One Snowy Night (5 page)

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.

Rebecca looked
away . . . only to be confronted by a row of the same images stretching away
into the distance, reflected in the mirrors that lined the room.

She turned
away again, resolutely fixing her eyes on the orchestra, but she could not help
noticing how fine Joshua was looking in the brief second before she averted her
gaze. His hair had been brushed into some semblance of order, its dark blond
contrasting with the black of his coat, the whiteness of his lawn shirt and the
light bronze of his skin.

She had turned
away just in time. As though he had felt her eyes on him he looked towards her.
Even though she had looked away she was aware of him, and could not help
noticing him out of the corner of her eye. She saw him make his excuses to the
handsome woman, and then walk towards her across the ballroom. She felt her
heart begin to beat more rapidly, but, determined not to watch him cross the room,
she paid attention to her fellow guests. Despite the snowy weather and the
unfashionable time of year the ball was reasonably well attended, and the
varied guests seemed to be enjoying themselves.

‘Ah! Here is
Joshua,’ said Hetty in a pleased voice, catching sight of him as he threaded
his way through the other guests.

Rebecca, by
now in control of herself, greeted him politely, and Hetty and Charles did the
same.

‘You haven’t
forgotten your promise?’ he said teasingly to Rebecca as he stopped in front of
her.

She looked up
at him with an arch smile. ‘No indeed.’

‘Good. The
first dance is about to begin.’

He gave her
his arm and led her out onto the floor.

To her disappointment,
the first dance was a country dance. She had hoped it might be a waltz. The dance
was becoming permissible in polite society, but although she knew the steps she
had never yet danced it at a ball. To have danced it for the first time with
Joshua would have been interesting indeed.

‘ . . . not
too crowded.’

With a start
she realized that Joshua was speaking.

By the look in
his eye she could tell he guessed she had been day-dreaming. She was just pleased
that he did not know what about!

‘No,’ she
said, accurately guessing that he had said the ballroom was not too crowded. ‘At
least not yet. We should have plenty of room for our steps.’

The orchestra
played the opening chords and she curtseyed demurely to Joshua. In return he
made her a bow.

He took her
hand for the first part of the dance. This time, his touch did not burn her, but
instead she felt a shiver spread up her arm.

How contrary!
To find herself attracted to the most infuriating man she had ever met.

She cast about
in her mind for some topic of conversation that would keep her mind from
wandering down disturbing channels. The sight of a militiaman in uniform made
her recall Joshua’s warning the previous day that mills were dangerous places.
She wondered whether he could have been referring to the problems caused by the
Luddites, for they had been active in recent years.

Yes, the
Luddites were a suitable choice of conversation. Talking about them would most
certainly prevent her thoughts from wandering down hopelessly inappropriate
paths!

The steps of
the dance parted them for a minute, but when they met again Rebecca said, ‘You
were speaking of the dangers concerned with running the mill yesterday. Were
you thinking of the Luddites?’ she asked.

Joshua gave a
wry smile, as though guessing the reason for her unusual choice of
conversation.

But no. Of
course he could not have done. She was letting her imagination run away with
her - again.

Whatever his
thoughts, he fell in with her choice of conversation. ‘Yes. I was.’

‘Have there
been any problems with them at Marsden mill?’

‘No. Marsden
mill was never attacked. But that doesn’t mean that we can relax in our
vigilance. These are turbulent times, and we need to remember it.’ The steps of
the dance parted them again, but when they came together, Joshua asked, ‘Your
grandfather spoke to you about the Luddite problem, I take it?’

‘No,’ said
Rebecca.

‘Then you don’t
know the kind of havoc they can cause,’ he frowned.

‘On the
contrary,’ she informed him. ‘I know only too well. Cousin Louisa and I live in
Cheshire
, as you know. That is
very close to the source of many of the problems. The Luddites have caused a
lot of difficulties in the north of
England
recently, and in the
Midlands
as well.’ Her mouth quirked
humorously. ‘Despite being a mere woman, I have been known to read a newspaper
from time to time,’ she said with a sideways glance.

He laughed.
But then his expression became more serious. ‘Reading a newspaper is one thing;
running a mill is another. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said that mills are
dangerous places. If you read the newspapers, you know that what I am saying is
true.’

‘I know it
was
true,’ said Rebecca. ‘There
has
been a lot of unrest, but it is over
now. The ringleaders have been dealt with and that has put a stop to it.’

‘Unfortunately
it may not be as simple as that. Although a lot of the Luddite ringleaders have
been dealt with, the underlying problems haven’t gone away, and trouble could
break out again at any time. We will not know if the Luddite movement has
really been broken until we have had at least two or three peaceful years.
There is still a lot of resentment against the using of machines because the
machines take away men’s jobs, and without jobs they can’t feed their families.’

‘In that I
have a great deal of sympathy for them,’ said Rebecca. She looked at him
challengingly as she walked down the room beside him, her hand raised and
joined to his. ‘I warn you, if you mean to put men out of work then I will do
everything in my power to thwart you.’

‘It would not
surprise me,’ he returned, with a flash in his copper-coloured eyes.

And oh! how
they sent shivers through her, those eyes, she thought, as she turned away from
him, in accordance with the dance. Why could they not have been green, or blue,
or grey, or anything but copper?

The dance
brought them together again.

‘I can
understand why the men hate machines,’ continued Rebecca. She was determined
not to succumb to the magnetism of the man before her. If she did that, he would
surely relegate her, as a mere woman, to a subordinate role, and forbid her any
real influence over her inheritance.

But she was
determined to play her part. Although she knew very little about running a mill
she meant to use her part-ownership to make sure that the men and women who
worked there did not suffer the draconian working conditions that were
prevalent in some mills.

This, she
suspected, was the part her grandfather had meant her to play, bringing a
softening influence to Joshua’s hard and predatory nature.

‘The machines
take away their jobs. I am not surprised they’re resentful.’

‘Being
resentful is one thing,’ he remarked. ‘Being violent is quite another. The
Luddites are no respecters of persons. If they feel their livelihoods are
threatened they are not above breaking into the homes of mill owners and
holding them at gunpoint.’

‘You are
thinking of James Balderstone,’ said Rebecca. The assault on James Balderstone
had been in all the newspapers at the time. His house had been broken into by a
mob, and he had been held at gunpoint by a number of Luddites whilst their
fellows had smashed up one of his frames.

‘Among others.
And in some cases the situation has been even worse. In
Stockport
, a mob broke into one of
the mills and destroyed the looms before turning their attention to the owner’s
house and setting it on fire.’

‘Nevertheless,
I intend to take an interest in my inheritance,’ said Rebecca firmly. ‘Grandfather
left me half the mill for a purpose and I don’t want to let him down. Besides, he
is right. I can’t be content with sitting by the fire and knitting! I long for
a challenge. I am too much like him to be content with idling my life away.’

To her
surprise, she saw a look of respect and understanding cross Joshua’s face. But
then it disappeared, and she could tell that, no matter how much he might
understand her feelings, he was not about to give in. He did not want a woman
as a partner, and it would take more than a flash of respect to change his
mind.

There was no
time for anything further, however. The dance was drawing to its close. The
last chords sounded and she turned to Joshua and dropped him a curtsey.

He made her a
bow and then, offering her his arm, he escorted her to the side of the room.
Hetty was waiting for them. The three of them enjoyed a little light
conversation before Joshua made his excuses and left their side.

‘My, you made
a handsome couple,’ said Hetty, unfolding her fan and wafting it in front of
her face to create a cooling breeze. ‘It’s such a pity that Joshua is too young
to marry.’ She gave a sigh. ‘He has too much drive and ambition to settle down.
Perhaps, when he is older, and needs to set up his nursery . . . But never
mind, there are plenty of eligible bachelors here tonight. Oh, look, here is
Lord Henderton.’ She caught sight of Rebecca’s humorous expression and said
ruefully, ‘I know you don’t like me to play the part of the matchmaker,
Rebecca, but I would so like to see you settled.’

‘I promise you
that if I ever fall in love I will be happy to marry,’ she said. ‘But not
until.’

‘Well, I can
ask for no more than that,’ said Hetty. She turned towards the young nobleman. ‘Ah!
Lord Henderton! How lovely to see you. I don’t believe you know my niece.’

Lord Henderton
professed himself eager to rectify that sad state of affairs, and before long
Rebecca found him leading her out onto the floor. Lord Henderton turned out to
be a good dancer and an agreeable companion, and she enjoyed the cotillion they
danced together.

Hetty nobly
refrained from asking her how she had found Lord Henderton when the dance came
to an end, but Rebecca took pity on her, telling her that she had found him
most agreeable.

‘And there are
a number of other young gentlemen here tonight who are equally agreeable,’ said
Hetty, eager to promote Rebecca’s happiness. ‘You must let me introduce you to
Mr Porter.’ She wafted her fan in the direction of the gentleman in question. ‘He
comes from a very good family, and his mother and I are old friends.’

Rebecca
allowed Hetty to make the introduction, and then accepted Mr Porter’s hand for
the next dance. Like Lord Henderton, he was a pleasant and agreeable companion,
but he was looking for a meek and biddable wife. Besides, his closeness did not
make her skin tingle . . .

After Mr
Porter, Rebecca danced with a succession of pleasant and agreeable young men.

It was whilst
she was dancing with Mr Yunge, however, that she became aware of another
gentleman watching her with a puzzled expression. As soon as the dance ended he
accosted her, saying, ‘Haven’t we met somewhere before?’

Rebecca took
in his bland, slack-featured face and shook her head. ‘I don’t believe so.’
Then, remembering that Joshua had been reminded of her grandfather on first
meeting her, she said, ‘Perhaps you knew my grandfather, Jebadiah Marsden.
There is a family resemblance, I believe.’

He shook his
head. ‘No, I never knew Jebadiah Marsden.’ He regarded her closely. ‘It was
somewhere recently that I saw you, I am certain. You have been in
London
for the winter?’

‘No. I have
only just arrived.’

‘And you are
sure we have never met?’ he asked curiously.

‘Positive.’
Rebecca was firm.

He gave a
sigh. ‘I could have sworn . . . oh, well I dare say it will come back to me.’

Rebecca
murmured a polite nothing and returned to Hetty’s side.

‘I am glad you
are getting to know some of the gentlemen here,’ said Hetty, rather anxiously, ‘but
if I can just give you a word of warning, Rebecca. The gentleman you were
talking to just now - the slack-featured gentleman, George Lacy - he is not
quite the thing.’

‘Don’t worry
aunt,’ teased Rebecca. ‘I promise not to form a
tendre
for him!’