Amanda Grange - Rebecca’s Refusal

The door opened and tea was brought in. Revived by a hot drink and a piece of seed cake, Rebecca told her aunt about the rest of her journey.

“Where did you stay last night?” asked Hetty, pouring Rebecca a second cup of tea. “It was a good hostelry, I hope? The food tolerable, and the sheets properly aired?”

“I stayed at The Nag's Head,” said Rebecca, sipping her tea.

“The Nag's Head?” Her aunt frowned. “I don't know it. How was your room?”

A sudden memory of her room, complete with partially-dressed gentleman, flashed into Rebecca's mind. She almost choked on her tea. Quickly she put down the cup. “Unfortunately the inn was so full I had to spend the night in the attic with Susan.”

She mentioned nothing of her encounter with the leonine gentleman. She was uncomfortably aware that she had not behaved in the most ladylike of fashions. She should have roused Susan and then, accompanied by her maid, demanded to see the landlord, leaving him to sort out the problem of the disputed room. Instead of which she had, unchaperoned, bandied words with a partially-clad gentleman! Behaviour which, whilst being unexceptionable in terms of courage, would be likely to draw her aunt's disapproval down on her head.

“How awful!' said Hetty, knowing nothing of what was going through her mind. “Well, never mind, you are here now, and that is what matters. And you have still managed to arrive in time for the reading of your grandfather's will.”

The two ladies both thought of the reading of Jebadiah's will, which was the reason for Rebecca's journey to London. It was to take place that afternoon.

“That is why I pressed on with the journey, instead of staying with Biddy,” said Rebecca. “I knew it would be both difficult and frustrating for Charles to have to rearrange the reading, and besides, I'm sure you both must be wanting to know how things have been left.”

“It will certainly make life easier,” remarked Hetty. “Particularly as the will was missing for so long. It was only by the greatest good fortune it was ever found.”

“It was typical of Grandfather to keep it himself, instead of entrusting it to his lawyers,” said Rebecca. “ "They're rogues, Becky," he used to say to me,” she remembered with a smile. “ "Lawyers... bankers... they're all the same. Rogues and rascals, Becky — every man.”

“Typical indeed!” agreed Hetty. “And it was just as typical of him not tell anyone where he had put it. He always liked to keep his own counsel where business matters were concerned.”

Jebadiah Marsden — Rebecca's grandfather and her uncle Charles's father — had died some time before, but his will had only recently been found, tucked away in a copy of Shakespeare's plays.

“It's hard to believe he was the son of a cobbler,” said Rebecca, looking round the room. She took in the elegant furnishings, the expensive paintings and the superb marble fireplace. She thought of her dearly beloved grandfather, whose drive and energy had led him to take advantage of the opportunities the new manufacturing industries were offering, and which had resulted in him making a fortune. “Our family has come a long way.”

Hetty nodded. “Jeb was an extraordinary man. But now, I mustn't tire you. You will need all your energy for this afternoon.” She stood up. “I will show you to your room. I'm sure you'd like to refresh yourself after your journey.”

Rebecca, too, stood up and followed Hetty out of the drawing-room.

“We will be taking luncheon in an hour,” said Hetty. She led Rebecca upstairs, to the pretty guest room that had been made ready for her. “And then we will be setting out for the lawyer's office.”

Rebecca looked at her enquiringly. She had expected the will to be read at the house.

“Charles has a great deal of business to attend to, and it is more convenient for him if we go to Mr Wesley rather than asking the lawyer to read the will here. We did not know you would have to travel today,” she explained apologetically, “and so we thought you would not object,”

“Of course I don't.” Rebecca set her aunt's hospitable mind at ease.

Hetty smiled. “Thank you, my dear.” She gave a rueful smile. “Charles is the best of husbands, but he does like to have his own way!”

Rebecca laughed, for although it was true that in business matters her uncle liked to have his own way, in all matters relating to the household her aunt's word was law.

“And now I will leave you,” said Hetty. “Remember, lunch is in an hour.”

And after that, thought Rebecca, looking round the pretty room, I will hear the reading of Grandfather's will.

Feeling much refreshed after partaking of an excellent luncheon Rebecca prepared to visit the lawyer's office. She changed out of her carriage dress and into a rose-coloured kerseymere gown. The cheerful colour, worn so soon after her grandfather's death, would have been shocking to the ton, but Rebecca was not of their number and had no need to fear their censure. Besides, it was her grandfather himself who had decreed there was to be no period of mourning. “Tomfoolery for jackanapes!” he'd called it, betraying his lack of Society roots, and shaking his head over the custom of “people rigging themselves out like crows every time someone turns up their toes!”.

She missed him. But she consoled herself with the fact that he had 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, which 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 as he has had some business matters to attend to, but after that, he will be coming home with us. 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 and Joshua had spent a lot of time abroad, but her grandfather had spoken highly of him. She had always imagined him as bookish and bespectacled man because, according to her grandfather he had a good business head; and she had also imagined him as something of a dandy, because her grandfather had chortled over Joshua's many conquests. “Fascinated by him, the women are!” Jebadiah had crowed. “And he by them!”

Rebecca smiled at the picture she had created, of a 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 an unctuous clerk.

“If you would care to follow me?” he said, with a low bow.

What an oily youth, thought Rebecca with a frown, caught by the unsettling mixture of servility and arrogance in the clerk's manner. But then she had time to think nothing further, for she and Hetty were being shown into the lawyer's office. And there was her uncle Charles!

Charles Marsden was a distinguished-looking gentleman. A light smattering of grey marked his hair at the temples, giving him a distinguished look. 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 blonde 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.”

And now a new problem pushed its way into Rebecca's mind. What would he say when he turned his head and saw her? She found herself dreading the moment. If he mentioned the incident, she dreaded to think of Hetty's horrified response!

“And now you must meet Jebadiah's grand-daughter,” said Charles jovially. “Miss Fossington, this is Mr Kelling.”