‘I just received word that cove Conrad’s been hanging around the Stag in Lyneham,’ Pawson said without preamble as he entered the library. ‘He called on Miss Latimer for ten minutes yesterday.’
‘The devil he did!’ Archie scowled. ‘I warned her about him and she shouldn’t have received him alone.’
‘Polly told me she kept her in the room.’
‘Even so, leopards don’t change their spots.’
‘What’s he done to offend you?’
‘He was a cheat at Oxford and my predecessor for Magda’s favours. He was out of his depth on so many levels.’
Pawson pursed his lips. ‘Should have let him keep her.’
Archie sent his friend a jaundiced look. ‘Hindsight is damned annoying and not particularly helpful.’
‘Right, sorry.’ Pawson looked anything but as he leaned his backside against the sofa. ‘I assume he resents you.’
Archie nodded. ‘We had words before I got involved with Magda. He was desperate to be accepted by our set and tried to buy his way in.’
‘Money?’ Pawson slowly shook his head, grinning. ‘The cad! Him not being a gentleman like…’
‘We weren’t that selective,’ Archie replied. ‘Plenty of our friends were from the middle classes. But there was something about Conrad. He presumed upon the slightest acquaintance and always tried that little bit too hard. He name-dropped, putting people’s backs up.’
‘That sort of thing was not done, I take it.’
‘Bad form,’ Archie agreed. ‘Any aspiring gentleman worth his salt would have known it. Anyway, he used his father’s money to buy himself out of trouble, including paying others to write his essays for him. He outright accused me of dropping a word in the right ear when he was hauled over the coals for it. It wasn’t me as it happens, but when Magda gave him the heave-ho in my favour, the battle lines were well and truly drawn.’
‘There’s nothing he can do to damage you.’
‘You wouldn’t think so,’ Archie agreed, rubbing his lips pensively with the side of his index finger. ‘But even so, his sudden appearance in the area has me worried. The man is arrogant, has a massive chip on his shoulder and doesn’t enjoy being gainsaid. Now he’s sniffing around Flora’s petticoats, and that at least has to be stopped.’
‘Something to do with his connection to her father, I assume?’
‘Possibly. What have you found out in that respect?’
‘Nothing yet. I have people making enquiries. Give it time.’
‘Right.’
‘It might be nothing to do with Latimer—his interest in Flora, I mean.’ Pawson threw a log on the fire and kicked it into place with the heel of his boot, standing back when sparks shot up the chimney and cascaded onto the stone hearth. ‘Has it occurred to you that your nemesis thought you were dead? Now you’re risen up like a phoenix from the ashes of your previous life—a marquess, no less.’
‘Conrad aspired to a title. I recall him being in his cups once and talking about how his father would likely purchase him a peerage by making himself and his money indispensable to the government of the day. Doesn’t seem to have happened. He hasn’t gone into his father’s business either and is beavering away at Coutts instead.’
‘Maybe he thinks there are greater possibilities for a man with ambitions, holding down a position in a gentleman’s bank.’
‘A bank that’s in London, in the heart of things, rather than being stuck in the wilds of Yorkshire.’
‘If he aspires to a gentlemanly existence, and if his father has deep pockets, I’m surprised he hasn’t married into an impoverished aristocratic family. There are enough of them around with daughters who need to be married off to save the day.’
Archie nodded. ‘That thought had occurred to me as well, which makes his willingness to serve at Coutts that much harder to fathom. The man I recall was never that keen on getting his hands dirty. But then again, perhaps his father purchased him a position that will further his ambitions. Get him on first name terms with directors and influential clients; something of that nature. It wouldn’t surprise me. One thing’s for sure, he wouldn’t have gone to work there without a good reason.’
Pawson lifted a beefy shoulder. ‘Perhaps the father disowned him when he showed a disinclination for the steel industry.’
‘Possibly. I have no idea about his family’s circumstances. I never took any interest, but I can’t recall him speaking of siblings in my hearing. Perhaps there are brothers. Find out for me.’ Archie glanced at Pawson. ‘Do we know if his father is still alive?
‘We don’t, but I’ll find that out as well.’
‘Please do. Anyway, you were pontificating about my rebirth. Feel free to carry on, I could do with some entertainment.’
‘Happy to oblige,’ Pawson replied cheerfully. ‘As I was saying, Conrad is a man who knows how to bear a grudge, so maybe he’s seeking revenge for Magda’s betrayal by attempting to take Flora from you.’
‘Flora isn’t mine,’ Archie said with exaggerated patience.
‘Perhaps not, but he only has to ask around in Lyneham and it won’t take him long to discover that you are protecting her, albeit from a distance. That sort of protection could easily be misconstrued, which might account for her father’s determination to remove her from your seductive clutches.’
‘Damn it to hell and back, you could just be right!’ Archie snapped.
‘Don’t shoot the messenger, guv’nor.’ Pawson shrugged at Archie, his palms out in a placating gesture. ‘I know your intentions are honourable for once, but this Conrad character knew you in your wilder days. And, if you don’t mind my saying so…’
Archie grunted. ‘Would it matter if I did?’
‘What use would I be to you if I only told you what you want to hear?’
Archie shifted his position and stretched his injured leg out straight in front of him with a sigh, flexing the withered muscles and easing the aches that had accumulated. Despite the improvements in his mobility, his leg still played up in cold, damp weather. ‘Spit it out then,’ he snapped.
‘My point is that Conrad might not only be on the prowl for revenge. Your interest in Flora might be a happy coincidence from his perspective. He’s involved with Latimer in ways that have nothing to do with religion. Given what you’ve told me about Conrad’s character, he doesn’t seem the devout type.’
‘Agreed,’ Archie replied, uncomfortable with Pawson’s innuendos. It was the first time his man had openly referred to Archie’s preference for Flora, and Archie knew it would be pointless to deny his growing attraction—especially if she was under threat from Conrad and her father. Archie needed Pawson to be his eyes and legs and knew he could depend upon him in ways that he would trust with few others. ‘Perhaps Conrad and Latimer are engaged in some sort of investment scheme, but if they are I fail to see why Latimer would think Flora knows anything about it, and why it would matter even if she did.’
‘Well they’re up to something, that much we do know. Can’t imagine the two of them having anything much in common otherwise. We know Latimer wants to keep Flora in line, preferably back in the family fold, and when Conrad caught a glimpse of her at her sister’s wedding, he no doubt decided that he’d be the man to bring her to heel. A man who attracted a younger Magda Simpson’s interest probably thought that Flora would be child’s play.’ Pawson paused. ‘Whatever you see in her, guv’nor, Lord Swindon saw it too. And now Conrad does as well.’
‘Damn his impertinence!’ Archie thumped the arm of his chair. ‘I shall have to go and see her and ask her about the visit.’
‘I would advise against it. She’s due to take luncheon with you here in a few days. Leave it until then and let me carry on making enquiries in the meantime.’
‘She could be in danger, and you expect me to leave her alone?’ Archie threw up his hands. ‘What sort of protector would that make me?’
‘You’d be revealing your hand for no good reason. Flora would
want to know how you were aware of Conrad’s visit. If she discovers that you have half the village keeping a careful watch over her, to say nothing of Polly reporting regularly to you through me, she will…’
‘Right. Point taken.’ Archie gave a mirthless chuckle. ‘The chit is too independent for her own good. She would be furious and probably up sticks and leave. She wants—needs—to prove something to herself. That’s why I haven’t… Anyway, I suppose I can wait a few days. Hopefully, she will tell me about Conrad’s visit without my having to mention it.’
‘Possibly.’
‘Besides, if she left, Polly would go with her,’ Archie said, grinning as he exacted a modicum of revenge. ‘And you would lose your main source of information, to say nothing of having to forego stepping out with Flora’s maid.’
‘You want to know what she gets up to,’ Pawson replied, grinning broadly. ‘Slave to your duty, so I am. Polly’s that grateful to be employed and she’s dedicated to her mistress, so…’
Archie laughed as he levered himself to his feet. ‘Put your enquiries in hand and let me know as soon as you learn anything worthwhile. I’m going to spend an hour in the steam bath. My leg is giving me merry hell.’
‘I’ll help you into it, then get on with my work.’
‘Good man.’
Chapter Five
Four days had passed since Elroy Conrad’s unwelcome visit, and Flora hadn’t seen or heard from him since. Hopefully he would accept her wish to be left alone, but her sixth sense told her otherwise.
No form of communication had arrived from her family either. It was too much to expect that the new Mrs Janson would recall her manners and send Flora a brief note of thanks for the generous gift she had bestowed upon the couple. Even so, she reasoned, Pamela’s incivility would give Flora a justifiable reason to cut off all connection with her oldest sister and her insufferable husband. They had never been close anyway. Pamela was a replica of her mother—sanctimonious, cold and disapproving.
The only sister Flora had any time for was Melanie, but whether the child would be permitted to spend time in Flora’s company and put herself at risk of contamination from Flora’s rebellious ways was highly unlikely. Flora sighed, accepting that she could not right all the world’s wrongs.
‘Are you going out today, miss?’ Polly asked, her voice breaking into Flora’s introspective thoughts. ‘It’s colder than ever and they say it might snow.’
‘All the more reason to attend to my old ladies. The weather will make their maladies worse. Besides, I have a book that Mrs Finch will pretend not to enjoy.’
‘Do you still intend to take luncheon with Lord Felsham tomorrow, miss? Mr Pawson came into the village yesterday and asked specifically.’
Flora smiled and raised a brow. ‘And you just happened to see him?’
Polly blushed. ‘Well, he knows that I go to the market for Beatrice on a Thursday and…’
‘It’s all right, Polly. Your private affairs are exactly that; private. I shall not pry into whatever arrangement you have with Mr Pawson. I know that his lordship depends upon him and trusts him absolutely, which is good enough for me. You have had a difficult time and I enjoy seeing you being admired, as you have every right to be. What’s the point in being so pretty otherwise?’
‘I’m not sure about being pretty. I don’t see it myself but if I am…well, that’s what got me into trouble.’
‘You were not at fault if your master couldn’t keep his lust in check. I am perfectly sure that you didn’t encourage his attentions.’
Polly stood a little straighter. ‘I did not.’
‘At least you have Alice.’
‘And the pair of us would be in the workhouse if you hadn’t taken us in. I shall always be grateful to you for that, Miss Latimer.’
‘You have more than repaid me with your loyal service. Anyway, I am glad to see you enjoying Mr Pawson’s attentions. I don’t suppose you’ve felt able to trust any man since your misfortune but I know Mr Pawson won’t overstep the bounds.’
Polly giggled. ‘I’ll make sure your new violet costume is pressed and ready for tomorrow,’ she said. ‘I expect you’d like to wear it. It’s warm and his lordship hasn’t seen it before.’
Flora wondered if she ought to object to Polly’s insinuations but decided against it, at least in part because she did want to impress Archie. He had admired her in violet once before, remarking that it complimented the colour of her eyes. She would be deceiving herself if she tried to pretend that she hadn’t had this newest costume made with his approval in mind. She smiled to herself, her thoughts returning once again to the strict rules that had been enforced in her family’s home. Had she grown vain in her quest for independence? The possibility amused her. Not that she had much to be vain about. Even so, adopting one of the deadly sins—albeit unintentionally—and thereby offending her father, felt like a revenge of sorts.
‘Yes, that will do admirably. You had best come with me,’ she added mischievously. ‘I am sure Beatrice will enjoy an excuse to spoil Alice for the day.’
‘If you wish it.’
She spoke so primly that they both burst out laughing.
‘I am sure we will have a lovely day despite the cold weather,’ Flora said. ‘You will be impressed by Lord Felsham’s estate, even if the house is more like a mausoleum than a home. It needs to be lived in. Lots of children creating mayhem…that sort of thing. Anyway,’ Flora added, slipping her arms into her warmest coat, the one she reserved for her works in the village and didn’t mind getting dirty. ‘I had best be getting along before the snow you speak of arrives and inconveniences us all.’
Flora went about her business briskly, sending frequent glances skywards as heavy clouds grew progressively lower in the sky, making it seem like the middle of the night even though it was not yet noon. Villagers waved but didn’t pause to chat as she drove Mabel from cottage to cottage. She smiled to herself, thinking about Archie driving a similar form of transportation, something the suave marquess would have considered beneath his dignity before his accident.
‘There is much to be said for the cobs in this world, is that not right, Mabel?’ she asked the horse. ‘Slow and steady, shockproof and entirely reliable.’
Mabel flapped her ears back and forth and continued on her plodding way, apparently unconcerned by the treacherous conditions that had caused a flightier horse to come to spectacular grief just outside the tavern. There were plenty of people on hand to help the hapless rider to his feet. The man seemed more embarrassed than injured, so Flora continued on her way.
Her final call was at a cottage that was a little higher up the social ladder than the lowly dwellings inhabited by the majority of the people she helped. She had heard Mrs Isadora Finch described as a distressed gentlewoman, a description that Flora found entirely apt. Mrs Finch possessed a refined manner and form of address, and was intelligent and well educated. Now in her sixties, her movements were hampered by severe arthritis. Flora had met her by accident at the weekly market not long after her arrival in the district. Mrs Finch had lost her footing and had been unable to get up without Flora’s assistance. The incident had left her winded and Flora insisted upon helping her home.
‘I suppose you expect a reward,’ the lady said acerbically.
One glance around the scrupulously clean yet shabbily furnished cottage and Flora knew that Mrs Finch was indeed distressed, accounting for her determination to fall back on her dignity.
‘Is it so long since anyone showed you kindness? Is that why you are so suspicious?’
The lady grunted. ‘Everyone wants something. I’m only suspicious when they pretend not to.’
‘Are we not supposed to find our reward for good deeds in the afterlife?’
‘Ah, you must be the bible basher’s daughter I’ve heard so much about.’
Flora gasped, not because she was offended but because Mrs Finch’s words echoed those the countess had often used to describe Flora in an effort
to insult her. She smiled as she coaxed the meagre fire back to life and threw another log on it. ‘Is that how I am described?’ She chuckled. She could see Mrs Finch was disappointed that her efforts to claim the moral high ground had failed. ‘Sit down and let me see if there is anything I can do to relieve your pain.’
‘I am not in pain.’
Flora glanced up at a shelf sagging beneath the weight of a well-thumbed collection of books. Some were in French, and all pertained to serious subjects.
‘I was once the Countess of Swindon’s companion, but I suspect you already know that, given your reference to bible bashing. Anyway, if her determination always to have the last word failed to make an impression upon me then you, Mrs Finch, might as well give up trying to shock me before you have even begun.’
‘Impudent chit!’ But the older lady’s lips wobbled with the effort it took her to refrain from smiling.
Ignoring her protests, Flora helped to raise her swollen ankles onto a footstool and gently probed. Mrs Finch was unable to help wincing, even though it was evident that she tried to pretend nothing was wrong.
‘It’s as I thought. Why have you not consulted a doctor?’
‘Doctors?’ She flapped a gnarled hand. ‘Pah! What can they do? Anyway, there’s nothing wrong with me other than old age, and they haven’t found a cure for that yet, as far as I am aware. I went out to purchase Elliman’s Embrocation—’
‘Which won’t help you at all. Don’t believe all the advertisements in the newspapers. You are in pain, despite what you say, yet you need not be. I can help you as well as any doctor—perhaps better than some, and I don’t charge.’
‘I don’t want your charity, child. I am not your experiment.’
‘No, ma’am. You are a cantankerous old lady, but I enjoy a challenge and so I shall not allow that to deter me.’
‘If you were as impolite towards Lady Swindon as you are to me then I am surprised you lasted a week in her employ.’
A Sense of Fate (Perceptions Book 7) Page 7