Underneath its ruinous appearance was a spacious, beautifully proportioned house which could in time be made into just the sort of family home he was looking for. Meanwhile, with a few alterations, the Dower House could house them all quite adequately. He set about buying the estate with the energy and efficiency which had served him well in South America. It was an odd coincidence that, soon after the negotiations were complete, William’s lawyers were approached by another buyer, who was apparently equally eager to possess Charlwood, and was offering more than William had paid for it. But William refused the offer without hesitation. Charlwood was to be his—it was the perfect place for him and his family.
One evening Lady Deardon told him that she had met a certain Mrs Gosworth when visiting an acquaintance. ‘She lives nearby in a small village called Stoke Shearings. Have you come across it?’
‘I spent a night at the inn there not long ago.’ William smiled reminiscently, visited once again by the memory of a woman with silver-grey eyes and tumbling hair, long, bare legs and slender ankles. She had looked like a gipsy, and had behaved like one, too. As he remembered the passion he had aroused in her, his blood stirred again… A wanton, a tease, she might be, but he still hadn’t forgotten her.
‘William…William, why do you keep going off into a trance when I am speaking to you? Don’t you want to hear what I have to tell you?’
He returned to the present. ‘Forgive me, I was thinking…thinking of…of something else.’
‘Well, whatever it is, forget it for the moment. This is more important. After talking to Mrs Gosworth, I think I’ve found a possible wife for you! There!’ Lady Deardon looked so complacent that William felt impelled to say solemnly,
‘I’ve heard of the lady. She’s in her sixties, and a harridan to boot. You’re very kind, but I don’t think she would do for me.’
Lady Deardon gave a laugh. ‘Don’t be such a tease, Will. Of course I don’t mean her! I thought she was a most unpleasant woman. But she talked of someone who sounds perfect. A Miss Winbolt. Not in her first youth, and unhappy at the change in her circumstances. She lives with her brother and his wife in the big house in Stoke Shearings. It belongs to the Winbolt family. You didn’t happen to call on them when you were in the area, did you?’
‘No, that was the day I got lost, and when I got back to the inn that evening it was too late for a social call.’
‘Shearings itself is a beautiful place, apparently. It has some superb gardens. From what Mrs Gosworth says, Miss Winbolt kept house for her brother for years, but last January he married a rather unsuitable woman and brought her home to Shearings.’
‘Unsuitable? What did she mean by unsuitable?’
‘Rosa Winbolt had been married before. Her husband apparently belonged to a raffish lot in London, and died in suspicious circumstances.’
William shook his head at his hostess. ‘My dear ma’am, I hope you haven’t been paying too much attention to Mrs Gosworth. The new Mrs Winbolt may have once lived in London, but she comes from a highly respected local family and is very well liked in the neighbourhood. I’ve heard nothing but good of her.’
‘Really? So the trouble may lie with Emily Winbolt herself? Mrs Gosworth did say she was a rather strong-minded young woman. It could be that the new bride wants to take over the running of the house and Miss Winbolt finds it difficult to step down. According to Mrs Gosworth, she is past her first youth and rather plain, so she can see that her chances of finding a husband are fading. She might well consider marriage as a means of having a household of her own.’
‘And you think I might be her saviour? I’m not sure I like the sound of that.’
Lady Deardon looked disappointed. ‘Really, William, you can’t be as eager as I thought to find a mother for those children. Here is a respectable young woman with every reason to want a husband, a real possibility, and you say you don’t like the sound of her! You haven’t even met the lady! She certainly isn’t the sort of empty-headed débutante you despise.’
‘No, but I would think twice before saddling myself with a plain, strong-minded spinster of uncertain age. It seems to me that would be a recipe for unhappiness.’
‘Well, why don’t you wait till you see her? She might surprise you. The Winbolts are bound to be at the Langley House ball at the end of the month, so you could meet her there.’
‘Very well—but I make no promises!’
‘I don’t ask you to.’ Nettled by his lack of appreciation of her discovery, Lady Deardon added, ‘After all, Miss Winbolt may not approve of you when she sees you! She is said to be pretty cool in her attitude to men.’
‘Worse and worse! Strong-minded, plain, and now cold-hearted, too! Your poor Miss Winbolt sounds to me like someone born to remain a spinster.’
‘Not my Miss Winbolt, William. And not poor Miss Winbolt, either. I saved the best till last. She has a considerable fortune of her own!’
‘Really? And she hasn’t found a husband for herself all these years? What an antidote she must be!’
‘William!’
‘There must be something wrong with her, ma’am.’
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