One Snowy Night (11 page)

‘I think that’s
a wise precaution,’ said Charles. ‘I don’t think we’ll have any further
problems tonight, though,’ he went on. ‘Now they know the house is well
defended, the miscreants will think twice before attacking it again.’

Rebecca felt
her calm returning. It had been an anxious fifteen minutes, but it was over now
and no harm done.

Of far greater
concern to her was her reaction to Joshua. If he was going to continue to have
such a strong effect on her, she hoped he would remove to
Manchester
as soon as possible.
Although even there she would have to see him from time to time, she thought
with a shiver, especially as she was determined to take an interest in the
mill.

‘Come, let’s
go through to the parlour,’ said Hetty. ‘Fortunately there is a good fire
burning there. We will soon be comfortable again.’

The table was
soon re-set and before long they had all settled down to their meal once more.
This time there were no unfortunate disturbances, and they could enjoy their
mulligatawny soup in peace.

But Rebecca’s
calm was short-lived. Because once they had finished their main course of ham
in
Madeira
sauce and were about to
embark on dessert, Charles said jocularly, ‘You don’t have any enemies, do you,
Josh?’

‘Enemies?’
asked Joshua.

Superficially
the word came out light-heartedly, but Rebecca detected a note of tension in
Joshua’s voice. A moment later she asked herself how it was that she was able
to catch the subtle nuances in his voice. Usually it was something she could
only do with people she knew well, but she seemed to be able to do it with
Joshua, despite their short acquaintance.

‘No, of course
not,’ Joshua finished.

Again, the
words came out lightly, but again there was an underlying tension to them. For
some reason, although Charles had enquired about enemies jovially, Rebecca had
the feeling that Joshua’s thoughts had been running in the same direction.

‘Well, of
course Joshua doesn’t have any enemies,’ said Hetty, looking reprovingly at her
husband. ‘Really, Charles! What a thing to say.’

‘Well, it’s
just that first of all you were almost knocked down by a horse, then you were
almost attacked by the rider,’ said Charles. He was trying to be light-hearted
in an effort to dispel the uncomfortable atmosphere that had settled over them
after the stone had been thrown through the window, but he was unfortunately
not sensitive enough to realize that he was making matters worse. ‘And then,
when you came to us for dinner, a stone flew threw the window, missing your
head by inches and landing in your soup!’

‘Don’t be so
ridiculous, Charles,’ said Hetty sharply.

Joshua smiled,
but Rebecca could see that the smile was strained. He was trying to make light
of Charles’s remarks, but Rebecca had the disturbing feeling that there may be
something in them; that Joshua may be in some kind of danger after all; and her
thoughts went to the horse that had nearly ridden him down. Had that been an
accident, as she had supposed? Or had there been something more sinister behind
it?

She did not
know. All the same, she could not help feeling anxious.

‘No.’ Joshua
answered Charles in a bantering style. ‘I don’t have any enemies. But you have
no need to worry about your windows. I’ll be leaving for
Manchester
before long and you won’t
have to worry about any more disturbances with your soup!’

‘Well, really,’
said Hetty crossly. ‘Now, Charles, see what you have done. You have made Joshua
feel he is not welcome here. You will always be welcome here, Joshua,’ she
said, turning towards him. ‘You know that. You must come to dinner whenever you
want.’

‘Of course I
know it,’ said Joshua kindly. ‘Charles was just trying to lighten the
situation. And that’s the best thing to do with a situation like this; make
light of it.’ He raised his glass. ‘Here’s to unbreakable windows!’ he said.

Charles, too,
raised his glass.

Hetty turned
to Rebecca despairingly. ‘I do declare, Rebecca, men are just like children.
They never take anything seriously.’

Rebecca
attempted to smile, but she was ill at ease. She was convinced that Joshua did,
in fact, take the matter seriously.
Did
he have any enemies? she
wondered. The idea seemed ridiculous. And yet . . . and yet there had been a
couple of incidents. Could they really be nothing more than coincidence?

‘And now, if
you have finished your fruit, we will retire to the drawing-room and leave the
gentlemen to their port,’ said Hetty to Rebecca. She turned to her husband. ‘But
don’t be too long. It seems to me you have taken wine enough already.’

And with this
unusually caustic remark she led Rebecca out of the room.

The two ladies
retired to the drawing-room, where they discussed the latest novels. They had
just agreed that Mrs Radcliffe was their favourite writer, and
The Italian
- the book that Rebecca was engaged in reading - was one of her best books,
when Canning brought a message to Hetty to say that one of the parlour maids
was hysterical.

‘It’s the
stone,’ explained Canning apologetically. ‘It’s frightened her. Cook’s tried to
quiet her, and Mrs Yeats, the housekeeper, has had a word with her as well, but
after what happened this evening she is convinced the French have finally
landed and mean to put an end to us.’

‘Oh, dear,’
sighed Hetty. ‘Ah, well, I suppose it’s not to be wondered at. There has been
so much speculation about a French invasion ever since the war began that one
can hardly blame the girl for being frightened. It is that wretched stone! It
has unsettled everyone. All right, Canning, I will come at once.’

‘Would you
like me to come with you?’ asked Rebecca.

‘No, my dear.
She will probably calm down more quickly if I go alone.’

She left the
room, and Rebecca turned her attention to a book of engravings. She was not
alone for long, however. Before many minutes had passed Joshua entered the
room.

To her
surprise - and her consternation - Charles was not with him. He was alone.

She felt
suddenly awkward. She stood up and walked over to the pianoforte. There, under
pretence of looking through some music, she could keep away from Joshua. For if
she drew too close to him, she did not know what her feelings might be. Her
fear of being alone with him had intensified, but now it was not because she
was afraid of him attempting to persuade her to marry him. Now her concerns
were more basic. She was afraid that he might touch her, and that if he did so,
no matter how innocent the contact might be, she would melt.

Joshua checked
on seeing that she was alone.

‘Is Hetty not
here?’ he asked in surprise.

‘No.’ Rebecca
tried not to sound agitated. ‘She has gone to see to one of the parlour maids,
who has become hysterical. And Charles? Is he not coming into the drawing-room
for coffee?’

‘He is taking
a tour of the house. He wants to make sure all the windows and doors are
properly locked and bolted. After the disturbance this evening it’s as well to
be certain everything is secure.’

‘Very
sensible,’ said Rebecca.

There was
silence.

Rebecca was
aware of Joshua’s eyes on her. She wished he would take a seat. Then she too
could take a seat - well away from him, at the other side of the room.

As if reading
her mind he sat down on one of the gilded sofas. He threw one arm along its
back.

Rebecca felt a
little more comfortable. Even so, she did not relinquish her place by the
piano. Taking any seat would put her too close to him.

He did not
speak, and as she continued to occupy herself with the sheets of music she felt
his eyes running over her in a way that made her feel hot and flustered. She
needed to break the silence, and to voice the questions that were circling in
her brain.

‘Joshua . . .
’

‘Yes?’

His eyes never
left hers, and she picked up a sheet of music, holding it in front of her as
though it were a shield, and would protect her - although protect her against
what, she did not know.

‘About the
stone,’ she said, clutching the music even more tightly.

‘What about
it?’ he asked.

He stood up
and went over to her.

She felt the
urge to step backwards. There was a look in his eyes that made her feel
strangely afraid.

‘It’s just
that . . .
’
Her voice tailed away.
She was finding it difficult to concentrate with him standing so near.

He looked at
her enquiringly, but with an underlying glance that made her feel more
vulnerable than ever.

‘It’s just
that several strange things have happened to you recently,’ she said.

‘The stone was
nothing.’ His eyes ran over her face and lingered on her lips.

‘Perhaps not.’
She took a breath to steady herself, and then continued. ‘But it isn’t only the
stone. There was the horse.’

‘The horse was
ridden by a fool.’

‘I know. But
still . . . but still.’ Her eyes went to his of their own accord. ‘You will
take care, won’t you?’

He did not
speak at once. Then he said, his voice low and husky, ‘Why, Rebecca? Does my
safety matter to you?’

The words hung
in the air between them.

‘It does
matter to you, doesn’t it?’ he asked, his eyes searching her own.

She dropped
them. For some reason she could not meet his gaze.

‘Of course it
does,’ she said.

‘Why?’ he
asked again.

‘Why?’ She
swallowed, feeling as though she was in a trap.

‘Yes. Why does
it matter to you, Becky?’

‘My . . . my
grandfather was very fond of you,’ she said, her eyes on the floor.

‘And you?’ he
asked.

‘I . . . I
would not like anything to happen to you.’

‘No?’ His
voice was huskier than ever.

‘No.’

And why did
the conversation seem to be so important, when it was about nothing but
commonplaces? she asked herself.

‘After all, we
are partners now,’ she said, making an effort to make the conversation seem
more normal. But still she did not raise her eyes to his. She was afraid of
what she would see there.

‘Partners,’ he
said, his voice low. The word seemed full of hidden meaning. As if sensing it,
he added, ‘In the mill.’

She could feel
his eyes on her, but still could not bring herself to look at him.

‘But is that
all we are?’ he asked.

‘Yes. Of
course.’

‘Then why are
you backing away from me?’ His voice was soft and sultry.

Her eyes went
to his own, drawn there by some irresistible force, as if she could read the
answer to his question there. Why had she backed away from him? she wondered.
She had not realized she had done so. But he was right. She
had
taken a
step back - only to be stopped by the piano. It was pressing into her, hard and
uncomfortable. But she did not move forward again. Because if she did it would
bring her closer to Joshua.

‘Because . . .
’
She gulped.

‘Yes?’ he
asked, his head bending towards hers.

She tried to
make some sort of reply but her voice caught in her throat and no sound came
out.

‘Partners don’t
back away from each other,’ he said, reaching out his hand and lifting her
chin.

She had no
choice but to meet his gaze. It was so direct that she felt she was looking,
not into his eyes, but into his soul.

‘Lovers, on
the other hand . . .
’
he said softly.

She felt her
heart fluttering against her rib cage.

‘We are not
lovers,’ she said. She tried to sound bold and confident, but her voice came
out in a breathless gasp.

‘But we could
be . . . when we marry. Marriage has pleasures as well as pains, Rebecca,’ he
breathed, tilting his head towards hers.

‘Marriage!’
she exclaimed. And suddenly she was free of the spell that had gripped her. ‘Marriage?’
she demanded. Her head was held high and her shoulders were flung back. ‘So
that is what lies behind your behaviour! The desire to seduce me. So that I
will agree to marry you!’

‘You make it
sound like a penance!’ he exclaimed angrily, his eyes blazing with copper
lights.

‘And so it is!
To marry a man I don’t love, simply because he has some misguided notion about
protecting my reputation! It is the worst kind of penance!’

His eyes
boiled.

‘I have told
you before. I will not marry you,’ she declared. Her head was thrown back and
her chin was high; at that moment she was every inch Jebadiah’s granddaughter.