Miss Winbolt and the Fortune Hunter (18 page)

 

Emily had more appetite than she would have expected and they made a good meal before getting in the carriage again. There was a limit to the amount they could usefully plan before they arrived at Shearings and heard the latest developments there, so after a while they fell silent again. Then William leaned back, stretched his legs out and said lazily, ‘Now, what were you saying about Syon House and the Duke of Northumberland? I had no idea you moved in such elevated circles.'

Emily looked blankly at him, then realised what he was talking about and, for the first time in days, she laughed. ‘I was four at the time, William. And I said that we visited the
house
, not the Duke!'

The journey continued in this amiable mood till they reached Shearings in the late afternoon.

 

They were both a little disappointed not to be greeted by the children when they went in, but Mrs Hopkins told them that Rosa and Philip had taken them into the garden for some fresh air. So, still dressed for travel ling, they went out and walked down towards the maze. At the end of the path were two small figures skipping ahead of two taller ones, but as soon as they saw William and Emily they raced towards them, nearly knocking them over as they reached them. Laughing, William swung James high up in the air while Emily caught Laura in her arms and hugged her. A babble of greetings, questions and news ensued as all, adults and children alike, made their way back into the house. The servants had carried their luggage in and at Emily's request had left sundry small parcels in the hall. Once they were all settled in the salon and the talk was slightly less confused, Emily asked James and Laura to fetch them in.

She handed Laura an elegantly tied packet to give to Rosa, and James was asked to take one, more plainly wrapped, to Philip. While Rosa was exclaiming over a very pretty silk shawl, and Philip was leafing through a folio of pictures from Hatchard's, the children were cautiously eyeing the two remaining parcels.

Amused, Emily said, ‘There are two parcels left, I see. What
shall
I do with them?'

‘Are they for us?' asked Laura, her eyes huge with longing. ‘I'd like the funny knobbly one… I think it might be a doll!'

‘I don't want a doll,' said James. ‘I'd like the other one. It feels like a book.'

‘You'd better open them and see.'

The children needed no further encouragement. Impatiently tearing the paper off their presents, they exclaimed in delight over a china doll with blonde hair and blue eyes, and a handsomely illustrated book on treasure trove. William looked at Emily over their heads. ‘When did you find the time for all this?' he asked.

Rosa laughed. ‘Once Emily is in London, she becomes a dedicated shopper,' she said. ‘I know from experience that she will always make time to visit the shops, however difficult it is.'

‘There was nothing difficult about it,' said Emily. ‘I had a free afternoon, so I used it.'

‘I thought you were supposed to be seeing the ladies at the Pulteney Hotel?'

‘And I did, William. But I didn't spend long with them.' She turned to Rosa. ‘I'm sorry, Rosa, but I told your friends that I've found what we were looking for.' She hesitated, then with a look at the children who were
still absorbed in their presents, she said, ‘I'll explain later.'

Then Philip wanted to know how Lord Winbolt was, and the talk became general. But it was interrupted by one of James's blunt questions. Still holding his book he asked, ‘Uncle William, are you and Miss Winbolt married now? Can we call her Aunt Emily?'

After a startled silence, William said, ‘No, James. You know we said we couldn't get married yet because of what happened to the Dower House. That…that hasn't changed. What made you think we would be?'

‘Will Darby said you'd most likely gone to London to get married in Westminster Abbey.'

‘Good Lord! Nothing so grand, James! No, we aren't married.'

‘I knew you wouldn't be,' said Laura, busy with her doll. ‘I told James he was silly. How could you get married without a bridesmaid? I wasn't there! But I'm very, very glad you're back!' She got up and hugged Emily. ‘And even if you aren't married to Uncle William, you nearly are! Can't we call you Aunt Emily, anyway?'

William met Emily's look of enquiry with a rueful smile. ‘It's up to you,' he said.

She hesitated, looked at the expression in Laura's eyes, which were dark blue and so like William's, and made up her mind. ‘That would be wonderful!' she said. ‘There's nothing I'd like better.'

 

Rosa was enthusiastic about Emily's wish to employ the Rector's daughter as a governess for the children, and even went with her to the Rectory, the next morning to speak to Mr Anstey. After care fully enquiring about the children, their uncle and the conditions of his daughter's employment, Reverend Anstey thought
Charity would be interested. Unfortunately, the young lady was out with her mother, but he promised to let them know her answer very soon.

As they walked back to Shearings, well pleased with their mission, Emily said, ‘All the same, Rosa, you were stretching the point a little when you said William and I were shortly to be married.'

‘Oh, dear! Should I have said within the year instead? But Mr Anstey seemed rather reluctant to accept a bachelor as a proper employer for his daughter, didn't you think? To my mind the prospect of an imminent marriage was the only thing that made William acceptable to him.'

‘That is ridiculous! The girl is not going to live in, she will spend her time in the library at Shearings, chaperoned by Philip, who is a local magistrate, by you, his wife, by me, his sister, not to mention half a dozen servants and a highly respectable house keeper! You are just making that up, Rosa.'

‘These reverend gentlemen are only too aware of the temptations of the flesh, Emily,' said Rosa with a mischievous look. ‘They preach about them every Sunday morning. In their minds, any bachelor as handsome as William represents a threat to every girl he comes across. They are only safe when they have been married off. Don't you agree?'

But she instantly became serious when Emily said in tones of despair, ‘I seem to have made such a mess of things, Rosa. I don't believe that William and I will ever marry. You were right to warn me about him. As you said, he's just like Philip—so easy and charming on the surface, that you don't see the rock underneath. And at the moment he can't overlook the way I treated him. I doubt he ever will.'

‘You seemed to be on quite good terms when you came back from London. Am I wrong?'

‘He's asked me to help him, that's all.'

‘That's something. What are you to help him with? Only the children? Or is there more than that?'

‘There's more. We haven't yet had time to tell you about Charlwood and the Valleron mystery. Or about the Fentons. I'm sorry if it distresses you, but your friend Maria Fenton is not as innocent as she appears!'

‘I never thought her innocent, exactly,' said Rosa. ‘Not from the way she has always behaved. And I shan't be upset if she turns out to be someone I wouldn't wish to know. Her lies to you about William have already put me off her.'

‘Well…'

‘Well, what?'

‘William and I were wondering… No, I'd prefer to wait until tonight when we can talk to both of you together. William and I have a story to tell, and some plans to lay before you. There wasn't time to talk about them last night. We were too busy hearing about the children.'

Rosa nodded and they talked of the children until they were home again.

 

That night over dinner William told Rosa and Philip the story of the Valleron robbery and what happened after. In listening to William, Emily realised how very busy he had been during his time in London. His account of the people he had spoken to, the places he had visited, was impressive, and it was clear that Barnaby Drewitt had played an active part in it all, too.

‘William, who is Barnaby? Where does he come from?' asked Rosa.

‘He was born in Portsmouth and ran away to sea to get away from a monster of a father when he was twelve. I came across him when he was stranded in South America, tied to labour in a silver mine without much hope of escape. You could say I rescued him, but that was after he had saved my life. We've been together ever since. I've even trained him to be a gentleman's gentleman!'

‘That can't have been easy.' Philip grinned. ‘He doesn't exactly look like one.'

‘Don't be deceived by his looks! He's astonishingly good at it. But he has a large number of other talents, picked up, I fancy, during his earlier days in an effort to survive. And one of them is a gift for picking up bits of information in the most unlikely places. I have found it very useful in the past.'

‘What are you planning to do about Kidman and the rest?' asked Philip.

‘Thanks to Fenton's whole sale murder of anyone who knew where that treasure is, we are all, every one of us, in the dark, so to speak. He hid it some where in Charlwood or its grounds, but that's all anyone knows.'

‘This Edric Fenton…he was Maria's husband?' asked Rosa. William nodded and she went on, ‘Was she with him when he died? She should have been.'

They all looked at one another. ‘Of course!' said Emily. ‘She would be. And what about that brother— Walter Fenton? Where was he at the time?'

‘I think,' said Rosa, ‘that we should cultivate the Fentons.'

‘That won't be too easy, considering that I more or less turned down her offer of marriage—'

‘William! You mean
she
actually asked
you
…?'
Emily's voice failed her. ‘What a…a…prevaricator the woman is!'

‘Why don't you say what you think, Emily? The woman is a liar! But strictly speaking, no, she didn't ask me in so many words. She just gave me to understand she was very willing.' He looked at the expression on her face. ‘Why are you so outraged? Did you believe that
I
had asked
her?
I thought you knew me better than that, Emily.' His face changed. ‘But, no, of course you didn't.'

‘I could ask Maria to call,' said Rosa hastily. ‘She doesn't know what I think of her—not yet, anyway.'

Philip frowned. ‘I am very willing to help all I can myself,' he said. ‘But I don't think Rosa ought to get involved in this. Not at the moment.'

‘Philip, you promised before we were married that you wouldn't stop me again from doing what I think is right—even if it does mean going into danger!' said Rosa with unusual force. ‘Have you for got ten?'

‘No, I haven't. But surely I have a right to ask you not to do anything remotely dangerous at the moment. Not when you are possibly carrying my son and heir!' Rosa looked indignant and opened her mouth, but before she could say a word Philip added, ‘Or a lovely daughter—as beautiful as her mother.'

Emily looked from one to the other with her mouth open in amazement. Then she recovered, jumped up and, laughing with tears in her eyes, embraced Rosa. ‘Darling Rosa! What wonderful, wonderful news! Philip, I'm so happy for you!'

William waited until the Winbolt family's excitement had subsided a little, then said, ‘My congratulations, Winbolt. And of course Rosa mustn't do a thing.'

Rosa said firmly, ‘I have no wish to argue with you,
William, but I intend to carry on living a perfectly normal life for the next four or five months! And I fail to see how talking to Maria Fenton could do me much harm! Even Philip couldn't object to that.'

There was some argument, but Rosa had her way in the end. It was decided that Maria Fenton should have an invitation to Shearings as soon as it could be arranged. Rosa's behaviour to wards her would be perfectly normal, but she would have a pretty good idea be fore hand of what they would talk about. And, in view of what she was planning to say, it would be better if Emily and William were nowhere near her. They would probably take the children to Charlwood on that afternoon. Philip refused to go with them, but insisted on remaining within call, probably in the library.

‘Really, Philip, what could the woman do?' Rosa pro tested.

‘If Maria Fenton is still working with her late husband's associates, she is a very dangerous woman. I'm taking no risks, Rosa,' Philip said with finality in his voice.

C
harity Anstey called on them the next day and was an instant success with the children. With seven younger brothers and sisters at home she was well used to handling children, and she also proved to have a talent for teaching. The old school room at Shearings was brought back into use, and James and Laura quite happily spent two or three hours in it every morning with Miss Anstey. And when Emily was otherwise occupied they were perfectly content to go for walks with her in the afternoon, too.

But, on the afternoon when Mrs Fenton was due to call, Miss Anstey was not required. William, Emily and the children had left Shearings and set off for Charlwood well before two o'clock.

 

It had rained during the morning, but by the time they reached Charlwood the sun was shining. The children demanded to see the Dower House, and, in spite of some doubt on Emily's part, William wanted them to see for them selves how hopeless it was to think of living there.
So they stopped to call on George Fowler, who now occupied the lodge, and to visit the ruins. The Dower House was a pathetic sight, its ravages cruelly exposed in the bright sunshine. When they got nearer they saw that a team of men was still care fully sifting through the ashes as they were being cleared away.

Laura wept when she saw the exposed walls of what would have been her room. ‘The pretty wall pa per,' she sobbed. ‘You chose it specially for me and now it's all dirty!'

‘Wait till you see the room meant for you up at the big house,' said William, picking her up to console her. ‘It has an arch over the bed! And I'm sure if you asked her, Aunt Emily would help you to choose an even prettier wall pa per.'

James was more interested in what the men were doing, and William explained they were looking for anything that might give them a clue about the fire. James's eyes brightened. ‘Like treasure trove?' he asked. ‘I like looking for treasure trove. I've found some splendid things—a walking stick with a silver handle, Uncle William! And there's my picture, too.'

‘What picture is that?' William asked.

‘The picture I found in the big house. I thought you'd seen it, Uncle William! I'm glad I took it to Shearings, I can tell you. Laura wanted me to hang it up in this house here, but I wouldn't. I'd have lost it in the fire if we had.'

‘It's a painting,' Emily said. ‘Of the fountain court before it all fell into ruins. I shouldn't think it's very valuable—'

‘It is, Aunt Emily! It's a…an historic record! Mr Winbolt said so.'

William smiled. ‘I'd like to see it. And in a minute or
two…' he paused and looked mysterious ‘…in a minute or two, if it's a picture of the fountain and the garden, you can tell me if you think it's accurate.'

Ignoring the puzzled look on all three faces, he helped them back into the carriage and drove them up a much improved drive to the back of the house.

The children clambered out unaided and ran into the garden. Here they stopped short. The brambles, weeds and all the broken stones had been removed from the fountain. A track of bare earth leading to the centre suggested the presence of a new channel for water underneath, and recently cut stones lay nearby waiting to be put into position. The basin in the middle had been repaired and the statue in its centre restored. The rest of the fountain court had been cleared of weeds too, and the urns round the edge had all been set straight and repaired or replaced.

While James and Laura ran excitedly round and round the fountain and in and out between the urns, William sought Emily's eye. ‘I promised to do it,' he said. ‘Is it right?'

Emily nodded, unable to speak. It was exactly as she had planned it. The beds were already prepared for roses and climbing plants, and the stones would soon be put in place. By the following summer the view from the window would be as lovely as she had imagined it would be. She smiled tremulously. ‘It's exactly right, William!'

For a moment it seemed as if he would respond. He even put his hand out to her. But then the children called out, his expression changed and the warmth in his eyes had gone. By the time the children reached them he had already moved away.

‘It's all right, Uncle William,' said Laura kindly. ‘You
can hug Aunt Emily if you want to. People can hug as much as they like when they're married—and you are as good as.'

In spite of her bitter disappointment, Emily pulled herself together and even managed to laugh. ‘But not in public, sweet heart. Come, what else has been done?'

‘That's all there is outside,' said William in the impersonal tone he used to her nowadays. ‘Would you like to see inside?'

The children once again raced ahead, heedless of Emily's warnings to take care. William said in the same cool tone, ‘I think it's safe enough now. I've had an army working here in the last week. They've not only made the hall and stairs secure, they've been keeping an eye out for strangers, too. Incidentally, the workmen thoroughly excavated that fountain and found nothing at all unusual. Kidman must have made a mistake.'

They went inside. Here the hall was clear of the debris that had been blocking it and it was possible to see the marble floor and the lovely curve of the staircase. Laura was already halfway up. ‘I want to see the arch!' she said.

To please her, they first looked into the room that was to be hers and admired the arch. William had even hung a few pictures of scenes in Jamaica around the room, which de lighted her, and there were more in James's room, too. But when Laura began to skip along the landing towards a suite of rooms at the end, William stopped her. ‘No, Laura,' he said with decision. ‘That part of the house isn't ready yet. We'll go down stairs.' Emily stared at him as, surprised at his peremptory tone, the children went obediently towards the stairs. They were already on their way down when William came to a halt at the top stair and turned to Emily. He
said abruptly, ‘The men have stopped working on those rooms for the moment, until I decide what is to happen to them,' he said. ‘Till recently I was planning to share them with you, of course. They have the sort of view you enjoy.'

William might be keeping his feelings well hidden, and his tone was measured, but this time Emily saw through the barrier he was trying to keep between them. In those few words, uttered almost in spite of himself, she had caught a glimpse of all the plans he had made for this house, his thought for her hap pi ness, his desire to please her. She wanted to say how sorry she was, how much she regretted what she had said and done, but the lump in her throat made it impossible to speak. They gazed wordlessly at each other and the at traction between them sprang to life again, so strong that it was almost tangible, so powerful that she found herself moving towards him, not doubting for a moment that this time he would take her in his arms…

He kissed her with longing and passion, holding her against the taut length of his body, his hands caressing her, pulling her even closer. She responded instantly and as passionately, murmuring his name as they kissed and kissed again. For a moment everything about the world outside was for got ten, lost as they were in this tempest of feeling. Only this place, this time, existed…

But it was only for a moment. Suddenly and quite deliberately he put her from him. His hands were trembling and his voice shook as he said, ‘This won't do, Emily. It was a mistake. You…you have this power over me. I have never known anything like it. But until this business is finished I must keep my mind clear, and my feelings under control. I must! I have made too many mistakes.' He stopped, then went on more calmly, ‘And
later, when we are finished with this business, I shall think again about marriage and what it means. I was wrong to assume that all I needed was a house and a suitable wife to look after the children. There's more to marriage than that—much more.' He had still been holding her hand. Now he let it go and added briskly. ‘But those are questions for later. First we must sort out what I am to do about Kidman and friends.'

Emily grew cold at this return to his former businesslike tone. How could he put aside that storm of feeling so coolly, almost as if it had never happened? She tried to be calm, not to plead, as she said, ‘Don't shut me out, William. I can under stand about this house, and Kidman. But don't shut me out completely.'

He smiled wryly. ‘I doubt I could.' He shook his head, then, as a shout came from down below, he said in a different tone of voice, ‘We must go down stairs and see what the children are doing.'

They went into the salon and found James and Laura at the window, engaged in a lively argument. Looking round, Emily saw that William's men had per formed miracles. The room had been trans formed. Walls and ceiling had been plastered and painted, the woodwork painted white or polished, the delicate carvings restored. Light, airy, beautifully proportioned, Charlwood's salon would be the perfect place to sit, to talk, to receive visitors. And the views were still out standing, even at this late season. Emily joined the children at the window, where they were arguing about the number of urns they could see in the fountain court. She looked out, remembering when she had first seen this view. The colours of the landscape had changed with the season, but the under lying shape was the same. The avenue of trees had been restored, but it still led up to the folly. The same
hills rose in the back ground. It was she who was different. Older, wiser, more aware. And so, she thought, was William. Some things were the same about them both—below the surface there was still a strong link of physical attraction between them, which had sprung into instant life at their first meeting and continued to run like a powerful stream, in spite of anything they did. But there was something more—a tenuous feeling of something she felt might become even stronger, even more important than passion alone. She would call it love. But would he ever acknowledge its existence? She could only hope that when the time came she would be able to convince him.

Movement behind her brought her back to the present. The children had lost interest in their argument and were wandering out into the hall. Emily followed them, and saw James walking purposefully towards the door at the end, which led to the servants' quarters.

‘James, wait!' William joined him. ‘This part of the house is still being worked on. The kitchens are down there. It could be dangerous.'

Emily looked through the open door. It opened into a long pas sage, wide but dimly lit. ‘It's quite a different house down there,' William said. ‘Dark. Older. It reminds me of Temperley.'

‘Rosa says her father's house dates from the fifteenth century, and you're right. This looks the same.'

‘I think the old manor house was built about then, too. About a hundred years ago the owner of the time started to modernise the building, but he couldn't finish the work. Along with a good many others he lost all his money in a rash piece of speculation.'

‘I can see why Charlwood has a reputation for ruining its owners!'

‘Not this one, Emily! Not this one! I'll finish it, you'll see! But until it's all done… Come back, James!'

‘It's all right, Uncle William. I've been down here before. I want to show you where I found the picture. It's quite safe.' James was some way ahead by now, and Laura was pushing past Emily to follow him.

Emily caught hold of her and took her firmly by the hand. She said to William, ‘Could we perhaps have a short look? He's so proud of that picture! I seem to remember looking for him once before, and finding him beyond this door.'

William looked resigned. ‘Very well,' he said. ‘I suppose it's better we know what there is down there. Keep hold of Laura and go slowly!' He took off down the passage to catch up with James, and Emily and Laura followed. Their foot steps echoed as they went. The walls were made of heavy stone, and the only light came from a small window at the far end.

They passed a massive oak door. Laura eyed it nervously. ‘I don't like it here,' she said in a small voice. ‘It's too scary. Where does that door go?'

‘I don't know, Laura. It's probably just a broom cupboard.' Emily said, her voice care fully matter of fact. She tried the handle, but the door wouldn't open. ‘We'll ask your uncle in a minute.' William and James were by a flight of steps that led down wards. Emily eyed it with distaste. ‘If those steps lead to the kitchens, I'm glad I've never had to dine at Charlwood,' she said with decision.

‘Those steps lead to the cellars,' said William, amused. ‘The kitchens are further on, but they are, I admit, a mile or two from the dining room. Don't worry. New kitchens are being in stalled at this very moment just down there on the other side. The new dining room
for the family will be here, so that we shall all be able to enjoy moderately warm food.'

He opened a door on the other side of the passage and they went through. The room had been some sort of parlour in the old manor house, and it had been left very much in its original style. It would be a cosy room in winter, for a large fireplace with a stone surround filled at least a third of one wall, and the rest of the room was box panelled in oak, with shutters for the diamond-paned windows. On the wall opposite the fireplace alternate panels were filled at head height with small paintings.

William pointed to them. ‘We've just hung these up again. They're not in a very good condition and the quality is dubious, but they're obviously designed to fit the panels. A couple of them were still hanging on the wall when I first saw the room, but the rest were lying scattered over the floor, as if a child had thrown them down in a temper. Do you think they're worth keeping?'

‘Uncle William! I found
my
picture here! It was on the floor, too. It's just like these. But mine's the best.'

Laura was busy counting the pictures. ‘Seven, eight, nine, ten,
eleven!
' she said triumphantly.