Miss Winbolt and the Fortune Hunter (15 page)

Normally a most moderate man, William lost his temper. ‘I can't believe what I'm hearing, I really can't! One stupid misunderstanding and suddenly, for no good
reason, you're acting like a tragedy queen, refusing to listen to reason, and ready to abandon everything we've planned. So much for your promises! So much for your so-called concern for my children, your declared intention to give them love, a home, to make them happy.' He glared at her. ‘I make no claims for myself, Emily Winbolt. You seem to have written me off, though I'm not sure why. Or is all this just an excuse? Perhaps when it comes down to it, you really are the cold fish someone once called you. You can't face the prospect of giving up your independence, of living with a man in marriage and the intimacy that comes with it.' He shook his head. ‘I wouldn't have believed it. I thought I had found a warm, living, passionate woman, the very woman for me, one I could grow to love, but now… Well, I suppose I could live with a cold fish if I had to.' He took her by the shoulders, and for a moment she was afraid when she saw how angry he was. ‘But you! What sort of a woman are you to win the love, yes, the
love
of two small children, to raise their hopes of hap pi ness, and then to throw it away without a second thought? Tell me how you can live with that?'

Emily put her hands to her face. ‘Stop it, stop it!' she cried. ‘Of course I care about the children, of course I don't want to disappoint them. But how can I marry someone I don't trust any more?'

William thrust her from him and walked away. ‘I can't believe it,' he said. ‘First the destruction of the Dower House, and now this…the annihilation of all our plans… James and Laura will be devastated.' He stood with his back to her for a moment in silence, obviously fighting to regain his control. After a minute he said with decision, ‘I can't let it happen. Not to them.' He turned round and she saw he was calm again. He gave
her a coolly speculative look. ‘Very well. I will accept the situation and make no further claims on you. But in return you will agree to put off telling the children that our relationship is at an end. They must have time to cope with one disaster before we tell them of another. We have a perfectly reasonable excuse for postponing the wedding—the children will under stand that we can't marry when we haven't a home to go to. And, by the time the Dower House is fit to live in, I'll have found an opportunity to break it to them gently.'

Emily slowly nodded. ‘I'd agree to that,' she said. ‘And William, I'm sor—'

‘Spare me your apologies,' he said harshly. ‘It would have been better for both of us if I had found a suitable nurse, a governess, a tutor for the children. Anything but this stupid idea of finding a wife.' He stared at her, and for a moment the anger in his eyes died and was replaced with regret. Then he straightened himself and said brusquely, ‘And now you must excuse me. I have a mountain of things to do, including looking for a place to live. One of the men I thought
I
could trust, my own employee, took part in setting fire to my house last night. I intend to find the men who were behind him.' He strode away towards the house.

 

Emily watched him go. Her heart was aching, and after a moment she was surprised to realise that it was not for herself, but for William. There was something about his walk, a look of dogged determination, a lack of his usual confident lithe grace, which gave her a pang. For a moment she had a mad impulse to run after him, to say she would take the risk and marry him, whatever he thought of her. But instead she turned and slowly walked away from the house in the direction of
the maze. Once inside she sat down, deep in thought. Till now her acute sense of betrayal had blinded her to the wider-reaching consequences of her decision. She had thought about the children, but she had not given a moment's consideration to the effect it would have on William's life. During the night she would even have been glad to hear he was suffering.

But things had changed this morning. He had come back from Charlwood, knowing that the Dower House was lost, deliberately destroyed by an unknown enemy. Far from getting the comfort he could have expected from her, he had been faced instead with a sudden, cruel reversal of the rest of his plans. A lesser man would have been crushed by two such devastating blows. But, hurt and angry though he was, William's first thought had been to protect the children, and he had gone on from there. Emily wasn't proud of what she had done. The sharp edge of her initial pain and fury had begun to fade, and, though she was still far from feeling that she could forgive him, she knew she must help him as far as she could with his present dilemma.

 

When she entered the house again she found that Rosa was in the salon sewing, Philip was out some where on the estate and the children had been fed and, tired by their early start, were now having a sleep under the watchful eye of Mrs Hopkins. Rosa looked up as Emily came in.

‘How are you?' she asked.

‘I'm well enough, thank you.' Emily said. She looked round.

‘William isn't here,' Rosa said quietly. ‘He has gone back to Charlwood to see if he can find out anything
more. Philip offered to go with him, but he seemed to want his own company. Emily, what have you done?'

‘I've told him I can't marry him.'

‘I see. Have you told him why?' Emily nodded and Rosa went on, ‘He looked so weary when he left. I can't believe he's the villain you say he is. Nor can Philip.'

‘You might be right. At all events he isn't a fortune hunter. If what he says is true, he's richer than I am. But I still don't want to marry him.'

Rosa snipped a thread with some force. ‘Philip and your grandfather have both told me you were stubborn as a child, and I'm sorry to see that you haven't changed. You're a fool, Emily. You have rejected a good man, and hurt him deeply in the process.' She looked up and waited a moment, then, when Emily stayed silent, she went on, ‘But I don't believe you're completely heart less. Tell me what you intend to do about James and Laura? What is to happen to them?'

Somewhat disconcerted by the note of condemnation in Rosa's voice, Emily said stiffly, ‘William has asked me not to tell them yet and I have agreed. We both care about the children, Rosa. I care very much about them, and while I was outside I was considering what I could do. They urgently need some where to live. Could they stay here for a while?'

‘Of course. As soon as Philip told me about the state of the Dower House, we decided that they should. The east wing will easily ac com mo date all three Ashendens. But now I'm not so sure…'

‘What do you mean?'

‘That was before we knew that you were persisting with this idiotic idea that William isn't good enough for you.'

‘What difference does that make?'

‘How on earth are you to avoid meeting him if he and his children are living here at Shearings? Or do you plan to run away to London, leaving some other woman to take your place? I suppose in that case you would expect their guardian to engage a nurse or governess for them?'

Since this was what Emily had planned during the dark reaches of the night, she rejected it now with surprising force. ‘Of course not! That's a stupid idea!'

‘Or…perhaps it would best for the children if he found someone else to marry. Do you know if he has anyone in mind?'

‘Rosa, don't! Why are you being so hard, so…so unsympathetic? I want what is best for the children, of course I do. But I don't believe they could switch their affections to someone else as easily or as quickly as you're suggesting.'

‘I am not suggesting anything of the sort! I am quite sure they won't. James and Laura have given you their unquestioning love. At my father's yesterday all their talk was of you and the life you would all lead together. Oh, no, Emily, they will not transfer their affections without considerable heart break first. But I assume you took that into account when you made your decision.'

Emily got up and walked round the room. Rosa and she had always been good friends. She had never known her like this before. She stopped and stared at her sister-in-law. ‘Any one would think I had done wrong,' she said defensively. ‘Am I supposed to welcome a fortune hunter with open arms, marry him, beg him to make what use he wishes of my money? Am I not to feel hurt when he says I am plain, strong-minded—'

‘Emily, listen to yourself! Even you must find it difficult now to believe that William is any kind of fortune
hunter! That's something I could have told you months ago, long before we knew he was almost a millionaire. If you remember, I did warn you not to listen to the gossips. As for the rest, I am certain there is an explanation. I only hope you come to your senses before it is too late. If it isn't already too late.'

‘What…what do you mean?'

‘William is very like Philip. They appear to be so easy, so charming in their manner, that those who don't know them are deceived. But when necessary they can be quite hard. I'm not sure the man who went out of this house a while ago will forgive you very easily.'

‘Forgive
me
? What has William to forgive
me
for?'

‘For being stubborn—strong-minded was the word he apparently used. For being fickle—'

‘Fickle?'

‘Good heavens, girl, you trusted him enough to agree to marry him just a short time ago. And now for the sake of a few words, probably misinterpreted, you turn his life upside down. As well as deserting him when he most needs support. I call that fickle.'

Emily sat in silence, making an effort to under stand this new perspective. Rosa carried on sewing, with an occasional glance in her direction. Eventually she said, ‘Well, Emily?'

‘I…I need time to think.'

Hearing the slight tremor in Emily's voice, Rosa folded up her need le work and came over to where she sat. Smiling sympathetically, she said, ‘The children will be down soon. Shall I tell them you're still not quite well?'

‘No. No, I haven't seen a great deal of them. I'd like
to play outside with them for a little while, before it gets too dark. The air will do us all good.'

 

Emily and the children were still in the garden when William arrived back at Shearings. He heard their voices as he rode up the drive and his face twisted in a wry smile. They sounded so carefree. He dismounted and went into the garden. At the entrance he hesitated, not quite sure how to approach them. But the children saw him and ran towards him, as they always did, begging for a hug. He scooped them both up and looked at Emily over their heads. ‘A truce?' he asked ‘For them?'

‘What's a truce, Uncle William?' asked James.

Emily came up and lifted Laura out of her uncle's arms. ‘It means that your uncle and I have…have made an agreement not to quarrel.'

‘That's funny!' said Laura going into a flurry of giggles. She gave Emily a kiss. ‘You never do!'

‘Shall we go into the house? I've something to tell you,' said William, shifting James on to his shoulders. Laura shouted, ‘Me too, me too!'

Emily tried to do the same for Laura, but was having difficulty till William came over and lifted the child on to Emily's back. ‘Put your arms round like this,' he said placing Laura's arms round Emily's neck. For a moment Emily felt his hands on her and shivered. He removed them instantly, saying, ‘That's it! Now off inside!'

Once inside, he made the children sit down quietly and then told them about the Dower House. When they heard they were not going to move in for some time James looked solemn, and Laura's little face started to crumple. Emily said quickly, ‘You mustn't worry. We've found some where else for you to stay until the Dower House is ready again.'

William frowned, but she ignored him and went on calmly, ‘It has a maze, and a swing, and a garden with a battledore and shuttl—'

‘Here, here!' the two children shouted. ‘With you and Mr and Mrs Winbolt.' Their tears were for got ten as Rosa held out her arms and they ran to her.

‘Is this true?' asked William under cover of the children's noise.

Philip had joined them and said, ‘Of course. We're glad to help. And there's what amounts to an in de pendent apartment for you all in the East Wing. You could come and go as you please. If you agree, you and the children could move into it tomorrow, once the furniture has been rearranged a little. Welcome, Ashenden. Meanwhile, there's a room for you upstairs for tonight.'

William glanced briefly and coolly at Emily, then turned to Philip. ‘You are very generous. If you really mean it, I should be very pleased to move into your East Wing. It will take one of the heavier loads off my mind. But I can only accept the offer if you agree to my hiring someone to look after James and Laura when I'm not here. They should in any case be starting some kind of tuition.'

‘I rather thought Emily—'

‘Emily can see them as often as she wishes. Indeed, if we are to keep up the fiction that we are still planning to marry, I should like her to. But the ultimate responsibility for my children is not now her concern.'

‘Emily?' Philip was puzzled. ‘This is a little un expected. I thought you had settled your differences.'

Emily looked down. ‘I'm afraid not. But for the children's sake we are keeping up the pretence of an engagement until the Dower House is ready for…for occupation.'

Philip shook his head and looked grave. ‘It's your business, not mine, Emily. But I hope you know what you're doing.'

‘It is no longer a one-sided decision, Winbolt. Your sister and I are in complete agreement that we should not suit,' William said decisively. He sounded very definite, thought Emily, and wondered why she wasn't feeling more relieved.

O
ver dinner that night they discussed what they were to do. The children were in bed, and the four adults were sitting round a table in the warm glow of the candles, cutlery and glasses gleaming in the light. It might have been any ordinary family gathering. As it could have been, thought Emily with a pang, if only I had not gone to Charlwood yesterday. The glass of wine she was holding to her lips shook and she put it down. Where did that thought come from? she asked herself. I'm
glad
I went. Surely it is better to know what he really thinks of me? I might have married him and been bitterly unhappy if I hadn't over heard what he said. Her mouth twisted. As unhappy as I am now? When she looked up William's eyes were on her, so she sat straight in her chair, lifted her chin and, picking her wine glass up again, took a large sip from it. For a moment his face softened with a hint of rueful ad mi ration, before he turned to Philip.

‘I have to go to London for a few days,' he said. ‘There are one or two people I need to see. And if I am
to find a governess for the children, the sooner I set about it the better. I could arrange to take the children with me, but it would help a great deal if I could leave them here?'

‘Of course you may!' said Rosa. ‘It would be horrible for them in London! And how could you interview governesses and the like with two children on your hands? No, they must stay here.'

‘Thank you, Mrs Winbolt.'

‘I think you should call me by my given name, William. I regard you as almost one of the family.'

Philip gave a little cough, and Emily dropped her fork. But William gave Rosa one of his most charming smiles and nodded. ‘Thank you, Rosa' he said. ‘I am honoured.'

‘What is more,' Rosa continued, ‘I agree that the children need a governess. But may I make a suggestion?'

‘Of course!'

‘The lady would naturally live with us here for the immediate future. It would be so much more comfortable if we could find someone who was…compatible. I think Emily should be involved in choosing her.'

‘Oh, no! I couldn't possibly—' Emily began in some agitation.

‘Of course you could go to London,' said Rosa firmly. ‘The children know us now and will be quite happy here for a day or two. Just think, Emily. You would want them to be taught by someone you approved of, wouldn't you?'

William had been watching Rosa with a gleam in his eye, but now he leant back in his chair and said, toying with his glass, ‘I think it's an excellent idea. I'm sure
Emily's notions of a suitable governess would be better than mine. But where would she stay?'

‘With her grandfather,' said Rosa promptly. She gave Emily a mischievous look as she said, ‘I believe she was in tending to pay Lord Winbolt a visit.'

‘But not with—' said Emily. And stopped. She threw an appealing glance at Philip, but her brother's eyes were on his wife and they were full of amused appreciation.

‘I'm sure my grandfather would be de lighted to see her,' he said slowly. ‘And the governess idea is a good one.'

‘But why can't you see how impossible it is?' asked Emily in desperation. ‘You both know that William and I…that William and I…'

‘Have a truce?' asked William coolly. ‘For the sake of the children? Surely you haven't for got ten, my dear? After all, we shouldn't have to spend very much time in each other's company. I have other things to do in London. Apart from escorting you to Lord Winbolt's residence, then seeing that you arrive safely at the agencies' premises and back again, I shan't be there to bother you. We needn't exchange a word, if you don't wish to.'

Emily gave up. With all three ranged against her, she was bound to lose. She was not even sure that she minded if it meant she would have a say in the choice of someone who was to be in charge of William's children. But whatever he had said, the thought of going to London and back with William himself was daunting.

‘When do you wish to go?' she asked finally. ‘The agencies would need a little notice.'

‘Shall we say in three days' time? I have one or two matters to sort out at Charlwood, but after that…'

‘Three days it shall be,' said Emily rather grimly.

 

One of the grooms was immediately dispatched with a message to Lord Winbolt's residence in Arlington Street, and a letter to two of the best educational employment agencies in London. During the intervening days Emily spent a lot of her time with the children, and spent most of the rest trying on dress after dress before deciding what to take to London with her—much to Rosa's quiet enjoyment. Emily's sister-in-law thought she knew the man Emily was trying to impress, and it wasn't her grandfather!

William came and went, but Emily hardly saw him except at dinner. He seldom ad dressed any remarks directly to her and when he did his manner was business like, very different from the warmth she had been used to. In return she avoided speaking to him whenever possible, but listened attentively all the same to what he was saying. The damage to the Dower House had been assessed and estimates for re pairing it were being drawn up, but he had no idea how long it would take. Rosa and Philip sympathised and advised, and carried on a normal conversation with him. The armed neutrality of their two dinner com pan ions seemed to amuse rather than disconcert them.

But on the third evening things were different. William told them that he had been talking to Sam Lilley. He glanced at Philip as he said, ‘You probably don't approve, officially, at least, but I've decided not to take action against Lilley. I believe what he says. He may have been stupid and he was certainly gullible, but I
don't think he deserves the sort of punishment meted out to arsonists.'

‘Hanging, or at best transportation,' said Philip.

‘Exactly. So I'm letting him go. I've written to a former naval friend of mine who lives in the West Country. I've told him the whole story, and I'm almost sure he will agree to take Sam and his wife on.'

Philip was doubtful. ‘Dangerous. Once an arsonist…'

‘But that's just it! Sam never was an arsonist. He was trying to save the Dower House when he was injured. Quite badly, too.'

‘I think you're right, William.' The smile that accompanied these words from Emily was entirely involuntary.

He turned to her, and ad dressed her directly for the first time. ‘Emily, do you remember meeting a Mr Kavanagh in the garden at Charlwood?'

‘Of course I do. But I don't think that was his real name. I told you at the time.'

‘I think his name is Kidman. Could you describe him again to us?'

‘He was tall, between thirty and forty. He had rather curiously pale light blue eyes, I remember.'

‘Can you remember how he was dressed, or any other details of his appearance?'

Emily shut her eyes and tried to call to her mind a picture of the stranger. ‘He was dressed for riding—quite ordinary clothes, buff breeches, brown coat, I think. And, yes, he wore a signet ring on his left hand. A snake coiled round the letter “K”.'

‘Clever girl!' William exclaimed. His voice was full of approval, full of warmth and so like his former manner to her that Emily had to look down at her plate
to hide a treacherous threat of tears. After a pause William continued in a much cooler tone, ‘Barnaby Drewitt has done some ferreting about the last two days. Sam Lilley was right. His name
is
Kidman, and he lives in London.'

‘Barnaby has been in London?' asked Emily, amazed.

‘Hadn't you noticed that he wasn't here? He wasn't really needed—even if it were necessary to keep an eye on Sam Lilley, George Fowler is perfectly capable of it. Barnaby has just returned from London. He can move quite quickly when he chooses and has made a number of discoveries about Mr Kidman. But I still don't know what Kidman's game is, or why he wants me out of Charlwood.'

‘Kidman… Kidman… Where have I heard that name before?' said Philip slowly. ‘You didn't mention it at the Dower House!' He sat searching his memory while Rosa carried on with the conversation. But after a while he exclaimed, ‘I remember! It was Sir Reginald! He was complaining about someone called Kidman. I don't think you were there at the time, William. Er…' He hesitated, looked at Emily, then went on, ‘The man was apparently staying at Maria Fenton's place?'

The name brought their conversation to a sudden halt. ‘Maria Fenton?' Rosa asked after a pause.

William was frowning. ‘I find that most intriguing,' he said. ‘That lady has always seemed excessively interested in Charlwood. I wonder what the connection is.'

Emily spoke before she could stop herself. ‘I understood that Charlwood's chief attraction for Mrs Fenton lay with its owner,' she said tartly.

‘Indeed?' said William, raising one eyebrow. ‘You must agree she would have had something to offer him,
Emily. She is said to have inherited a considerable fortune from her late husband.' He returned Emily's glare with a look of bland in difference.

Philip coughed and said, ‘Actually, William, I'm not altogether sure in this case that rumour has it correct. I haven't had much to do with the lady, and she certainly appears to be wealthy. However, I do know that Edric Fenton's affairs were…mixed, shall we say?' He met William's eye and said apologetically, ‘Something I found out recently from my friends in the city—while I was making other enquiries. Fenton had dealings with some shady characters.'

‘Really? This gets more and more interesting—so many lines leading in the direction of Charlwood. Is it coincidence? That's something more I'll look into when I'm in London.'

‘Talking of which,' said Rosa, ‘if you are to make an early start tomorrow, then Emily should think of retiring to bed.' She rose, and, after bidding them good night, she ushered Emily out.

But a few minutes later she was back again, alone. ‘William, you'll have to pardon me. Philip will say that I ought not to interfere, but I love Emily too much to listen to him. Please don't be too hard on Emily during this visit to London. I…I am still convinced that you are made for each other, and I can't bear to think that a stupid misunderstanding will keep you apart. Given time, I am sure she will come about. I am hoping that this visit to London might be a turning point for both of you.'

William smiled. ‘Is that why you arranged it?' He took her hand and kissed it. ‘Rosa, let me pay homage to your gentle, caring heart. If I could make you happier, I would. But Emily seems to have made up her mind,
and if she will not change it for the children, then she is most unlikely to change it for me. And at the moment I have no desire to try to persuade her.' He looked at her downcast face. ‘But I promise not to quarrel with her for the next few days. Will that do?'

Rosa shook her head. ‘I want more than that. I'd like you to promise to be kind. She's hurting so much inside!'

‘And you think I am not?' The question came out involuntarily, and he went on, ‘I rather think I shall be too busy to see much of Emily in London, to be kind or otherwise.' At the sight of Rosa's worried face his tone softened. ‘Very well, I'll do my best.'

Philip came over and took Rosa's arm. ‘Come, sweetheart. You've done what you could. It's up to William and Emily now.' He turned to William. ‘I think you've been remarkably patient, Ashenden. Good luck with your efforts in London. Let us know if there is anything we can do. You might think of talking to my grandfather. He may be old, but he is still very much in touch with affairs, particularly in the city. Meanwhile, you can be sure that Rosa will keep those children happy. She will probably ruin them!'

 

The first stage of Rosa's plan had already failed by the time the carriage left the following morning. There would be no opportunity for any dialogue, kind or otherwise, on the journey. Emily and her maid were travel ling inside, but William had chosen to ride along side it with Barnaby Drewitt. Apart from one or two stops on the way, they had no contact with each other.

They arrived at Lord Winbolt's residence in Arlington Street in the late afternoon. If Emily had promised herself to escape from William without inviting him in
to meet her grandfather, she was frustrated. Maynard, her grandfather's stately butler, met her at the door, and before she could do anything about it one of the footmen had taken William's outer garments and Maynard himself was ushering them both into the library. Her grandfather was sitting in a chair on one side of a fireplace in which burned a huge fire.

‘Come in, come in!' he shouted. ‘Don't stand by the door. Let me see you!'

Lord Winbolt might not have the robust good health he had once enjoyed, but he still had all of his considerable faculties. He accepted a curtsy and a kiss from his granddaughter, then told William to come nearer. ‘I want to see Emily's beau for myself,' he said. He examined William with an eagle eye. ‘So you're William Ashenden,' he said. ‘The one Emily thinks is after her fortune.'

William stiffened. ‘I am Ashenden, Lord Winbolt,' he said. ‘But you are mistaken, sir, if you think I am at all interested in Miss Winbolt's fortune.'

‘I don't think that at all, young man. It's not what I said! I know you aren't. You've no need of anyone's fortune—you're as rich as a nabob yourself. So why aren't you marrying her?'

‘Grandfather, please,' begged Emily, scarlet with embarrassment. ‘Sir William and I have agreed that we do not suit.'

‘Your granddaughter has refused to marry me, Lord Winbolt, because she has decided that she cannot trust me. Much as I regret it, there's not a great deal I can do about it. So, I hope you won't think me discourteous if I say I should like to move on. I am sure Miss Winbolt would like to rest and refresh herself after her journey, and I have more to do in London then I have time for.'