‘It doesn’t look much like a betrothal ring,’ put in Miss Lavinia Madely spitefully. Her mouth was pursed and she looked severely displeased.
‘Of course not,’ said Miss Quentin, her air of triumph unshaken. ‘That will come later. Diamonds, I think, or possibly emeralds, to match my "heavenly green eyes" - for that is what Mr Kelling calls them,’ she said. ‘But he wanted to give me something to be going on with, and what better than his beloved signet ring? I do declare, it seems like only yesterday he was forbidding me to take it from his finger, and saying that only his future wife would be permitted to do such a thing. And now I am his future wife, and I am wearing his ring!’ She looked at Rebecca archly. ‘Well, Miss Foster? Are you not going to congratulate me?’
‘Of . . . of course,’ said Rebecca. She had to acknowledge the meaning of the ring, but her mind cried out against it. Joshua? Betrothed to Miss Quentin? It couldn’t be.
And yet, why not? Miss Quentin was extremely handsome. Joshua had often been in her company. They were both ruthless. Why should he not have offered her his hand?
Because she had thought . . .
But she had been mistaken, she told herself harshly.
She had hoped he was in love with her - hoped he had been about to offer her his hand - but the hope had proved false.
There was a rushing sound in her ears, and she felt tears stinging the back of her eyes. ‘If you will excuse me,’ she said, ‘I need to instruct the butler.’
And drawing herself up to her full height she continued on her way with her head held high.
Once out of sight of the two young ladies, however, her shoulders slumped as she took in the full enormity of the situation. Joshua was betrothed to Miss Quentin. She would not have believed it possible. And yet Miss Quentin had been wearing his ring.
Her head was throbbing; her heart aching; and she wanted nothing more than to retire to her room, to lay down on her bed, and to shut out the nightmare. But it could not be. She could not retire. She and Louisa had a house full of guests, and she must see to their needs, entertain them with light-hearted conversation, and appear to be cheerful and perfectly at ease.
Her heart shrivelled at the thought of it, but it could not be helped. Louisa had been looking forward to the card party since it had first been decided upon, and Rebecca did not want to spoil the evening for her, particularly as Louisa was so radiant. No. She must put on a bright smile and behave as though nothing was wrong.
The one comfort was that Joshua had not attended the party, and Rebecca fervently hoped that he would not now arrive. To congratulate him on his betrothal would be more than she could bear. If fortune favoured her his business would keep him away from the party, and it would not be long then before she returned to Cheshire. Once there she would have no call to see him - she could simply declare that she had seen all she needed to at the mill and that she had decided to conduct her future business with Joshua by post. And then she would be able to recover in the safety and seclusion of her country house.
Or at least, she would be able to try. For she could not conceal from herself that it would be impossible to recover from such a blow. On the outside, perhaps. But on the inside? Never.
She shook her head in an effort to drive away such hopeless thoughts. Allowing herself a few minutes in an ante-room to collect herself, she went on to instruct the butler before returning to the sitting-room, where the card tables were in full swing.
‘Ah! There you are,’ beamed Louisa. Then her smile faded and she said in concern, ‘My dear. What is it? Are you ill? You don’t look quite the thing.’
‘It’s nothing,’ said Rebecca. She tried to speak reassuringly, but her voice came out shakily.
‘It is the excitement,’ said Louisa in concern. ‘All these parties are delightful, but they are tiring nonetheless.’
Rebecca did not correct Louisa. That worthy lady would discover the reason for her unhappiness soon enough, but until that time she did not want to cause Louisa distress. Nor, she was forced to admit, did she want to cause herself distress. For if Louisa knew that Joshua was betrothed to Miss Quentin, she would undoubtedly offer sympathy, and that was something Rebecca could not bear.
‘The one disappointment is that Joshua is not here,’ went on Louisa. ‘Still, I expect - oh, but I was wrong. Here is Joshua now.’
Rebecca felt her heart give a lurch and felt a flush spreading over her cheeks. She turned away in confusion, knowing she was not equal to seeing him, to greeting him. So, making an excuse she crossed the card room with as much unconcern as she could muster and went out of the door at the far end.
Her escape, however, was short lived, for no sooner had she closed the door behind her than it opened again, and Joshua came through.
Why did he have to look so devastatingly attractive? thought Rebecca in an agony of feeling. And why did he have to look at her in that intimate way, with his eyes dancing and his mouth curving into a tantalizing smile? Why could he not have looked at her remotely? Why could he not have been austere? But that had never been Joshua’s way. And it was not his way now, not even when he was betrothed to Miss Quentin.
‘Running away from me, Rebecca?’ he asked teasingly, catching hold of her hands and turning her to face him.
‘No. Of course not,’ she said brightly; nevertheless reclaiming her hands and putting them resolutely down at her side. To have Joshua touching her was too painful, now that she knew he was betrothed to someone else.
She had hoped to avoid speaking to him about his betrothal, knowing how painful she would find it. But the terrible tension that had gripped her since Joshua had walked into the card room must have some release, and she realized it could only be accomplished by congratulating him.
How she could bring herself to do it she did not know, but she knew that if she did not speak the tension would become unbearable. She must do what had to be done; get it over with; so that she could put it behind her, instead of having it looming endlessly in front of her.
‘I am glad you are here,’ she began. She stopped, clenching her hands into fists at her sides, curling them so tightly that her nails bit into her palms. ‘I want to be the first to congratulate you.’
He looked surprised. ‘Congratulate me?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ She smiled, hoping the smile did not look as brittle as it felt. It had cost her an enormous effort, and she prayed that the effort had not been in vain. ‘On your betrothal.’
‘My betrothal?’ He sounded even more surprised.
‘To Miss Quentin,’ said Rebecca.
There. The words were out. She had said them.
But far from releasing the tension that had built up inside her, they seemed to make it worse.
To her surprise, Joshua did not thank her for her kind words. Instead his face darkened, and she realized he was angry.
But of course. Miss Quentin had said she was not meant to speak of the betrothal. Joshua, presumably, had wanted to tell her of it himself.
‘Don’t be angry with her,’ she said. ‘I know she was not meant to speak of it yet, but she was so overjoyed she could not help herself.’
Rebecca felt her courage sinking rapidly, and her legs felt as though they wanted to fold under her. But she refused to give way. Summoning her pride and dignity to her aid, she said, ‘I am delighted for you.’
As she spoke the words she felt as though a part of her was dying.
But she must concentrate. Joshua was speaking. And yet they were not the words she had expected to hear.
‘I am betrothed to Miss Quentin, and you are delighted?’ he asked, his eyes searching her face.
His voice was surprisingly hollow, and on his face she saw what seemed to be a look of devastation. But of course it could not be that. She must be misreading him. After all, it would not be the first time she had done so. She had thought he was in love with her, and she had been wrong then. She must be wrong about this as well.
She made a supreme effort. �
��Yes,’ she said with her brightest smile. ‘I am.’
What looked like a wave of utter desolation swept over his face, and for one moment she wondered if there had been a ghastly mistake.
But no. How could there have been? If there had been a mistake he would have told her so. He would have said, You are wrong. I am not betrothed to Miss Quentin. It’s you I love, Becky. But he said nothing of the kind.
His voice, when at last he spoke, was unemotional to the point of deadness. ‘In that case, there is no more to be said.’
And turning on his heel he went back into the card room, closing the door behind him.
All the tension that had held Rebecca rigidly upright throughout the encounter suddenly flooded out of her, and her legs folded beneath her. She could do nothing about it and, worn out by her struggles, she collapsed into a Hepplewhite chair.
She was completely drained. Congratulating Joshua had taken her last ounce of strength and her last grain of courage. Still, she consoled herself, it was over. The worst was behind her. She had managed to congratulate Joshua on his betrothal. She would not need to do so again.
She sat there for some minutes before realizing she must stir herself. She should go back into the card room and attend to her guests.
With difficulty she roused herself. Standing up, she smoothed her skirt, lifted her chin, and pinched her cheeks to put a little colour into them. Then she returned to her guests. As she passed between the tables at the card party, smiling and talking, no one would have guessed from her manner that she was concealing a great hurt. But it was there inside her, making every word an effort and every smile a source of the most unbearable pain.
Joshua strode back through the card room neither seeing nor hearing anything that was going on around him. All he could see, in his mind’s eye, was Rebecca’s smile when she had congratulated him on his betrothal to Miss Quentin.
Miss Quentin, of all people! That hard, spoilt, calculating monster! He would not have married Miss Quentin if she had been the last woman on earth. How could Rebecca have believed it? Did she not know that he was in love with her? Obviously not. And equally obviously she did not care.
He had got it all wrong, he thought, as he ran his hand through his mane of dark blond hair, almost consumed by despair. He had thought her feelings for him had changed. He had thought she had come to love him as much as he had come to love her. There had been something in her expression the night before, when together they had overcome Mr Willingham, that had made his heart soar. But it had been nothing, he saw that now. Nothing but his own wishful thinking, ascribing to her feelings she did not possess.
‘Joshua!’
Louisa’s voice roused him from his reverie.
‘Why, what is it?’ she asked in horror as he turned to look at her. ‘You look terrible. Is something wrong at the mill?’
Catching sight of himself in a looking-glass he realized at once why Louisa was concerned. His eyes were wild, and there was a look of utter desolation on his face.
He made an effort to restore his features to normal. With limited success. ‘It is nothing,’ he said. ‘Just a small problem that has cropped up.’ Which, whilst not truthful, at least reassured Louisa and removed the worried look from her face.
‘You work too hard,’ she said. ‘But at least you can enjoy yourself this evening. Rebecca will be back before long - she has just gone to see to the refreshments.’
Joshua made a polite rejoinder and to his relief Louisa moved on to her other guests. He did not feel equal to her well-meant conversation about Rebecca tonight.
But there was one thing he did feel equal to. It was obvious Miss Quentin had been spreading rumours about a supposed betrothal, and he meant to put a stop to them before they did any more harm.
It did not take him long to find her. She was preening herself before one of the gilded mirrors in the dining-room, where the supper had been laid out. Fortunately, as it was too early for supper, no one else was in the room.
‘Mr Kelling,’ she said, startled, turning round as he opened the door. Her right hand closed guiltily over her left hand, as she tried to surreptitiously slip the signet ring from her finger.
But the movement, surreptitious though it was, drew his attention, and he caught sight of a tell-tale gleam of gold.
‘My ring,’ he said grimly.
The reason for its disappearance was now obvious. He had not lost it, as he had suspected. Miss Quentin had taken it.
‘I . . . was going to give it back to you,’ she said, trying to speak boldly but betraying her anxiety by a wobble in her voice. ‘I found it,’ she went on hurriedly, ‘on the floor, after you’d taken Mr Willingham out to his carriage last night.’
‘And you did not think to return it to me?’ asked Joshua with disdain.
‘I . . . I was going to, but —’
‘But you thought you would use it to convince people that we were betrothed instead,’ he said with contempt.
‘I never —’
‘Good,’ said Joshua, cutting across her protestation of innocence. ‘Because if such a rumour were to get out, it would inevitably leave you looking ridiculous when no marriage was forthcoming. And no,’ he said, seeing the direction her thoughts were taking, ‘I wouldn’t spring to your assistance by making you a genuine offer in order to protect your reputation. If you were thinking anything of the sort then you’re a fool.’
Miss Quentin, who looked as though she had been about to speak, was silenced. One look at Joshua’s implacable face told her that he would never allow himself to be manipulated, as she had supposed.
‘And now I suggest you give the ring to me and then return to the other guests,’ said Joshua. ‘I have a mind for peace and quiet, and I have a mind to find it here.’
Miss Quentin’s eyes hardened, and she looked as though she might protest, but a look from Joshua changed her mind and she handed over the ring. Then, accepting her dismissal, she retained just enough spirit to exit with her head held high.
So that is why Becky though I was engaged, though Joshua, turning the ring in his hands before putting it back on his little finger.
If she had been dismayed at the idea he would have gone to her there and then, and told her that it was not true. But far from being dismayed she had been delighted. She had congratulated him with a warm smile on her face.
He threw himself down into a chair. It was over, he thought bitterly. All chance of the betrothal he had longed for had been smashed by Rebecca’s warm smile and even warmer words. His hopes and dreams had been shattered in an instant. He let out a low groan. If he had heard of her betrothal it would have ripped the heart out of his body.
But on hearing of his betrothal, she had been delighted.
Rebecca appeared to be happy and at ease as she bid her guests goodnight. But she was heartsore. She longed for the release of retiring to her room, where she could give way to the emotions that were churning inside her. All through the evening she had hidden them, but the strain had been enormous and she felt that if the last guests did not soon leave her smile would crack and her true feelings would be revealed.
She had just bid Mr and Mrs Braithwaite goodnight, when a sudden change in the air made her look up and her heart missed a beat. There was Joshua, taking his leave of Louisa. In a moment he would come to her and she must be ready to utter a few polite words, thanking him for attending the party and hoping he had had a pleasant time.
She took a deep breath in order to steady her rapidly beating pulse and prepared herself to do so. It would be the last ordeal of the evening, she consoled herself. Once it was over, she had only to say goodnight to the few remaining guests and then she could retire to her room, where her turbulent emotions could be given free rein.
‘Rebecca,’ he said formally, bowing over her hand.
‘Joshu —’
She broke off. A gleam of gold on his finger had caught her eye as he raised her hand to his lips.
‘Your ring!�
�� she exclaimed. She turned astonished eyes up to his.
‘I have reclaimed it,’ he said with a twist of the mouth. ‘I am sorry to disappoint you, Rebecca, but Miss Quentin and I are not betrothed.’
‘Not . . . not betrothed?’
She could not help it. A tide of relief washed over her face, revealing her true feelings.
‘You’re not disappointed?’ he asked, a look of hope appearing on his face.
‘No,’ she whispered.
‘We cannot talk here.’ He drew her aside, taking her through into the drawing-room and closing the door behind them. Then, pulling her to him, he took her hands between his own and stroked her fingers in the most heart-wrenching way. ‘Why not?’ he asked, looking down at her as though he longed to devour every inch of her.
‘Because . . . ’ She gulped.
‘Yes, Becky?’
‘Because . . . ’ She took a deep breath. It was the moment of truth. She turned her face up to his. ‘Because I’m in love with you.’
‘Oh, Becky,’ he groaned, then pulling her to him he pressed his lips to her own.
‘Rebecca,’ he said, looking deeply into her eyes when at last he let her go, ‘I have asked you twice before to marry me and you refused me, but everything has changed since then. This time I am not only offering you my hand, I am offering you my heart as well. I am in love with you.’
‘I know.’ She went willingly into his arms. ‘And this time . . . ’
‘Yes, Rebecca?’ he asked, looking down at her with a mixture of love and longing in his tawny eyes.
‘This time,’ she said, ‘I accept.’
‘There’s still one thing I don’t understand,’ said Rebecca, when Joshua finally loosed her from his embrace. ‘How did Serena come by your ring?’
‘As to that, it is easily answered. Mr Willingham dislodged it when he struggled to get away - he came round just as Odgers and I were half-carrying, half-dragging him through the hall. I didn’t notice at the time, but Serena did. She picked it up —’
‘ — and used it to make mischief,’ finished Rebecca. It fit in with what she knew of Serena only too well. She recalled how Serena had been showing off the ring to Lavinia Madeley when she had stumbled upon them, and guessed that some sort of wager had been involved. It would not have been the first time Serena and Lavinia had placed bets in such a manner, challenging each other to win various bachelors’ attentions.
One Snowy Night Page 19