He bowed to her formally, then turned on his heel and strode away, hidden by the trees in moments.
Winnie stood frozen. That formal bow… not cold, not impersonal but showing her how much he respected her… ittwisted her inside as nothing else had done. How could shenotforgive him when he was in such despair?‘Your friendship means all the world to me’,he had said.
“As yours means to me,” she whispered to the trees, and they soughed softly in a consoling chorus.
Friendship… yes, she would accept that, if it were all he offered. But on one point she was grimly certain — if ever Walter should ask her to marry him again, however casually it might be, she would accept instantly. She would not waste a second such opportunity.
If it should ever come.
***
Walter returned to Birchall House the following morning, but Winnie knew nothing of it until Lily bounced into the housekeeper’s room, where Winnie was discussing the dinner menu with Mrs Penfold.
“Have you heard? Walter is back.”
Winnie dropped the pencil she was holding, and it rolled noisily across the wooden table and clattered to the floor. “Is he?”
“Not to worry, Miss Winnie,” Mrs Penfold said, as she bent to retrieve the pencil. “His room is ready for him, just as he likes it.”
“Well, he may not be staying,” Lily said. “He has no boxes, and he has been stuck in the book room with Papa for an hour, at least.”
That was strange! Winnie could not decide whether it was good news or bad. Good that he came at all, but bad that he only saw Papa and brought no boxes. That quick glimpse of him at the tree house was like a single spoonful of damson pie, not nearly enough. Having spent several days being terrified of seeing him again, now she longed for a sight of him, however fleeting. Shehad not realised until that moment just how much she had depended on his return to Birchall. But he might not. He might decide that working with Uncle Alfred was not what he wanted to do with his life, and then she would be reduced to only seeing him now and then, at an evening party, perhaps, or at church.
Pushing such dispiriting thoughts to the back of her mind, she finished her business with Mrs Penfold and went back upstairs, meeting Maynard on the way down.
“Ah, there you are, Miss Winnie. Your father wishes to speak to you in his book room.”
“At once?”
“As soon as convenient.”
Winnie’s insides churned alarmingly. Walter here but not staying, only seeing Papa! And now she was sent for! What else could it be? He had offered for her, and properly this time… what else could it mean? Oh, please, please, please, let it be so!
All the way up the stairs, her stomach roiled about and her legs were as shaky as jelly. Maynard preceded her, knocked on the door and then announced her.
“Ah, Winnie! Come in, my dear.”
He was alone. But that did not necessarily mean anything. Perhaps Walter was waiting in another room. Or had left and would return later, and this interview was merely to warn her what was to come. She did not quite trust her voice, so she said nothing.
“You will be aware, I expect, that I have had Walter here this morning. He came like the honourable man he is to make a full confession of his part in the retreat of your gentleman from London. I knew the whole story, of course… or almost all, from your uncle, but Walter held nothing back. He is in the utmost despair, and not the least part of it is that he knows he has lost your good opinion. He values your friendship very highly, and heis aware that he has now forfeited it. However, he wishes now to do what is right.”
Winnie’s heart lurched violently. This was it, the moment she had waited for…
“He would like to return here to continue his tuition under your uncle, but not if that would distress you, my dear. He has behaved very thoughtlessly in his dealings with Lomax, but this shows a pleasing consideration for your feelings. I wonder if he is finally growing up a little.” He chuckled genially. “What do you say, Winnie? Will his presence here distress you? What shall I tell him?”
Winnie’s disappointment was so acute that for a moment she could neither speak nor breathe. Were all men so blind as this? Walter had never seen what lay in her heart, but that her father should be just as oblivious was a little surprising. How could they not know the emotions which gripped her so fiercely? She turned away and walked to the window to give herself time to compose her disordered mind.
“Winnie?” her father said, suddenly uncertain. “This troubles you?”
With a supreme effort of will, she composed her features and turned to face him. “No, not at all. Let him return here, if he will.”
“You do not object to his presence here?”
“By no means.” And that was the truest word she had spoken. If she could not marry him, and perhaps could not even be his friend, at least she could see him, be under the same roof and breathe the same air as him. If that was all that was allowed her, then she would take it, and cherish it.
The interview being over, she went quietly to her room and wept in solitude for half an hour. That was all the time she allowed herself to grieve. Then she washed her face, tidied herhair a little, and went down to the still room to continue her morning chores.
***
