“But who else is there?” she went on. “Mr Hill, the manager, seems the most likely candidate, and yet he seems like such a nice young man. Still, if he has been falsifying the books... ”
“Yes,” nodded Joshua. “If he has been falsifying the books, he would certainly have a motive. He would want to remove me before the discrepancies are discovered.”
“And he was there, at the mill,” said Rebecca.
“He was,” Joshua agreed. “He is also one of the few people who have a key to the office.”
“A key?”
“Yes. The door to my office was locked from the outside. That means whoever did it must either have taken the key out of the desk in the main office, or used their own key. And the only person with a key of their own is Hill.”
“Hut anyone could have taken it from the main office?” asked Rebecca.
“Anyone who knew it was there, yes.”
“And how many people know that?”
“Anyone who has worked in the office, and perhaps, anyone who has visited it, but beyond that, no one.”
“Still, it leaves quite a wide field.” Rebecca was thoughtful and then said, “How did the fire start?”
“I'm not sure.” Joshua shook his head. “I smelled smoke and went to investigate. When I did so, someone shut and locked the door behind me.”
Rebecca shivered as she thought about what would have happened if she had not, by chance, returned to the mill. “I don't like it, Josh. I think you need to hire some Runners yourself.”
She turned over a page of engravings, although she was not paying them any attention.
“I intend to,” he said. “The scrawlings on the mill wall will give me the perfect excuse to hire some watchmen at the mill.”
“And when you are elsewhere?”
“I will hire a few new "footmen", and a "coachman" who is handy with his fists ... it will not be difficult to take some precautions, with no one else being any the wiser.”
Rebecca nodded. She was still worried, but knew that little more could be done.
Feeling that Louisa and Edward would soon begin to notice if she and Joshua did not join them at their side of the room, she closed the book of engravings.
“Edward and I have just been discussing the arrangement of the card tables,” said Louisa, whose mind was full of the proposed card party, and who had therefore not noticed that Rebecca and Joshua had been deep in conversation.
Rebecca sat down beside her on the sofa and gave her, her attention.
“We will have them in here, I think,” said Louisa. “These houses are not so spacious that we have much choice.”
“Yes, I think they would go well in here,” said Rebecca, gauging the size of the room. “We could easily fit eight tables in if we arranged the other furniture a little differently.”
“Just what I was thinking. Eight tables,” agreed Louisa. “That should be plenty.”
“Emily can let you have the card tables, I'm sure,” said Edward. “She keeps hers in the attics and only brings them down when they are needed.”
“That would make things a lot easier,” said Louisa, thanking him.
The rest of the evening passed pleasantly in conversation, and it was a comfort to Rebecca to know that, however concerned she herself may be about Joshua, Louisa, at least, had been spared any worry.
“What will you wear to the ball?” Louisa asked Rebecca the following morning.
“I haven't decided yet,” said Rebecca, as the two ladies sat at their embroidery.
“I am thinking of having a new ball gown made,” said Louisa diffidently.
Rebecca put down her embroidery. “What a splendid idea.”
“Do you think so?” Louisa asked, going slightly pink.
“I do. I can't remember the last time you had a new ball gown.”
“Do you know, my dear, neither can I.”
A new thought entered Rebecca's head at the sight of Louisa's pink cheeks. Could it be that Louisa, having renewed her friendship with Edward, was hoping their friendship would develop into something more? Rebecca smiled. She hoped so. She would like nothing better than to see Louisa married to a kindly and intelligent gentleman, and Edward seemed perfect in every way.
“I think you might perhaps let me arrange your hair in a new style,” Rebecca said innocently. “I saw many attractive new ways of dressing hair in London, and any one of them would add a touch of distinction to your new outfit.”
“Well, I don't know, dear,” said Louisa, sounding worried. “Do you think I should? I have worn my hair like this for so long that I don't know if I would be comfortable having a change.”
“Nothing too drastic,” said Rebecca reassuringly. “But if your chignon was a little higher at the back of your head, and if you would let me tease out a few curls around your face, I believe the result would be most becoming.”
“Well, my dear, if you think so,” said Louisa, going pink again. “Perhaps it is time I had a change.”
Rebecca went over to her cousin and gently unpinned her hair, then scooped the thick tresses up into a soft chignon, set higher than Louisa was accustomed to wear it. The new height drew attention away from Louisa's rather slack jaw line and focused it on her cheekbones, which were remarkably fine. Deftly, Rebecca pinned the new chignon and then teased out a few curls. The overall effect was softer, more feminine, and undeniably attractive.
“Oh, my!” exclaimed Louisa, as she looked at herself in a gilded looking glass.
“Do you know, I think you should consult a friseur,” said Rebecca, pinning Louisa's hair to hold it in place. “Your hair is a little long at the front to tease out into satisfactory curls, and —”
“Oh, no, I don't think I could do that,” said Louisa, who found the idea of too much change at once alarming.
“A pity,” said Rebecca coaxingly. “I confess I would like to consult one myself, but it seems too extravagant a thing to do just for me.”
“Oh, but you must!” exclaimed Louisa.
“Then it is settled,” said Rebecca, well satisfied with her ruse. “We will discover the name of the most fashionable friseur in Manchester and go and see him together.”
This notion made it imperative to pay a visit to Mrs Camberwell. It was necessary for the two ladies to discover the names of both a fashionable friseur and a stylish modiste: a new hairstyle called for a new gown to match!
By good fortune, the friseur was due to call on Mrs Camberwell the following day, and that amiable lady insisted Rebecca and Louisa should be there to benefit from his ministrations. The business of the modiste was also quickly solved, as Mrs Camberwell called the carriage and whisked the two ladies off to the small but stylish salon that supplied all her clothes.
“Miss Fossington and Miss Marsden are both in need of a new ballgown,” said Mrs Camberwell, as the modiste ushered them into the salon. “The ball is only a week away. Is it possible for you to make their dresses in that time?”
“But of course,” said Madame Dupont. She received a great many commissions from Mrs Camberwell and did not want to lose the custom of so valuable a client. And besides, she always kept a number of partially made gowns to hand for this very kind of emergency.
“Good,” said Mrs Camberwell. “And what do you have to show us?”
“For Miss Fossington, I think the gold silk,” said Madame Dupont. She put her head on one side and surveyed Rebecca thoughtfully. “It is very fashionable at the moment, particularly when decorated with ribbon or tassels, and 'er dark 'air will set off the colour admirably.”
She clapped her hands, and one of her assistants brought out a collection of tassels, satin ribbons and lace bands.
“With the 'igh waist decorated so,” she said, holding up a lace trimming against the partially-made gold silk gown which had by now been brought out of the workroom, “and per'aps a twist of ribbon. The sleeves puffed, so, edged with tassels, and round the 'em, the band of lace, so.” She held the trimmings one by one against the plain dress, and Rebecca could see the effect she was aiming for.