Rebecca's Refusal

Chapter Four

“Frost Fair?” asked Rebecca.

It was the following day, and she and Hetty were sitting in the drawing-room, looking through the latest edition of the Ladies' Monthly Museum. It was one of Hetty's favourite fashion journals, and the two ladies were perusing the latest styles when Hetty mentioned the fair.

“What is Frost Fair?” Rebecca looked up from the journal. She had never heard any mention of it before, and was curious as to what it could be.

“It really is quite exciting,” said Hetty. “I was talking to Mrs Minshull last night and she told me all about it. She and her husband have been, it seems, and they found it most exhilarating. Frost Fair is a fair set up on the Thames,” she explained, “The weather has been so cold this winter that the river has frozen over.”

Rebecca looked at her in surprise.

“It is quite true, I assure you,” said Hetty. “I haven't taken leave of my senses! But it is not to be wondered at that you are surprised. I was surprised myself. I do not remember the Thames ever freezing before — although I believe my mother told me about something similar happening in her childhood,” she said with a frown, as she struggled to recall the memory.

“Yes,” she said more definitely, “I believe she did. Not that I ever saw it then, of course. But I would like to see it now. It is truly amazing, or so Mrs Minshull says. And it is not only the river that is amazing, it is what has been done to it. The shopkeepers and hawkers have lost no time in transforming it into a street — Freezewater Street, they call it. They've set up stalls and booths, and are busy selling their wares. But that is not all. There are jugglers and acrobats to entertain people, and all manner of open-air coffee shops —”

“Coffee shops?” interrupted Rebecca, growing more and more surprised.

“Yes. People have to have something hot inside them to keep out the cold,” Hetty explained.

“But surely the ice isn't strong enough to hold tables and chairs, as well as stalls and booths and people?” asked Rebecca.

“It appears to be. Apparently, it is solid. And not only tables and chairs have been set out on it, but braziers, too. There are all manner of meats and pastries for sale, and roasted chestnuts. In fact, the chestnuts are particularly good, if Mrs Minshull is to be believed.”

“Mrs Minshull is fond of chestnuts?” asked Rebecca humorously, remembering that lady's impressive girth.

Hetty's eyes twinkled. “She is. But it is not just the stalls of food that sound so interesting, it is the host of things to do. There are skates to hire, and all kinds of other entertainments. I thought, if you liked, we could go.”

“I wouldn't miss it for the world,” said Rebecca, caught by Hetty's enthusiasm.

“Then it is settled. We will go this afternoon.”

After luncheon, wrapped up well against the cold, Rebecca, Hetty and Charles set out to visit Frost Fair. A few soft white snowflakes drifted out of the sky as they stepped into the carriage, but otherwise the day was fine. Once they were settled the carriage set off at a sedate pace. The roads were very slippery, and Charles had given his coachman instructions to take matters carefully, as he did not want to risk any injury to the horses.

London looked very different under its thick coating of snow and Rebecca barely recognised the streets. They looked strange compared to the last time she had seen them, in the summer. But it was the river that was the most startling sight. It had been completely transformed.

“It's breathtaking,” gasped Rebecca as she stepped out of the carriage once they reached the Thames. She marvelled at the change the bitterly cold weather had brought about. The river, which usually flowed merrily past, was now frozen solid. Up and down its length boats and ships could be seen, caught fast like flies in amber, trapped until the thaw.

“It is indeed,” came a voice behind her.

Turning round she saw Joshua.

She had not been prepared for his presence, as she had not known he intended to visit the fair. As he took her hand her heart missed a beat and her wayward imagination returned to their encounter in the morning-room at Lady Cranston's ball.

With difficulty she schooled her thoughts, bringing them determinedly back to the present.

“Joshua,” said Hetty, greeting him warmly. “What a nice surprise to find you here. Isn't it a marvellous sight?”

“It is,” he said. But instead of taking in his surroundings, his eyes lingered on Rebecca as he said it.

“I can't believe all these stalls and booths have been set up on the ice,” said Hetty as they began to walk across the frozen river, taking in the varied scene. “I know Mrs Minshull told me all about it, but still, seeing it all is very different to hearing about it. I have never seen anything quite like it.”

Rebecca was relieved at the normality of Hetty's conversation. It drew her thoughts back to the present, and away from the disturbing aura generated by Joshua. It was an aura of strength and ruthlessness, and something more. There seemed something particular about it today, and she was pleased she was not alone with him. If she had been, she would have been even less at ease. She had the unnerving feeling there was something he wanted to say to her, and although she had no idea what it could be she guessed, from the way he was looking at her, it was something that could not be said in front of Hetty and Charles.

Endeavouring to shake off the feeling she turned her thoughts away from Joshua and gave her attention to the scene that met her eyes. Everywhere she looked people seemed to be enjoying themselves. Some, like her own party, were people of fashion, out unusually early in order to savour the novel experience of the Fair. Others were people from less exalted walks of life: apprentices with their sweethearts, servants on their half-day holidays, and grubby urchins revelling in the noise and confusion of the scene.

And then there were those who were making their living from the Fair: the hawkers and the piemen who walked confidently across the ice with trays of pies on their heads, and a string of stray dogs following hopefully behind them! There were stilt walkers and fire eaters who roused the admiration of the onlookers with their amazing skills; and pedlars who sold ribbons and ballad sheets from trays hung round their necks.

The scents were no less varied. The food on offer filled the air with the smell of pies and cakes, chestnuts and gingerbread, roast meat and apples.

It was a wonderful occasion.

“My dear?” said Charles, offering Hetty his arm.

Hetty took his proffered arm with alacrity, and Rebecca realized with a sinking feeling that she was going to have to take Joshua's arm.

Sure enough he offered it to her, an unfathomable gleam in his eye.

Acrobats tumbled past them as they walked across the ice. Jugglers threw multi-coloured balls into the air and caught them again, displaying their skill.

Hetty and Charles stopped to watch the printing presses turning out the latest satirical prints, making fun of the coldness of the weather, and at last they all sat down at an open-air coffee house and had steaming hot drinks.

Fortified by the coffee, they risked eating slices of "Lapland Mutton" from a stall — “although it's no more from Lapland than I am!” laughed Charles — and followed it with steaming hot rolls.

She would have been enjoying it, Rebecca thought, if not for Joshua's unsettling presence. Because, despite the fact that his nearness should mean no more to her than the nearness of any other gentleman, it was playing havoc with her insides. It kept throwing up the memory of the previous evening, when he had taken her into his arms; and the unsettling realization that, as his mouth had hovered mere inches from hers, she had wanted to feel his kiss.

Having refreshed themselves they set off again and soon came upon a stall renting out skates.

“Oh, wonderful!” exclaimed Hetty. “It's ages since I've been skating. Do you skate, Joshua?” she asked him.

“I do.”

“Then you must skate with Rebecca,” said Hetty, “for I am not very good at it, and I will need Charles's arm to support me.”

“It will be my pleasure,” said Joshua with a purposeful look in his eye.

Before long, Rebecca had fastened on a pair of skates and was heading out to the centre of the ice on Josh's arm. He skated well, with long, powerful strokes. Once in a clear space he drew her towards him in one smooth gesture and put his arm around her waist. Then, taking her hand he set about guiding her across the ice.

The ice was as smooth and as slippery as glass. The sweeping boys had done their jobs well, plying their birch brooms to keep it free of slush and debris, and brushing it clean of the churned- up ice the skates left in their wakes.

Joshua glanced towards Hetty and Charles. He and Rebecca were still in sight of them, but they were now so far away that their conversation could not be overheard.

“Rebecca,” he said, breaking the silence that lay between them, “we have to talk.”

“Of course we do,” said Rebecca hastily. She did not know what he was going to say, but some instinct warned her not to let him say it, so pretending she thought he'd meant, “We can't skate round in silence,” she said conversationally, “Tell me Joshua, when will you be going to Manchester? Now that you have inherited half the mill, I am sure you will want to be attending to business.”

“Trying to get rid of me, Becky?” he asked, an amused twinkle in his eye.

“No, of course not,” she said uncomfortably.

“That's good,” he said. But then he became serious. “Rebecca, I was wrong to let you go last night. I shouldn't have let you return to the ballroom after our meeting in the morning-room until things had been settled between us.”

Rebecca felt her pulse begin to quicken. Until things had been settled between them? What did he mean?

Joshua was continuing. “I should have realized when it happened that we might have been seen together at The Nag's Head, and as soon as I met you again I should have taken the necessary steps to protect your reputation and keep you free of the interference of people like George Lacy. However, what's done is done. What matters now is not the past but the present. We must salvage the situation, and marry without delay.”

“We must. . . ?” gasped Rebecca. She had not known where Joshua's conversation was leading, but she had never expected this. In her astonishment she dug her toes instinctively into the ice and came to a swift halt, leaving Joshua to come to a sharp stop beside her.

“Marry,” said Joshua, turning to face her, his eyes boring into her own. “Without delay.”

“Have you run mad?” asked Rebecca. “We scarcely know each other, and yet —”

“I can assure you I have never been more sane.”

He spoke sharply, and she was surprised at the harshness of his tone. A moment's reflection, however, told her that he had expected her to fall in with his plans — although knowing her stubborn nature he should have been prepared for her to have her own opinion on the matter — and she realized that her reaction had shocked him.

“I have no more wish to be leg-shackled than you,” he went on, “but as I have compromised you we must marry as soon as the banns have been read.”

“You have run mad,” said Rebecca determinedly.

“You think we should have some pretence of a courtship?” he asked.

She gasped. How could he have so misunderstood her refusal to fall in with his plans, thinking she objected only to the speed at which they were to be carried out?

“Yes, you are right,” he said thoughtfully. “If we marry too quickly tongues will be sure to wag, and it's no use our marrying in order to scotch one kind of rumour if all we do is succeed in creating another. We will take our time, then, and have a three-month engagement period. That should be long enough to silence the gossips, and convince them you are not...”

“With child?” she demanded.

He gave a wicked smile. “I was going to say, enceinte,” he remarked.

“Which is simply society's word for the same condition,” she returned. “However, you misunderstand me entirely if you think I object to the length of the engagement. I object to the whole idea. I have no intention of marrying you, either with or without a pretence of courtship. I have seen you but three times before today, and yet you propose that I should spend the rest of my life with you. I would not —”

“Would not what?” he demanded, his eyes beginning to spark. “Save your reputation?”

“My reputation?” she demanded. “What, pray, makes you think it needs saving? No one saw us together that night save for George Lacy, and he will not say anything. I will certainly not tell anyone. Will you?” she challenged him.

“No, of course not,” he said angrily. “But the fact remains —”

“The fact remains that you must have taken leave of your senses. Marry you, indeed!”

“It seems a bad bargain to you?” he demanded, catching hold of her wrist.

Looking at him then, with his dark blond hair and burning eyes, his firm chin and square-cut jaw, his broad shoulders and muscular physique, she had the insane feeling that it might not be such a bad bargain after all.

But what was she thinking? Of course it would be a bad bargain. The whole idea was ridiculous! She barely knew him. And from her grandfather's tales about his exploits, she was sure he was not the husband for her, and it was something her own experiences had confirmed. Despite his powerful magnetism, he clearly did not see her as an equal, and she had no intention of marrying a man who saw her as his inferior.

“I see no point in continuing with this conversation,” she said, fighting down her anger and replying with as much coldness as she could muster. Then, turning away from him, she began to skate back towards Hetty and Charles. But he caught up with her with a powerful thrust of his firmly-muscled legs and took hold of her round the waist.

To the crowds who skated past them they looked to be skating along in perfect amity, but Rebecca was seething inside.

“Let go of me,” she said.

“No.”

“I demand —”

“We will return to Hetty and Charles together, as we left them,” he said between gritted teeth. “And we will inform them of our betrothal.”

“You cannot make me marry you,” she said, her voice just as determined as his. She dug in her toes, this time deliberately, until she had come to a stop. She had no intention of returning to Hetty and Charles until this ridiculous nonsense had been brought to an end. “If you choose to be so foolish as to tell Hetty and Charles that we are betrothed then I will be forced to tell them that we are not.”

Whereupon she skated off. And this time, though his face was thunderous, he let her go.

“Where is Josh?” asked Hetty, as Rebecca skated up to her.

“I... wanted to practise a little skating unaided,” said Rebecca. She did not like lying to Hetty, but she did not feel equal to explaining the true situation. “He is following me. Ah, here he is now.”

Joshua skated up.

“Well, this has been a most enjoyable afternoon,” said Charles, as the four of them returned their skates to the stall. “I think, though, if you're ready, it's time for us to leave.” He looked up at the sky. “The light was already fading. The short winter day was closing in, and before long it would be dark. You'll come back with us to Sloane Street, I hope, Josh? There are some business matters on which I would value your advice.”

Rebecca looked down at the ice, willing him to refuse. But then she heard him say, “I'd be delighted.”

Somehow, although she may have won the battle, Rebecca had the feeling she had not won the war. She may have refused him once, but she feared he would not allow the matter to rest. He had a stubborn streak, as she had already discovered. Well, if it came to that, so did she.

They left the frozen Thames and Charles tried to hail a hansom to take them back to Sloane Street: their own carriage had long since returned home, as it was too cold to keep the horses waiting. But there were few hansoms out and about that day. The weather made the going treacherous, and not all the cab drivers wanted to risk their horses in such conditions. The hansoms which were driving round the streets were therefore in demand, and in the end the party experienced such difficulty in trying to hail a cab they decided to walk back to Sloane Street. Their only proviso was that they would hail a cab if they saw one on the way.

Rebecca endeavoured to walk with Hetty and Charles, but Hetty had already claimed Charles's arm, and it was not possible for all four of them to walk abreast. There was no escape. She was forced to walk behind her aunt and uncle with Joshua. However, she meant to behave with such icy civility that he had no opportunity to raise the subject of marriage again.

She was fortunate, however, as Joshua seemed to have no more inclination to talk than she had, doubtless because she kept such a brisk pace that they kept close behind Hetty and Charles and there was no opportunity for a truly private conversation.

At length Hetty and Charles crossed the road. A carriage rolled past behind them, and Rebecca, stopping at the edge of the pavement, glanced to both right and left after it had gone to make sure that all was clear. Some way up the road to their right a solitary rider was heading towards them, but his pace was so slow and his distance from them so great that it seemed safe to cross. Together she and Joshua stepped into the road.

And then, in a matter of seconds, everything changed. The horse was suddenly careering towards them, slipping and sliding on the snow and ice, and bearing down upon them in the most alarming way. Rebecca looked up, and to her horror she saw that, instead of trying to slow the animal down, the rider seemed to be urging it on.

Surely he knows it isn't safe to push the animal to such speed when the road is so slippery? she thought, shocked, as the horse careered towards them.

The rider raised his whip.

It is not the animal's fault, she thought angrily, seeing the man was about to control the horse with cruelty... when she had the sudden, alarming feeling, that the whip was not aimed at the horse, but at Joshua. She turned towards him, but he was more concerned for her safety than his own and he pushed her unceremoniously out of the horse's path.

Which left him directly in front of it.

The rider brought down his whip —

“No!” cried Rebecca.

She watched, horrified, as the man's whip hand began to descend, but Joshua, stepping out of the horse's path, reached up to the rider and caught his wrist. There was a brief struggle, and then Joshua wrested the whip from the man's hand.

“What the devil do you think you're doing —?” he began.

But the rider, deprived of his whip, wheeled his horse around. It slipped all over the road before finally managing to find its footing, and the horseman rode away.

“What the hell was that all about?” said Joshua under his breath, eyes narrowing; before joining Rebecca on the far side of the road. Turning to her in concern he said, “Are you all right?”

Rebecca was trying to gather her wits. She could still hardly believe what had happened. The rider had seemed to be deliberately riding towards them and then deliberately aiming the whip at Joshua. But of course that was not possible. He must have been trying to control his horse and, having to wrestle with the slipping animal, had misjudged his aim. Even so it had given her quite a fright.

“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.