Louisa nodded. “I'm indebted to Emily for recommending her to me. She really is an excellent cook.”
“She used to work for Emily at one time, but she was tempted away by a baronet,” said Edward with a smile. “It is only because he has gone overseas that she was once again looking for a place.”
“The baronet's loss is our gain,” said Louisa.
“I have been charged with giving you an invitation to my sister's ball,” said Edward as the next course was brought in.
“A ball. That will be delightful,” said Rebecca.
Mr Sidders turned to Joshua. “I hope, you, too will be able to attend. It is to be held next Thursday. A small affair — my sister's house has room enough for only ten couples — but even so the evening promises to be an enjoyable one.”
“I'd be delighted,” Joshua said.
Would Joshua ask her for one of the dances? Rebecca wondered. Not knowing whether she wanted him to or not. To dance with him again would be wonderful, but disturbing as well. She had not forgotten the feelings it had aroused in her when she had danced with him in London. But still, when the ball arrived it would be soon enough to worry about such things.
“And after that we must hold our card party,” said Louisa, as the turbot was served. She turned to Mr Sidders. “Rebecca and I would like to entertain, even though we are only in Manchester for a short time, and a card party seems to be a simple and yet enjoyable way of doing so.”
“Indeed,” said Edward smilingly.
“You and your sisters, of course, are invited.”
“I'm sure they'll be only too happy to accept.”
“And you will come, Joshua?” she asked him. “Do say you will. You must not work too hard, you know. You must have some entertainment as well.”
“I would not dream of missing it,” said Joshua with a wry smile.
“Good,” said Louisa, her face expressing her delight. She turned to Edward, “Now, tell me, where should we go to have our invitations printed?”
A satisfying conversation followed, with the merits of various stationers, caterers and other necessary tradesmen being discussed, so that by the time dinner was over much of the planning for the card party had already taken place.
“Come, Rebecca,” said Louisa, standing up. “It is time for us to retire to the drawing-room and leave the gentlemen to their port.”
Rebecca stood up and followed Louisa from the room.
The gentlemen were not long in following, and as Edward joined Louisa on the sofa, Joshua joined Rebecca at the pianoforte, where she was playing a country air.
“You play well,” he said.
“I'm lucky to have an instrument here,” she replied as her fingers ran over the keys. “It came with the house. It gives me a chance to practise.”
She finished the piece, but when she made a move to rise from the stool, Joshua said, “No. Don't stop. Here.”
He opened another piece of music and spread it out on the music stand. “We need to talk, Rebecca, and I would rather we weren't overheard. I don't want to worry Louisa, but you were right earlier when you said I don't think the fire at the mill was the work of Luddites. I don't. And until I know who was responsible I would rather you had some protection. It would be too easy for someone to force their way in here if they had evil intentions, and I want you to have some ex-Bow Street Runners in the house. I know just the men. They're not the best detectives the Runners ever had, but they're handy with their fists. If it comes to it, they'll know how to protect you.”
“I?” asked Rebecca in surprise. “But I am not in any danger.”
He did not reply, and she said, a little less certainly, “Am I?”
Joshua's face was unreadable. “Let's just say, I'd rather not take any chances.”
Rebecca was thoughtful. She did not believe that she was in danger, but she believed that Joshua might be. She decided to share her fears with him.
“I don't think I am the one the attack was aimed at,” she said cautiously. “After all, I am not the one who has been the victim of a number of suspicious accidents. You were almost run down by a horseman in London, and you were almost struck a forceful blow by a stone coming through the window at Hetty and Charles's house. And now you have been locked in a room that was on fire.” She hesitated. “I think the fire may have been started in order to try and kill you.” She tried to keep her voice even, but her hands shook and the music came out with an unexpected tremolo.
He looked at her thoughtfully, as if wondering whether agreeing with her would make her worry more. Then, as if deciding that she was too intelligent to be fobbed off with easy reassurances he said, “It's possible.”
“But why?” she asked. “There must be some reason for it. And as you don't have any enemies,” she said, remembering his answer to Charles's question when he had almost been struck by the stone in London, “it must be someone who has something to gain.”
Realization dawned on her. “Your share. Your share of the mill.” She turned towards him. “Who inherits it, Joshua? Who does it go to in the event of... ”
She could not bring herself to finish the sentence, and say, in the event of your death.
“No. That is not the answer,” said Joshua, shaking his head.
“I think you are wrong,” said Rebecca resolutely. “Whoever it is would stand to gain a great deal by your death.”
“I don't think I have anything to fear in that direction,” he said with a wry smile.
The smile took her by surprise. She could see nothing amusing about the situation, and she was determined to make him take the matter seriously.
“Who is it, Josh? Who inherits your share of the mill? Only tell me that and I will tell you the name of the person who is trying to kill you.”
“I don't think so,” said Joshua. “You see, Rebecca, it is you.”
“Me?” Her eyes flew wide in astonishment.
“Yes.”
“You have left me your half of the mill?”
“I didn't need to. Your grandfather had already taken care of the matter. If I die without an heir, my share reverts to you. It is true, you could make yourself a wealthy woman by murdering me,” he said musingly, but with a humorous glint in his eye. “And you were on the scene very quickly when the office caught fire.”
He spoke thoughtfully, as though seriously considering the idea, but there was an unmistakable quirk of humour at the corner of his mouth.
“And I could have invented the story of the dropped reticule,” Rebecca teased him back, joining in with the spirit of his banter.
“But somehow, I don't believe it.” He took her hands, as she had finished playing her country air, and pulled her to her feet so that she stood facing him.
Rebecca's heart missed a beat. She so longed for him to kiss her, but she could tell by his face that he did not mean to do so. And how could he, even if he wanted to, when Louisa and Edward were so close at hand?
And why should she even want him to?
It had felt wonderful when he had kissed her at the mill, that much was true, but she could not allow him to do so again. It was clear he had no feelings for her beyond a certain physical attraction, and under those circumstances she should not want him to touch her again. But to her consternation she realized that she did.
She had wondered, after he had kissed her at the mill and then been interrupted by Hill, the manager, whether he would offer her his hand again. But although he had undoubtedly compromised her, he had not done so. A part of her was relieved, and yet a part of her felt hollow. Because she realized that never, under any circumstances, would he ask her to marry him again.
With difficulty she drew her thoughts back to their conversation.
“Then if I am the person who inherits your share if you die, that is not the answer to the problem,” she said.
They crossed the room and sat down by an elegant console table, on which a book of engravings lay open.