‘I’ve learned to be wary. To tell the truth, I doubt now that I shall ever marry.’
She looked at Rosa with the beginning of a smile. ‘And do you know? I didn’t feel like a cool fish yesterday. That stranger’s kisses were far more exciting than any I’ve known before. Isn’t that scandalous?’ Emily laughed. ‘Don’t look so worried, Rosa dear. I know I couldn’t marry the man—he was little more than a vagabond. Certainly no one a respectable spinster like me could ever consider as a husband!’
Sylvia Andrew has an Honours Degree in Modern Languages from University College, London, and before ending up as Vice-Principal of a large comprehensive sixth form college taught English for foreigners in Switzerland, Cambridge and in Compton Park, an international finishing school for young ladies which was housed in a beautiful country mansion leased from the Devonshire family. The house and grounds have provided inspiration for several settings in her novels. She and her husband Simon now live in a small market town in the west of England, which is full of the Georgian architecture they both love. And just a few miles from their home is the marvellous Dorset Jurassic Coast World Heritage Site. In 2000 Sylvia wrote a historical celebration of the town’s splendid fifteenth-century parish church in a millennium son et lumière, which was a great success.
She and Simon belong to the Georgian Group, the National Trust and English Heritage, all of which help them to satisfy their love of historic houses and wonderful landscapes. Simon lectures all over the place on architecture and wild orchids, while Sylvia tries to do nothing, and usually fails, since she is heavily involved in the local museum. She just can’t keep away from old maps, newspapers, photographs and census returns! Her other passion is theatre performances of Shakespeare. She and Simon have one married daughter, whom they visit quite often, and a very precious grandson called Joe.
Novels by Sylvia Andrew:
LORD CALTHORPE’S PROMISE
LORD TRENCHARD’S CHOICE COLONEL ANCROFT’S LOVE A VERY UNUSUAL GOVERNESS THE BRIDEGROOM’S BARGAIN
And in the Regency series The Steepwood Scandal:
AN UNREASONABLE MATCH
AN INESCAPABLE MATCH
MISS WINBOLT AND THE FORTUNE HUNTER
Sylvia Andrew
This one has to be for Simon, and my friends at Crewkerne & District Museum
Chapter One
Berkshire—May 1820
‘You must find a husband and set up your own establishment, Miss Winbolt. Marriage is the only answer. Nothing else will serve.’
Emily put her cup down very carefully. ‘Mrs Gosworth, I feel this is hardly a matter…’
‘I feel for you, my dear,’ her hostess continued. ‘Your brother’s marriage must have made life very difficult. After years of being in charge at Shearings yourself, it must be galling to have to hand over the reins to his new wife.’
Annoyed as Emily was, she had to laugh at this. ‘Nothing could be further from the truth, I assure you. Rosa and I are the best of friends and we deal very well together. I’m sorry, ma’am, but you are quite wrong to suggest—’
Mrs Gosworth was not about to abandon a topic she found so enjoyable. ‘Your sister-in-law would say nothing to upset you, of course. But the servants at Shearings are accustomed to receive orders from you. How will the new Mrs Winbolt establish herself as their mistress, while you are still in the house? Such a dear, sweet, biddable girl is sure to find it difficult, if not impossible. You are so decided in your opinions, Miss Winbolt, that there must be a risk that your brother’s wife will become a cipher in her own home!’
‘My dear ma’am, you are quite mistaken about Rosa’s character,’ Emily said, still smiling. ‘She is far from being the spineless creature you represent. Her manner is gentle, but she is perfectly capable of asserting her authority wherever and whenever it is needed. As indeed she does.’
‘Dear me! Two women of character in the same house? You are bound to fall out.’
‘I doubt very much—’
‘Perhaps you could set up house on your own? But, no! Your brother would never permit it. And what would the rest of the county say if he did? They would blame his wife, of course. No, marriage is the only answer. You must find a decent man and secure him without delay.’
Emily’s resolve to hold on to her temper was beginning to wear thin. She called on her sense of humour and confessed with a deceptive air of meekness that she knew of no one and asked if Mrs Gosworth had a suitable candidate in mind. Humour, along with refinement or concern for others, played no part in Mrs Gosworth’s makeup. Yellowing teeth showed in a triumphant smile as she said, ‘Not at the moment, but it shouldn’t be too hard to find someone. It’s a pity that your looks are no more than passable. Your brother is a very handsome man and no one in the neighbourhood could match his wife for beauty, but you…’ She shook her head. ‘It is a real pity. However, the case is not a hopeless one. Running Shearings has given you experience in household management and that would appeal to some men—especially one looking for a wife endowed with as handsome a fortune as yours.’
At that point Emily very nearly walked out. But, determined not to give this woman the satisfaction of seeing how very angry she was, she shook her head mournfully and said, ‘Alas, it looks as though I shall remain single, after all. I have no desire for such a husband.’ She got up. ‘Thank you for inviting me today, ma’am. It has been…an altogether delightful visit. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m afraid I must go. I have an appointment elsewhere.’ Then she curtsied and added, ‘You are very kind to be so concerned about how I deal with my brother and his wife. But pray let me set your mind at rest on one point at least. If I ever do decide to set up my own establishment, I shall not be leaving Shearings because of any difficulty in my relationship with my sister-in-law, I assure you. Good day, ma’am.’
Berating herself for her stupidity, Emily made her way back to Shearings. She knew that Mrs Gosworth was an embittered old woman with a desire to make mischief wherever she could, but she visited the old lady partly out of pity and partly out of curiosity to see what she would say next. But this time it had been too much. Now, as she went through the gate leading into Three Acre field, she asked herself why she had taken the risk. Mrs Gosworth’s malice might have missed its mark by a wide margin, but it had raised a question that had been haunting Emily for some time—the question of her future. Bitter experience had taught her that a fortune-seeking husband was the last thing she wanted, but how else could she reasonably find a home of her own without causing distress to Philip and, more particularly still, to Rosa? As she shut the gate behind her and set off across the field, this thought was still plaguing her. Much as she loved her brother and sister-in-law, she felt a growing need for independence. But how was she to achieve it without seriously upsetting them? She walked on, absorbed in her thoughts, and it was not until she was about halfway across the field that she became conscious of the black shape over to the left.
When she looked round and saw what it was, Rosa, Philip, Mrs Gosworth’s malice, her own doubts and painful memories, and everything else were wiped clean from her mind. Pritchard’s bull, large, black and powerful, was standing not twenty yards away, regarding her with a malevolent eye. Her heart missed a beat as stories about this animal flashed through her mind. Will Darby came to Shearings with a fresh tale every day, each one more gruesome than the last. Black Samson was as wicked as he was handsome. He had already savagely gored and killed a couple of stray dogs that had dared to come too near. Quite without provocation he had attacked and tossed Job Diment, one of Pritchard’s farm workers, and the man was