Mary Balogh: The constant heart

"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.