One Snowy Night (21 page)

This notion
made it imperative to pay a visit to Mrs Camberwell. It was necessary for the
two ladies to discover the names of both a fashionable
friseur
and a
stylish modiste.

By good
fortune, the
friseur
was due to call on Mrs Camberwell the following
day, and that amiable lady insisted Rebecca and Louisa should be there to
benefit from his ministrations. The business of the modiste was also quickly
solved, as Mrs Camberwell called the carriage and whisked the two ladies off to
the small but stylish salon that supplied all her clothes.

‘Miss Foster
and Miss Marsden are both in need of a new ball gown,’ said Mrs Camberwell, as
the modiste ushered them into the salon. ‘The ball is only a week away. Is it
possible for you to make their dresses in that time?’

‘But of
course,’ said Madame Dupont. She received a great many commissions from Mrs
Camberwell and did not want to lose the custom of so valuable a client. And
besides, she always kept a number of partially made gowns to hand for this very
kind of emergency.

‘Good,’ said
Mrs Camberwell. ‘And what do you have to show us?’

‘For Miss Foster,
I think the gold silk,’ said Madame Dupont. She put her head on one side and
surveyed Rebecca thoughtfully. ‘It is very fashionable at the moment,
particularly when decorated with ribbon or tassels, and ‘er dark ‘air will set
off the colour admirably.’

She clapped
her hands, and one of her assistants brought out a collection of tassels, satin
ribbons and lace bands.

‘With the ‘igh
waist decorated so,’ she said, holding up a lace trimming against the
partially-made gold silk gown which had by now been brought out of the
workroom, ‘and per’aps a twist of ribbon. The sleeves puffed, so, edged with
tassels, and round the ‘em, the band of lace, so.’ She held the trimmings one
by one against the plain dress, and Rebecca could see the effect she was aiming
for.

‘Yes,’ said
Rebecca. ‘I like that, but there are too many kinds of trimming for my taste. I
will have tassels round the hem instead of the lace. It will then match the
sleeves, and the effect will be less fussy.’

‘Oui
,’ nodded Madame Dupont. ‘Yes,
you are right. Then just a simple twist of ribbon at the waist?’ she asked.

Rebecca
agreed. The ribbon would give just the right amount of definition to the high
waistline.

That being
settled, Madame Dupont took Rebecca’s measurements and promised to have the
gown ready in time for the ball.

‘And for Miss
Marsden,’ said the modiste, her head again on one side, ‘I think a shade of
orange tawney.’

‘Oh, no,’ said
Louisa, flustered. ‘I don’t think I could wear anything like that. A nice grey,
with perhaps some kind of trim.’

‘
Non
,’
said Madame Dupont decidedly. ‘The grey, it robs you of your colour. You put
yourself in my ‘ands?’ she asked, but in such a way that Louisa did not like to
disagree. ‘The orange tawney, it will bring out the gold flecks in your eyes
and the ‘ighlights in your ‘air.’

‘Highlights?’
asked Louisa, bemused. ‘But my hair doesn’t have any highlights.’ She looked at
herself in the mirror, trying to see what Madame Dupont was talking about.

‘Mais oui
,’ nodded Madame Dupont. ‘When
the light falls on it, so, it ‘as gleams of gold.’

Rebecca
glanced at Mrs Camberwell and the two ladies exchanged delighted glances.
Madame Dupont had an eye for colour, and had spotted the highlights at once.
Moreover, it seemed she was going to be able to persuade Louisa to wear
something more interesting than her usual drab colours.

Madame Dupont
clapped her hands and one of her assistants brought her a piece of orange tawney
silk. When the sample was draped over Louisa’s shoulder, even Louisa was
delighted. ‘Why, I look quite different,’ she said.

Rebecca gave
her a kiss. ‘You’ll be the belle of the ball.’

Louisa,
flustered, denied it, but when, the following day, Monsieur Toulouse had styled
her hair, getting rid of the centre parting she had worn for many years and
instead pulling her hair back smoothly over her crown and cutting it at the
front so that it was possible to arrange it into fluffy curls, she gasped in
amazement as she saw herself in the glass.

‘You look
beautiful, Louisa,’ said Rebecca. She added, ‘I am sure Edward will think so,
too.’

Emily and
Rebecca exchanged glances, then smiled as they realized they had both had the
same idea regarding Louisa and Edward.

Rebecca took
advantage of Monsieur Toulouse’s skill next, with Emily kindly waiting until
last. By the time he left, they had all had their hair trimmed and styled in
the most becoming way.

‘Monsieur
Toulouse may not be able to attend us on the day of the ball, but at least we
know what we are aiming at,’ said Emily as she regarded her hair in the gilded
glass.

Well pleased
with their morning the ladies parted, and Rebecca and Louisa returned home.

They were just
about to get out their workbaskets, after partaking of a delightful luncheon,
when there was a knock at the front door.

‘I wonder who
that can be?’ said Louisa, eyebrows raised.

‘I have no
idea,’ said Rebecca. Privately she hoped it was Joshua. It was not impossible
that he might call. He had told her he would let her know what had caused the
fire when he knew himself, and she had been half expecting him to call all day.

The
drawing-room door opened and Betsy announced Mr Willingham.

Rebecca tried
to hide her disappointment, and was glad that Mr Willingham turned to Louisa
first. It would not be polite of her to let him see she had been hoping for
someone else.

Mr Willingham
was looking smart and confident. Not for nothing was he one of the most
prosperous mill owners in the area. He bowed politely over Louisa’s hand before
turning and greeting Rebecca.

‘Mr
Willingham. This is a pleasant surprise,’ said Louisa.

‘You were good
enough to say I might call on you.’

‘Of course,’
said Louisa. ‘Pray, be seated.’

He settled
himself in a heavy mahogany chair.

‘I have called
to issue an invitation,’ he said, after they had enquired politely into each
other’s health. ‘My mother is holding a dinner party at the end of next week
and she would be honoured if you would attend. I have the card here.’ He drew a
gilt-edged card out of his pocket. ‘It is short notice, I’m afraid, but she
feels she must make the most of the opportunity to get to know you, before you
leave us again for
Cheshire
. She is eager to meet you,’ he said, turning to Rebecca. ‘I have told
her so much about you.’

‘Oh, the end
of next week. How fortunate,’ said Louisa, taking the card. ‘We have no
engagement for that night. Yes, indeed, we would be honoured to attend.’

‘My mother
will be glad,’ he said. ‘And so will I.’

‘You will be
going to Mrs Camberwell’s ball, I take it?’ asked Louisa.

‘Yes, indeed.
I am looking forward to it. I hope I may beg the favour of the first dance?’ he
said to Rebecca.

Finding she
had no valid reason for excusing herself, Rebecca was forced to agree to his
proposal. But she would rather have given her hand to Joshua, no matter how
confused he made her feel.

‘Good. We
mill-owners, Miss Foster, must stick together,’ said Mr Willingham with a
smile.

At that moment
there was another knock at the outside door and a second visitor was admitted.

‘Joshua!’
exclaimed Rebecca as she stood up to welcome the new guest.

‘Joshua! How
delightful to see you,’ said Louisa.

‘Marsden,’
said Mr Willingham coolly.

Joshua nodded.
‘Willingham.’

There was a
coldness between the two men that Rebecca could not fail to notice. Nevertheless
she was glad of it because, when Louisa offered the two gentlemen refreshments,
Mr Willingham declined, saying, ‘Alas, I cannot stay. I came simply to bring
you the invitation. I am delighted to be able to tell my mother that you
accept.’

And with that
he bowed himself out of the room.

‘You will take
some refreshment, Joshua?’ asked Louisa. ‘I was just about to ring for tea.’

‘Yes, thank
you, I would be delighted.’ He settled himself in a Hepplewhite chair.

Louisa went
over to the fireplace and pulled the bell. Nothing happened.

‘These rented
houses,’ Louisa said. ‘There is always something that isn’t working. Never
mind, I will go down to the kitchens and tell Mrs Neville myself.’

She had
scarcely left the room when Joshua turned to Rebecca and said, ‘Invitation?’

‘Yes. Mr
Willingham’s mother has invited us to dine with her at the end of next week.’

Joshua
hesitated. ‘I would rather you did not go. Willingham’s an ambitious man. His
family own a weaving mill in
Stockport
—’

‘I know,’ said
Rebecca. ‘You are afraid, perhaps, that he intends to play on my lack of
business experience, and you are worried that he will try to secure
preferential rates for his family when buying cotton from Marsden mill?’

Joshua
laughed. ‘The thought had crossed my mind. But I see it had also crossed yours.’

Rebecca
smiled. ‘I am not my grandfather’s granddaughter for nothing,’ she remarked.

‘No, indeed.’
Then Joshua’s expression became more serious. ‘I may be maligning him, but
Willingham seldom does anything without an ulterior motive and all I am saying
is that I think it would be better if you were to decline his invitation.’

Rebecca
sighed. ‘I’m afraid that will be impossible. Louisa has already accepted.’

Joshua
frowned. ‘That’s unfortunate. Still, what’s done is done. But be on your guard,
Rebecca. If Willingham strays onto the subject of the mill, try and turn him
away from it. It isn’t just that I think he may try to gain preferential terms
from you, I think he may also try to find out details of the running of Marsden
mill - what salaries we pay our workers, for example, or how profitable the
mill has been in the last year. It would all be useful knowledge for a man who
buys his cotton from us. No, I know you would never tell him,’ he said, seeing
that she was about to declare it, ‘but he is skilled at conversation, and may
well have the information out of you before you know what you are about. You
would not be the first mill owner to fall foul of his devious methods.’

Rebecca
nodded. ‘I sensed from the moment I met him that he was an ambitious man.’

‘But that’s
enough of Willingham,’ said Joshua. ‘That isn’t why I came here today.’

‘You have
found out how the fire started?’ Rebecca asked.

He nodded. ‘Yes.’

Rebecca sat
down, and Joshua sat opposite her.

‘As I
suspected, it was started quite deliberately,’ he said. ‘A lighted flambeau had
been left in the bottom drawer of the desk.’

‘To destroy
the documents?’ asked Rebecca.

‘I don’t think
so,’ said Joshua. ‘That’s what’s so puzzling. You see, the documents are kept
in a locked cabinet beside the door.’

‘So anyone
wanting to destroy the documents would have tried to burn the cabinet and not
the desk,’ said Rebecca slowly.

‘Yes. If they
knew where the documents were kept.’

‘And Hill?
Does he know?’

‘Yes. He does.’

‘Which would
seem to rule him out,’ said Rebecca thoughtfully. ‘Were any additional
documents destroyed? When you checked them the morning after the fire?’

‘No.’

‘Then Hill is
not the culprit. It must be someone else. But who?’

At that moment
the door opened and Louisa entered the room.

‘Tea is on its
way,’ she said.

Rebecca bit
back her frustration. She did not want to abandon her conversation, but now
that Louisa had returned it was impossible for her to continue it. She would
have to wait until she could have further words with Joshua in private, and who
knew when that would be?

Still, there
was no help for it. She put her frustration to one side and joined in with
Louisa’s light-hearted conversation. And Joshua, no less frustrated by their
lack of privacy, was forced to do the same.

Two new footmen soon found
their way into Rebecca and Louisa’s house. Fortunately Louisa accepted their
appearance at face value, and was too polite to enquire into the origins of the
broken nose of one and the cauliflower ear of the other. She was pleased that
dear Joshua had sent the men along to add to her consequence and convenience,
and expressed herself delighted with their presence

Rebecca was
genuinely glad to have them there. So far she had not been threatened in any
way, but if the unexplained attacks on Joshua were indeed connected with the
mill there may come a time when she herself was in danger, and it was
reassuring to have two large ex-Bow Street Runners, disguised as footmen,
standing in the hall.