‘And now I will leave you,’ said Hetty. ‘Remember, lunch is in an hour.’
Hetty left the room and Rebecca went over to the washstand, where a jug of hot water was set next to a pretty porcelain bowl. As she washed her hands, she laughed to herself. She already knew some of the terms of her grandfather’s will - “I’m going to set the cat amongst the pigeons, Becky, lass,” he’d said with a twinkle in his eye, as he’d told her about them – and she knew what a fuss they were going to cause!
Chapter Two
After partaking of an excellent luncheon, Rebecca changed out of her carriage dress and into a rose-coloured kerseymere gown, in preparation for her visit to the lawyer’s office. The cheerful colour, worn so soon after her grandfather’s death, would have been shocking to the ton, but Rebecca did not care a jot. Her grandfather had never cared for custom, and he had decreed there should be no period of mourning for him. "Tomfoolery for jackanapes!" he’d called it, betraying his lack of Society roots. "I’ve no time for people rigging themselves out like crows every time someone turns up their toes. You wear something cheerful, lass, that’s how I like to see you."
She smiled as she thought of it. She missed him. But consoling herself with the fact that he’d had a long and happy life, she recalled her thoughts to the present.
Regarding herself in the cheval glass to check that she was tidy she adjusted the fine woollen folds of her gown. They draped themselves elegantly around her shoulders before falling from soft gathers beneath her breast into a long, slender skirt. She smoothed the long sleeves and tweaked the lace at the bodice and cuffs, and then sat down in front of the dressing-table so that Susan could arrange her hair. The maid brushed her ebony locks before pulling them into a neat and glossy chignon and then teasing out a row of ringlets round her face.
Well, she was ready.
‘My dear, you look lovely,’ said Hetty as she reached the bottom of the stairs. ‘Now, we had better go. We will be meeting Charles at the lawyer’s office. He is longing to see you again.’
‘As I am longing to see him.’
The two ladies fastened their cloaks, settled their bonnets on their heads and pulled on their gloves.
‘This snow!’ exclaimed Hetty as they went out of the house. ‘It looks lovely, but it does make things difficult.’ She turned to the coachman, resplendent in his livery, who was sitting on the box. ‘You will go carefully, won’t you?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Mr Marsden is very concerned about his horses.’
The coachman assured her that he would take care and the two ladies stepped into the carriage.
‘It’s just such a pity Joshua could not be here,’ said Hetty as the carriage pulled away. ‘Charles wrote to him as soon as Jebadiah died, but he has had no reply.’
Joshua Kelling was Jebadiah’s godson. Rebecca had never met him, for they lived in different parts of the country, but her grandfather had spoken highly of him and she knew just what he must be like: a bookish, bespectacled man – “a good business head, he has; clever with figures”, her grandfather had always said. And something of a dandy - "Fascinated by him, the women are!" Jebadiah had crowed. “And he’s just as fascinated by them!”
Rebecca smiled at the thought of this bright, clever man, who was polished in his address, adept at making himself agreeable, and dressed in the latest style. She would very much like to meet him! But she would have to wait, because at the moment he was abroad on business.
She was brought out of her thoughts by the carriage rolling to a halt.
‘Are we there already?’ asked Rebecca.
She was surprised at the shortness of the journey.
‘Yes,’ said Hetty, climbing out of the carriage. ‘We’re here.’
Rebecca looked up at the lawyer’s office building. It was decent and respectable; prosperous, even. Mr Wesley was evidently good at his job.
The two ladies were admitted to the building by a clerk.
‘If you would care to follow me?’ he said, with a low bow.
He was really rather an oily youth, with a manner that was an unpleasant mixture of servility and arrogance, and Rebecca could see why her grandfather had not liked lawyer’s offices. But fortunately the lawyer himself was of a different stamp, and with him was her uncle Charles.
Charles Marsden was a distinguished-looking gentleman. A light smattering of grey marked his hair at the temples. His figure was, perhaps, running a little to fat, but he still cut a fine figure in his tailcoat and breeches.
‘I’m so pleased you’ve arrived,’ he said. ‘Hetty was worried when you didn’t get here last night, but I knew you would find the journey difficult in all this snow.’
‘It was,’ Rebecca acknowledged. ‘I will tell you all about it later.’
He nodded. Now was not the time for conversation. Now was the time for attending to business.
Rebecca turned her attention to the lawyer. He was a small man with sparse hair and thin hands. He was dressed conservatively in a dark coat and knee breeches. On the end of his nose he wore a pair of pince-nez.
‘Now we are all gathered together, please, take a seat,’ he said.
He spoke in a dry, desiccated voice that matched his appearance perfectly.
Rebecca divested herself of her bonnet and cloak, then settled herself on a Hepplewhite chair. Hetty and Charles, similarly shedding their outdoor clothes, seated themselves on an ugly but comfortable sofa.
‘Mr Kelling will be joining us?’ asked Mr Wesley.
‘Unfortunately not,’ said Charles. ‘He is at present abroad. I wrote to him, telling him of Jebadiah’s death, but the letter must not have reached him. I have received no reply.’
‘My own efforts to contact him have met with a similar lack of success. Well, as he cannot be with us, I suggest we get down to business.’
‘Indeed,’ said Charles.
‘Good. Then if you are all quite ready, I will begin.’
Rebecca settled herself more comfortably then turned with interest to the lawyer.
Mr Wesley cleared his throat then picked up an important-looking document that was placed in front of him. He shuffled it between his hands. In precise, dry tones he began to read.
‘"This is the last will and testament of Jebadiah Marsden",’ he said. His voice took on a declaiming quality. ‘"To my only living son, Charles Marsden, I leave - "’
At that moment there was a commotion from out in the hall, and the sound of the unctuous clerk saying, ‘You can’t go in,’ before the door was flung open, and there, on the threshold, was . . . the leonine gentleman!
He was looking even more impressive than Rebecca remembered him. His mane of dark blond hair was gleaming in a shaft of sunlight. His jaw line, devoid of the stubble that had adorned it the previous evening, was revealed in all its strength. The planes of his cheekbones, now that his hair had been brushed back from his face, were even sharper than she had remembered them, and his lips were full and firm. His clothes were immaculate. Beneath his many-caped greatcoat Rebecca glimpsed a blue tailcoat and cream breeches, pulled tight across his powerful thighs, and beneath them a pair of highly polished black boots.
But what is he doing here? thought Rebecca.
Her question was quickly answered. Charles, starting up, said warmly, ‘Joshua!’
Joshua? thought Rebecca in astonishment.
This was Joshua?
No. It couldn’t be.
He was the complete opposite of the picture she had built up in her mind. Where was the dandy she had imagined? True, his clothes were in the height of fashion, but he wore them with an air of wildness that spoke of plains and prairies rather than drawing-rooms. And as for being able to make himself agreeable . . . !
‘Joshua!’ cried Hetty with pleasure. ‘We had given up all hope! How wonderful to see you again.’
Rebecca felt distinctly uncomfortable, wondering what he would say when he turned his head and saw her. If he mentioned the incident, she couldn’t bear to think of Het
ty’s horrified response!
‘And now you must meet Jebadiah’s granddaughter,’ said Charles jovially. ‘Miss Foster, this is Mr Kelling.’
Joshua turned towards her, and a humorous light brightened his copper-coloured eyes.
‘Oh, Charles, for heaven’s sake!’ Hetty threw up her hands in despair. ‘There will be no standing on ceremony between Jebadiah’s loved ones.’ She took the introductions into her own hands. ‘Joshua, this is Rebecca, and Rebecca, this is Joshua.’
Joshua took her hand, and to her annoyance Rebecca felt herself flush. But she need not have worried. Although the gleam did not leave his eye, he behaved in exemplary fashion, bowing politely over her hand. For a moment she thought he was going to kiss it . . . and gave a sigh of relief when he did not. She had the uneasy feeling that the feel of his lips on the back of her hand would have been intoxicating, and she did not want to find herself attracted to this impossible man.
As he relinquished her hand she felt her pulse begin to steady and was able to reply coolly. ‘Joshua.’ She inclined her head.
Fortunately, neither Hetty nor Charles had noticed the strained nature of their greeting, but she still could not be comfortable as she again took her seat. She had no idea whether Joshua would reveal they had met, or whether he would reveal the details of their meeting.
‘I will begin again,’ said Mr Wesley, once Joshua had shrugged himself out of his greatcoat, and they had all settled. He turned to Joshua. ‘I had just begun to read Jebadiah Marsden’s will,’ he explained.
Joshua nodded. ‘Charles wrote and told me of Jebadiah’s death.’ His face became more serious, and Rebecca realized that for all his untamed appearance he was capable of strong attachments, for it was obvious he had loved her grandfather deeply. ‘I would have been here sooner but the letter was delayed and my own journey home was hampered by a bad crossing and then all this snow.’
‘Quite.’ Mr Wesley picked up the will once more. ‘"This is the last will and testament of Jebadiah Marsden",’ he began again. ‘"To my only living son, Charles Marsden, I leave the bulk of my estate."‘
Charles, who had been perched on the edge of the sofa, let out a sigh of relief, and Hetty smiled happily.
Rebecca, too, was pleased. She was beginning to feel a little more comfortable. Joshua had settled himself at the other side of the room, and she was able to think clearly again.
Mr Wesley went on to give details of Charles’s inheritance: a number of London properties, a variety of stocks and bonds, as well as assorted bank balances and a collection of lesser items. Then he continued. ‘There are also a number of smaller legacies, as I expect you anticipated.’ He cleared his throat again and went on.
‘"To Miss Louisa Stanhope, I leave the sum of five thousand pounds." ‘
Louisa was Rebecca’s middle-aged cousin. The two of them lived together in Cheshire but Louisa had been prevented from travelling to London by her rheumatism.
Five thousand pounds was a generous sum. It would enable Cousin Louisa to indulge in a number of the luxuries she presently deprived herself of. Perhaps she could even visit Bath or Harrogate to take the waters.
Rebecca turned her attention back to Mr Wesley.
‘"To my godson, Joshua Kelling",’ he went on, ‘"I leave my signet ring —"‘
Rebecca nodded thoughtfully. It seemed fitting, as well as practical, that Joshua should inherit her grandfather’s ring, which was embossed with the letter "J".
‘" - together with a half share in Marsden mill".’
Rebecca glanced at Joshua. As she took in the ruthless line of his jaw she set her chin. This was an unforeseen complication: not that Joshua was to inherit half of the mill, as her grandfather had always told her that that would happen, but that Joshua was a strong and powerful man, instead of the malleable dandy she had hoped he would be.
The question now was, although she had known that Joshua was to inherit half of the mill, had he known that she was to inherit the other half?
She felt her spirit rise up inside her. She would soon find out.
‘"To my beloved granddaughter, Rebecca,"‘ went on Mr Wesley, ‘I leave my fob watch, in memory of the pleasure she gave me when she was learning to tell the time . . . and a half share in Marsden mill." ‘
She saw Hetty and Charles turn towards her in surprise, but it was Joshua’s face that most interested her. As her eyes were drawn to his she saw his brows shoot up in surprise, before a ruthless smile curved his lip. He turned towards her and she shivered as she felt the full force of his personality being brought to bear on her. His eyes looked deep into her own, and she saw them gleam, predatory, in the winter sunlight. But if he was challenging her, then so be it, she thought. He would not find her wanting.
At the sight of her straightening her spine, an appreciative quirk touched the corner of his mouth, then he turned his attention back to Mr Wesley.
There were a few further legacies and bequests, then Mr Wesley folded the document and put it down on the table.
‘That concludes the reading of the will. Are there any questions?’
He looked from one to the other of them.
None were forthcoming.
Charles stood up. ‘Thank you, Wesley,’ he said. ‘It was good of you to take the time to see us. But now I believe we must keep you no longer. If I could trouble you to have your clerk hail us a hansom? It was too cold for our carriage to wait.’
‘At once.’ Mr Wesley summoned his clerk, and sent the oily youth to perform the task.
‘You’ll return with us, I hope, and join us for dinner, Joshua?’ asked Hetty, turning with a smile towards him. ‘It has been such a long time since we have seen you. We are longing for you to tell us all about your trip.’
Joshua smiled down at Hetty. To her surprise, Rebecca saw that it was a warm smile, untinged with mockery or wickedness as it was when he smiled at her. It warmed his eyes, making them glow tawny.
‘I’d like to, but unfortunately I have one or two urgent matters to attend to.’
Rebecca breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Then you will at least join us for tea?’ Hetty pressed him.
Rebecca held her breath.
By accident, he caught sight of her and a provoking smile curved his mouth. ‘Thank you. I’d be delighted.’
Rebecca fumed. He had done it on purpose, she was sure of it. It seemed he meant to make her uncomfortable for the rest of the afternoon!
‘Good,’ said Hetty delightedly.
Whilst they waited for a hansom, Charles and Hetty fell into an animated conversation about their good fortune. Not wishing to intrude upon them, Rebecca withdrew to the far side of the room.
To her discomfiture, Joshua followed her. ‘I take it you have no objection to me joining you for tea?’ he said, with a quirk at the corner of his mouth.
Rebecca fought down the urge to rise to his bait, and replied coolly, ‘Of course not. What possible objection could I have?’
He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘We didn’t part on the best of terms, and I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable. If you are worried that I will mention the incident, you may rest easy. It reflects well on neither of us.’
‘Nothing you could do would be important enough to make me uncomfortable,’ returned Rebecca aloofly.
‘No?’ His eyes were mocking.
‘No,’ she said with spirit.
‘I am glad to hear it.’
The atmosphere grew suddenly thick, and she was uncomfortably aware of a tingling sensation running down her spine. He was a formidable man, and she was beginning to see why her grandfather had said he was such a strong player in business matters. It was not because he had a head for figures - although he was undoubtedly intelligent - but because he had a ruthless streak that would serve him well in the cut and thrust of commerce. It was in his eyes, a ruthlessness that was akin to a jungle cat regarding its prey; because despite his civilised veneer there was definitely something predator
y about Joshua Kelling.
And he was to be her partner in the mill.
She felt a brief moment of panic, before her spirit rose to the challenge. Here was a man against whom she could test her mettle, and that was something she did not meet with every day.
‘Wondering how strong I am, Rebecca?’ he asked, as if reading her mind.
‘I — ‘ she said, startled. ‘How did you know what I was thinking?’ she asked accusingly.
He laughed. ‘Jebadiah used to wonder the same thing. We had many battles. Most of which I won. But not all.’ He looked at her critically. ‘You are very like him. When we met in The Queen’s Head I wondered who you reminded me of, and now I know. When you lift your chin - yes, like that!’ he said, as she unconsciously lifted it, sensing a challenge, ‘then you are just like Jebadiah. Not physically, of course,’ he said with a wicked smile. ‘But there is something about your manner, as if you are saying, Do your worst, it won’t be enough, no man will ever get the better of me.’ His smile broadened into sardonic laughter. ‘With his blood in your veins it’s no wonder you were capable of standing up to me. What is a wonder is that you didn’t turn me out of the room!’
Again, that humour in his eyes. In other circumstances she would have found it appealing, but Joshua was a strong adversary and she knew she must give him no quarter. So instead of laughing, she said with deceptive mildness, ‘You find it amusing that I was forced to spend the night in the attic with my maid?’
He shrugged.
‘No. I don’t. If I’d known who you were I’d have let you have the room. But as matters stood —’
‘As matters stood?’ she asked with a lift of her eyebrows.
Wishing a moment later that she hadn’t. Because his face lit up with another smile. He was clearly recalling that, as matters stood, he had asked her to share his bed!
Fortunately, at that moment the unctuous clerk returned.
‘I have secured you a hansom,’ he said ingratiatingly, bowing to Charles and Joshua in turn before smirking at the ladies.
‘Thank you,’ said Charles briefly.
One Snowy Night Page 2