Miss Winbolt and the Fortune Hunter

by Sylvia Andrew

  Dazed and winded Emily lay, still wrapped in his arms, not sure whether she was or she wasn’t. After the buffeting and bumping of the previous minute, the hollow was strangely quiet. The world seemed to have re treated, leaving them alone in a haven of peace. She lay there almost dreamily, surprised and pleased that her various aches and pains appeared to have vanished. After a moment she shook her head.

  ‘Are you sure?’ He was leaning over her, his face close to hers. It was a nice face, she thought hazily. A kind face. A face full of humour. A tiny fan of wrinkles at each corner of his dark blue eyes gave her the impression that he laughed quite often. Or was it because he spent a good deal of his time out of doors? He was quite tanned. His nose was slightly crooked, and he had a firm chin, though it looked at the moment as if it needed a shave. He wasn’t laughing at present—his expression was serious, a small frown between his brows. How pleasant, she thought. He’s really concerned about me.

  She was surprised at how com forting this was. She regarded herself as an in de pen dent creature, but recently she had begun to feel lonely, even amongst the people she loved best in the world. And Mrs Gosworth had stirred up doubts about her future, which she would rather have for got ten. She was in need of comfort. It was very agreeable to be regarded with such concern and, though the sensation was new, it was very pleasant to have someone’s arms holding her so…so protectively.

  ‘Would you like me to help you to get up?’

  She considered the question. This feeling of intimacy, this new aware ness of a man’s body close to hers, was strange, but definitely attractive. ‘I’m really quite happy where I am, thank you,’ said Emily, giving him a sweet smile. ‘I don’t think I want to move.’

  Afterwards, when she thought over what followed, she told herself she must have hit her head as she fell. It was the only explanation. Or perhaps she had been so shaken by her fright with the bull that she had been temporarily out of her mind. Whatever the cause, she had certainly not been herself.

  Emily Winbolt had a warm heart and a lively sense of humour, but outsiders were seldom aware of either. Her manner to them was usually cool, even distant—that of a perfectly well-behaved, perfectly brought up, perfectly well-bred young lady. She was a devoted grand daughter, an openly loving sister to her brother Philip, and when he married had given her new sister-in-law the same affection. But several unfortunate experiences had made her cynical about most members of the opposite sex, and only her strong sense of humour had saved her from lasting bitterness.

  Her behaviour in the hollow, for whatever reason, was so shocking, so completely out of character, that those who knew her would never have believed it. She later concluded it must have been caused by a fit of madness following her fall.

  But while she was with this stranger it seemed al together natural.

  He frowned slightly. ‘All the same, I think we should at least check whether you’re damaged at all. Can you move your arms and legs?’

  Still in the grip of this strange emotion, she stretched luxuriously like a cat then smiled again and wrinkled her nose at him. ‘You see? Apart from a few scratches I’m perfectly sound.’ The movement brought her into closer contact with the body next to hers. Her cheek was resting on his chest, and she could feel the warmth of his body, a slight rough ness of hair, through the thin lawn of his shirt. His heart beat was strong and it was growing faster…

  He smiled back and it was just as she had suspected—his eyes wrinkled at the corners, laughter lurking in them.

  ‘You’ve collected half the hedge in your fall,’ he said, care fully picking leaves and twigs out of her hair and smoothing it back from her forehead. Emily gazed at him in delight, filled with a sense of well-being, her loneliness and other anxieties quite for got ten. This man might be a stranger, she might never see him again after this meeting, but she had not felt as close as this to anyone else for a long, long time. His eyes met hers again and she knew he was going to kiss her. Far from being shocked, she was warmed by the thought. He put his finger gently under her chin and tilted her face to meet his…

  At first the kiss was tentative, as if he was not sure what her reaction would be, but as he felt her response it deepened and grew more intense, though still gentle. It seemed to go on for a long time. Emily was lost in its sweet ness. When he would have lifted his head, she put her arms round his neck and pulled his mouth to hers again.

  ‘Well, well, well,’ he murmured against her lips. ‘I little thought when I lost my way this morning that I would end up with an enchantress in my arms. What is your name, lovely one?’

  Even in her present dazed state Emily had no wish to tell him who she was. This was a magic hour, a time out of reality. Emily Winbolt, spinster, had no place in this enchantment. He saw her hesitation and laughed. ‘You’re quite right! I shouldn’t have asked. Though it’s hardly fair—you know mine.’

  ‘Will,’ she said softly. ‘Though I didn’t know it was yours until you told me.’

  ‘Who is the other Will in your life?’

  She could have replied, ‘One of my brother’s servants.’ But she didn’t. She didn’t want him to know where she lived, or what her name was, any more than she wanted him to know that her brother owned the land all around them, and they lived in a handsome residence in the Palladian style quite close at hand. She didn’t want to talk about her brother’s wife, gentle, loving and very, very beautiful. Emily wanted for once to be Miss Nobody from no where, not rich Miss Winbolt, sister to the local land owner and an heiress in her own right. And, more than anything, she didn’t want to be reminded of the problem that had been gnawing at the back of her mind for weeks, and which had been brutally brought to the fore by her conversation with Mrs Gosworth.

  ‘He doesn’t matter, Will,’ she whispered. ‘Nothing else matters at the moment.’ She smiled at him dreamily, ‘Will,’ she said. ‘Will.’ And she pulled his head down to hers again. This time the kiss was passionate from the start. He held her so closely that she felt every part of his strong, muscular body, and de lighted in it. He smoothed her hair again and kissed her brow, her eyes, and then returned to part her lips with his. Emily’s heart was racing once more, this time with a feverish excitement. She had been kissed before by a man she had been about to marry, but never like this. Never before had she been so aware of her blood running through her veins with such singing delight. Her skin tingled wherever he touched her. She realised now how blood less, how meaning less those other kisses had been. Nothing in her experience had prepared her for this. She felt overwhelmed by a need to be held by this man, caressed by him. He was no stranger to her—she belonged to him. Nothing existed except the two of them, and the hollow where they lay hidden from the rest of the world in an en chanted, magical world of their own. His lips found her throat, her shoulders, her breasts…

  A sound of whistling broke into their idyll. Will Darby on his way home! She stiffened and firm hands gripped her. ‘Lie still,’ he whispered. ‘He won’t see us if you lie quite still.’

  The magic vanished into the air, as reality broke in on Emily’s dream. She lay rigid and silent until the foot steps died away in the distance, then, overcome with shame, she struggled to be free of him. ‘It’s Will Darby,’ she said, as she scram bled to her feet and straightened her dress. Avoiding his eye, she stammered, ‘They’ll be wondering where I am. I must go.’

  He got up, and when she turned away from him put his arms round her waist. ‘I’ll come with you,’ he murmured against her neck.

  ‘You can’t,’ she cried in panic, pushing him from her. ‘I have to go alone. You mustn’t come with me.’

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ he said, half-laughing, half-serious. ‘That’s too much the cruel enchantress. You can’t appear out of nowhere, bewitch me, and then just…disappear! I won’t let you.’

  Emily, torn between shame and a treacherous desire to stay, said desperately. ‘Please, you must let me go. I…I cannot stay any longer. Don’t look at
me like that! I…I don’t…don’t know what came over me…’ She couldn’t finish the sentence. With a little sob she turned and stumbled down the slope to the footpath, picked up her skirts and ran for dear life towards Shearings. When she threw a hunted glance back, she saw to her relief he was making no attempt to follow her, but stood where she had left him, ruefully shaking his head.

  After she had disappeared round a bend in the footpath the stranger stood for a while, then shrugged and went to pick up his coat. The village where he had left his horse and pack couldn’t be more than a few minutes walk away. It was too late now to see Charlwood again tonight. He would put up at a local inn or camp out in some hedgerow or other. The thought didn’t disturb him—the night would be warm, and he had done it often enough in the past. And as he walked he shook his head over what had just happened. It was altogether something new in his experience! Such passion, followed by such an abrupt departure! Why had she gone? Was the other Will her lover, or even her husband, perhaps? He rather thought he would never know. He shrugged again and went on his way, deciding to dismiss the episode from his mind. Unless Charlwood proved to be more suitable than he had thought at first sight, he wouldn’t be in the area for long. It was most unlikely their paths would ever cross a second time. At this thought he felt a fleeting regret. There had been something about her that had attracted him as he had not been attracted for many years. Not her looks—he could hardly remember anything about the way she looked, except for a pair of silver-grey eyes. Her legs and ankles had been good, too. He grinned as he remembered his first sight of her, those long slender legs dangling from the tree… But there was something else… Something about her had appealed to him at a deeper level. She had been such a strange mixture of abandonment and innocence…

  He shook his head, and stepped out more briskly. No, she was just a passionate little flirt. She was probably a con sum mate tease, too. Life was too short to spend a second thought on her. But, by heaven, she knew how to stir a man’s blood!

  Chapter Two

  By the time Emily reached Shearings she was exhausted. The bruises and scratches she had for gotten a short while before had returned to plague her, and she limped pain fully through the garden room door in the direction of the back stairs. But, though she went as quietly as she could, she was not quiet enough. Rosa had obviously been listening for her.

  ‘Emily! Dearest! Thank goodness you’re back! We were worried about you, after the carriage returned without you. But why have you come in this way—?’ She stopped short and regarded her sister-in-law with astonishment. ‘Heavens! What on earth have you done to yourself? No, don’t waste time on that now—you can tell me later. We must get you upstairs to your room first.’

  Emily was helped through the hall and up to her room at the top of the main stair case, and was soon sitting in a chair being ministered to by Rosa herself and by Mrs Hopkins, the house keeper. Mrs Hopkins had been with the Winbolt family for many years, and had known Emily since child hood. She gently removed her torn clothes, exclaiming as she did so at the state of her hands and legs. Rosa mean while fetched salves and lotions from her own room, then disappeared again to return with a glass of Philip’s best brandy. After a short while Emily was lying on her bed, propped up by pillows, her hands bandaged and the scratches on her legs bathed and soothed with ointment. Rosa sat beside her on the bed and held the brandy to her lips.

  ‘Drink it all,’ she said with a reassuring smile. ‘Every drop. You’ll feel better.’

  When Emily hesitated, Mrs Hopkins nodded her head. ‘There’s nothing like a drop of brandy, Miss Emily,’ she said firmly. ‘You do as Mrs Winbolt says.’ They waited until Emily had finished the brandy, then the house keeper said, ‘If you don’t need me any more, ma’am, I’ll go about my business. The master will be back soon, I dare say.’

  After she had gone out Rosa said, ‘She thinks you’ll feel able to talk more freely in her absence, but she could have stayed. Mrs Hopkins wouldn’t dream of gossiping with the other servants. She is the soul of discretion.’ She paused, then said hesitantly, ‘I’m very anxious to know what happened, Emily. If you feel well enough to tell me, I’d like to hear about it.’

  Emily took a breath. Discretion was a good word to use. She would have to use a good deal of it herself.

  ‘You know that I visited Mrs Gosworth this afternoon…’ she began. She paused.

  ‘I did warn you,’ said Rosa. ‘She is one of the un kindest people I know. Oh, Emily, I should have gone with you. Did she upset you?’

  ‘She tried,’ said Emily with a small grimace. ‘But I’m afraid she was disappointed. I was angry rather than upset, but I managed not to show it. I even thanked her for a delightful visit!’

  Rosa clapped her hands and laughed. ‘Wonderful! She must have been furious. How long did you stay?’

  ‘Not a second more than the correct time, believe me. But you can’t imagine what I did afterwards. I must have been mad.’

  Rosa raised an eyebrow. ‘You? But you are the soul of good sense!’

  ‘Not today. After talking to that woman I was so very angry that I didn’t want to be driven home. I needed to work my temper off. I needed exercise and air, so I walked home across the fields. And…and I forgot all about Pritchard’s bull and came through Three Acre field.’

  ‘Thr-Through’ Rosa looked at her aghast. ‘I don’t believe you! You can’t have for got ten. Weren’t you listening when Will Darby told us he’d been moved there?’

  ‘Yes. But it had gone right out of my mind. I didn’t think of the bull until I was halfway across the field and saw his eyes on me.’

  Rosa was shocked. She got off the bed and walked about the room in agitation. ‘Good God, Emily, when I think what could have happened… What has already happened to others…’ She turned and looked at Emily in bewilderment. ‘How can you have been so foolish? It’s so unlike you! That bull…’ She came back and took her sister-in-law in her arms. ‘We could have lost you.’

  Emily laughed shakily. ‘There were a few moments when I thought you had. But I ran faster than I’ve run in my life before and reached a tree by the hedge just before the bull caught up with me.’

  Rosa gently took Emily’s bandaged hands in hers. ‘I suppose that’s when these got so damaged. What happened then?’

  ‘I found I was stranded and waited for a while to see…to see if anyone would come to rescue me.’

  Emily was not used to lying, especially with Rosa’s clear blue eyes, wide with sympathy, looking at her. She took a deep breath and went on, ‘But…but no one did. So…so I jumped down.’

  ‘Emily! That was so dangerous!’

  ‘Yes. Yes, it was. The branch broke, and I…and I rolled down the slope. It was steeper than I had thought.’

  ‘You could have been killed! I shall certainly have something to say to Philip when he comes back. I asked him to go when the carriage arrived back without you, but he said you’d be perfectly safe walking home. He really should have gone to look for you,’

  Emily gave a weak smile and tried not to show how profoundly grateful she was that her brother had refused. What he would have said, or done, if he had discovered her in that hollow, lying in the arms of a perfect stranger in an intimate embrace, was too awful to imagine.

  ‘But where was Will?’

  ‘Who?’

  Rosa looked puzzled. ‘Will Darby.’

  Emily, who had been thinking of quite a different Will, tried to speak naturally as she responded, ‘Will Darby… Oh, yes, of course.’

  ‘He must have been on his way home about that time. Didn’t you see him?’

  ‘’Er…no. I didn’t,’ said Emily, avoiding her sister-in-law’s eye. She could feel her cheeks getting hot.

  There was a slight pause, after which Rosa said, ‘You must be tired. I think you should have a rest now. Are you hungry? I’ll have some soup or something easy to eat sent up.’ Bending over to kiss Emily good night, she said softly, ‘A nigh
t’s sleep will work miracles. We’ll see you in the morning.’

  Emily lay awake for some time after Rosa and the maid had gone. She was still bewildered by what had happened that afternoon. Will—Will the stranger—had called her an enchantress, but judging by the effect he had had on her, it was far more likely that he was the sorcerer. She grew warm as she remembered how she had behaved. Wantonly. Shamelessly. Other words came to mind to torment her. But when she finally fell asleep, her last thoughts were oddly com forting—a stranger’s arms protecting her as they rolled down the slope, a strong body holding her so close, laughter in a man’s eyes as he held her and kissed…her…so…sweetly… And her dreams that night were surprisingly pleasant.

  The next morning Emily got up, determined to put her en counter with the stranger and her own in explicable reactions behind her. She nodded reassuringly when Rosa raised her brows in a silent question as she entered the break fast room, and held up hands now free of bandages. Philip had apparently been told an edited version of her arrival the night before. He asked about her injuries and she assured him they were all purely superficial. He frowned when she told him of her visit to Mrs Gosworth, then said, ‘I can’t under stand what possessed you to go through that field.’

  ‘Philip, I can’t tell you. I don’t know! I agree it was madness, and that I was luckier than I deserved.’

  ‘Perhaps I should have a word with Pritchard.’

  ‘Please don’t. I’m sure the field is perfectly secure. No one else in the village would be so stupid!’