Miss Winbolt and the Fortune Hunter (3 page)

‘Of course you can. You were dazed, in shock. Don't
get upset, Emily! It was probably more difficult than you think to refuse him.'

‘But afterwards…I should have been angry, should have fought to get away from him as quickly as I could. But I didn't.' She fell silent and her face softened into a smile of remembrance. For a moment she looked…vulnerable. ‘I enjoyed it. He was so kind…so gentle… I felt so…so safe with him…so cherished… I didn't push him away. I wanted him to kiss me again. And he did.' She shook her head in a gesture of repudiation. ‘I'm still…so ashamed.'

Rosa got up and said softly, ‘Dearest Emily, you mustn't be. I think it quite likely that the shock of the fall affected your behaviour yesterday. You were grateful to him, as well as dazed. I shouldn't worry about the state of your morals! But there's more to it than that.' She thought for a moment. ‘Let's go for a walk.'

As they walked through an avenue of trees planted by Philip's great-grandfather nearly a hundred years before, Rosa said, ‘Mrs Gosworth can be very cruel indeed. I suffered at her hands quite badly. My first marriage, as you know, was an unhappy one. Stephen, my husband, was involved with some very disreputable people… Mrs Gosworth somehow or other heard about Stephen and when I visited her shortly after our marriage she hinted that I had ruined Philip's life by marrying him, that the Winbolts' reputation was irreparably damaged by associating with me. Philip had to work hard to reassure me afterwards that it was all nonsense—she can be very convincing.'

She stopped and looked at Emily. ‘You are one of the most level-headed people I know, Emily, but yesterday you were so angry with Mrs Gosworth that you forgot about a very dangerous bull and could have been killed.
And afterwards, when you were telling me about the stranger, you said you had felt “cherished”. That's a very unusual word for you. You are much more likely to insist on your independence. You must have felt the need of comfort quite badly. Tell me, Emily—what did Mrs Gosworth say to upset you so?' When Emily said nothing she went on, ‘Was it about me? Did she suggest that your reputation had suffered because of your relationship to me? I must say, I thought Philip had put a stop to such talk when he saw her earlier this year.'

‘No, it was nothing like that.'

‘Perhaps she tried to suggest that you were unlikely to find a husband? That's a favourite ploy of hers to any girl over the age of twenty.'

Emily said bitterly, ‘On the contrary. She suggested that I ought to marry as soon as possible. It shouldn't be too difficult, she said, to find a husband for someone with a fortune like mine, even if they have little else to recommend them.'

Rosa was as angry as Emily had ever seen her. She said something under her breath, walked on a few paces, then exclaimed, ‘That woman is poisonous. She should have been chased out of the neighbourhood years ago! Little wonder that her own family refuses to go near her. Why the county continues to receive her I do not know! Emily, she is not worth a second thought.'

Emily did not reply for a minute. Then she said quietly, ‘But it's true, isn't? I learned that before I was twenty from the man I had been about to marry. I had thought we loved each other, but he only loved my fortune. I heard him say it. “Of course I'm not in love with her, Caroline,” he said. “You know I love you. But I need her money. Good lord, why else would a man tie himself to a cool fish like Emily Winbolt? I'd sooner go to bed
with a block of ice.” It was quite a shock.' Emily gave a bitter little smile and went on, ‘He was furious when I called the engagement off.'

Rosa put her hands on Emily's shoulders and shook her. ‘I didn't know the young man, it was before I knew you, but you were well rid of him. He could never have made you happy. Emily, you are an intelligent, caring person with a delightful sense of humour. The sort of man you could love would have to be someone special. And he would be proud to have you as a wife.'

‘Where will he be found? I've met many men since, but never one I wanted for a husband. Most of them found my fortune more important than I was. I've never fallen in love again, never felt the least stirring of desire for any one of them. Half the time they didn't under stand what I was talking about. Even if they had cared. And very few men appreciate what you call my “delightful sense of humour”.'

‘Very few men see it. You are always too guarded.'

‘I've learned to be wary. To tell the truth, I doubt now that I shall ever marry.' She looked at Rosa with the beginning of a smile. ‘And do you know? This will probably shock you, but I have to confess it. I didn't feel like a cool fish yesterday. That stranger's kisses were far more exciting than any I've known before. They stirred me more than Harry Colesworth's ever did. Isn't that scandalous?' She laughed. ‘Don't look so worried, Rosa dear. I know I couldn't marry the man—he was little more than a vagabond. Certainly no one a respectable spinster like me could ever consider as a husband! No, I don't think I shall marry, whatever Mrs Gosworth says.' She paused, and then said hesitantly, ‘In fact, I have a different plan for the future. You could help me with it, if you would.'

‘Of course I will,' said Rosa. ‘But what is it?'

‘If Philip agreed, I should like most of all to set up house on my own. Near at hand, of course. You could help me to persuade him.'

Rosa was deeply shocked. She turned on Emily. ‘What a dreadful idea! I won't do anything of the sort. I wouldn't be at all happy with such an arrangement and neither would Philip. This is your home, Emily, and the only good reason for you to leave it would be with a man who loves you and wants to marry you.' She stopped short, and continued more slowly, her voice revealing how hurt she was, ‘What have we done that you should prefer to live alone, however near at hand? I thought you loved us.'

Emily sighed inwardly and wished she had said nothing. It was just as she had foreseen. And Philip's reaction would be just the same. How could she explain to two of the people she loved best in the world that she often felt lonely in their company, often felt like an outsider, a hanger-on, however kindly they treated her? She loved them, enjoyed their company, and would always want to spend time with them. But she would never be really content until she was mistress of her own establishment, creating a garden again, planning improvements. In that way she would feel in de pen dent enough to spend as much time as she wanted with them, without feeling she was intruding on their idyll. They were so happy together. She sighed again. They would never understand. It was an impossible dream.

 

Meanwhile Emily's stranger had arrived at Thirle, where he was staying with Lady Deardon, his godmother.

‘Really, William, you are a disgrace! What the servants think of you I cannot imagine.'

‘Good God, ma'am, since when have we had to worry what the servants think? You don't pay 'em to think!'

Lady Deardon tapped her stick impatiently. ‘Your life in South America has spoilt you, my boy. Mark my words, you'll soon change your tune when you have an establishment of your own to run here in England. Good servants are to be treasured. Your man arrived some time ago with your baggage. I cannot for the life of me call him your valet. Anyone less like a gentleman's gentleman would be difficult to imagine. But I suppose he knows what to do. Do go and put some respectable clothes on before Reggie sees you. You know what a stickler he is, and he'll be back for dinner soon. Then you can tell me your news.'

‘There isn't much,' William said briefly, as he went out. ‘I haven't seen anything I'd call really suitable.'

 

Emily would not have recognised him when he at last came down stairs again. Not only had he washed and shaved, but everything about him, from his carefully brushed hair to his gleaming evening shoes, his immaculate shirt and perfectly tied cravat, his beautifully fitted coat of blue super fine and snowy white pantaloons, pronounced him to be a gentleman of some distinction.

‘I must say you scrub up well,' said Lady Deardon. ‘Why you choose to wander about the countryside like a tramp I cannot imagine. Reggie has just arrived. He's dressing now, so there's time for us to have a talk. Have you heard anything more about the children?'

‘The latest news is that they will stay in Jamaica with
the Warburtons until they can all come to England some time in the autumn.'

‘Who are these Warburtons?'

‘Good friends of mine from my days in the Navy. When John died so unexpectedly, they took the children in.'

‘Poor little things. I take it that Juana's family still refuse to have anything to do with them?'

‘When Juana ran off with my brother, the Lopez family didn't simply refuse to acknowledge her marriage to him, they cut her out of their lives completely. The children don't exist as far as they are concerned. Juana's family will never relent, even though her children are now orphans.'

‘So they are your responsibility. What are you going to do?'

‘What else can I do but find some where to live and make it into a suitable home for us all? The children are safe enough for the moment, but it's hard to say what effect the events of the past year have had on them. It will be better when we are all together in a house of our own.'

‘Have you found anything?'

‘There's only one possibility in the district. I came across it today. Charlwood. It's a handsome estate not too far from here, and the land is in good heart. The house itself looks ruinous, but it could be rescued. It is basically sound and it has plenty of rooms. The gardens and park have real potential, too. They've obviously been laid out by a master hand. I liked it.'

‘So it's for sale? I know Charlwood quite well. It was once a lovely place, but there was some sort of dispute over ownership when the old man died, and it's been empty for years.'

‘That's the drawback—the whole place has been neglected too long. It would be months before the house was ha bitable. A year even.'

‘It's in a beautiful situation, William. It sounds as if it could be just what you're looking for.'

‘It certainly came close. But the children will need to settle down as soon as possible after they arrive here.'

‘It's a wife you need, if you're to look after those children properly. Have you thought of that? A mother for them is more important than four walls and a roof.'

‘I know, I know. I haven't the slightest wish to marry, but I suppose I must. To be honest, it's a devil of a mess.'

‘Bringing up two orphans won't be easy. They need a mother and you haven't even found a wife yet! It isn't every woman who would be willing to take on a readymade family such as that.'

‘Since they are the only reason I would even consider marrying, any wife of mine will have to accept them. John was my brother and his children are now my responsibility. There's no alternative.'

‘Well, if you do wish to hold on to them you must find a decent, well-bred young woman and marry her! That is far more important than any house.'

‘How the devil can I ask anyone to marry me when I haven't a home to offer her? What should I say to her? “Madam, you can have my heart, my name and two orphaned children, but, alas, we shall have to live in a field!” I can't see any sensible woman accepting such an offer, can you?'

‘Don't be ridiculous, William! Of course she wouldn't. But now I come to think of it, there's a very pretty Dower House at Charlwood. Is it included in the sale?'

‘Yes.'

‘Well, then, you and your family could live there until the main house is ready. I know it's a little small—'

‘Extremely so. That was why I have almost decided not to consider it.'

‘Is it as much of a ruin as the main house?'

‘No, a few months' work would put it in order.'

‘It could surely house you all till Charlwood itself is ready to receive you.'

‘I suppose it could—if it could be made ready in time…'

‘Reggie and I are going up north at the end of October, but you could all stay with us till then if it wasn't quite ready for you. There, that's settled. Here comes Reggie. We shall go in to dinner.'

 

Later that evening Lady Deardon returned to the question of a suitable wife for her godson. ‘I've been thinking over dinner how to set about finding you a wife, William. It is essential you find one before long. I don't imagine a débutante would suit you?'

‘Not at all! The ones I've met since coming back to England seem to me to be remarkably silly. They don't appear to under stand what I'm talking about half the time.'

‘As I thought—you need someone older.'

‘Preferably intelligent. And, if possible, with a sense of humour.'

‘Aren't you being a little too particular for a man in such des per ate straits? I suppose you'll tell me next that you're looking for a woman with a fortune, too!'

‘The very thing!' exclaimed her godson with a grin. ‘A rich widow would be best of all! Putting Charlwood in order will cost a mint of money, and now there's the
additional expense of the Dower House. I shall certainly need a rich wife!'

‘My dear boy, you may not find it so easy. Rich young women who are looking for a husband do not grow on trees.'

William was visited by a sudden vision of the young woman he
had
found in a tree. Warm, responsive, breathtakingly passionate… Rich or poor, in her teens or in her thirties, he was most unlikely to find anyone among the ladies of polite society nearly as exciting as his wild girl of the tree…

‘William!'

With an effort he put the girl firmly out of his mind and said cheerfully, ‘I shan't give up hope yet. There must be someone some where.'