Luke looked away from her, his expression guarded. ‘And if he was serious? What then?’
Flora shook her head, sending the plume in her velvet bonnet dancing across her eyes. ‘I am not in the market for a husband, Luke. I enjoy Lord Hardwick’s society. Indeed, he is very entertaining, so it would be hard to resist such a proposal. But the last thing he needs is me making his life difficult.’ She chuckled. ‘You can be sure that I would not be a biddable wife and would certainly not put up with his philandering ways. I am convinced that he hasn’t changed those habits, despite almost paying for his predilections with his life.’ She grinned. ‘Some men just can’t help themselves.’
‘Poor Archie does seem to have met his match.’
‘Poor Archie is a scoundrel, and well you know it.’ Flora sent him a mischievous look. ‘Since the two of you are the closest possible friends, I wonder what that makes you?’
‘Fortunately, we are back at the house and that saves me from having to formulate a response that won’t make you blush.’ They rode into the stable yard side by side. On a previous occasion when they had encountered one another, Luke had made a point of returning ahead of her to avoid unnecessary gossip. Now it seemed that he didn’t mind who saw them together. And why should he? No one could possibly read anything into it and Flora would be quick to set them straight if they attempted to. She had the security of her position to consider. ‘We are agreed then. We shall keep Amethyst for your exclusive use.’
‘I have been outmanoeuvred,’ she said playfully, slipping from the saddle before he could lift her from it in front of the grooms. ‘You knew the moment I rode him that I would fall in love and would not be willing to part with him.’ She nodded her thanks to the groom who came to take the gelding from her and watched as he was led away to be rubbed down. ‘You are very kind, Luke. Thank you.’
‘It’s entirely my pleasure.’ They walked back to the house together. Romulus was still full of energy and expended a little by foolishly chasing the stable yard cat, earning a scratch on his nose for his efforts. ‘Will that silly dog never learn?’
They parted in the back hallway. Flora scampered up to her room in order to change and wash the smell of horseflesh from her limbs. She thought about breakfast but had eaten a large dinner late the night before and wasn’t hungry enough to bother. Instead she slipped into a plain day gown and then made her way to the stillroom.
‘Now then,’ she muttered to herself as she absorbed the aroma of dried herbs in the neatly arranged room that she had made her own, ‘how best to help Lord Hardwick?’ She pulled an apron from the peg behind the door and covered her gown with it. ‘Not that he deserves any help, given his outrageous behaviour, but still…’
She searched through her own grandmother’s book of old remedies and smiled when she happened upon an obscure entry that just might give Archie Hardwick a little relief.
Aaron’s rod seed bruised and boiled in wine, then laid on swollen joints previously broken and reset is known to take away swelling and pain, she read.
Flora had inherited her supernatural powers and way with herbs from her beloved relative, and knew from experience that most of her cures were effective. She would insist upon Lord Hardwick trying this particular one, even though it was too late to expect a complete cure. The bones in his legs and hips had not set right and now never would. Even so, Flora suspected that any small respite from the pain would be welcome, even if it just enabled him to walk more comfortably. A man most likely didn’t feel like a proper man if he couldn’t walk unaided, or provide simple gentlemanly services for a lady. Flora had seen how much effort it had taken him simply to pull her chair away from the table the previous evening.
She carefully ground the seeds, set her burner alight and boiled up a little sweet wine. She added the seeds and stirred carefully, judging when the potion was ready by its smell. She then left it to cool and carefully wrote out the method so that it could be replicated in Lord Hardwick’s own stillroom. Once she had done so, the potion had cooled sufficiently for it to be transferable into a glass bottle. She set the stopper firmly in place and then went in search of Lord Hardwick’s man. She found him below stairs, breaking his fast. He seemed surprised to be accosted by the countess’s companion but listened politely to what Flora had to tell him.
‘Make sure he uses it regularly,’ Flora instructed as she handed over the potion and the written instructions. ‘It must be applied as hot as he can bear it like a poultice to his afflicted limbs and left in place until it cools. Tell him not to expect overnight results.’
‘It’s right nice of you, miss, but I doubt whether his lordship will bother. He tried all sorts when he first had his accident, but nothing worked and now he’s given up caring.’
‘Tell him, Mr Pawson, that I have gone to considerable trouble and that he will have me to answer to it if he doesn’t at least give it a chance.’
Pawson chuckled. ‘Right you are, miss, but don’t hold your breath.’
Flora assured him that she didn’t have the slightest intention of so doing. Having satisfied herself that she had done all within her power to help Lord Hardwick, she glanced at the clock in the hall and decided it was beyond time that she checked on the countess.
Chapter Four
Louise Pearson spent a largely sleepless night wondering if she had done the right thing in asking Flora Latimer, a young woman with whom she was barely acquainted, if she could confide in her. Wondering too if she had done the right thing in returning to Swindon and visiting her problems upon her grandmother. Not that she had actually done so…yet, since Grandmamma had not asked about the reason for her visit. Instead, she had seemed delighted by it. Reacquainting herself with her sister was proving to be a more delicate task, and Grandmamma was kind enough not to put pressure on Louise by demanding explanations that she wasn’t yet ready to offer. She had come here to lick her wounds and examine her options. Her grandmother was demonstrating infinite patience and a decided lack of curiosity by allowing her the time she needed to readjust.
Dearest Grandmamma! Louise felt wretched for having ignored her for so long, even if that situation had not been entirely of her own making.
Deciding that a guilty conscience would prevent her getting much rest, Louise rose with the dawn and took a turn in her grandmother’s gardens—her pride and joy. Louise could see that the gardeners knew their business and everything that needed to be cut back ready for the winter had been suitably pruned, and there was not a weed in sight. She threw back her head, enjoying the feel of the fresh country breeze infused with a nip of approaching autumn biting into her cheeks. It was so different to the stale air of London to which she had become accustomed, and a great deal more agreeable.
‘Why did I allow myself to be manipulated into staying away for so long?’ she asked aloud, already knowing the answer to her own question. She wished that her circumstances could have been different, or that she could have found the strength to assert herself.
She wished so many things.
She returned to the house and was surprised to discover her grandmother already breaking her fast.
‘Grandmamma.’ Louise kissed her cheek. ‘It’s still very early. I did not expect to see you for a long time yet. Are you quite well?’
‘Perfectly so, my dear. I don’t need much sleep at my age.’ She patted the seat beside hers at the small table in the dining parlour. Louise perched on the edge of it and smiled her thanks to the footman who poured coffee for her. ‘Now you really must eat. You’re far too thin.’ She waved the footman from the room. ‘You have only been back for two days and we haven’t had a proper opportunity to talk alone yet.’ Louise’s heart quailed. Not now, Grandmamma. Please! ‘Tell me how you really are. You are so very lovely. So much like your mother, but I expect you get tired of hearing that.’ Grandmamma smiled at her. ‘It is a pleasure to have you here at last and I know Marianne is pleased to see you.’
‘Is she? She seems quite withdr
awn, but then I hardly know her. We wrote to one another all the time, but that’s not the same thing at all.’
‘I think she is a little in awe of you, but you will bring her out of herself, I’m sure. Now, did you enjoy last night’s party?’
‘I did, thank you. You were right to force me into attending, and I am glad that you are still so friendly with the countess.’ Louise smiled. ‘She is quite a character, and certainly not afraid to speak her mind.’
‘She is indeed.’ Grandmamma chuckled. ‘Don’t be taken in by her scatty behaviour. She is still very astute and doesn’t miss a trick. She just amuses herself sometimes by pretending to be muddle-headed.’
‘Did she want to know what brought me to Swindon?’ Louise asked in a state of some agitation.
‘Calm yourself, my dear.’ Grandmamma helped herself to a muffin, still warm from the oven, and forced one upon Louise too. ‘She did not ask me to explain the reasons for your sudden return. I merely said that you had come for a long overdue visit, which as far as I am aware is why you are here. And very delightful it is to see you.’
Louise felt tears flood her eyes. ‘Thank you so very much for not asking questions, Grandmamma. I should hate for you to disapprove of my conduct.’
‘My dear, nothing you ever do could earn my disapproval. I very much doubt that your circumstances are of your own making. I can see that something is troubling you, and when you are ready to unburden yourself I am more than willing to listen and offer advice.’ She smiled. ‘I am impossible to shock. I was not always old, you know, and do remember how it felt to be pursued by not always scrupulous gentlemen. They were the ones who always seemed the most appealing. There’s something about scoundrels…they have engaging manners that one finds hard to resist. Anyway, I well remember being confused by the demands of society when I was your age, and since you no longer have a father to depend upon for advice…’
‘Oh, Grandmamma!’ Louise felt overwhelmed; unworthy of her elderly relation’s compassion. ‘Whatever have I done to deserve you?’
‘Well, my dear, we can none of us choose our families, but I hope that I at least am not a cause for disappointment in your eyes.’ She finished her muffin and delicately wiped her fingers on her napkin. ‘Did you enjoy Miss Latimer’s society? I saw the two of you in close conversation for a considerable amount of time.’
‘I did. In fact, I intend to call on her later today, if you don’t need me for anything.’
‘Oh, I am glad. Isadora, the countess, is inordinately fond of the girl. She has made herself indispensable to the Berangers as a whole, come to that. Well, given that they threw a party in honour of a servant, I imagine that much was obvious to you.’
‘Poor Miss Gregory.’ Louise smiled. ‘She couldn’t make it out at all. A servant seated at the table with the gentry, and as guest of honour no less. I am sure she will never recover from the indignity.’
‘Piffle!’ Grandmamma puffed out her cheeks. ‘The chit has ideas above her station. I could tell you a few things about her family’s history that would curdle milk. Her uncle, the squire, is respectable enough. But the rest of them…’ She flapped a hand but refrained from expanding. ‘However, she’s wasting her efforts on Luke Beranger. She ought to aim lower. Much lower.’
Marianne joined them at that point, still looking half asleep, and Louise spent the rest of the morning reacquainting herself with a sister whom she had barely seen for the past ten years.
After a light luncheon, she set off for Beranger Court, driven there by her grandmother’s coachman, wondering if she could bring herself to tell Flora the complete truth about her circumstances. She sensed that her new friend wouldn’t turn her back on her, but she was unsure if there was anything Flora could actually do to help her, so it would be a calculated risk. If word got out about Louise’s situation, she would be ruined. But since there was every possibility that she would be ruined by a cruel and vindictive person anyway, she might as well go with her instincts and unburden herself. God alone knew, she needed to confide in someone before the weight of her problems ground her down completely.
She thought about Henry Beranger, who had gone out of his way to make himself agreeable to her the previous evening. Like all the male Berangers, he was tall, with a sweep of thick brown hair, equally brown eyes and rugged features. His gentlemanly conduct, relaxed good nature and the efforts he took to entertain her only served to reinforce her previously bad judgement and increase her regret. Louise couldn’t be herself with him because she didn’t deserve his attentions. If he knew the truth about her conduct he would be repelled and want nothing more to do with her.
Sighing, she watched the passing scenery as the carriage covered the short distance between her grandmother’s abode and Beranger Court.
‘I am an idiot to have allowed a little flattery to ruin my life,’ she muttered.
⸎⸎⸎⸎⸎
‘Ah, you are awake.’ Flora smiled at the countess. ‘How do you feel today?’
Sitting up in bed with her cap askew, the old lady appeared to be in a curmudgeonly mood. Flora had learned to gauge her state of mind at a glance, but she also knew that late nights took their toll on her strength—especially since she refused to moderate her intake of wine or retire when she felt fatigued.
‘Tired of being asked that question,’ she replied querulously.
‘Which means your joints are stiff. I thought as much, so I have made you up a tincture.’ She poured the potion into a glass and held it to the countess’s lips. She drank it down without her usual litany of complaints, further proof that the medication worked and that the countess knew it.
‘Disgusting,’ she complained, putting the empty glass aside.
‘It’s a lovely day. I have already been out riding. I don’t suppose I can tempt you out for a walk. It isn’t cold and the colours are quite magnificent.’
‘Are you trying to kill me off, child? Go walking alone, if you must. You set too much stock by fresh air.’
‘I doubt whether I could kill you off even if I wanted to,’ Flora responded. ‘You have the constitution of an ox and will likely outlive us all, just to be contrary.’
‘You will discover for yourself if you reach old age that being contrary is one of the few pleasures left to a person.’
Flora smiled. ‘A benefit that you do not scruple to exploit.’
‘I’ll get up and sit in my chair. Help me, Sandwell,’ she said to her maid who was hovering in the background. ‘Don’t just stand there looking useless.’
Between them they hauled the countess to her feet. Sandwell slipped her charge’s arms into a robe, which she belted tightly before draping a thick shawl around her shoulders. Thus protected against the cold, even though a good fire burned in the grate and the room was if anything a little stuffy, the countess shuffled across to her favourite chair. It afforded her a wide-reaching view of the grounds and was surrounded by framed photographs of her family. Most of the people in those pictures were now dead.
‘Go away, Sandwell. This irksome child can entertain me for a while. Come back when it’s time for luncheon.’
‘Very good, milady.’
‘Did you enjoy your party?’ the countess asked, as Flora settled herself in her customary place on a stool at her charge’s feet.
‘Very much so. In fact, I was overwhelmed by all the attention.’
‘Well, even you shouldn’t be denied a few minutes in the spotlight. Don’t suppose you’re accustomed to it.’
‘Good heavens, no!’ Flora grinned. ‘Vanity and the desire to put oneself forward is sinful and much frowned upon where I come from.’
The countess sniffed. ‘Of course it is. Anything the least bit pleasurable is sinful in the eyes of the church. It don’t stop them who preach these things from indulging in sin, though. I can’t abide leaders who don’t actually lead by example. I might have some respect for religion if those responsible for dishing out sermons actually lived according to their suppos
ed beliefs.’
Flora inclined her head, knowing better than to enter into a theological debate with the countess, mainly because she agreed with most of her blasphemous views—and felt a modicum of guilt as a consequence.
‘You are all far too good to me,’ she said instead.
‘Yes well, better that than have you leave us. Don’t get ideas into your head. You are far from satisfactory, much too bossy and opinionated, but I don’t have the energy to start over with another nincompoop.’
‘How very reassuring.’ Flora bit her lower lip, endlessly amused by the countess’s determination to pretend dissatisfaction with her services. Flora knew that none of her predecessors had lasted for five minutes, simply because the countess couldn’t abide their nervous ways. She was fond of Flora but would never actually make that admission. She enjoyed the fact that Flora stood her ground in their frequent spats, despite being a little disappointed that she was unable to shock her. ‘Would you like me to read aloud to you?’
‘Heavens, no! Not today. I’d rather sit in quiet contemplation, but that’s something you young people cannot seem to abide. There is much to be said for peace and quiet.’
‘At the risk of sounding argumentative—’
‘Harrumph! When did that ever prevent you from expressing your opinion?’
‘Quite. As your ladyship is aware, I am the eldest of five girls who were brought up in a comparatively small house. Rest assured that solitude was a rare commodity during my childhood years, and therefore much cherished, so I am happy to sit with you and speak of nothing at all if you would prefer it.’
A Sense of Injustice (Perceptions Book 4) Page 6