‘I accept that you acted with my interests at heart and I thank you for that.’ He stood, indicating that the interview had come to an end. ‘However, I am sceptical and have yet to be convinced that your deduction regarding Mrs Simpson was anything more than instinctive.’
‘Well then,’ Flora replied, unable to hide her disappointment and frustration. ‘I have neither the desire nor the ability to prove myself to you, so perhaps it would be better if we pretended that this conversation did not take place.’
Flora stood too, bobbed a curtsey and left the room. Relieved to still have a position at Beranger Court, she vowed to ensure that the earl’s sisters were not somehow bothered by an ambitious female keen to see his ring on her finger.
Chapter Ten
The next three days passed in a flurry of activity. Flora’s new gowns were delivered as promised. The girls seemed more excited than Flora and insisted upon inspecting them all, forcing Flora to try some of them on. She did so, and hardly recognised herself, feeling a combination of guilt and pleasure at the transformation. Her father would not approve, and that knowledge only served to increase her pleasure.
‘I am so glad that Grandmamma bullied you into the purchases,’ Lady Mary said, clapping her hands at the sight of Flora in the beautiful turquoise ballgown. ‘You have been so very kind to us, and so helpful too.’
‘I am here to help.’
‘With Grandmamma,’ Lady Emma said, ‘and you have done a remarkable job in a very short space of time. She is quite like her old self again, which is not say that she will ever be like the rest of us, but that’s part of her charm. Anyway, my point is that you have stood up to Grandmamma and forced her to do things that are good for her.’
‘Like walking around the lake, taking tinctures for the pain in her hands,’ Lady Mary added. ‘Even though she still won’t actually admit to having had any pain. And you have persuaded her to come down to dinner every night.’
‘Well, that would be good for her if she didn’t drink quite so much of the wine,’ Lady Emma said, giggling.
‘I suspect that she would drink even more of it if she dined alone in her chamber, as she was inclined to do before my arrival,’ Flora pointed out.
‘You have done all of that,’ Lady Emma continued, ‘and found the time to help us. I am sure all the last-minute hitches would not have been ironed out if you had not been so calm and competent. Every time I hit upon a problem, you found a solution for it that had not occurred to either of us. Haughty means well, but she panics and makes matters worse.’
‘And you went into Swindon for us several times, saving us from the trouble,’ Lady Mary pointed out. ‘That was especially thoughtful.’
‘Swindon seems familiar to you, I expect, so your errands would have been tiresome. For me, it is all new and interesting and I welcome the excuse to explore.’
Flora didn’t add that she had seen Mrs Simpson on one occasion, lurking in a coffee house, watching the street. Flora had been in the earl’s landau at the time and had only caught a brief glimpse of her, but she was absolutely convinced that Mrs Simpson noticed the driver’s livery because she abandoned her coffee and dashed from the shop. Flora didn’t see her again after that but did get the sense that she was being watched. No doubt Mrs Simpson would have been disappointed not to see the earl’s sisters—merely a paid companion, who was no help to her.
‘And now, today, the guests will arrive,’ Lady Emma said, looking distressed. ‘I cannot think why I persuaded Luke to hold the wretched party or convinced him that I was capable of making the arrangements.’ She looked frightened. ‘I am sick of it already and absolutely convinced that the entire affair will be an unmitigated disaster.’
‘And I am equally sure that it will be a resounding success.’ Flora shared a smile with Lady Mary. ‘You have done absolutely everything you can so my advice, for what it’s worth, is to let matters take their course and concentrate upon enjoying Mr Watson’s smiles.’
‘Miss Latimer!’ Lady Emma clasped her flaming cheeks between her hands. ‘What a thing to suggest.’
‘You are not exactly subtle, Emma,’ Lady Mary told her, smiling.
‘And you seem to be making progress. Mr Watson looks at you at great deal and his features always soften when he does so.’
‘His attentions, such as they are, are purely avuncular.’ Lady Emma wrinkled her nose. ‘I can see it’s pointless denying my interest in him to you, Miss Latimer, but if you have noticed it then I expect he has as well. No doubt he thinks me gauche and unsophisticated.’ She gave an exasperated sigh. ‘It would explain why he’s seemed rather distant these past two days. Since walking round the lake with me after our game of tennis, he hasn’t exchanged a single word with me in private.’
‘He does seem preoccupied,’ Lady Mary agreed. ‘But then so are Luke and Paul. They are probably feeling their age,’ she added with a sage nod. ‘I mean, I don’t know the half of it, but I hear tell that they were all three of them rather wild in their days at Oxford. Now that Luke is thinking about settling down, and Mr Watson and Paul look liked condemned men. When one falls, they probably imagine that the rest of them will topple like dominoes.’
‘Marriage is not so very bad for men,’ Lady Emma said, in a worldly-wise tone. ‘They get married because they are required to sire the next generation, but they can still do more or less as they please.’
‘It’s better for the ladies in many respects too,’ Flora pointed out. ‘They have more freedom once they are married.’
‘True enough.’ Lady Mary grinned. ‘To have affairs, if Grandmamma is to be believed.’
‘Well,’ Flora said, smiling at Lady Emma. ‘I shouldn’t give up on Mr Watson just yet, if I were you. I think he likes you very much indeed.’
Lady Emma screwed up her nose. ‘If he does then he has a funny way of showing it. And now, today, there will be half dozen elegant single ladies arriving. If he’s thinking of following Luke’s example then he will have a wide field to choose from.’
‘I fail to understand why you don’t think of yourself as elegant,’ Flora remarked. ‘You should, because you are.’ She patted Lady Emma’s hand. ‘And you look very pretty in that gown. Just play your part as your brother’s hostess, let Mr Watson see how effortlessly you carry out your duties and he will come to you.’
‘If I don’t die of old age first,’ Lady Emma said with a disgruntled shrug.
The girls left Flora’s room when the sound of the first approaching carriage reached their ears. Flora took a final glance at her appearance and blinked. Papa would have a conniption if he could see her wearing such an elegant day dress of Swiss twill, a pretty shade of yellow dotted with white roses. It was the first time that she had dipped into her new wardrobe and gave a silent prayer of thanks—her first in a while, silent or otherwise, she thought guiltily—for the countess’s perspicacity. Her ladyship was determined to attend the majority of activities, especially the nightly dinners, and Flora would be required to attend with her. She would feel less like the paid retainer she was if her clothing did not let her down.
With a final adjustment of a lace cuff, she left her room and made her way to the countess’s.
‘The carriages are starting to arrive, my lady,’ she said by way of greeting. ‘Would you like to go down and greet the guests.’
‘Heavens, no. I have no intention of stealing Emma’s thunder.’ She looked up at Flora. ‘Ah, you’ve decided to make an effort at last. Well, that’s something, I suppose.’
‘Thanks to you it’s possible for me to do so.’ She leaned over and impulsively kissed the old lady’s wrinkled cheek. ‘You are so very kind.’
‘Get away with you.’ The countess flapped a hand and made a big show of wiping her cheek where Flora had kissed it, but Flora could see that the gesture had pleased her. ‘I can’t abide all that sentimental nonsense.’
Flora wandered to the window and watched three carriages in quick succession pull up at the fr
ont of the house. She couldn’t see the occupants clearly, but caught sight of several slender ankles as the ladies lifted their skirts to descend from the conveyances, all with predatory intent, no doubt. She felt a moment’s pity for the earl, but no more than that. Flora might voice the same complaint as Lady Emma had with regard to Mr Watson, in that the earl had been distant and polite to her, no more than that, since their frank discussion in his library. Fortunately, that was where the similarity in their situations ceased, since Flora had no romantic aspirations regarding the earl. She was far too level-headed to wish for the unattainable. Her life had changed almost beyond recognition in the week that she’d been at Beranger Court, and was so far removed from her previously austere existence that she might as well be living it in China.
‘I never have to go back to that,’ she said to herself, thinking of the monotony, the lack of joy and spontaneity in her well-regulated regime.
‘What are you muttering about, girl?’ the countess demanded crossly. ‘Fine companion you are, talking to yourself and forgetting all about me.’
Flora turned from the window, smiled at the countess and sat in what had become her regular position, on the footstool at her side. ‘I was counting my blessings, ma’am, and thinking of the changes that have taken place in my life this past week.’ Her smiled widened. ‘It is rather liberating.’
The countess clucked her tongue. ‘Only rather?’
‘Well, I do have to contend with your sharp tongue, so it’s not entirely perfect.’
Flora earned a light tap on her knuckles for her impudence but the countess barely contained a smile as she delivered the reprimand.
By the end of the afternoon, according to the countess, all the guests had arrived.
‘How can you know that, ma’am? You have not moved from your chair. It is me who has been up and down to the window, too curious to remain detached.’
‘Ha, I don’t need to move to know what’s going on beneath my own roof. Besides, all those misses will want to take an early opportunity to make a good first impression upon my grandson.’
‘How very cynical.’
‘But true.’ The countess sighed, and Flora was inclined to agree with her assessment of the situation. From her vantage point, she had seen more than one of the girls glance up with covetous eyes at the magnificent building as they alighted from their carriages. ‘Come along. Help me up. They will be serving tea in the drawing room about now. It’s beyond time that I made my entrance.’
Since Flora was equally keen to have her first sight of the guests, she had no objection to make. She offered the countess her arm and they made slow progress down the staircase. Flora felt inexplicably nervous when she heard the sound of dozens of cultured voices ringing out through the open drawing room door. She reminded herself that no one would take the least notice of her and that she could fade into the background, doing what she had been adept at doing in Salisbury and becoming invisible. She could then take her measure of the guests and satisfy herself that none of them harboured malevolent intentions.
A slight hiatus in the conversations occurred when heads turned in the dowager’s direction. Partly, Flora knew, because of the respect due to her, but probably more so because of her typically flamboyant attire. Today, for some reason, it included a barbet of colourful artificial flowers that sat incongruously in her white hair. The odd stifled laugh was quelled when the earl stepped forward and kissed his grandmother’s cheek. The rest of her grandchildren followed suit. Flora decided her time had come to take a step back, but the old lady was having none of it. She imperiously beckoned to Flora, who dutifully returned to her side.
‘Where do you think you are going?’ she asked, making it sound like a chastisement and speaking loud enough for everyone in the room to hear her. ‘Come and meet some of our guests, irresponsible child.’
Flora was pleased to see the countess greeted with deference by everyone who came up to her—male and female alike. But with Flora it was a very different story. The ladies barely spared her a glance, clearly having decided that she was no impediment to their ambitions. The men surprised her by showing a great deal more interest in her, going so far as to engage her in private conversation when the countess’s attention was otherwise occupied. It must be the new gown, Flora decided, since she’d never been deemed worthy of so much interest whenever she had been required to join her mother at social affairs in Salisbury. Mind you, they had been attended by clergy and church officials and were deadly dull affairs since the participants were more interested in ecclesiastical in-fighting than social niceties. This, on the other hand, had the makings of a lively week.
She took notice when the prettiest girl in the room walked up to the countess with a handsome gentleman at her side. This, she imagined, must be Miss Carlton. A profusion of white-blonde curls tumbled around a small oval face in an artfully random style that must have taken hours of careful preparation. She possessed piercing blue eyes and a flawless complexion that Flora was absolutely sure had never been exposed to a single second’s direct sunlight. She was very small and fragile, and looked a little helpless—the type of female to invoke most men’s protective instincts. She had no reason to suppose that Lord Swindon would not number amongst them.
Her head didn’t reach Flora’s shoulder, making her feel like a giant by comparison. Miss Carlton proffered a small hand when Flora was introduced. Taking it, Flora felt her senses sizzle and was obliged to smother the oath that sprang to her lips. It was not a dire warning—nothing at all when compared to the sense of foreboding that had enveloped her when she encountered Mrs Simpson, but still…the earl definitely shouldn’t marry this creature. But Flora was damned if she would try to warn him. She had risked her coveted position by attempting to put him on his guard against Mrs Simpson. The earl would not thank her for interfering in his affairs again. He would have to trust his own judgement on this occasion and make the best of things if he got it wrong.
Flora’s attention was recalled to the gentleman at Miss Carlton’s side.
‘May I introduce my cousin, Captain Peter Carlton, ma’am?’ Miss Carlton addressed the request to the countess, who gave an imperious nod, almost dislodging the flower arrangement from her hair. ‘Peter is an officer with the Queen’s Royal Lancers and is recently returned from Afghanistan.’
‘Your servant, ma’am,’ he said, bowing over the countess’s hand. ‘It is a very great pleasure to make your acquaintance, and thank you so very much for including me in this invitation.’
‘Nothing to do with me,’ the dowager replied, subjecting the man to an exacting perusal through her lorgnette.
‘I am so very happy to see you up and about, ma’am.’ Miss Carlton’s high-pitched voice covered the embarrassed silence. That voice, in Flora’s opinion, would grate upon one’s nerves if subjected to it on a regular basis. ‘On the last two occasions when Mama and I called we were so very disappointed to hear that you were confined to your rooms. I am glad that you are now free of whatever malady afflicted you.’
‘Or sorry that I ain’t turned my toes up yet.’
‘She is rather direct,’ Captain Carlton remarked in an aside to Flora whilst Miss Carlton hastened to assure the countess that was not what she had meant at all.
‘I find it rather refreshing,’ Flora replied, happy to discover that the captain’s handshake left her with no particular concerns. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way, polite and perfectly at his ease. ‘If we all said what we think, rather than what we assume people want to hear there would be less misunderstandings in this world—and fewer wars too, I expect.’
‘True, but that would put me out of a job.’
‘Ah, so it would. I had not stopped to consider that possibility.’ Flora paused, expecting him to bow and move away. She was moderately pleased when he did not, even if he only lingered because his cousin was still engaged in stilted conversation with the countess and he depended upon her to conduct him around the room, introduc
ing him. ‘You marched through the Khyber Pass last year under General Hugh Henry Gough, I would imagine.’
Captain Carlton flexed a brow. ‘You are well informed.’
She smiled. ‘It was a lucky guess rather than an informed one. Your cousin mentioned that you have just returned from Afghanistan, I read the newspapers and am aware that your regiment formed part of that cavalry brigade.’
*
Luke watched Carlton making Miss Latimer laugh with barely concealed annoyance. He put his displeasure and instant dislike of the man down to the mood that had settled over him when he awoke that morning. With the dawn came realisation that he had reached the point of no return. It was one thing contemplating matrimony but, he was fast discovering, quite another actually making that commitment. It made sense on so many levels for him to take a wife, he thought, vigorously stirring his tea, yet his heart was most definitely not in it. He glanced at Miss Carlton, so pretty, so accomplished, so everything that she should be, and tried to persuade himself that he would be a very fortunate man if he proposed and she accepted him.
He failed.
Miss Latimer’s “powers” must be contagious, he decided with a mirthless smile. Faultless though Miss Carlton’s appearance and behaviour might be, there was an indefinable something about her that made Luke hesitate. He glanced towards Miss Latimer, wondering if she sensed it too, at the same time convinced that he himself had lost whatever wits he had possessed by even contemplating the possibility. Besides, even if his grandmother’s companion really did possess the powers that she laid claim to, she was most certainly not deploying them at that moment. Carlton had the temerity to keep her to himself for far too long, which was damned bad manners on his part. But the lady appeared to enjoy his company, and Luke had no legitimate reason to object.
‘Why are you scowling at your guests?’
Alvin’s voice snatched Luke from his reverie. ‘Was I?’ he asked.
‘She’s a diamond,’ Alvin said, mistaking the direction of Luke’s fixed gaze and assuming he had been contemplating the delicious Lily Carlton, standing a little apart from Miss Latimer and conducting a separate conversation with his grandmother.
A Sense of Belonging (Perceptions Book 1) Page 13