even so, Rebecca was glad when they were safely inside.

“You will stay for dinner, Josh?” asked Hetty, when he and Charles joined the ladies after discussing a number of business matters.

He glanced at Rebecca but then, as if realizing there would be no chance of a private conversation that evening — realizing, too, that after her fright Rebecca should not be called upon to discuss anything important — he said, “Alas, no. I have a number of arrangements to put in hand before I leave London to return north.”

Hetty was not to be put off. “Tomorrow, then,” she said decidedly. Joshua hesitated.

Rebecca, suspecting that he had not accepted her refusal, willed him to decline. But this time he delighted Hetty by saying, “Thank you, yes. I will look forward to it.”

Rebecca thought, Which is more than I will do.

Rebecca was reading in the drawing-room. It was the following evening, and she was already dressed for dinner and waiting for Hetty and Charles to come down. Outwardly she was calm. Inwardly it was a different matter. She was under no illusions about Joshua. She knew him to be a stubborn and determined man. There had been a look on his face the day before that had told her he had not accepted her negative answer to his proposal, but she was determined to stand her ground. Marrying Joshua because he had compromised her was unthinkable, she told herself.

Wondering, a moment later, why she had added the phrase because he had compromised her. Marrying Joshua was unthinkable for every reason. Of course it was. Even so, she fervently hoped that she would not find herself alone with him that evening, so that no possibility of a disturbing and intimate conversation could arise. And really, it was hardly likely, she reassured herself. A small family dinner was exactly the sort of occasion that would offer no chance of anything private. Although an evening at Lady Cranston's and an afternoon at Frost Fair should not have offered an opportunity either...

She was rescued from further uncomfortable musings by Hetty bustling into the room.

“Oh, I do hope the food will be hot enough,” said Hetty anxiously. She was every inch the hostess, and was worried about the meal her cook was going to serve. “It is so difficult to stop it going cold on its journey from the kitchen. In summer it is easy, of course, but in the winter... ah well, it cannot be helped.”

“I'm sure it will be perfect,” Rebecca reassured her.

“Well, Mrs Lunn will certainly do her best,” said Hetty dubiously. “But it is Joshua's first meal with us in over a year, and I would so like everything to go well.” Then, drawing her mind away from the problems attendant on having guests for dinner she glanced appreciatively at Rebecca, who was looking most becoming in a white satin gown en saque with a bodice of midnight blue velvet, over which she wore an Indian shawl.

“I am so glad colours have become fashionable again,” said Hetty, her eyes going from the midnight blue of Rebecca's bodice to her own yellow gown. Made of silk, its high waist was ornamented with a gold band, and its sleeves were decorated with gold lace. “Unrelieved white is all very well, but it never suited me, and I am vain enough to be pleased that colours are now the rage.”

At that moment Charles entered the room, rubbing his hands heartily and remarking that the dinner smelled good.

“Oh, do you think so, Charles? I am so pleased.”

“It will be delicious,” said Charles decidedly.

“Now all we need is Joshua,” said Hetty, glancing out of the small-paned window, across which the curtains had not yet been drawn.

“Oh!” she cried vexedly. “It is snowing again. I do hope he will be able to get through.”

She need not have worried. The sound of the front door opening and closing could be heard, followed by Canning's deferential tones, and there was Joshua, looking immaculate in a dark tail coat and pair of pantaloons.

He glanced at Rebecca as he walked into the drawing-room, his eyes warming as he saw her, and Rebecca felt her heart skip a beat. Really, it was most unfortunate, the effect he had on her, she thought. Why could he not leave her unmoved, as every other gentleman of her acquaintance did?

“Good to see you, Joshua,” said Charles. “We were worried you might not get through.”

“It's getting worse,” acknowledged Joshua, glancing out of the window as he took a seat.

“I hope it won't delay you going north?” asked Charles, offering Joshua a whiskey.

“I hope it will,” countered Hetty, turning to Joshua warmly. “Then we will be able to keep you in London for a few more weeks.”

Joshua laughed. “You may have your wish. I certainly can't go at the moment. I've just heard that the roads out of London are impassable. Even the mail has had to be suspended, and if the mail can't get through then nothing else can. But I mean to set out as soon as there is any chance of success. The manager has been left in charge of the mill for some time now, ever since I went abroad, and although I have every faith in him for the short term, I would rather not leave him in charge for too long.”

Charles nodded. “You must be eager to see the mill again, and take the reins into your own hands. There are some sharp practices going on in some of the mills these days, and it's as well to make sure your manager hasn't fallen prey to temptation.”

“I'm concerned about that myself,” said Rebecca. “If there are any unreasonable fines being levied, I hope you will make sure they are removed.”

Joshua's eyebrows raised, as though he had not expected her to be so well informed about what went on in a number of mills, and she had the satisfaction of having surprised him.

“I have had the good fortune to meet and talk to Mr Cobbett,” she explained.

Joshua put down his glass. “Have you indeed. William Cobbett's opinions need treating carefully. He has been imprisoned for libel before now, as I am sure you know —”

“His crime was nothing more than speaking the truth,” said Rebecca.

“As he sees it. But he lives in the past. He wants England to return to the days when labourers worked merrily in the fields. Unfortunately, he forgets that labourers did not always work merrily, and that they were often plagued by poor harvests ... as well as bad backs. Scratching a living from the land can be hazardous: farmers, as well as mill hands, have been known to starve.”

Rebecca sighed. “I know he tends to idealize the countryside and I know that he has a dislike, if not to say a hatred, of the mills, but some of his reasons for that hatred are sound. The way spinners are fined a shilling for leaving their window open, for example, or sixpence for leaving their oil can out of place.”

“I agree.”

“And that is not all,” said Rebecca, who had been so convinced that she would have to argue her case that she did not immediately take in what he had said. “In some mills, men are fined a shilling for whistling. I warn you, I will not countenance...”  Her voice tailed away as his words sank in. “You... agree?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes. I do. Is that so surprising?”

“Yes. No. I don't know.”

“Just like a woman!” laughed Charles. “Three answers in one!”

Joshua smiled, but nevertheless he turned to Rebecca curiously. “Which one is it?”

She frowned. “Grandfather told me you were ruthless...” she began.

“And so I am, in commerce. But not in my dealings with people who depend upon me for their livelihoods. I know what it is to be poor. Your grandfather began life in very difficult circumstances and he told me many stories of those days.”