Miss Winbolt and the Fortune Hunter (16 page)

Lord Winbolt frowned. ‘Hmm… Well, go on, then. You have to do what you're here for, I suppose.'

William's lips twitched in an involuntary smile. ‘Am I to infer you know what that is? You seem to be as well informed as your grandson.'

‘Better, I hope! But you're right—it was he who mentioned this business to me. And I've had one or two enquiries made. There's a Kidman with lodgings in Bond Street. He might be the man you're looking for. But I'll be disappointed if your affairs prevent you from dining with us tomorrow—I was looking forward to some sensible conversation for a change. I don't get out much nowadays.'

‘It doesn't seem to stop you from keeping your finger on every pulse in London,' said Emily with a fond smile. She grew serious. ‘But I don't think Sir William has a desire to be quizzed any further about his personal affairs, Grandfather. And nor have I. I wouldn't blame him if he made his excuses for tomorrow evening.'

‘Why don't you let the man answer for himself, miss? If Ashenden is about to escort you round London for half the day, I'd like to know a little more about him. And whether you trust him or not, you surely wouldn't grudge him a good dinner at the end of it? Will you come or not, Ashenden?'

William bowed and said, ‘I shall be de lighted. And I'll do my best to acquire some sensible conversation be fore hand. Now I must go. Miss Winbolt, at what time do you wish to be collected tomorrow?'

‘There really isn't a need for you—'

‘You are doing me a great favour in interviewing these ladies. The least I can do is to see that you go and come back safely. I shall call at eleven. Will that do?'

‘Yes. And thank you.' She went with him to the door,
and, keeping her voice low, she said, ‘My grandfather is very out spoken, but I hope you won't be put off by it. Whatever we think of each other, I should like you to come tomorrow. He so enjoys company.' She looked back affectionately at the figure by the fire. He was leaning back in his chair and appeared to be falling asleep.

William said, ‘You are very fond of him?'

‘I love him dearly.'

He eyed her curiously. ‘You are such a mixture, Emily, so all or nothing. On the one hand, you can be so devoted, so passionately loyal to those close to you. On the other, you are so cool, so suspicious of the rest of the world.' He took her hand to bid her good night, then added, ‘But I think there would be no place in that heart of yours for doubt or lack of faith in a man you really loved. You would have absolute confidence in him. And I would envy him. Goodnight.'

 

He called for her the next morning so promptly that she was not quite ready. It had taken three different changes of dress before she had decided what to wear. In the end she chose a walking dress, in French grey Circassian cloth, its pelisse trimmed with bands of grey velvet, finished off with a small ruff of white silk at her neck. She decided the effect was exactly right—business like, but very feminine.

However she was a little dashed when her grandfather said with typical vigour, ‘Good God, girl, what sort of outfit is that? Looking like a nun is no way to attract a red-blooded male like William Ashenden!'

‘Attracting William Ashenden was not my aim, sir,' she replied acidly. She was disconcerted when Maynard announced that Sir William Ashenden had called for her
and was waiting in the hall. She was not sure whether he had heard her or not, and his greeting gave no indication.

‘Good morning, Emily,' he said courteously. ‘I hope you slept well and are rested after your journey.'

Pink with embarrassment, she replied in kind. ‘Thank you, sir, I am feeling…I am feeling…much refreshed. And…and I hope that you are…you are…too.' The unholy amusement in his eyes as she stammered out these words convinced her that he had indeed overheard her. She put up her chin and led the way out of the house.

In the carriage Emily showed him the replies that had been waiting for her at Arlington Street, and they proceeded to the first agency. It was not far away, and the second was within walking distance of the first.

‘Thank you, sir,' Emily said as William helped her out of the carriage. ‘I know you have a great deal to do. It really isn't necessary for you to—'

‘Save your breath, Emily. I am not about to abandon you here and leave you to walk to Mrs Timpson's with only your maid for escort.' He smiled at her. ‘The nun-like air is very becoming. A Quaker girl with style. No Piccadilly beau could resist such a tempting morsel. Even I am attracted.'

Emily removed her hand and said coldly, ‘Please, don't waste time on empty compliments, sir. We both know that a plain girl like me is unlikely to attract any attention of the sort. So you really need not concern yourself about my safety.'

His expression hardened. He said, ‘Still harbouring your grudges, Emily? Isn't it time you shed them?' Then he took a breath, shrugged and went on, ‘As you wish. But I shall ac company you all the same. My time is not
so short that I can't spare an hour or two. Besides, I would prefer to have a say in the choice of this governess.'

‘But you said—'

‘I did indeed. But I have changed my mind. Lead the way!'

They interviewed two ladies at the first agency and three at the second, but not one of the applicants met with Emily's approval. One was too young, the other too unimaginative. At the second agency two were definitely not up to her standard, and the last too…too…middle-aged.

As he handed her into the carriage after they left the second agency, William said, ‘If I did not know better, Emily, I would say that your heart is not in this work. I think you want to teach the children yourself.'

‘No, that's not true! I know I can't, not really. Even if…things were different…'

‘You mean, if you and I were still going to be married?'

‘Yes. Even then the children would have to have some sort of tutor or governess. But those women were not what I want for James and Laura. They were too dull! Your children are so lively, and so young…'

‘Younger children than James and Laura have governesses. Some are even sent to school.'

‘William, you wouldn't!' Emily turned a shocked face to him.

‘I've already told them they will stay with us—' He stopped. ‘That is to say, they will stay with me, Emily, however difficult it may be.
I
honour my promises.'

The slight emphasis on the pronoun silenced Emily. Her tone of voice was restricted as she said after a while, ‘I have hopes of hearing something from friends of
Rosa's, who are staying at the Pulteney Hotel. They have asked me to meet them there tomorrow. But I shall not require your help. The hotel is only a step from Arlington Street and one of my grandfather's footmen will escort me. Now I should like to go back there, if you please.'

He nodded and they completed the journey in silence.

 

At dinner that night Emily learned more about William than ever before. Up to the present their talk had always been centred on the design for the gardens at Charlwood, on the children and on their plans for the future. But tonight she was fascinated, as was Lord Winbolt, by William's account of his life in the Caribbean and South America. He was a good conversationalist, too, never dominating the talk for too long, always re turning to topics of general interest, and, when he discovered that his host had interests in property in London, quizzing him on living conditions in the capital. But eventually Lord Winbolt asked him if he had discovered anything of significance during his day's searches.

‘I think I have, sir. In fact, I'd like to ask you if the name Valleron means anything to you? Was he an associate of Kidman's?'

‘No, no, no, my boy! Far from it! The Marquis de Valleron was a French aristocrat, an
émigré
and owner of a collection of jewels and antique gold coins. The collection was an important part of Valleron family history—some of the items in it went back to Charlemagne. But it was stolen three or four years ago, and has never been seen since. I expect you were abroad, otherwise
you would have remembered it. It was a ruthless affair. There was a lot of fuss at the time.'

‘How was it stolen?' asked Emily.

‘The Marquis was travel ling to London from Bath when his coach was attacked by an armed gang. The coachman and two guards were quite deliberately shot dead, and the Marquis himself was badly wounded. The thieves got clean away, but one of them was later found stabbed to death in a copse about half a mile further along the road.'

‘A quarrel among thieves,' said Emily.

‘No, I think it was rather worse than that. Listen to the rest. The strong box that had held the collection was nearby, but it had been forced open and the gold and jewels removed.'

‘Efficient!' said William.

‘But why on earth was the Marquis carrying such a valuable cargo along the Bath Road?' Emily asked. ‘He must have known it was dangerous.'

‘He was taking the collection back to France with him. The Vallerons had been living in Bath, but once the war was over they decided to return, and where they went the collection went, too. Twenty years after smuggling it out of Paris and bringing it to England, he was taking it back home again.'

‘And it has never been found, or even heard of since?' asked William, leaning forward attentively.

‘Not as far as I know. Why do you ask?'

‘Because Barnaby Drewitt has been talking to one or two past associates in London—not the sort you're likely to know, Lord Winbolt. And he has heard that name linked with our friend Kidman.'

‘I call that very interesting,' said Lord Winbolt. ‘The
robbery took place, in fact, at a spot on the Bath Road not very far from your house, Ashenden.'

‘William! He hid the jewels in Charlwood, don't you agree? That's why he wants to get rid of you. He wants to be free to search wherever he wishes.' Emily stopped and looked puzzled. ‘But I don't under stand. If Kidman hid the jewels, why does he have to search for them? Why doesn't he know where they are now? And why has he left it so long before looking for them?'

‘It's obvious,' said William. ‘There was too much commotion at the time to get rid of the things very easily, so he left the jewels where they were. But it wasn't Kidman who hid them. It can't have been.'

Lord Winbolt had been listening attentively. Now he said, ‘Kidman was a younger associate of Edric Fenton, who was strongly suspected afterwards of having had a hand in the business.'

‘Fenton!' exclaimed Emily. ‘But—'

‘You knew him?' asked her grandfather, surprised.

‘No, but I know his widow. She lives not far from Charlwood. She moved in about a year ago…' As the significance of this slowly penetrated, Emily stared at William and her grandfather in turn.

Lord Winbolt said, ‘Just after Fenton died, perhaps? If we are right, he was a thief and a murderer, but he came to a miserable end. He had some sort of an apoplectic fit and eventually died, but for months before he was hardly able to move at all, or speak more than a few words.'

William said slowly, ‘If he was the thief and murderer, he was well served. He died unable to fetch the jewels himself, or to tell anyone else where he had hidden them. And now his friends are frantically searching for
them. What a shock it must have been when Charlwood was sold.'

‘They must have thought they had all the time in the world to look for those jewels,' said Emily thoughtfully. ‘Until you bought the place, William, Charlwood had been a haunted ruin for years No one in their right mind would have taken it on.'

‘Thank you,' said William. ‘You must remember I was des per ate.'

‘First for a house, then for a wife. Wasn't that it?' Emily's tone was suddenly bitter again.

‘I wasn't in search of a rich one, Emily,' William said impatiently. ‘But you know that now. Why can't you put your prejudices aside for once?' He held her eyes for a moment, then went on, ‘I still think I was lucky to find Charlwood. One day it will be a beautiful home. And for a while I thought I had been lucky enough to find the ideal mistress for it, too.'

‘And now?' asked Lord Winbolt.

William had been regarding Emily sombrely. But now he turned to Lord Winbolt and said with decision, ‘And now I must wait. This Valleron affair is dangerous. It hangs over Charlwood like a cloud. When that has cleared, then I can start to plan my life again, but not before. Early tomorrow I shall see a few more people and find out if Barnaby Drewitt has any more news for me, and then I think I must return to Berkshire. Kidman and his crew will not give up on seventy thousand pounds' worth of gold and jewels. They will be back—and heaven knows what they will do next.'

‘These men are dangerous, Ashenden,' said Lord Winbolt.

‘So am I,' said William. ‘When what is mine is threatened.' Turning to Emily, he said calmly, ‘I assume you
will wish to stay on in London? I could send Barnaby Drewitt to escort you home later in the week, if you wish.'

‘If my grandfather doesn't object, I should prefer to go back to Shearings with you.'

‘But what about your search for a governess?'

Emily avoided his eyes as she said, ‘You were quite right this morning when you said that my heart wasn't in it. I didn't think any of those women I saw today suitable. I certainly couldn't imagine them fitting in at Shearings.' She looked up now and went on, ‘But…but I've been thinking. The Rector at Stoke Shearings has a daughter who would make a very suitable governess, if she would agree to come. They are a large family, so she is used to small children. I don't expect she would want to live in, but James and Laura don't yet need full-time tuition. I will tell Rosa's friends we have found someone suitable.' She leaned forward and asked with pleading in her eyes, ‘Would you…would you agree?'