‘Not as surprised as she was,’ Flora replied, glancing up and grinning. ‘Although I did feel guilty about spoiling her fun when I first arrived and stood up to her, I will admit. As soon as she discovered that my father was the canon chancellor at Salisbury Cathedral the devil got into her and she assumed that she would be able to shock me into giving notice with her exaggerated tales of various lovers. It took her a while to realise that I could give as good as I got and that nothing she threw at me could be worse than my meekly returning to the family fold. Besides, I found her colourful imagination highly educational. No one talked about that sort of thing in Cathedral Close.’ Flora rolled her eyes theatrically. ‘Babies were delivered by storks and left under gooseberry bushes.’
‘Harrumph!’
‘We became very good friends, the countess and I, even if like you she pretended that my cures were unnecessary and made no difference.’ Flora’s smile faded. ‘I miss her lively irreverence.’
‘Hmm.’
‘Hemlock,’ Flora said, straightening up from her examination of the lady’s ankles.
‘You mean to kill me off as well?’
‘I haven’t killed anyone yet.’ Flora paused, grinning. ‘Great though the temptation has sometimes been.’ She settled on a chair across from Mrs Finch. ‘Hemlock is dangerous, but if you know what you are doing, which I can assure you that I do, then it helps to reduce swelling.’
‘Where will you find hemlock at this time of year? The summer is almost over. Not that I’ll let you anywhere near me with it. My question was purely rhetorical.’
‘I have ointments made up.’ She went into the scullery and placed water to boil, searching the cupboard for tea, of which there was a limited supply.
‘Aren’t you having any?’ the old lady asked, when Flora handed her a steaming cup.
‘No, I must be on my way.’ Mrs Finch seemed disappointed. ‘I will call tomorrow with the ointment you don’t want to try.’
Flora did so and took with her a couple of novels that she had borrowed from the circulating library as well as half of one of Beatrice’s cakes that Flora said would otherwise go to waste.
‘Frilly nonsense!’ Mrs Finch declared, glancing at the books. ‘I have no time for novels.’
‘In which case, I will take them back.’
‘No, don’t bother. I might as well look at them, seeing as you have brought them.’
A friendship that filled a need in them both was thus born. Mrs Finch was more generous than the countess and readily admitted that Flora’s ointment had made a difference to her mobility. It didn’t take her long to admit that she also enjoyed the books Flora selected for her. She made no mention of the supply of firewood that Flora had surreptitiously arranged for Will to deliver to her shed. Pride was conducting full scale warfare with the need to survive in comfort, Flora presumed.
Mrs Finch told Flora that she had been born into a middle class family who harboured ambitions for her. Her intelligence was encouraged and she was sent to a decent school, where she excelled.
‘What did they have in mind for you?’ Flora asked one day, leaning forward on the stool she sat on, similar to the one she had once occupied at the countess’s feet, but less comfortable.
‘Marriage, love. What else is there?’
Flora rolled her eyes. ‘What indeed? Why is it assumed that a woman cannot be content if she remains unmarried? Besides, why encourage your love of learning if you were destined for marriage and motherhood?’
‘Well, I did marry, obviously.’ She chuckled. ‘I was quite something in my youth, I don’t mind telling you. I turned heads and the doors to superior households were opened to me, thanks in part to my father’s wealth. The high and mighty generously overlooked the fact that it came from trade.’ She spoke the final word in a shocked, theatrical whisper that made Flora smile. ‘Finch wasn’t the man my family had in mind for me. They had loftier ideas. I was their pretty daughter who could talk intelligently on any number of subjects, not necessarily in English, and who was supposed to aim higher than a common seaman. But…well, I fell in love. The family washed their hands of me, Finch went down with his ship not a year after we were wed and I found myself penniless and obliged to make my own way.’
‘That’s so incredibly sad. Why would your family not take you back? You were still young.’
‘I was grieving, that’s what they couldn’t understand. They seemed to think that if we didn’t mention Finch, it didn’t happen and my love for him was a momentary indiscretion that could be overlooked.’ She shook her head. ‘I was having none of it, so I struck out for independence—a bit like you did—only it was that much harder for a young gel forty years ago.’
‘What did you do?’
‘Took a position with a good family here in Lyneham as a governess. They had eight children, spread out in years, so my services were required until I reached my retiring age.’
‘That was fortunate.’
‘Lazy little devils they were, the whole bunch of them. Full of mischief and with no interest in bettering their minds.’
‘Well, that’s often the way.’ Flora tried not to shiver when a gust of wind found its way around the window frame, causing the fire to gutter and smoke. ‘Are the family still in residence?’
‘No. The parents died and the children all married and are scattered across the country. One or two write, but only occasionally. The family home was sold. There was some sort of financial crisis, I think.’ She grunted. ‘Isn’t there always?’
‘Well, they should have taken better care of you before the downturn in their fortunes arrived.’
‘They pensioned me off, which was enough. I don’t need charity.’
Flora grinned. ‘Yes you do.’
‘Disrespectful hoyden!’
‘So my father never wastes an opportunity to tell me.’
Recollections of those earlier discussions with Mrs Finch as they got to know and like one another percolated through Flora’s mind as she drove as quickly as Mabel would allow to her home on the day before her luncheon with Archie. She pulled the gig under the cover of the outhouse, where the horse would be protected from the worst of the elements.
‘Hello, Mrs Finch.’ Flora put her head round the door and a waft of smoky air almost choked her. Mrs Finch felt the cold, and thanks to Flora’s supply of logs she was able to heat her cottage until it became too warm for Flora’s comfort. The countess had done the same thing, claiming that warmth helped with the pain in her joints. ‘It’s going to snow. I’ve brought you some of Beatrice’s fresh bread and I thought you might enjoy Jane Eyre.’
‘You know I have little time for novels.’
‘Nonsense! I happen to know that you absorb them like a flower takes in water. Anyway, I shall leave the book with you.’
Flora examined Mrs Finch’s ankles, applied the necessary ointment and then made them tea and sliced the cake she had also brought with her. They had fallen into the routine of pretending that the cake appeared by magic. Mrs Finch’s pride prevented her from thanking Flora for her generosity, and not just in terms of the practical help she offered. The old lady lived, Flora knew, for her visits and their lively exchange of views.
Flora enjoyed those visits very much.
Despite her comparatively reclusive lifestyle there were few people in the village and beyond whom Mrs Finch was not acquainted with. She was well versed in Luke’s familial circumstances, which is how she had known who Flora was when they first met.
‘I am taking luncheon with Lord Felsham tomorrow,’ Flora said, biting into her cake. ‘Are you very shocked?’
‘Good heavens, no!’ She chuckled. ‘If I was your age, I would be jumping all over him. He’s dark and dangerous and…well, he’s all the things that our mothers warned us to avoid, which simply makes the temptations on offer that much more irresistible.’
Flora laughed. ‘I’m sure you would happily throw your younger self at him, but it isn’t that way with us.
Archie is grateful because I helped to ease his pain. He was even more stubborn than you when I first made the suggestion. His male pride got in the way I expect. Anyway, he eventually accepted that I knew what I was talking about and we became friends.’
‘Archie, eh?’
‘Times have changed, Mrs Finch, and the formalities aren’t what they once were.’
‘That they have, pet, and I can’t say that I disapprove of today’s more relaxed standards.’
‘Did your path ever cross with Archie’s parents when you were employed by the Devonshires?’
‘From time to time. The Devonshires were invited when they entertained in the summer months and opened their grounds to the local gentry. Of course, all that stopped with her ladyship’s passing.’
‘What was the marchioness like?’
‘She was a vision. Charming and thoughtful, but very delicate. I don’t think she ever recovered from giving birth to her second son. She certainly had no more children after that and passed on when your Archie was just eight. I hear he was devastated.’
‘I think the old marquess was, too. He never remarried and has left his wife’s sitting room just as it was, almost as if he expects her to return to it and sit down to her correspondence at any moment. Mind you, the entire house is in urgent need of modernising and a fresh coat of paint at the very least, so perhaps he just lost interest.’
‘I remember the long line of hopeful young misses who were paraded in front of him before his wife was even cold in her grave. It was sickening to observe such blatant ambition. Anyway, the old man didn’t want to know any of them and turned elsewhere for his pleasures.’
‘I can’t say I blame him for that.’
‘He was very close to your Archie, though. Well, I mean, he must have been since he went to great lengths to get him the best possible care in France for all those years without taking him to task for the manner in which he managed to break his poor body.’
Flora flexed a brow. ‘You know how that came about?’
‘I’ve heard rumours, stories that have probably become taller with every telling, but like most tales—other than the nonsense you encourage me to read—I’m sure they have a basis in fact. Anyway, the old marquess was never a hypocrite, I’ll say that much for him, and he probably accepted that the son followed his own example. He certainly had an eye for a pretty face himself, even before the marchioness met her maker.’
‘I take it you speak from experience,’ Flora replied, fascinated.
‘There was a fair one year and he caught me unawares beneath the kissing bow. He didn’t actually take liberties, other than stealing the requisite kiss, but only because I didn’t give him any encouragement.’ Her faded eyes briefly sparkled with renewed life. ‘Not that I wasn’t tempted, mind.’
‘Mrs F!’
She gave a throaty chuckle. ‘I hear tell he never compromised his servants, which is a point in his favour. A lot of men in his situation regularly take advantage of those in their employ.’
‘I have heard it said that father and son were alike in that they both enjoyed female company. The countess knew him in the biblical sense; or so she would have me believe. I am glad that Archie was able to come home, and that they had some time together before the old gentleman died.’
‘You have a soft heart, Flora love.’
‘Do I? I like Archie and I feel very sorry for him. Not that I would ever tell him so. He despises sympathy, so I constantly remind him that there are those who are a great deal worse off than he is.’
‘Quite right too. But even so, that wounded dignity adds to his appeal. I saw him once in the village not long ago and have to say that he cut quite the figure. I understand why you enjoy his company. Just have a care though, love.’ Mrs Finch fixed Flora with a sapient look. ‘From what you tell me, he’s a fair way to desiring you and I don’t think you can honestly claim that his feelings are not reciprocated.’
‘He always behaves impeccably.’ Flora grinned, thinking of the one occasion upon which he had kissed her. ‘Well, usually. The countess called him a scoundrel and warned me away from him, but…well, perhaps I’m cut from the same cloth as you and am rebelling against my upbringing.’
‘He will have to marry at some point, love. He has a duty to produce an heir. So why should he not marry you?’
‘That would be letting the side down.’ Flora went on to tell her confidante about her sister’s wedding and her father’s clumsy attempt to push Mr Conrad at her. ‘I need to know what they are plotting,’ she said, tapping the fingers of one hand against her knee. ‘Or why my father continues to meddle in my life at all for that matter.’
‘I heard you had a handsome caller the other day.’
Flora jerked upright. ‘How did you hear?’
‘The man asked for your direction at the Stag. The butcher’s boy told me. He had it from Mrs Trench, the landlady.’
‘I didn’t know that my activities were of so much interest to the local populace,’ Flora replied, wondering how she felt about her life being under scrutiny, the subject of local gossip and speculation.
‘You’ve done no end of good and you’ve been accepted. You should feel pride in that achievement. It’s not easily won.’
‘I thought villagers were generally a suspicious bunch who take twenty years to accept outsiders.’
‘There are exceptions to every rule. They’ve taken it upon themselves to look out for you, and so they should.’ She paused. ‘Some more than others,’ she added thoughtfully.
‘What do you mean by that?’
Stop fretting and tell me more about this Conrad person.’
Their tea had turned cold by the time that Flora had reiterated what Archie had told her about Conrad cheating at Oxford. Mrs Finch was highly incensed by that particular revelation.
‘Never trust a man who cheats.’
‘I don’t trust him anyway.’ Flora bristled. ‘He called upon me, fully expecting to be made welcome and for me to fall at his feet in gratitude for being singled out, the odious creature! The question is, why did he go to the trouble?’
‘I dare say Lord Felsham will have done some delving in order to protect your interests.’
Flora sighed. ‘I know what you are thinking and you are quite wrong.’
‘Perhaps, but don’t let your desire for independence cloud your judgement. Lord Felsham is a proud and powerful man. You have made a lot of improvements to his life, but he will never be able to protect you in the way that a complete man would, which no doubt deals a severe blow to his masculine pride.’ Flora nodded and rolled her eyes. ‘It’s only natural that he should want to repay you by keeping you safe in other ways. Proper gentlemen are taught from the cradle to respect and protect the weaker sex.’ Mrs Finch let out a raucous laugh at variance to her ordinarily dignified behaviour. ‘You and I both know that there is nothing weak about us but their collective vanity would never recover if we told them that particular truth. Male pride is a fragile beast at the best of times, and it requires constant cosseting; always remember that.’
‘I hardly need such a reminder—but anyway,’ Flora said, glancing out the window and gathering up her possessions as sleet rattled against the glass. ‘I had best be on my way before the weather gets any worse.’ She leaned over Mrs Finch and adjusted the rug across her knee. ‘Do you have everything you need?’
‘I shall be fine. Stop fussing. Be careful driving that flimsy contraption in these conditions. Oh, and enjoy yourself at Felsham Hall tomorrow. I look forward to hearing all about it the moment you get back. I now live vicariously through your salacious exploits.’
‘Then you will be sorely disappointed. I am taking my maid with me and everything will be very proper.’ She kissed the old lady’s wrinkled brow. ‘Send the girl who comes in and cleans for you if there is anything you need during this cold spell. There is snow on the way, or so I have been told.’
‘Perhaps you will get stuck at Felsham Hall,’ Mrs Finch
said with a mischievous chuckle.
Flora let out a resigned sigh. ‘You are a wicked woman, Mrs Finch.’
Flora was still laughing as she donned her coat and gloves and ventured outside to reclaim the gig. Mabel seemed oblivious to the cold and obligingly walked on after Flora had climbed onto the boxset and encouraged her forward with a slap of the reins against her generous rump.
By the time she reached home and surrendered Mabel to Will’s care she was chilled to the marrow.
‘We were getting worried about you,’ Will, a man of few words and a remarkably incurious character, said as he unharnessed Mabel.
‘Mrs Finch detained me,’ Flora replied by way of explanation as she hurried into the warmth of her kitchen.
In next to no time she was toasting her extremities in front of a good fire, having consumed a bowl of Beatrice’s vegetable soup accompanied by hot bread straight from the oven. Zeus was on her lap and the third of her grandmother’s diaries was to hand. The warmth made her drowsy after her busy day and her eyelids drooped. The words in the diary swam before her eyes and she didn’t absorb any of them.
‘It’s no good, Zeus,’ she told the cat. ‘An early night is called for.’
Chapter Six
Archie fretted about the bitterly cold conditions as the sleet continued to fall. Thankfully it didn’t settle and turn icy, nor did the promised snow materialise. Even so, he worried that Flora would be deterred from keeping their engagement, and his disappointment if that situation arose would be out of all proportion.
‘I’d best go along with the coachman,’ Pawson said, a little too eagerly. ‘Just in case the weather creates any impediments.’
‘And to ensure that Flora brings her pretty maid along with her, presumably.’ Archie chuckled at his man’s half-hearted denials. ‘Don’t hold out too much hope. Flora’s never felt the need for company before.’
Pawson grinned. ‘Perhaps she’s got wind of your evil intentions and will feel the need for moral support.’
Archie glowered at his man but made no response, not bothering to explain that his intentions with respect to Flora were surprisingly chaste for a man with a reputation to live down to. Anyway, he didn’t care who Flora brought with her, just as long as she came herself. His desire to see her, to spend an afternoon in her exclusive company, had driven all other thoughts from his mind.
A Sense of Fate (Perceptions Book 7) Page 8