Miss Winbolt and the Fortune Hunter

by Sylvia Andrew

  ‘You’re the first, so I can’t say. Would you like me to flatter you? I wouldn’t have thought you needed it.’

  ‘Quite! We can afford to be plain with each other. And since I am to be plain—’

  ‘You are far from that, Miss Winbolt. Especially today. That straw hat is delightful. Very becoming. You’re not at all plain, even when you’re giving me a basilisk stare—it’s back again, incidentally. Even worse than the dowagers.’

  ‘Sir William!’ Emily experienced an unusual desire to stamp her foot, but, mindful of the condition of the lawn, stared at him angrily instead. He raised an eyebrow, the blue eyes laughing at her. She struggled for a moment, but, however hard she tried, her anger drained away and she had to restrain a desire to laugh with him. At last she said weakly, ‘I don’t even know what a basilisk is!’

  ‘Nor do I, but I am sure it gives people un pleas ant looks—even people such as myself who don’t deserve them.’ His tone was reproachful, but the tiny fan of wrinkles had appeared at the corners of his eyes.

  ‘You are talking nonsense, sir, and you know it. We shall change the subject!’ said Emily with determination. ‘Tell me, do you wish to retain these urns and the fountain?’

  ‘Can they be rescued?’

  ‘I think so,’ she said, and went over to give them a closer look. ‘There’s someone in Stoke Shearings who could advise you on that. Philip and I used him a year or two ago. I think he’s worth a try—shall I have a word with him?’

  They went on, picking their way through brambles and branches of wild roses, studying the stone ornaments, searching for signs of a conduit for the fountain, looking for evidence of paths and flower beds, and the talk once again became business like. William could see that Emily had for got ten him as she wandered here and there, completely absorbed in what she was doing. Once she found a cluster of small white bells buried among the weeds and bent to examine them more closely, an expression of delight on her face. A few stalks of purple daisies were apparently another prize. But though she was clearly en chanted by those and Charlwood’s other hidden treasures, she never lost sight of the overall design. He watched her, fascinated by the swift changes in her expression, as she assessed the prospect from the back of the house, examined the perspective from where the avenue of trees began, took a closer look at the fountain… Her enthusiasm was infectious, and William was once again intrigued. How many sides were there to this woman? At their first meeting he had seen her aroused by the excitement of his love-making, with little thought of restraint; at the Langleys’ ball he had seen her severely self-con trolled, coolly ironic, even though she must have been almost frightened out of her wits. But this was a different woman again. This woman had passion and control, was able to use her brain to plan and assess, even when in the grip of enchantment. Was this, at last, the true Emily Winbolt? If so, she was someone to be reckoned with.

  Emily suddenly became aware of William staring at her, and stopped in the middle of what she was saying. ‘I…I’m sorry,’ she faltered. ‘Philip always says my enthusiasm runs away with my tongue. I am very interested in garden design.’

  ‘So I have guessed,’ said William, unable to suppress a smile.

  Emily’s cheeks grew pink. ‘You’re laughing at me,’ she said accusingly.

  ‘Only a little. I am impressed, too.’

  She smiled nervously, started to say something, then stopped. They stared at each other in silence. After a long moment she drew in a sharp breath and turned abruptly away, but haste made her unwary. Her foot caught in the trailing branch of a bramble, and she would have fallen if William had not caught her. He held her briefly to steady her, then knelt down to release her dress and shoe from the thorns. He inspected her ankle and looked up. ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘No, no. I…I’m perfectly all right. It was stupid of me…’ Her voice died away as he got up, put his hands on her waist and turned her round to face him.

  Suddenly William felt exactly as he had at their first meeting, his heart beating faster, his breathing uneven. Here in this wilderness of thorns and roses he was more tempted than he had ever been before. It was quite outside all his previous experiences. He wanted to embrace her as passionately as he had embraced her in the hollow, to forget where and who they both were, and the promises he had since made her. His arms tightened… Then she looked up, and the silver-grey eyes were wide with apprehension. It stopped him. A false step now and he and the woman he had just got to know would never again enjoy the easy com pan ion ship of the last half-hour. If he valued her confidence in him, he must draw back. With an effort he said as calmly as he could, ‘I apologise. Before we examine the gardens another day, I’ll make sure the paths are clear. You could have had a bad fall. As it is, you’ve had a shock. Are you sure you’re all right?’

  The dangerous moment had passed. She straightened herself and said care fully, ‘Thank you. You’re very kind, but you may let me go, now. I shan’t fall again.’ Still avoiding his eye, she said in a low voice, ‘I think it would be better if we went back.’

  William paused, then made up his mind and said, ‘Of course, if that is what you wish. I was hoping to show you the folly, but if you are still too shaken…’ He looked at her and added care fully, ‘I assure you I will take great care to see that you’re not…upset again.’ Another pause. ‘I promise.’ She looked at him un certainly.

  ‘Come, there’s still some time left,’ he said persuasively. ‘Your brother gave us an hour and, to be honest, I would prefer to see you easier in your mind before you go back to them. Try to trust me.’ He waited for her reply, surprised at how important it was to him.

  ‘I suppose we could walk as far as the folly,’ she said slowly. ‘Rosa won’t mind waiting a little longer—the sun is warm, and she is always happy in Philip’s company.’

  William hid his relief, keeping his voice casual as he said, ‘They seem a devoted couple.’

  ‘They are. They are exactly right for each other.’

  There was an opening there for what he wanted to say, but as they walked up between the trees he was careful to keep the conversation once again on conventional grounds. This was not the right moment for what he hoped to find out from his com pan ion. Not yet. He asked her further about her interest in gardens and listened to her comments on the plants and trees she had found in Charlwood’s grounds. Once or twice he even coaxed a smile from her. By the time they had reached the folly she was completely at her ease again, and before re turning they sat for a short while on the steps. The view in the late afternoon sunshine was glorious. Charlwood lay surrounded by its grounds against the gently sloping backdrop of the Downs.

  ‘Such beauty,’ said Emily, surveying the scene. ‘And such peace.’

  ‘I am glad you think so.’

  They sat in silence for a while, then Emily got to her feet. ‘We must go back. Rosa will be wondering where I am.’ She smiled at him. ‘Really wondering where I am. I’m sure the hour went by some time ago.’

  ‘You are very close to her.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I be? Though she is very sharp-witted, she is the kindest-hearted creature in the world. It’s rare to find the two in one person.’

  ‘Didn’t you find it hard when your brother married?’

  Emily pulled a face. ‘You’ve been listening to gossip, probably from Mrs Gosworth. I’m surprised at you. I love Rosa dearly, and think Philip is a very lucky man. I was de lighted when they married and wouldn’t change the situation for the world.’

  William decided to take the plunge. ‘But you were unhappy the day we met.’

  She looked at him, startled. ‘What…what makes you say that?’

  ‘I’ve said before, you puzzle me. Every time we meet I see something new about you. And the more I think about that first meeting…’

  ‘Really, Sir William,’ she said, no longer at ease, ‘I thought we had agreed to put that dreadful episode behind us. I can’t go on trying to explain something I don’t e
ven under stand myself…’

  ‘Please! I don’t mean to distress you, but to reassure you. I have long dismissed the notion that you are like some ladies I’ve met in London who seek excitement in secret affairs. The idea is absurd. The more I think about that first meeting, the more convinced I am that your behaviour that day was what you say—completely out of character. You were shaken by the escape from the bull, of course. But there was more to it than that. I think you were looking for reassurance, comfort even.’

  ‘Why on earth should I need reassuring?’

  ‘That is what has puzzled me. You don’t appear to be suffering from an unfortunate love affair…’

  ‘Oh, I recovered from that a long, long time ago,’ she said before she could stop herself. ‘And in any case I had never—’ She stopped short.

  ‘What had you never…?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ She paused, took a breath and said, ‘You asked me to trust you. Well, I will. I love my brother and Rosa dearly, but that day I was wondering how I could tell them that I wanted my own life.’

  William frowned. ‘Are you not free, then?’

  ‘Of course I am. Philip couldn’t be more liberal in his attitude to what I do, and where I go. But I am no longer as necessary to Shearings as I once was. Rosa runs it superbly. And I…I have too much time on my hands. No, I love them both dearly, but I want to have, to create, an establishment of my own…’ William started to say something, but she interrupted him. ‘I know. Most women find an establishment of their own through marriage. Isn’t that what you were about to say?’

  ‘More or less,’ said William. ‘It’s the conventional thing to do. Did you manage to tell them about your feelings?’

  Emily sighed. ‘When I told Rosa she was horrified. And deeply hurt. I haven’t even tried to tell Philip, though I suspect Rosa has mentioned it to him. And then she set to work to find me a husband. I can’t tell you how many “suitable men” she has paraded before me since then, all sizes and all ages.’ She gave him a straight look. ‘You are her latest.’

  William laughed out loud. ‘And you are refreshingly candid! How do I measure up to the others?’

  Emily grinned. ‘Well, you’re under sixty, and you have the use of both legs, and from what I’ve seen, all of your hair…’

  William, still laughing, cried, ‘Stop, I’ve heard enough! Such flattery is bad for me.’

  ‘But don’t be alarmed. I fully intend to carry out my own plans, as soon as Rosa and Philip come to terms with the thought.’

  ‘And they are?’

  ‘To find a suitable house with plenty of grounds, not too far away from Shearings and to settle there. Then I would run my own house hold and create the loveliest gardens in the county.’

  ‘It’s an intriguing idea, but not at all conventional. I can see why your sister-in-law finds it hard to understand. But does this mean you won’t have time to work on plans for Charlwood?’

  ‘I think it might be years before I manage to convince my loving brother and his wife that I could be happy living alone,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I don’t want to hurt them. And if we don’t rejoin them soon, they will surely wonder what has happened to us.’

  ‘Then we shall walk a little faster.’ They quickened their pace. ‘Will you think of plans for Charlwood’s gardens?’

  She threw him an amused glance. ‘You know very well that I couldn’t resist that. You are counting on it. Yes, I’d like to do some plans for them—such an opportunity is unlikely to come my way again.’

  ‘Not counting on it exactly, but hoping you would. I am very glad you’ve agreed to.’

  While they were still just out of earshot Emily said, ‘I think I can trust you not to mention my other plans? The situation is still a delicate one.’

  ‘Of course. You may trust me in anything, Miss Winbolt.’ She looked at him, startled, but he did not add to it.

  They joined Philip and Rosa and walked back down the drive to the Dower House, where they enjoyed refreshments prepared by Mrs Lilley. Then, after thanking their host, they drove off.

  William was unusually silent that evening. His mind was busy with ideas and speculation. Emily Winbolt’s plans for her future were unusual to say the least. In spite of what she had said, could there perhaps be a better, more conventional solution for her problem, one which might help to solve his own?

  Chapter Six

  In fact, William was so silent that evening that Lady Deardon asked him what was wrong. ‘I hope you’re not feeling ill. Maria Fenton visited this afternoon and was quite disappointed that you weren’t here. I invited her to call tomorrow.’

  Sir Reginald grunted, ‘I hope you don’t expect me to be here to welcome her. I don’t like her. Puts herself forward too much for my taste.’

  ‘It isn’t you she wants to see, Reggie dear,’ said his wife patiently.

  ‘I know that. It’s William she’s after with her invitations to dinner and her constant calls. If he goes for a walk, more often than not she’s there ready to waylay him. You needn’t look at me like that. William hasn’t said a word to me about it, but I’ve noticed. You can’t tell me it’s accidental! If he takes my advice, he won’t have anything to do with her.’

  ‘What on earth has Mrs Fenton done to put your back up so?’ asked Lady Deardon. ‘Her manners are perfectly acceptable, and if she is a touch sure of herself she has every reason to be—beautiful, charming, still young…and rich. Is it such a bad thing if she is attracted to William?’

  ‘I’ve told you before, I don’t like her and I don’t like her visitors, either.’

  ‘You mean her brother and that friend of his?’

  ‘He may be her brother for all I know, but he’s no gentleman. Nor is the friend. They may be rich, but they’re a rum lot. They hardly ever show their faces during the day, but I’ve caught the other one out in the middle of the night. He didn’t know I’d seen him.’

  ‘And what were you doing out in the middle of the night, my love?’ asked his wife.

  ‘Went down to the stables to see how Duchess was doing with her new pups. Saw the fellow sneaking back through the fields. I don’t know what he had been up to, but I can’t think it was anything good. I tell you I don’t like him. Don’t like any of ’em. Keep them selves to them selves too much for my taste.’

  ‘The man’s behaviour does sound a bit odd,’ said Lady Deardon. ‘But if the rest of the neighbourhood has your opinion of them I’m not surprised they keep them selves to them selves! You cannot say that of Mrs Fenton, however. She seems very interested in taking her place in local society. She was at Mrs Gosworth’s last week and visited the Langleys the week before.’

  William asked, ‘When did Mrs Fenton say she would call?’

  ‘Early afternoon. She seemed to be slightly put out when I told her you were showing Charlwood to the Winbolts today, and said she would positively insist you take her there tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘That’s what I meant,’ said Sir Reginald. coming to life again. ‘Encroaching ways. You wouldn’t catch Emily Winbolt behaving like that. Good breeding, good back ground. Always a lady. Knows how to behave. And she inherited her mother’s fortune. She has a lot more to offer than the Fenton woman, Will. It’s the Winbolt girl you should be settling on. She’s a lady of quality.’

  Reggie would be shocked to the core of his conventional soul if he knew just how un lady like Emily Winbolt’s behaviour could be, thought William, sup pressing a smile. But Sir Reginald’s instinct was sound. She was indeed a lady of quality.

  Mrs Fenton called and, as predicted, demanded that William take her to Charlwood. ‘For you promised you would, sir,’ she said, wagging an admonitory finger. ‘I have been waiting this age for you to invite me. And now I hear that you have already taken the Winbolts. It’s too bad of you.’

  Her play fully reproachful manner was so artificial that it put William off, but he responded with a suitably chastened air as he replied, ‘Mrs Fenton, how can I ex
pect you to forgive me? I had no idea that my poor rundown property would arouse such rivalry. In my own defence I have to say that yesterday was more in the nature of business. I invited the Winbolts to advise me on garden design—Miss Winbolt is particularly expert in the art. May I help you into the carriage?’

  Mrs Fenton settled herself grace fully, her pink-lined parasol care fully shading her face. ‘I wish you had consulted me first, Sir William. I, too, have always been keenly interested in gardens. They are so restful. One can forget the world in a garden, do you not think so? One is so close to nature—the scents, the colours, the play of light and shade. It is all so up lifting… And I am sure Charlwood’s gardens are delightful.’ She turned and put her hand on his arm. ‘You must let me help you a little, too. I flatter myself I have an excellent eye for colour.’

  They were now well on the road to Charlwood and William took time to negotiate a cross roads before he replied. He said care fully, ‘I shall be happy to hear your advice when the time comes. But Miss Winbolt—’

  Mrs Fenton bit her lip and said with something of a snap, ‘Oh, you mustn’t think I am trying to deprive Emily Winbolt of her occupation. Poor, dear Rosa Winbolt must be so relieved that her sister-in-law’s interest is at last turning to something other than Shearings. I hear they have been at odds over running the house there ever since Rosa arrived.’

  ‘Indeed? Where did you hear that? From what I saw yesterday, they are very good friends.’

  ‘They were putting on company manners, I expect. Believe me, I have it on the best authority that at home they are positively at daggers drawn.’

  ‘Whose authority is that?’

  Mrs Fenton began to realise that her conversation was not having the desired effect. William’s voice was decidedly frosty. She said earnestly, ‘Oh, I am no gossip, Sir William. It was told me in confidence and my lips are sealed. I would not mention the Winbolt business to everyone, I assure you, but I knew I could trust you not to repeat it.’ After a quick glance at William’s face she went on, ‘What delightful views there are. How much further is it to Charlwood?’