But as the footsteps drew nearer she felt a sudden sinking of her spirits. The step did not belong to Joshua. She would know his firm tread anywhere, but this step was quicker and lighter. Not quick enough to be the step of a woman, but not Joshua's step nevertheless.
The last thing she wanted was to have to make polite conversation with another one of the guests, and besides, she did not want whoever it was to stay. She wanted them to find the library empty, take a book and leave again, before Joshua arrived. But she had no time to leave the room. If she did so she would certainly be seen and a conversation must ensue.
Her eyes went to the window seat. Was it large enough to conceal her? she wondered. There was only one way to find out. She slipped across the room and sat down on the peacock-blue cushion, drawing her legs up in front of her and pulling the curtains across the window and its seat. She had just time to tuck her skirt beneath her and settle herself comfortably before the door opened and a gentleman came into the room.
Mr Willingham, she thought in surprise, as she saw that gentleman through a tiny gap in the drapes.
She was doubly glad she had managed to secrete herself behind the curtains. Mr Willingham's attentions were becoming marked, and she did not want to see more of him than was necessary. A part of her wondered whether he had entered the library with the express purpose of finding her, and wondered whether he had followed her out of the ballroom. It certainly seemed as though that might be the case, as he looked round the room with the air of someone searching for something. Seeing the library was empty he looked puzzled, but instead of going out again he moved further into the room.
Rebecca began to feel uneasy. He was heading straight towards the window-seat and she had the unnerving feeling that he meant to undraw the curtains.
Had he seen her enter the library? she wondered. But surely, even if he had — even if he guessed she was behind the curtains — he would not be so ungentlemanly as to expose her?
She was just wondering whether she ought to pretend to be asleep, so as to avoid any embarrassment if he did indeed pull back the curtains, when to her relief the door knob rattled and, distracted by the sound, Mr Willingham turned towards the door.
It opened, and Joshua walked in.
Rebecca's relief evaporated. The situation had just become even more complicated. Through the tiny gap in the curtain she could see that Mr Willingham and Joshua were looking at each other with expressions of barely concealed dislike.
“Kelling,” said Mr Willingham stiffly after a moment.
“Willingham,” said Joshua, making him a slight bow.
“What brings you to the library?” asked Mr Willingham. “And in the middle of a ball?”
Joshua eyed him suspiciously. “I could ask you the same question.”
“You could indeed,” said Mr Willingham smoothly. “And I will be happy to tell you — if you come in and shut the door.”
Now why did Mr Willingham want Joshua to do that? wondered Rebecca.
She could tell by his face that Joshua was wondering the same thing.
Did Mr Willingham have some information about her assailant? Rebecca asked herself. Was that why he wanted Joshua to close the door? Did he have something sensitive to say? It would certainly fit in with the things he had said to her earlier in the evening.
Joshua seemed to suspect something of the same sort. He stepped further into the room and closed the door softly behind him.
“Well, Willingham? Do you have something to say to me?”
“I do indeed.” Mr Willingham indicated a chair.
Joshua glanced at the chair and then looked back at Mr Willingham. “Thank you, but I stand.”
“As you wish,” said Mr Willingham. He took his cue from Joshua and remaining standing himself. “I understand you've been having trouble at your mill.”
“Do you indeed?”
“A Luddite slogan painted on the wall. A fire.”
“And how would you know about those things?” Joshua asked suspiciously.
“Let's just say, a little bird told me.”
Joshua's glance hardened. “If you’ve something to say to me, Willingham, say it. Otherwise, don't waste my time.”
“My, my, we are in a hurry,” said Mr Willingham.
Joshua turned to walk out of the door.
“I wouldn't do that if I were you, Kelling,” said Mr Willingham.
There was something in his tone that made Rebecca sit bolt upright. It was something chilling.
Through the crack in the curtains she saw Joshua turn round.
And then to her horror she saw Mr Willingham pull out a gun.
She stifled a gasp. From her vantage point she could only see Mr Willingham's back but the gilded mirror on the wall showed her his front clearly, and she could see without any shadow of a doubt that he was holding a pistol.
Thank goodness he hadn't realized she was in the library, concealed behind the curtains, after all.
Joshua's eyes went to the pistol and then back to Mr Willingham. “So it was you,” he said.
“Not me personally,” said Mr Willingham smoothly.
“Of course not,” said Joshua scathingly. “You wouldn't have the guts to do anything personally. Painting slogans, starting a fire — even attacking a woman. They are cowardly acts, admittedly, but even so, far too daring for you.”
“I'd remind you, Kelling, that I'm the one holding the gun,” said Mr Willingham angrily.
“And just what do you intend to do with it? As soon as you fire it, people will come running from all directions. True, you might manage to kill me, but you'll never get away with it. You'll be caught red handed. Give it up.”
“Give it up? When I hold all the cards? You're right, people will come running when they hear a shot, but what of it? All I have to do is drop the gun, run out of the library, turn round and run towards it again, waiting only long enough to make sure someone witnesses me entering the library just ahead of them. They will simply think I have heard the shot and come running, like everyone else. It is just that I will be the first person to get here. And when I do, I will find you shot dead — killed by Luddite agitators.”
“Who will believe a story like that?” asked Joshua in disgust.
“Everyone. I'm a well-respected member of the community. If I see a rough-looking man with a curious loping gait leaving through the window, and if it comes to light — as it will — that your mill has recently been targeted by Luddites, then the authorities will know who to blame. They will mount a search, and unless I'm very much mistaken they will not find it difficult to discover the man, and to find that he is in possession of a tin of red paint.”
“By God! You've thought it all out.”
“Of course I have. You don't think I'd leave anything to chance in a matter as important as this? The man will duly be arrested. I will testify that he is the person I saw leaving through the window — and the lovely Miss Fossington will of course testify to the fact that he was the man who attacked her on the streets.”
Rebecca felt her anger rise as she realized the part she was expected to play in all this, the part of unwitting dupe.
Joshua's face darkened at the mention of her name and he took a step forward menacingly. “I suggest you leave Miss Fossington out of this,” he said.
“You're not in a position to suggest anything,” said Mr Willingham, but he took a step backwards all the same. He raised the gun intimidatingly.
Rebecca's heart missed a beat. She could not bear to see Joshua in danger. But even so she noted the fact that Mr Willingham's step backwards had brought him closer to the curtains. Her mind, spurred by fear for Joshua, was working far more quickly than normal and she realized that if Mr Willingham would only take one more step backwards he would be within her reach.