Sylvia Andrew - Miss Winbolt and the Fortune Hunter

Lady Deardon laughed and gave up. ‘Very well, I can see you are not to be persuaded. We shall say no more about Miss Winbolt.’

* * *

Lady Deardon did not give up her quest entirely. Not much later she greeted William triumphantly with the news that she had found another possible wife for him.

‘She has only been a few months in the neighbourhood, so I met her for the first time today. I found her quite charming. I promise you, William, if you are as hard to please about this lady as you were with Miss Winbolt, I shall wash my hands of you. Her name is Mrs Fenton and she is exactly what you wanted—a rich young widow. Her husband died just over a year ago. She lived round here when she was a girl and has now moved back again. I’m sure you would like her. I thought I might invite her to dinner one evening.’

‘Please do. She sounds more promising than Miss Winbolt. I should be delighted to meet her.’

Mrs Fenton came to dinner. In her early thirties, beautiful, poised and witty, she was just as attractive as Lady Deardon had said. William was definitely intrigued and when he heard that she, too, was to be at the ball at Langley House, he begged the lady to reserve a dance for him.

Meanwhile Emily was suffering the aftereffect of her confession to Rosa. Garden parties became a frequent diversion at Shearings, and as time went on the house saw a succession of riding parties, evening parties, and weekend parties to which Philip’s former Army friends were invited, along with the more respectable of Rosa’s London circle. Plans were in hand, too, to spend the next year’s Season in London. Rosa, anxious to stop her sister-in-law from taking the disastrous step of living alone, had evidently decided that the best solution would be to find a husband for her as soon as possible. Emily watched all the activity, ordered some new dresses and resigned herself to waiting patiently until her loving family realised that she had made up her mind. Sooner or later she would find a comfortable house surrounded by a small park and spend the rest of her days there with a respectable female for company. Meanwhile she would watch the scene before her with her usual calm, slightly ironic, eye.

Of course, invitations were returned, among them an invitation to the ball at Langley House. Rosa was quite excited at the prospect, and as they drove to Langley on the evening of the ball the conversation in the Winbolts’ carriage was of the distinguished guests they would find there.

‘The Langleys have such a wide circle of acquaintances. Maria Fenton is back in the district and will almost certainly be there now that she is out of official mourning. I shall be interested to meet her again. I knew her when I was a girl, Emily. She was a few years older than I was, but she was so lovely that you couldn’t help but notice her. I wonder if she changed after her marriage.’

‘I shouldn’t be surprised,’ said Philip. ‘Edric Fenton was a strange man. Who else is coming?’

‘The Deardons will be there, and I expect they’ll bring a guest of theirs, Sir William Ashenden. They are almost bound to include him in their party. Apparently he has just bought Charlwood.’

‘I can’t imagine what possessed Ashenden to buy that place. Does he know how much it will cost to put in order? A retired naval officer would need something other than his pay to make it habitable,’ said Philip.

Rosa had other matters on her mind. ‘I wonder how old he is…and if he is married,’ she said thoughtfully.

The ball was well under way by the time the party from Shearings arrived. The ladies left their cloaks in a small room set aside for the purpose, then Philip escorted them to the ballroom, where Lady Langley greeted them warmly, ‘You’ve known most of the people here since you were a child, Rosa, dear. But perhaps you haven’t met Lady Deardon? Her table is in the far corner. I shall take you to meet her.’ She added with an arch smile at Emily, ‘Lady Deardon’s visitor is with her. I’m sure Miss Winbolt would like to meet him. Such a distinguished man…’

So Rosa’s efforts to marry her off had not gone unnoticed in the neighbourhood, thought Emily grimly. The idea was so unwelcome that, though she smiled and made a suitable reply, her manner as they were taken down the room to be introduced was distinctly frosty. Lady Deardon regarded Emily with interest, but then turned to Philip and Rosa to say she was alone for the moment, but hoped they would wait till the rest of her party returned. They agreed with pleasure and sat down. Emily gazed round.

Further down the room a gentleman, tall, lithe and assured, was leading a strikingly attractive woman on to the floor. He was smiling as he bent his head to hear what his companion was saying. Little wrinkles fanned out from the corners of his eyes… Emily’s heart missed a beat. For a moment she was frozen. It couldn’t be! It couldn’t possibly be! She was imagining things. The likeness was purely accidental. It couldn’t be Will. Will was a carelessly dressed, carelessly mannered wanderer. He wouldn’t be a guest of one of the neighbourhood’s most stiff-necked families, dancing with one of its most beautiful women. Of course he wouldn’t! She sat for a moment telling herself to be sensible, to stay calm. But she found it quite impossible. The shock had been too great, and the ballroom was suddenly unbearably hot—she needed air, somewhere to recover. Slipping her fan into the arrangement of flowers behind her, she exclaimed, ‘How foolish of me! I seem to have left my fan in the pocket of my cloak. Please excuse me while I fetch it.’ And without waiting for any offers of help she got up and made her way as calmly as she could out of the ballroom.

But once outside she fled to the small boudoir which had been set aside for ladies, where she sat down and requested a glass of water. She was trembling. The man in the ballroom couldn’t possibly be Will. It was a delusion. His face had haunted her dreams for weeks, and now she was beginning to imagine it when she was awake! That must be it. It wasn’t Will, it wasn’t…! She grew cold. But what if it was? Her throat felt dry and she took the proffered glass gratefully. After taking several sips of water, she calmed down again and began to reason sensibly. How could someone who was little more than a vagabond find his way into a house belonging to the Langleys who were one of the county’s highest sticklers? It was impossible. Of course it was! She must have imagined the resemblance.

Rosa came into the room. ‘Have you found your fan? I was sure you had it with you…Emily, is there something wrong?’ She took a closer look at her sister-in-law. ‘Are you feeling the thing? You look a little pale.’

‘I…I felt the heat for a moment. It’s better now. No, I haven’t found it yet. Perhaps I dropped it in the ballroom.’

‘We’ll look for it when we go back. If you’re ready, I want you to come with me to meet the gentleman with Lady Deardon. Philip and I have been talking to him while you were in here and I think he could be the very man for you! He is just as distinguished as Lady Langley said—tall, very well dressed, with such a cultivated, intelligent air. I suspect he has a sense of humour, too. I know you will like him. I can tell Philip does. Do come.’

Emily sighed. Another candidate to save me from my doom, she thought. This time it’s an elderly naval officer. How tired I am of meeting ‘just the man’ for me. In the last few months, ever since I told Rosa of my wish to live alone, I have been introduced to a knight, two baronets, an admiral and what seems like every possible rank of the Army from an ensign to a brigadier… And when we’re in London Rosa will no doubt find distinguished men of letters, artists, poets, diplomats, any one of whom might be ‘just the man for me’… I shall die of a surfeit of suitors! The thought amused her. She was even smiling as she accompanied Rosa back to the ballroom.