Chapter 14

The annual village fair really had far more to offer the people of the lower classes than the gentry. The games of skill, the races, the exhibitions of needlecraft and baking, the food stalls and tearoom, the stall that sold ribbons and cheap and garish baubles, the jugglers, the fortune-teller, and the dances around the maypole seemingly had nothing to attract the superior minds of the rich and educated. Yet for as far back as she could remember, Rebecca has always looked forward all spring and summer to this particular day.

And she was not alone. Uncle Humphrey and Aunt Sybil had always spent the better part of the day and the evening in the village, graciously bestowing nods and bows on lesser mortals and presenting the prizes at the end of the day. That description was unfair to Aunt Sybil, she admitted. Her aunt had never condescended. She had mingled with her husband’s tenants and laborers with the greatest delight, as had Mama and Papa. And the Sinclairs were always there and all the other landowners for miles around. It was one of those occasions that was popular for no explainable reason.

Only twice could she remember the day being spoiled by rain. The first time she had been ten years old and had cried and cried, her nose pressed miserably against the window of her room in the parsonage, because she had new white gloves and would not be able to show them off  to Christopher Sinclair—even then there had been Christopher. The other time was the summer after her unofficial betrothal came to an end, a summer when she had been so out of spirits that she really had not cared.

This was not to be the third occasion, Rebecca saw as soon as she woke up and glanced to the window of her bedchamber. Even through the velvet curtains she could see that the day was bright. She was glad. For the first time in several weeks she felt positively cheerful and full of energy. For several days now she had looked forward to the day of the fair as a kind of boundary marker in her life. It was a day that was somehow to mark an end and a beginning. It was probably the last day that Christopher and Mr. Carver would be there. Tomorrow or the next day they would leave for London.

She would be sorry to see Mr. Carver go. She liked him and saw him as a gentleman of good humor and good sense. And she dared not consider her true feelings on Christopher’s departure. When her mind came close to realizing that she would probably never see him again, she had to focus it quickly on other topics in order to avoid panic. But even so, she was glad the day had come. Once they were gone she would be able to concentrate on the future as it must be. And it was not by any means a bleak future that she faced.

She was glad too that this was the last day of Mr. Bartlett’s stay. She had liked him and still found it difficult to believe all that Maude had said about him. Yet it must be true. And indeed, the day before, when he had been alone with her on the terrace for a short while and had tried to enlist her sympathies for his predicament—in love as he was with a wealthy girl and innocently open to suspicion as a fortune hunter—she had found herself looking at him with new eyes. And she had been able to see that perhaps it was all an elaborate act: the charm, the humility, the sincerity.

Once this day was over, perhaps she would be able to believe in the reality of her own wedding plans. It was hard to believe that in little more than a week’s time she would be Philip’s bride. There was to be nothing elaborate about the day, but Maude and Harriet had already planned a wedding breakfast at which they hoped more than twenty of their neighbors would sit down.

Most of all she welcomed the day because she had decided that something must be done and she wanted it over and forgotten. She would have to talk to Christopher. She had to thank him for what he had done for the school and for Cyril in particular. She did not know why she felt this was necessary. It seemed clear to her that he had not wanted her to know about his involvement. But she did know, and she felt embarrassed about the contempt she had shown for his interest in the school since his return home. She had to let him know that she knew and that she appreciated his efforts despite her personal feelings about him.

The thought of seeking him out and deliberately initiating a conversation with him terrified her and excited her all at the same time. It would be the last time, the last chance to establish something of goodwill between them. And it was important to her to do so. She could no longer even pretend to hate him. She could still, of course, despise his weakness, and she could still believe that he had treated her about as badly as it was possible for a man to treat a woman. But she could not hate him. Putting aside all personal matters, she could even begin to respect him again. And she clung to this possibility. Christopher had been first and foremost a friend, someone she had looked up to despite all his mischief for as far back as she could remember. Had she not fallen in love with him, perhaps she would never have stopped liking him.

Lord Holmes finally convinced even the most cynical of his household that he was not in good health by refusing to rise from his bed even for the fair. Maude had told no one except Rebecca about the doctor’s disturbing suspicion. He did, however, insist that Maude run along and enjoy herself. She was to deputize for him and present the prizes on his behalf. She agreed to drive into the village in the gig with Rebecca.

Harriet was in an almost dangerously gay mood. She chattered to everyone at breakfast, even Maude, whom she had pointedly ignored for two whole days. And she was wearing a new dress of figured pink muslin, which looked very fresh and youthful with her dark hair and eyes. Rebecca had expected her to be sulky, knowing that this was Mr. Bartlett’s last day. Perhaps she was merely determined to make the most of it, Rebecca thought, and felt renewed relief that Maude’s brother was soon to be safely out of the way.

Harriet expressed her determination to drive into the village in Mr. Bartlett’s curricle and tossed her head as if expecting to have to do battle. But Maude wisely offered no comment. They were all to leave the house at the same time and the journey was to be made in broad daylight. It was perhaps best to allow Harriet one small victory when soon the war would be won.

Rebecca saw Ellen and Primrose as soon as they entered the village. The sisters were standing at the market stall, an array of brightly colored ribbons dangling from the hands of each. Her heart began to thump uncomfortably. The Sinclairs were here already, then, and in a small place like this there would be no avoiding any of them for long. Now that the moment was upon her, she found that she was not prepared at all for her planned meeting with Christopher. She took the coward’s way out and ducked into the schoolroom, which they had been able to offer this year as a tearoom, where the weary could come and sit for a while out of the sun and refresh themselves with tea or lemonade and cakes.

She was not surprised to find Philip there, standing in his usual straight-backed way with his hands clasped behind his back. He was talking to a cluster of women who were setting out cakes and scones on plates.

“I was just saying, Miss Shaw,” one of the women sang out across the room, “that we are right proud of our Dan’l. Him able to read and all! Soon he won’t even be talking to his mum and dad, I said to him last night. But he hugged me that tight, ma’am, and said he wouldn’t never forget who brought him into this world and fed and clothed him.”

Rebecca smiled broadly. “Daniel has been one of our star pupils,” she said. “I am so glad you are pleased with his progress.”

“My Lucy says why can’t she learn as well, Miss Shaw,” another of the women said. “Her father said to her what nonsense it was for a girl to want to read. Such notions they do get!”

Rebecca was not sure if the head-shaking contempt for the notions was directed at Lucy or Lucy’s father. “I believe it is just as important for your girls to learn as it is for the boys,” she said. “It is the dearest wish of my heart that soon we will be able to educate them too.”

A lively debate ensued in which, rather surprisingly, there were heated opinions on both sides. Rebecca would have thought that an all-female audience, with the exception of Philip, would have strongly favored her opinion.

Philip finally took her by the elbow and steered her from the building and into the garden bordering the parsonage. She relaxed beside him. It was quiet here, away from the bustle that was already developing in the street. She smiled up at him.

“Is it not lovely to have the school closed for just a while and to be able to relax?” she said. “We seem to have so little time just to be together, Philip.”

He did not return her smile and he did not take up her topic. “I would rather you did not talk in such a way before the villagers,” he said curtly.

Rebecca frowned in puzzlement. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“Putting ridiculous notions in their heads about educating their daughters,” he said. “Have you no sense, Rebecca? Soon we will be having all these mothers demanding that we take in their girls.”

“Perhaps it would be a good thing if we did,” Rebecca said. “We would be forced to move a little faster than we originally planned, it is true, but we could rise to the challenge. We have been very successful during our first year.”

“Rebecca,” he said, turning to face her, “I must tell you now once and for all that the school will never include girls. The idea is ridiculous. Why should we waste our time on educating females? What possible use could there be in our doing so?”

She flushed. “I am a female, Philip,” she said, “and I happen to feel that my life is a little more complete for my ability to read and write and compute and for my knowledge of history and of French and music.”

He made an impatient gesture. “You are not a member of the lower classes,” he said. “Of course it is necessary for ladies to have some smattering of knowledge so that they can participate to some small degree in social conversation. For these girls, Rebecca, an education would serve no purpose at all.”

“Are we really such inferior creatures?” Rebecca asked very quietly. “And tell me, Philip, do I successfully participate to some small degree in social conversation? Do I save the gentlemen from the boredom of having to listen to an utter ninnyhammer all the time?”

“You are becoming angry, Rebecca,” Philip said calmly, “and speaking unreasonably. You know that you are twisting my words. I am not saying that these girls are useless. They have infinite value. They are God’s creatures, fashioned to be a help and a comfort to their menfolk. We would spoil them by educating them, spoil their God-given beauty.”

“Woman achieves worth and beauty only through the service she renders her menfolk,” Rebecca said.

Philip almost smiled. “I could not have said it better,” he said. “I must try to remember those exact words.”

“I will reach final fulfillment as a woman and as a person when I become your helpmeet,” she said.

This time he did smile. “What a beautiful idea,” he said. “You will be a good wife, Rebecca. I am a fortunate man.”

“Poppycock!” was all Rebecca said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said, ‘Poppycock!’ ” she repeated very distinctly. Philip frowned. “Yes, I heard you the first time,” he said, “but thought I must have mistaken. I have never heard such an inelegant word on your lips.”

“It comes from having an education,” she said. “I have read the word somewhere. I am already one of the spoiled, Philip. You know, there has always been something about you that has made me somewhat uneasy. I have never been able to identify what it is. I think I know now. You are pompous in the extreme. Yes, you really are.”

Philip turned very white. He looked down at her, his face expressionless. “I think you are not quite well today, Rebecca,” he said. “Perhaps you should go and take some tea and sit down for a while before you say something that you will really regret.”

Rebecca stared at him. “It has ever been thus, has it not, Philip?” she said. “Several times in the past we have approached the point at which we might really communicate and discuss differences in our ideas. And always you close the door to me. Are you afraid of a healthy argument? Or is it that you are so convinced that you are right that my opinion is of no interest to you?”

“Enough, Rebecca,” he said. “I have no wish or intention to stand here brawling with you. And when you are my wife, I shall certainly expect you to bow quietly to my will, even if you do not always like it. You will promise in the marriage service to obey me.”

“No,” she said slowly, “I do not believe I will, Philip.” 

“I am sorry if you do not like it,” he said, “but I can tell you with all confidence that the Reverend Warner will not proceed with the ceremony until you have done so.” 

“I do not believe there will be any ceremony,” Rebecca said quietly, looking steadily into his eyes.

He looked back. “What are you telling me?’’ he asked.

“I don’t think I am going to marry you, Philip,” she said.

There was silence between them for a while. He laughed briefly and passed a hand across the back of his neck. “And all because I object to having girls in the school?” he said. “Do you not think this quarrel has got a little out of hand, Rebecca? Let us not do anything hasty. Run along and enjoy yourself for a while. We will meet again later when our tempers have cooled. Perhaps we will be able to laugh at what has just happened.”

Rebecca looked away from him and down at her hands. “I do not think so, Philip,” she said sadly. “I believe we have just discovered what perhaps we have always been aware of, that there is a fundamental difference in our outlook on life. But I shall do as you say. I wish to find Mr. Sinclair and talk to him for a while. I shall see you later?”

He nodded and turned toward the parsonage. Rebecca watched him go until he was inside the house and the door closed behind him.

Now what had she done!

Harriet was holding court to a circle of young men at the edge of the village green. Christopher, Julian, Mr. Carver, and Mr. Bartlett were all there, as well as a few other acquaintances. She was twirling her pink parasol behind her head.

“She said there was to be a big upheaval in my life soon,” she was saying as Rebecca came within earshot. “And I shall soon be happily married to a man who is within the boundaries of the village at this moment.” She looked coquettishly around at the interested faces surveying her.

“You don’t really set any store by what fortune-tellers say, do you, though, Harriet?” Julian asked.

Harriet looked archly back at him and gave her parasol an extra twirl. “Oh,” she said, “when they tell me things I wish to hear, I invariably believe them.”

“Did she describe this fortunate man?” Mr. Bartlett asked, bestowing a half bow and a smile of great charm on Harriet.

“No,” Harriet said, “not his appearance, that is. But she did say that he would be a masterful man who would sweep me off my feet, so to speak.”

She and Mr. Bartlett exchanged what Rebecca could only describe to herself as a meaningful smile. Her own heart was knocking against her ribs again. There was Christopher only a few feet away. A mere word on her part would bring his attention. It would be a matter of a moment to draw him away from the group so that she might say her piece. She drew a breath and opened her mouth.

“Mr. Sinclair,” Harriet said, closing the distance that lay between them, “I have heard that you are to return to town tomorrow, and I have the greatest curiosity to discover what lies in your future. Something incurably romantic I am sure, sir. Come, I shall accompany you to the fortune-teller’s tent.”

“Hm,” Christopher said, but he smiled down at Harriet. “I always consider that life is made more exciting by our ignorance of what the future holds. However, to please you, Miss Shaw, I shall go and discover the worst. Lead on!”

“Miss Shaw,” Julian said, turning to Rebecca eagerly, “have you seen the juggler? He’s a different fellow from the one who usually comes here. And one must admit that that one used to be a trifle pathetic. This one can keep six balls in motion all at once while dancing the most strenuous jig.”

“Indeed,” Rebecca said, “that must be quite a sight.”

“Come and see,” he said. “Wish I knew how the fellow did it. I have a notion to astound everyone by learning, but I never could keep more than two balls at a time off the ground.”

Rebecca laughed and placed her arm through his. “I think you might expend your energies on worthier accomplishments,” she said. “What are your plans for the winter? Are you really considering a Grand Tour?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said vaguely. “Christopher is awfully keen to send me, but I hate to add one more burden to his load.”

“I am sure he would not offer to send you if he did not really wish you to go,” Rebecca said. “It would seem such a shame to miss an opportunity like that. It would probably please your brother to do something quite handsome for his family for once, too.”

He laughed. “For once?” he said. “Christopher has been doing things for our family for years now. I hope the time is coming when we will be able to pay him back a little for all he has done, or at least stop being quite so dependent on him, Ah, here he is. It is hard to see through such a crowd. Here, Miss Shaw, let me go ahead of you. I shall get you a place in the front where you can see just how clever the fellow is.”

And indeed Julian was quite right. Rebecca had never seen such an impressive display of skill as that shown by the new juggler. Soon she was applauding and exclaiming as loudly as the smallest child in the crowd.

Somehow after that Rebecca found that she had lost all her courage where Christopher was concerned. She spent the rest of the day avoiding him, telling herself each time she might have had an opportunity to approach him that the time was not just right. She wandered from attraction to attraction in something of a daze. What a mess she was making of this day, the day that was supposed to be the beginning of a newer and more tranquil life. Had she really almost ended her betrothal? She was to be married the following week. The wedding ceremony and breakfast had already been arranged. Yet she had told Philip that she did not think there would be any ceremony.

What had caused her to speak so rashly? He had said himself that it was ridiculous to allow a quarrel over a minor school matter to blight their whole relationship. But was it a small matter? Could she marry a man who had such a feudal notion of a woman’s place in life? He had made it quite clear that he would expect unquestioning obedience from her after their marriage, not only because that was the way things were, but because he really believed women’s minds to be inferior to men’s. No, she could not. She really could not marry him under the circumstances.

The realization terrified her. If she could not marry Philip, what was to become of her? What else was there? She would have to seek employment as a teacher or governess. When Papa died, she had quite cheerfully expected to have to do so, but time had passed since then. She was too old to begin such a new life. Yet she must. She could not marry Philip, even if he still wished to continue with their plans. And she had known all along, had she not, that she was not really doing the right thing to betroth herself to him? At least, she had known recently. It was the safe thing to do, but that did not make it right.

Rebecca mingled and talked and laughed in an almost desperate attempt to postpone the panic that she felt was awaiting her when she finally realized the full implications of what she was doing. She joined the ring of spectators around the maypole late in the afternoon, watching the young girls and lads dancing around it, each holding to a brightly colored ribbon, each dancing in such a skilled manner that the ribbons never became entangled.

The afternoon ended late with the presentation of prizes for the various competitions. Maude took her husband’s place. She had seemed to enjoy the day, Rebecca thought. Certainly she had been busy and sociable all the time. They were all to dine at the parsonage that evening, the members of Uncle Humphrey’s household and the Sinclairs. Later in the evening there was to be general dancing on and around the village green. She would talk to Christopher during the evening, Rebecca decided. It would be easier then to speak with some privacy. In the meantime she guessed that she and Philip would have to come to some definite understanding about their betrothal and wedding plans. When would life become less complicated?

The dining room in the parsonage was quite overcrowded with all the guests seated around the table. However, no one seemed to mind. Only Rebecca, Philip, and Maude were relatively quiet during dinner. Everyone else was determinedly merry, and all agreed that the fair had surpassed itself this year. The gentlemen did not remain at the table after the ladies but accompanied them to the small sitting room, where Ellen and Primrose agreed to entertain the gathering on the spinet until it was time to go outside for the dancing.

Philip, having seen that all his guests had been served tea, raised his eyebrows in Rebecca’s direction and suggested that she take a turn in the garden with him. Mrs. Sinclair smiled conspiratorially at Rebecca and nodded her head.

“Yes, yes, Miss Shaw,” she said, “do not let our presence disturb you young people. You run along and have a little time to yourselves before the street is so crowded with people that you will hardly be able to move.”

“I have been thinking and thinking all day about what you said earlier,” Philip said as soon as they were alone together outside the house, “and I cannot help concluding that perhaps you are right to question the wisdom of our marrying. You have many excellent qualities, Rebecca, and I have always concentrated my attention on those. I have chosen to ignore your very independent streak, thinking that perhaps it would not matter. But now I am afraid that it might. What have your thoughts been?”

Rebecca sighed. “I am afraid I have not changed my thinking since this morning,” she said. “I have been doing the same as you, Philip, concentrating on those qualities I admire in you and ignoring those I would find it harder to live with.”

“I fear we both merely wanted to marry,” Philip said, “as a convenience, perhaps. We seem to be suited, do we not? But we are not. ”

“I am sorry, Philip,” Rebecca said, stopping and turning to look into his face. ‘‘Will this cause you dreadful embarrassment? Canceling our wedding plans, that is, just one week before the appointed day?”

He smiled bleakly. ‘‘It is better to discover now that we are not suited than one week after the wedding, do you not agree? I am sorry too, Rebecca. I like you and respect you a great deal, and even now part of my mind is telling me how foolish I am not to be begging you to reconsider.”

“Yes,” she said, laughing ruefully. “My mind is doing the same thing.”

He held out his right hand. “Let us remain friends, shall we, Rebecca?” he said. “I should hate for there to be bitterness and enmity between us just because we have decided that we would not suit as husband and wife.”

She put her own hand in his. “Oh, yes,” she said, greatly relieved, “I shall need you as a friend, Philip. We will be doing a great deal of arguing over the school in the coming months, I predict, and really it is no fun at all to argue with enemies.”

He looked down at her unsmilingly, but there was a gleam of appreciation in his eyes. “You will not win, I can tell you now,” he said, “but it seems that I have just given up my right to insist that you accept my decision.” He bent forward quite unexpectedly and kissed her on the forehead.

They turned back toward the house to rejoin his guests.