Chapter 17

Phoebe had imagined declarations, as many women do despite themselves; she had not imagined one that saw her so clearly. Tears gathered, but she did not hide them."I love you, too," she said. "Though you are stubborn, too fond of measurements, and inclined to make noble speeches in unsafe ballrooms."He looked upward. "The shoring is adequate."She laughed through tears.He took her hand: no impropriety, no dramatic embrace—only his hand enclosing hers, warm and steady in the wounded room they both hoped to save.When they returned to the card room, Lady Enderby looked from Phoebe's face to Jonathan's and smiled with dangerous satisfaction. Phoebe pretended not to see.But by Monday, everyone knew something had changed. And Monday mattered more than anything.The committee meeting was held at noon in the town hall. The room was crowded beyond comfort. Sir Lionel presided; Mr. Pike sat beside Phoebe, pale but determined; Jonathan stood near a table covered in plans; Mr. Hargreaves, nervous but resolute, held his report; Alderman Voss sat opposite, his expression smooth.The report was read: the Assembly Rooms were damaged, but repairable. Immediate shoring had reduced risk. Permanent restoration was feasible. Demolition was not recommended.A murmur swept the room.Voss rose. "With respect to Mr. Hargreaves, caution must prevail. Are we to risk lives for sentiment? Are we to pour funds into decaying walls when new prosperity waits? I have secured investors prepared to build a modern hotel and suite of rooms within two years. Ashcombe Wells must look forward."A few heads nodded.Then Phoebe stood. Her uncle touched her sleeve, but she gently withdrew."Sir Lionel, gentlemen, ladies," she began, for half the town had squeezed inside, whether invited or not. "I have been told often this week that the Assembly Rooms are merely a building. I ask you to consider whether that is true."She looked around the room."When visitors come to Ashcombe Wells, they do not come only for water. They come because there is society here, music here, welcome here. The Assembly Rooms support lodging houses, shops, seamstresses, chairmen, musicians, printers, bakers, gardeners, servants, and families whose names never appear in committee minutes."Mrs. Bell wiped her eyes.Phoebe continued, "We are not choosing between past and future. We are choosing what sort of future we wish to have: one purchased by a few men behind closed doors, or one built openly by a town that knows its own worth."Voss's face hardened.Phoebe lifted the draft condemnation paper. "This was prepared before inspection. It was pressed upon a surveyor with promises of advantage. That is not caution. That is corruption."The room erupted. Voss sprang up. "This is slander!"Mr. Hargreaves stood, trembling. "It is true."Silence fell. Then Mr. Grindel rose. "I saw Alderman Voss's men measuring the south frontage last month."Mr. Atwood added, "He approached me regarding purchase of adjoining stables."Mr. Gibbs tried to leave, but the butcher blocked the door. Sir Lionel struck the table. "Order!"It took several minutes to restore calm. When the vote was finally taken, the result was decisive: the Assembly Rooms would be restored.

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