Rebecca's Refusal (15 page)

'Perfectly sure,' said Rebecca reassuringly.

Feeling Joshua's eyes on her she turned just in time to see a hint of warmth in his eyes before he turned away again: he, too, had known how little Louisa would like a visit to the mill, and was pleased Rebecca had spared her the ordeal.

But the warmth was quickly quelled, and later that night, as she readied herself for bed,
Rebecca found herself wondering whether it had really been there, or whether she had imagined it.

* * * *

Miss Serena Quentin's beautiful face wore a scowl as she sat before her dressing table whilst her maid unpinned her hair. The evening had not been a success. Bored of the young men who habitually frequented Manchester's social gatherings she had turned her attention to the harshly attractive Joshua Kelling, only to have him dismiss her as casually as if she had been an elderly dowager, instead of worshipping her as the beautiful and alluring young woman she was. It was bad enough that he had walked away from her - Serena walked away from gentlemen; they never walked away from her - but the fact that he had been seen doing so by Miss Lavinia Madely had made it a hundred times worse.

Serena's scowl deepened as she thought of Lavinia Madely, her only serious challenger for the position of Manchester's greatest beauty. The two had been rivals ever since they had come out.

Lavinia's flaxen hair contrasted with the beauty of Serena's guinea-gold curls. Each had their own court of admirers, but Mr Kelling did not seem to want to belong to either set.

"You're losing your touch," Lavinia had smirked when Joshua had walked away from her.

To which she had replied, seriously angry, "I can soon bring him to heel."

Lavinia had lifted one beautifully arched eyebrow. "A wager?" she had asked. "To make it more interesting. Ten guineas declares you cannot bring him to propose."

Fired up by Lavinia's taunting, Serena had accepted. And she had done it with style! "Ten guineas?" she had asked disdainfully. "It's hardly worth my while. Let's make it twenty."

On which sum they had agreed.

Twenty guineas if Mr Kelling proposed.

And humiliation if he did not.

It would have been a rash wager, even for Serena, if not for one thing.

Dismissing her maid she crossed to her escritoire and took out a folder in which she kept her correspondence. Her female correspondence, that was. Her letters from gentlemen were kept in quite a separate place. But her innocent letters, from relatives and the like, were kept in plain view. She took out a recent missive from her cousin and, climbing into bed, read it through again.

The letter had been sent from London, where her cousin Sarah was staying with an aunt. Serena, too, had been invited, but she did not like London out of Season, and so she had refused. But Sarah's letter had made interesting reading. Especially the bit about Lady Cranston's ball.

Serena found the right page and read it through.

Youll never guess who I saw last night, at Lady Cranston's' ball. Mr Kelling! Though what he is doing in London I don't know. I thought he was still in Manchester, running Marsden mill. He is looking more devilishly handsome than ever. But that is not what I want to tell you. Miss Fossington is here too! And what do you think? I just happened to be passing the door of the morning-room, quite by chance -

Sneaked out of the ballroom after Mr Kelling, and put her ear to the keyhole more likely, thought Serena spitefully - -and what do you think I heard? A conversation, revealing Mr Kelling had compromised Miss Fossington! I didn't hear all the details, for some clumsy person knocked over a chair and the sound disturbed them -

Really, Sarah, you must be more careful when you are eavesdropping, thought Serena with contempt, realizing at once what must have happened -
but that is not the end of it, for I happened to see them together at Frost Fair the following day, and as I was skating past -

Sarah is becoming an accomplished spy, thought Serena -

I accidentally overheard Mr Kelling proposing to her in order to save her reputation. But what do you think? Miss Fossington refused him!

Serena scanned the letter again and then folded it thoughtfully, putting it back in her satin folder.

It was this letter which had decided her not only to accept Lavinia's wager, but to double it, for it told her that Joshua Kelling, for all his wild appearance, was in fact a gentleman, and that he would, if he could be manoeuvred into compromising her, propose. That being so she would win her wager and give Lavinia Madely the biggest set-down of her life.

Whether she would actually marry Mr Kelling once she had trapped him into proposing to her Serena did not know. Something about his wildness alarmed her, and she had a feeling that, although she might be able to force him to offer her his hand, she would not be able to control him if they wed.

Still, she did not have to many him. All she had to do was get him to propose. After that her wager would be won and the betrothal could be broken off at any time.

Putting her letter folder back in her escritoire she climbed back into bed, and with her head full of plans for trapping Mr Kelling she finally fell asleep.

Chapter Seven

'Oh, what an enjoyable evening we had yesterday,' said Louisa the following morning over the breakfast table. 1 don't remember the last time I enjoyed myself so much.'

You looked to be getting on famously with Mr Sidders,' said Rebecca with a smile.

'Do you know, seeing him again took me right back to my girlhood? For of course I saw quite a lot of him as Emily and I were friends. I had forgotten just what good company he could be. I have been thinking, Rebecca, that we must host an entertainment of our own. Nothing so grand as a soiree, but a small supper party, or perhaps an evening of cards. It will not do for us to go about like this and offer nothing in return.'

Rebecca sipped her hot chocolate thoughtfully. Yes, I agree.'

Not only would a small entertainment enable them to repay their friends' hospitality, but making plans would help to take her mind off Joshua, for despite her best intentions she had dreamt of
him again last night. Which did not bode well for Friday, and her visit to the mill. . .

* * * *

It was with mixed feelings that Rebecca prepared to set out for Marsden mill. Although a part of her was looking forward to learning about her inheritance another part of her was apprehensive about spending the afternoon with Joshua. His attitude towards her had been distant since leaving London, but there had been moments when she had been uncomfortably aware that he remembered their tense encounters just as clearly as she did. What was more, she had to admit that she missed them, as she missed the fire of his presence and the way he made her feel inside.

However, a cool manner would be much more appropriate this afternoon, and Rebecca determined to be business-like about the mill.

You will not be lonely whilst I am gone?' she asked Louisa as she put on her bonnet.

‘H
o, my dear,' said Louisa. To tell you the truth, I will be pleased to have a day of rest. I have enjoyed our expeditions and our shopping trips, but I am not as young as I was and my joints still trouble me from time to time. Besi
des,' Louisa added casually, ‘M
r Sidders may, perhaps, look in.'

'Edward?' asked Rebecca, not noticing that Louisa's air of indifference was studied.

Yes.' Louisa coloured slightly. He has business near here, and he said he might call if he is passing.'

The very thing,' said Rebecca. He will keep you amused whilst I am out without overtaxing your strength.'

The door opened and Betsy came in. The carriage is here, Miss Rebecca,' she said.

Thank you, Betsy,' said Rebecca.

She donned her pelisse, a simple brown kerseymere which she felt would be suitable for the business-like nature of her visit to the mill. Then, taking her place in the carriage with Betsy beside her, she set off.

To begin with the carriage rolled past the grand houses that had been built in recent years for the mill owners whose fortunes had been made in the city, but as it approached the canal, on whose banks the mill was built, the scene began to change. Run-down buildings sprawled behind the splendid houses of the rich. They were dirty, grimy dwellings, and an unpleasant smell filled the air. Betsy wrinkled her nose, and Rebecca did likewise, but even as she did it she felt a growing determination to make sure that the people who worked for Marsden mill were never subjected to the inhuman conditions of workers in other mills.

Feeling glad she had decided to take an active interest in her inheritance she stepped out of the carriage when it finally came to a halt beside the gates of the mill. There, right next to it, was the Bridgewater Canal, which linked Manchester to Liverpool. Rebecca remembered her grandfather's pride as he had told her about his choice of site for the mill. "Right next to the canal, Becky," he'd said. "That way we can get all the coal we need quickly and cheaply, and the raw materials, too!"

Rebecca looked at the canal with i
nterest. She saw the sense of set
ting the mill next to the canal, and thought with pride of her grandfather's abilities, which had allowed him to take advantage of the new era in manufacturing and rise from being the poor son of a cobbler to being a wealthy and well-respected man .

Then she looked up at the mill itself. It was a large building, and her grandfather had been very proud of its four storeys. Rebecca had to admit she found it ugly but she, too, felt a sense of pride in it, as it was one of her beloved grandfather's greatest achievements. As she looked at the large
letters that spelled out the name, MARSDEN MILL, she felt she was a little closer to her grandfather, and she felt a quickening of her interest as to what lay inside.

She was just about to go through the gates when she saw Joshua walking across the mill yard towards her. He seemed very much in charge there, as though he had been the owner of the mill since its beginning instead of for only a few weeks. But then he had been actively involved in the mill during her grandfather's lifetime.

Well, Rebecca,' he said, after
greeting both her and Betsy, ‘W
hat do you think of your inheritance?'

It's much bigger than I expected it to be.' They went through the gates, which were closed behind them by the gatekeeper.

'And uglier?' he asked, lifting one eyebrow.

She laughed. It was no use trying to keep anything from Joshua. Despite their differences he seemed to have an innate understanding of her, and of the way she thought.

'And uglier. But I am still proud of it, and I am looking forward to seeing inside.'

You should prepare yourself. Cotton mills are hot and noisy places. Come and have a look round.'

She was pleased to find that his manner was welcoming, and she felt on safe ground, knowing that for this afternoon at least they could converse easily on the neutral topic of the mill.

They went into the large building, with Betsy following behind.

This is the first stage of what goes on here,' said Joshua. He took Rebecca into a long, low room and encouraged her to look round. The bales of cotton have to be opened and the impurities removed, ready for carding. Not long ago, it used to be done by hand. The cotton had to be spread out on a mesh and beaten with long sticks to remove the impurities. I can still remember watching the men and women doing it. But now we use a scutcher.'

What on earth is a scutcher?' asked Rebecca.

That,' said Joshua, pointing to a large machine, Is a scutcher.'

The machine looked fearsome to Rebecca. As she watched, she saw how it worked. Men loaded the raw cotton into a spiked drum; the drum spun around very quickly; and a fan blew away the dust and the dirt, the twigs and the impurities, leaving the cotton very clean.

This is one of the machines the Luddites complain about?' she asked.

They are usually more interested in breaking looms,' said Joshua, 'but in general they are against any kind of machinery that does the job of a man. I can see their point. But the scutcher does the job of purifying the cotton more quickly and more efficiently than a person, and besides, the job itself is dull, tedious and unpleasant.'

‘Bu
t still, it is a job, and it would pay a salary and allow someone to earn their living,' Rebecca remarked.

'As you say, it would pay a salary and allow someone to earn their living,' said Joshua. 'Although, don't forget, people are still needed to load the machine. Still, there are no easy answers to the problems facing the mills and the workers at the moment. But machinery is the future, Rebecca, and we must go forward if we want to survive.'

What happens to the cotton next?' Rebecca asked, as they moved on from the scutcher.

'Next it's carded, and then turned into a single thread.'

'Mercy me!' said Betsy, as she followed Rebecca and Joshua into an enormously long, low room full of more machinery. 'All this, just to make a bit of cotton material to sew a dress!'

Joshua laughed. 'By the time you buy your fabric at the drapers it's been through any number of different processes,' he agreed.