Amanda Grange - Rebecca’s Refusal

“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.

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.