Miss Winbolt and the Fortune Hunter (24 page)

‘Where is she?' he asked fiercely.

Kidman's rage had suddenly vanished. His eyes were blank, like those of a man in a trance, or otherwise drugged. ‘Inside,' he said in differently. ‘Locked in the turret room. She was in the way.' His eyes followed Maria's body as it was carried down the drive. ‘I didn't mean to kill her,' he said. ‘I wanted to know what she'd done with the Valleron jewels.'

William said curtly, ‘She isn't dead. With care she will survive.' He turned towards the house, saying over his shoulder, ‘And she didn't take the jewels, either. I did. Those jewels are on their way back to their owners, Kidman. They're in a vault in London.' He started to race up the drive.

Kidman came to life again. His face contorted with rage, he snatched a pistol out of his pocket, lifted it and took aim at William. But he stumbled and fell to the ground long before he could fire it. He himself had been shot.

Barnaby Drewett nodded as he put his pistol away again. He looked unmoved as Jem and the others gazed at him with a mixture of dread and admiration. They had never seen anything so quick. ‘Is he…is he dead?' asked Jem.

‘'Fraid so,' Barnaby said. ‘My finger slipped.' Then he added laconically, ‘But better dead, than alive. Very unhappy future waiting for him.'

 

Emily couldn't hear much from the top of the tower, but she did hear the shot. Had Kidman killed Maria? Was he going to come back for her? She was aware of
foot steps, purposeful and threatening, coming along the passage towards the oak door. So it was the end. Jem had either been captured or he had failed to find anyone to help him, and Kidman was probably going to add her to his victims. But she wasn't going to make it easy for him! She grasped her long-handled pike even more firmly and descended as far as she could without being seen from the door. Holding her pike at the ready, she waited for the door to open. She wouldn't give in without a fight.

‘Emily?'

At first she could hardly believe her ears. Then he spoke again, more urgently. ‘Emily, are you all right? Kidman didn't say you were dead. Oh my God, Emily, where are you?'

‘William! Oh, William!' Emily threw the pike down and, laughing and sobbing at the same time, flew down the stair case. As she reached the last few steps she tripped over her pike and fell headlong into William's arms. He held her, kissing her as if he could never have enough of her, muttering between kisses, ‘I thought you were dead, I thought I'd lost you, Emily my love, my only love, never do that to me again, do you hear? I couldn't stand it.' She could feel him trembling against her as he kissed her again and again.

After a while, his arms still wrapped around her, he had calmed down enough to ask again, ‘Are you sure you're not hurt?'

She shook her head. ‘Only a bruise or two. William, is James all right?'

‘He won't be after I've dealt with him. Do you realise that, because of him, I could have lost you for ever?'

‘He's only a little boy—' she began.

‘Why are we talking about James when I'm des per ate to tell you how much I love you?'

‘Do you, William? Really love me?'

He looked at her. Then the tiny fan of wrinkles appeared at the corner of his eyes. ‘You mean apart from your fortune?'

‘William!'

‘I worship you, Emily. Surely you know that? You could be without a penny to your name or a rag to your back, and I would still adore you, my lovely Emily. In fact I rather like the idea of loving you without a rag to your back. I would kiss you and you could call me Will in that special way of yours…'

‘William! Will you
never
be serious?'

‘I have never been more serious in my life. Emily Winbolt, do you love me enough to marry me? For the only reason that makes any sense at all. You can make a home for the children, build up Charlwood, have the establishment you wanted…anything you say. But all that is nothing. The only thing I truly want is that you should love me as much as I love you. That you can imagine life without me as little as I can without you. Tell me, my very dear love.'

Emily took his face between her hands and kissed him long and sweetly. ‘William, I love you in every way you say. I really do. And I can hardly wait to start our life together. But now let's go back to Shearings so we can tell Philip and Rosa. I don't think they'll be very surprised, do you?'

 

There were, of course, a number of matters that had to be sorted out before William could take Emily back. He did suggest she should go back with one of the men, but she absolutely refused. He smiled, mouthed the word
‘strong-minded', but let her stay, and Will Darby went alone to Shearings to reassure the house hold there. Maria Fenton was taken to one of the houses in the village and made comfortable until the question of her future could be decided. And two bodies were carted away to be decently and properly dealt with.

While they waited for the men to finish, William wandered through the house with Emily, his arm round her shoulders, hers round his waist. They even went into the small parlour, though not without some hesitation on Emily's part. ‘I rather think this room will never seem the same,' said William. ‘Shall we take out all the old panelling and make a modern room of it in the style of the rest of the house? What do you say?'

Emily shuddered and nodded. ‘I'd like to get rid of Fenton's secret hole,' she said. ‘It's sinister. What was left there cost so many lives. Yes, please, William.'

Last of all, they stood at the window in the salon and surveyed the fountain court. ‘That's it!' he said. ‘Settled. They've all gone. We can start a new life as soon as you say the word. A month?'

‘A month is impossible!' said Emily. ‘Of course it is! Just think, William, Charlwood won't be ready, the arrangements for the wedding will have to be done all over again, guests inv—'

Emily was ready to argue further, but William stopped her mouth with a sudden kiss. When she was able to speak again she said weakly ‘Whatever you say, William. A month. One month from today.'

‘That's better, my strong-minded beauty,' he said.

December 1821

I
t was just over a year later and Charlwood was humming with activity. Guests had come to stay for the Christmas festivities and William had been heard to complain, though not very seriously, that he could hardly move for all the visitors and their babies, valets, maids and nursemaids. But the house could easily cope with any number of people, and this was a very special Christmas. It was a house warming for Charlwood, its alterations, extensions and redecorations complete, and now one of the county's show places.

Emily stood at one of the long windows in the salon and gazed out at the lively scene before her. The sledging party was on its way back from an afternoon spent on the slope beyond the fountain court. Laura was skipping at William's side, her cheeks as rosy red as her cap, chattering away, nineteen to the dozen. James was more energetic, racing and sliding down the hill with Philip, while Rosa, laughing and calling, tried in vain
to keep up. For a while after Baby Richard's birth they had been concerned about her, but it was wonderful to see her now so full of health and energy again.

The sledging party gradually disappeared round the corner, and Emily turned to face the room. The servants had just been in to light the candles, and the crystal chandeliers and girandoles reflected a thousand points of light. The room was bathed in a soft glow, reflected again and again in the mirrors round the walls.

It had been grimy, neglected and half-ruined the first time she had seen it. Now it was as lovely, as light and airy, as she had pictured it would be. Her eyes lingered on its pale ivory walls, its white woodwork, the elegantly beautiful fireplaces at each end of the room, and the soft lustre of silk curtains hanging in graceful folds and gleaming in the candlelight. It was exactly as she had imagined it. There were other rooms in the house she liked, rooms where the children played and William had his hobbies, but this was still her favourite.

She looked round and smiled. At a table at one end, the Deardons were playing cards with Rosa's father, who had deserted his books and come over from Temperley to join the party. At the other end, in the warmest corner of the room, sat her grandfather, dandling his great-grandson on his knee. The advent earlier in the year of Richard, Philip's son and the first of the next generation of Winbolts, seemed to have given Lord Winbolt a new lease of life, and to everyone's pleasure he had made the journey from Arlington Street in the depths of winter in order to be present at the baby's first Christmas. He was chuck ling now, as Richard's tiny starfish hands tried in vain to grab his spectacles.
Emily hurried over. ‘Shall I take him?' she asked. ‘He's quite a handful.'

‘A few more minutes, and then I'll have had enough. He's a bonny lad!'

Noises in the hall suggested that the party of sledgers had come in, and for a while the room was full of life and movement. But the children were eventually taken off for supper and bed, and when the baby was carried away by his nurse Lord Winbolt announced he was going to his room for a rest before dinner. Emily walked with him to the foot of the stairs. She smiled. ‘Confess, sir! That baby has you under his minute thumb!'

‘No such thing. But he's uncommonly bright for a child of his age. Uncommonly.' He gave her a sharp look from under his brows. ‘I'd like to see another before very long, though. And I don't mind if it ain't a Winbolt. An Ashenden would suit me just as well.'

William came up behind them and put an arm round his wife's shoulders. With his inimitable grin he said, ‘We'll see what we can do, sir. Maybe this time next year?'

‘You're not the man I thought you were if I have to wait as long as that, William, my boy. Remember my age!'

‘William! Grandpa!' Emily pro tested. ‘This is a highly in delicate conversation.'

‘Not to my generation it ain't. Get on with it, girl!'

 

That night Emily waited in her bedroom in the master suite, waiting for William to come up. She had drawn the curtains back and was standing at the window, entranced by the view. When he came into the room she said, ‘Look! This is the sort of thing you meant me
to see when you decided that this room was to be mine. Am I right?'

He came up behind her, kissed the back of her neck, then put his arms round her waist and looked out at the moonlit scene. Frost had covered the ground with silver, and hung a cascade of diamond daggers on the statue and urns in the garden. The avenue of trees was a colonnade of white, leading up to the folly and a sky filled with brilliant stars.

‘The Valleron jewels and all the gold that went with them, are back with their rightful owners,' said Emily softly, ‘and I hope they are pleased. But no jewels could rival that view. And no gold could buy it.'

They stood and watched for a few minutes, then William said, ‘I was talking to Philip earlier. He told me that a certain Madame de la Roche has recently opened a very discreet gaming establishment just off Pall Mall.'

Emily looked blankly at him, but, though there was a distinct twinkle in his eye, he remained silent. She said at last, ‘How very interesting. How kind of you to inform me! I must make sure to put it in my note book. Why are you telling me this?'

‘I thought you would like to know where to find me if and when I go gaming in London.'

Emily knew that voice of old. What was William up to now? ‘Thank you,' she said cautiously. ‘But why should you want to go gaming? I thought you liked it here with me?'

‘I adore it here with you! Particularly here!' He let his eye rest on the bed. ‘But I don't like to forget old friends…'

‘Who
is
this Madam de la Roche?' demanded Emily.

‘She was formerly a friend of yours, too. Her name was once Maria Fenton…'

Emily regarded him with awe. ‘She can't be! Really? She is?' He nodded, laughter in his eyes.

Emily took his face between her hands and pulled it down to within an inch of hers. ‘Listen care fully, William Ashenden! If I catch you within a mile of that discreet gambling establishment, I shall…' He was holding her close, so close that she could feel every line, every muscle in his beautifully honed body. ‘I shall…' He was moving quite suggestively, and she was finding it difficult to concentrate. ‘I will…'

Suddenly he laughed and swept her up in his arms. ‘Emily, light of my existence, my adored wife, why would I want to go within ten thousand miles of a woman like Maria Fenton, when I have all I shall ever want or need in my arms right here and now? Now stop being ridiculous and set about helping me make your grandfather happy!'