‘I agree that respect, and even liking, are essential for a successful marriage. But not love. Do you not like me?’
Emily paused, then said, somewhat surprised, ‘I…I… Yes, I do.’
‘You don’t respect me, then?’
‘Of course I do. But I can’t marry you. Not when it sounds so cold—so like a business matter. You must find someone else to look after your children. Mrs Fenton, for example.’
He paused, looked faintly embarrassed, then frowned and said shortly, ‘That is impossible.’ After a moment he shook his head, and took her hands in his. ‘Emily, won’t you at least consider it?’
‘No.’
‘But why? I am offering you everything you said you wanted. You said you wanted an establishment of your own. I am offering you one. You said Charlwood should be restored. I am offering you a share in re storing it.’ His hands grasped hers more firmly. ‘You said you were lonely. I am offering you com pan ion ship and a real marriage, not any sort of empty business arrangement. It would have warmth and passion, I assure you—we would be lovers as well as friends. And think of the wonderful time we could have making Charlwood into a home for us all. Think of the beauty you could create in the gardens there.’
Her hands were resting in his. She could feel her heart racing. ‘I…I don’t know what to say.’
‘Well, that’s a beginning. How about saying you will?”
‘What about the children? I have had no experience in dealing with young people.’
He pulled her round to face him and smiled kindly at her. ‘Nor have I! We should have to learn together.’
She gazed at him doubt fully, still not sure. ‘It would make Rosa and Philip happy. They like you. But…’
‘Emily,’ he said softly, ‘stop worrying.’ He took her face in his hands and held it while he kissed her. The kiss was warm, gentle, reassuring. Emily closed her eyes and was caught in its magic, its promise of a life together that would be full of friend ship and laughter, comradeship working on Charlwood, the challenge of caring for two lost, young orphans. Her present life suddenly seemed so empty, so lacking in purpose… Was she being unrealistic in expecting to fall in love and be loved in return before she married? Her experiences so far had not been encouraging. Perhaps Philip and Rosa were a very rare exception. This proposal of William’s had so much to recommend it…
‘Emily? Are you going to marry me?’
She opened her eyes and looked into his. They were in tensely blue, dark blue as she had first seen them all those weeks ago. She had felt happy with him then, happier than she had felt for a long time. As she looked now, the fan of wrinkles, which had so appealed to her then, slowly appeared at the corner of his eyes and he smiled. She caught her breath. It was so tempting…
He had said they would be lovers as well as friends… She had a sudden, vivid memory of that first meeting, how closely he had held her, how the feel of his body next to hers had given rise to such strange, new sensations of delight, how his caresses had filled her with a passionate desire to belong only to him. As her husband, William would have the right to take her even further into the world she had glimpsed on that evening in May. Yes, there would be much more than friend ship in marriage to William. He would be her lover as well as her friend…
But not in love with her. An inner sense of caution held her back from committing herself then and there. In spite of what he said, without real love it was a business proposition. And whether she accepted or not should be guided by her famously cool head, not her treacherous feelings. It would be madness to say yes, simply because a man’s eyes developed a fan of wrinkles when he smiled. She stared at him, in an agony of in decision.
‘It’s a big step,’ she said eventually. ‘I…I need time. I…I know it isn’t what you want, but I’d like to meet the children first.’
‘I see.’ He thought for a moment. ‘I suppose that is a risk I shall have to take.’ He took her face into his hands again and looked deep into her eyes, his lips inches away from hers. ‘If I agree to wait, would you give me your word that you will at least seriously consider being my wife?’
‘Yes. Yes, I will, William.’
He kissed her again, this time in tensely, holding her tightly in his arms, almost as if he had been afraid of losing her. Emily was deeply moved. She had found it difficult enough to refuse him a final answer before, but if he had asked her again after such a kiss as this she would have agreed to anything he suggested.
During the following weeks William called almost every day, using as his excuse that he needed to forge ahead with his plans for the house. They were seldom alone, but in the middle of practical discussions such as the decoration of the rooms at the Dower House or plans for the water conduits he would look at Emily in a way that caused the colour to rise in her cheeks, and her words to falter. Then she would pull herself together, give him a glare and act coldly for a while until he made her laugh, and they would be friends again. She discovered that she had never before been so closely attuned to another person’s mind, not even Rosa’s. And his sense of humour was so like her own that she found herself laughing more than ever before. He became more important to her with every day that passed, and soon there was little doubt in either of their minds that she would eventually agree to marry him.
Philip and Rosa were happy to see the friend ship developing, especially Rosa, who was privately convinced that this would turn into the sort of love match she had always wanted for her beloved sister-in-law. She watched and waited, not without amusement, until the inevitable moment arrived when the two principals recognised the fact.
Of course there was gossip. William could not visit Shearings as often as he did without rousing interest among the neighbours, but on the whole the news that Miss Winbolt and Sir William Ashenden might be making a match of it met with approval. There were inevitably exceptions. Mrs Gosworth could not miss such a splendid opportunity to exercise her talents, and attacked Emily in character is tic fashion. ‘I’m so glad you are taking my advice, Miss Winbolt,’ she said when they met at Lady Harborne’s. ‘You must be congratulated on having an understanding with such a fine gentle man as Sir William. To be mistress of Charlwood is quite a step, even if it is a ruin. I suppose we have to hope that the ruin doesn’t ruin its owner! It must be costing a fortune to restore it.’ Smiling with pleasure at the idea, she went on, ‘And I’m sure Mrs Winbolt is very happy at the thought that she will soon at last be free of you, and able to run Shearings without interference.’
‘I assure you, Mrs Gosworth, you are premature. Sir William and I have no “understanding”.’
‘No understanding? Then you must use what arts you still possess to achieve one! It won’t do to let him slip through your fingers. Mind you, he won’t do that without thinking twice. Sir William is a very prudent man.’
‘What do you mean by that, ma’am?’
‘Why, nothing, I am sure! Only that he has so far been careful to live within his budget, and I believe that is beginning to affect his plans for Charlwood. Report has it that the work there has recently been held up for want of supplies. He clearly needs greater financial resources. Where better to find them than in a prudent marriage? I think your hopes are safe.’
Emily laughed. Getting to her feet, she said, ‘It is a disappointment to me, if not a surprise, that you remain completely yourself, ma’am. You are, as usual, quite mistaken. If and when Sir William marries, I am quite certain his motives will be honourable, not mercenary.’ Still laughing, she moved away.
But later when she caught up with Rosa, she muttered, ‘That woman is a snake!’
Impressed with Emily’s vehemence, Rosa said, ‘I agree with you, but what has she said to make you so angry?’ When Emily told her, Rosa said, ‘That is purest malice. The poor woman is full of it. But I hope you won’t pay any attention to her. Remember what happened the last time you listened. You were in such a temper then that you forgot all about Pritchard’s bull!’
Rosa gazed at her in astonishment. ‘William? William Ashenden? You sly puss! It was William you kissed after you’d escaped from the bull? Of course! I should have guessed. He was the tramp. Oh, Emily!’ She began to laugh, too. ‘What a story! You’ll have to marry him, if only to tell it to your grand children! I insist on knowing everything about it! Did he recognise you when he saw you again? What did he say to you?’ A few minutes later Philip found them helpless with laughter in the middle of a complicated tale that they refused to explain to him. Knowing his women folk of old he gave up, and, shaking his head, went in search of other amusement.
Chapter Seven
It was early and not particularly warm when William arrived at Shearings one morning, but he found Emily already busy in a corner of one of the gardens, sketching the layout of the flower beds there. When she looked up and saw him she smiled and said, ‘You mustn’t think I’m suggesting we copy this plan exactly, but some of the ideas have worked very well here. They are worth considering. And if we are to be ready for next year…’
Her voice died away as she saw his expression. ‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘I’m afraid I can’t stay. Word has come that the children will arrive at Falmouth within the next few days, and I have to leave almost immediately. But I wanted to see you before I go—I shall be away for a week or more, perhaps two if the children are bad travellers.’
Emily had known that the children would arrive soon, but this was nevertheless a blow. What dismayed her most was that William would be away for anything up to two weeks! For the first time she realised just how much she had come to depend on his company. She pulled herself together with an effort and said calmly, ‘I shall miss you. But I’m glad you’ll see the children at last. It will be a great relief.’
‘It’s more than that, Emily. It’s the start of a new life. And I hope more than ever that you’ll join me in it.’ One arm was round her, his lips were very close, the blue eyes looking deep into hers. ‘Why don’t you say now that you will?’
It was so very tempting. She still felt all the pull of the attraction that had caused her to lose her head completely the first time they had met. But now there was much more to it than that. They had come a long way since that first meeting and she had learned to respect him, to trust him as she had not trusted any man for a long, long time. It would be so easy now to agree, to tell him to take care on the journey, to come back safely because he was important to her, that of course she would marry him. Because she loved him…
The thought came unbidden, quite out of the blue, and it shocked her. For a moment she stared at him blankly, her mind racing. That was not the sort of thing William wished to hear from her. He had told her that love played no part in his plans for marriage, and any confession from her now would probably only embarrass them both. For her own sake she must keep a cool head. But if he kissed her at that moment, feeling as she did, there was no knowing what she might say or do. Holding her sketching block in front of her as a kind of shield, she slipped out of his reach.
‘You’re very persuasive, my friend,’ she said, forcing a smile. ‘But this isn’t the moment. I still want to wait till after I have met the children. I want to be sure that I am doing the right thing, for them as well as myself.’
For a moment it looked as if he would protest, but then he shook his head ruefully and said, ‘You’re a strong-minded woman, Emily Winbolt. But then I’ve known that from the start. I’ll wait. But mean while…’ Before she could elude him again he had taken her back in his arms and kissed her thoroughly and not at all gently. Then he went, and Emily was left dazed, half-wondering if she had after all made a mistake, if she had missed an opportunity that might not come again.
During the days that followed she found no comfort. In recent weeks she had for got ten how it felt to be lonely, but now with William away she wandered about the house and gardens like a lost spirit. However much she scolded herself for her spine less behaviour she could not settle to any activity for long. She tried to work on the plans for Charlwood’s gardens, but William was not there to consult, to sound out her ideas on, not there to tease her, to make her laugh, and she put them away again.
By the beginning of the second week she decided in desperation to ride over to Charlwood, hoping to find something there that would help her forget William’s absence for a while. She stopped at the Dower House and exchanged a few words with Mrs Lilley, who told her that Sam was some where about in the grounds, then she rode up the drive and, leaving her horse in the care of her groom, went inside the house. The workmen were busy in the bedrooms, she could hear their voices. One of them was whistling. The hall was free of debris and she made her way without too much difficulty into the salon. Some tidying up had been going on here, too, and the floor was clear to the windows at the back. She went over and looked at the gardens and the view beyond. Up on the hill the trees were still the rich green of high summer. It would be a month or two before they started to show touches of autumn gold. But a feathery mass of silvery grey showed where the clematis climbing over the remains of the statue had gone to seed, and the roses in the fountain court were in riotously full bloom, some of them already almost ready to fall. Even as she watched a shower of petals cascaded to the ground…
A movement near the fountain caught her eye, the figure of a man…no, two men. But the afternoon sun, lower at this season, suddenly shone directly into the room and blinded her. When she managed to look again, nothing in the garden stirred. Had it been Sam Lilley? At first she had thought so. But Sam was a stocky individual and the figure had been tall. Or had the sunlight been playing tricks on her? She looked again, but there was no sign of Sam, nor of anyone else. Whoever it had been, he had vanished. Her curiosity roused, she left the salon and went out into the grounds.
In the garden she stopped, looked around her and listened. The bright sunlight was creating strong contrasts of light and shade, so that corners of the garden were almost in darkness. Voices floated out from inside the house upstairs, a few star lings were chattering in the trees, but the garden itself seemed to be deserted. There was certainly no sign of Sam Lilley. When she reached the fountain she looked round. Nothing. But on the side further away from the house the greenery that had been covering the statue had been torn away, and when she looked down she saw that the stones that had been piled up round it were scattered, and the ground was rough. She wondered if William had ordered the men to start work here. It was unlikely that he would do so without mentioning it to her, surely? She knelt down to look more closely at what had been uncovered…and jumped when a shadow fell across the stones in front of her.
‘Good afternoon.’
Emily scram bled up, her heart pounding, but she was once again blinded by the sun and could only see the dark figure of a man standing a few feet away from her. She moved a few inches into the shade to have a better view of him, and saw a man in his late thirties or early forties, of average height and fashionably dressed. He was a complete stranger.
She took a deep breath and said coldly, ‘Sir?’
‘Did I startle you? I didn’t mean to, I promise you.’ His manner was gentlemanly and he spoke well, but she found the metallic flatness about his voice somehow repellent.
‘May I ask what you are doing here?’ she asked.
‘Enjoying this garden. It is a beautiful day, is it not?’
Emily was not disarmed. Her manner was frosty as she said, ‘By whose invitation?’
The stranger’s smile was charming. ‘No one’s. But I’m not doing any harm. In fact, I’m looking for Sir William Ashenden. I’m an old friend of his.’
‘And you are?’
‘Charles K…Kavanagh. William and I were at school together.’
‘I se
e.’ For some reason Emily did not quite believe him, and decided not to tell him that William was away. Instead she pointed in the direction of the drive. ‘Well, Mr K…Kavanagh, Sir William is not here at the moment, but if you go out that way you will pass the Dower House where you will find the care taker. Indeed, I’m surprised you didn’t see Lilley or his wife on your way in. You can leave a message there for Sir William. Good day to you.’
Mr Kavanagh stayed where he was and studied the back of the house. ‘It is a beautiful building. Are you sure Sir William isn’t here? He might be inside.’
‘No, he is not, sir. But my groom is only a few yards away. If I call him, he will escort you to the gate. Do you wish me to?’
He regarded her thoughtfully. Then, clearly making up his mind, he said, ‘Thank you, you are very kind, but there’s no need. I shall find my own way. Good day, ma’am.’ He gave her a polished bow and walked away.
Emily stared after him, wondering if she had been unpardonably rude to a friend of William’s. There had been an air about the visitor that ought to have re assured her. His dress and manner had been that of a gentle man, and surely an ordinary intruder would not be so self-confident? But there had been something…an uncomfortable feeling that he had been laughing at her, mocking her, and she wondered how long he had been watching her before he spoke. There had been that slight hesitation when he had given her his name, too. And that last, appraising look had sent a chill down her spine. No, she was fairly sure Mr Charles K…Kavanagh was not quite what he said he was. She would wait a few minutes to give him time to speak to the Lilleys and go on his way. Then she would check with them whether he had indeed left any sort of message.
Meanwhile these stones… It was curious. In places where the stones had been displaced and the earth laid bare it looked as if a large dog or some other animal had been digging. Perhaps William had ordered the men to start looking for a water conduit? But William surely knew that this was completely the wrong place!
Miss Winbolt and the Fortune Hunter Page 10
