Felsham had shown his true cowardly colours by keeping his man in the room, presumably because he would be unable to defend himself in the event of a physical altercation arising between the two men. Not that Elroy would ever attack a cripple. He had not fallen quite that low. He had intended to wound with words, not punches, but he hadn’t even managed to achieve that objective.
In all probability, all he had done by warning Felsham away from Flora was to drive them together. Elroy took one hand off the reins and bashed the side of his head with his gloved fist.
‘Stupid, stupid, stupid!’ he said repeatedly to the disinterested horse. ‘Use your sense and take charge of the situation before you make matters worse and Latimer finds out what you have done.’
Elroy returned the conveyance and miserable excuse for a nag to the Stag and Hounds’ mews, and was about to warm himself up in the taproom when he noticed a familiar figure striding along the road towards him. He blinked, at first assuming that he must be losing his mind. He had been thinking about Latimer and conjured up his image in his mind.
‘What the devil are you doing here?’
The sound of the impatient voice convinced Elroy that he hadn’t lost his senses quite yet. ‘Good morning,’ Elroy replied politely. ‘I did not expect to see you here either,’ he added, hoping that Latimer wouldn’t press him for a reason for his presence in Lyneham.
‘My youngest daughter has taken it upon herself to run off to her sister’s house.’ Latimer made the admission grudgingly. ‘I have come to take her home again.’
Youngest daughter? Latimer had so many daughters that it took Elroy a moment to recall a spritely little thing who showed signs of growing into a real beauty—the only one of Latimer’s brood who could lay claim to that distinction. The same child who’d been caught eavesdropping the day before. Elroy ran his mind through the conversation she had overheard, trying to decide if there had been anything of an inflammatory nature said that she could run to her sister with.
‘Whyever would she do that?’ Elroy asked, having a pretty good idea. He had heard the child’s screams as her father punished her when he left Latimer’s abode. Presumably he had gone too far. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Latimer threw up his hands. ‘What possesses females to do half the things that they do? However, the why is not significant. Getting her home again is all that signifies. She will regret the day when she put me to such inconvenience, I don’t mind telling you.’
Elroy nodded, well able to believe it. ‘Shall I accompany you?’
‘Best not. I don’t want either of my troublesome daughters to imagine that I require reinforcements to impose my will.’
Perish the thought. ‘In that case, I will warm myself in the taproom. Call for me when you have the child and we can travel back on the train together.’
Latimer grunted, which Elroy assumed to be a gesture of agreement, and carried on his way.
Chapter Ten
Flora watched her father warily, waiting to see how he would respond to her calm assumption of authority. He was disinclined to take orders from anyone, especially a daughter whom he still considered to be his responsibility. He stood where he was for what seemed like an eternity before nodding curtly and with obvious reluctance.
‘Very well,’ he said.
The prospect of being heard by her servants as he laid down the law, a situation that he must have realised would be gossiped about and exaggerated with every retelling, had obviously overcome his determination to stamp his authority from the outset. He hadn’t risen to such an influential position within the church without knowing how to adapt his stance. Having not one but two of his daughters defying his right to parental obedience probably made him realise that his family was fragmenting, which would reflect badly upon him. That, Flora knew, would be his primary concern, as evidenced by the fact that his jaw vibrated with suppressed rage.
Planning all the arguments she had intended to put forward in Melanie’s defence was one thing. Finding the courage to voice them in the face her father’s blistering and barely controlled anger was entirely another. Flora felt a moment’s insecurity as she realised what a powerful adversary she had taken on. Then she recalled Melanie’s horrific injuries and her determination to keep her sister safe from her father’s unnecessary cruelty and further abuse banished her nerves.
‘Go with Polly,’ Flora said softly to Melanie, squeezing her arm. ‘I will come and get you directly.’
Her father sent a disapproving look Melanie’s way as she left the room, her fear palpable as she clasped Polly’s hand and cast frequent worried looks over her shoulder in Flora’s direction. Whether it was her clothing their father disapproved of, or Melanie’s presence here, Flora had yet to decide. She closed the door behind her sister, took a deep breath and resumed her chair beside the fire.
‘Sit down, Father.’ She motioned to the chair across from her but did not ring for tea. Whatever the outcome of an interview that would be distasteful to them both, Floral would not prolong it unnecessarily by offering refreshments or pretending to be pleased to see him. They both knew that their relationship had gone beyond that point. ‘We should discuss this situation like rational adults.’
‘There is nothing to discuss,’ her father replied, perching on the edge of a chair, his posture ramrod straight, his expression one of righteous indignation. ‘What you did or said to your sister in private to encourage her to rebel is not a subject I wish to dwell upon. All that signifies is that she will return to her home, away from temptation and unsavoury influences, now. Immediately. Today.’
Flora wanted to ask what temptations he was referring to, but since she was aware that they didn’t exist anywhere other than in her father’s imagination, she refrained from voicing the question. ‘I disagree,’ she contented herself with saying.
‘Which cuts no ice with me. It grieves me to admit defeat in your case, and I cannot begin to imagine what your mother and I did to make you resent your parents and forget the duty that you owe to us. Rest assured, I have wasted many hours that could have been put to better use dwelling upon that particular subject.’
Flora had intended to withstand his rant without interrupting but couldn’t allow that unfounded accusation to pass uncontested. ‘Can you not?’ she asked, raising one brow in cynical disbelief.
‘I cannot force you to behave with decorum,’ he continued, talking over her interruption, ‘but I cannot and will not permit your sister to follow your example.’ He thumped the arm of his chair so emphatically that he must have hurt his fist. ‘It doesn’t seem to give you a moment’s concern to have dishonoured your father and mother, thereby breaking one of the most sacred commandments.’ He lowered his voice when his tirade had no discernible effect upon Flora—outwardly at least. He still possessed the ability to terrify her but she had become more adept at disguising her reaction, particularly as he was so predictable. This was an old refrain, designed to invoke her guilt, which it sometimes did, but it no longer possessed the power to affect her conscience. ‘You may do as you please. I wash my hands of you.’
‘You offered me that assurance once before, but it hasn’t prevented you from attempting to influence my behaviour ever since.’
Once again he ignored her comment and continued to pontificate. Flora wondered if anyone had ever dared tell him how ridiculously pompous he sounded when he adopted the moral high ground, a situation to which he was far from entitled. Her father automatically assumed that his calling qualified him to have an opinion that was worth listening to, and that no one would dare to openly disagree with him; especially not members of his own family. He had yet to come to terms with the fact that Flora did dare.
‘You are a lost cause, but your sister is not,’ he said, his voice booming with authority, as though addressing her from the pulpit. ‘I shall be taking her back to Salisbury with me today. Call her down and be done with it.’
‘All well and good, but she doesn’t want to go.’<
br />
‘I am perfectly sure that she does not. She will not be the first woman in creation to be tempted, quite literally, by forbidden fruit.’
Flora gave a caustic laugh. ‘Do you honestly choose to believe that Melanie left home because I somehow persuaded her to?’ She shook her head. ‘This is not the first demonstration of your selective memory that I have endured. As to Melanie, I have barely seen her since I left Salisbury.’
‘Ever since your sister’s wedding, you are the only person she has been able to speak about. She is fascinated by you.’
‘And what does that tell you about the dreary nature of her home life?’ Flora replied, struggling to remain calm. As always, her father was attempting to deflect the blame from his own shoulders by transferring it to hers, but this time it wouldn’t serve. ‘Obedience has been drummed into her, as it was into us all. I happen to know that it takes an extreme effort of will to defy parental authority.’ She fixed her father with a castigating look. ‘I certainly wouldn’t have found either the courage or the strength to do so when I was Melanie’s age.’ She paused, hands folded neatly in her lap, confronting her father’s stony expression. ‘And we both know what pushed her over the edge.’ Flora shook her head. ‘Such cruelty. I wouldn’t have thought even you capable of it, and you are capable of many things. You went too far, for no reason, and you could have seriously injured her.’
His head jerked up and fear momentarily flashed through his expression. ‘What has she told you?’
‘The truth. I have seen her injuries with my own eyes, Father, and I have treated them. The welts from the beating you inflicted on her had become infected and were weeping. The blisters from the burns you gave her by holding her hand over a candle had burst and she was in agony. She fled to my house not because she wanted to be with me, but because she wanted to be free of you and could think of nowhere else to go. She was brought to me shivering in the darkness, soaked to the skin in a blizzard in the back of a cart. And now you want her back. Why? So you can do the same thing again when the feeling takes you? Your temper appears to be getting the better of you with the advancing years. You never whipped me quite that viciously and certainly never held my hand over a naked flame.’
Her father had the grace to drop his gaze, but only momentarily. When he looked up again, his expression had turned defiant. ‘She has strayed from the path of righteousness. I was too lenient when I observed your deviation. I cannot allow Melanie to follow the same course.’ He pushed himself to his feet. ‘This discussion is over. Either call your sister down or I will go and find her. If I am forced to do so, neither of you will like the consequences.’
‘She is going nowhere. Not with you, not with anyone.’ Flora’s voice remained calm but had developed a flinty edge that clearly gave her father pause.
‘How dare you poison her mind with your rebellious ideas!’ Her father threw his arms into the air. ‘You Jezebel! Don’t think I am not aware of your disgusting arrangement with Lord Felsham. That a daughter of mine would flaunt herself in front of such a man.’ He shook his head. ‘I did not think that even you could fall so low.’
‘The only disgusting thing about my friendship with Lord Felsham is in your imagination, but I will not justify myself by explaining something that is none of your business.’
‘None of my business?’ His chest swelled like a bullfrog’s and his cheeks turned scarlet.
‘It would be a waste of my breath to try and convince you, since you have clearly made up your mind and found me guilty of a crime I haven’t committed.’
‘Everyone in this village knows you live beneath his protection.’ Flora flinched and her father flashed a cruel sneer. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t hear about it?’
‘There is nothing for you to hear. Don’t judge the rest of us by your own standards.’
‘Keep a civil tongue in your head and remember to whom you are speaking.’
The violence of his response implied that Flora had struck a chord, so she went with her instincts. ‘I am speaking to someone who burns children for his own amusement.’ Flora’s words came out in a hiss. ‘For the mildest of transgressions you beat poor Melanie’s thighs bloody, much as you did mine, yet you accuse me of being immoral.’ She sent him a scathing look. ‘How do you think your precious God would feel, watching you do that?’
‘I am authorised by Him to carry out His will.’
Flora’s tone was scathing. ‘How very convenient for you both. Please do not ever expect me to bow down to Him.’
‘Enough! Fetch Melanie at once. She is only just thirteen, young enough to be saved from your influence. She is my responsibility.’
‘Oh, I am aware that I have no legal right to keep my sister with me.’
‘Well then, there is nothing more to be said.’
‘I disagree. You hold the legal right, but I know what you did to my sister.’ She paused. ‘I wonder how the rest of the world would view that knowledge if it became public?’ Flora mused, plucking absently at her lower lip.
‘What do you mean?’
‘What I say. The Dean of Salisbury Cathedral torturing one of his own daughters, and for what? Overhearing a private conversation? The bishop would have a thing or two to say on that particular matter, I am sure—especially if I was to tell him you are convinced you were doing God’s work.’
‘How dare you!’ Her father’s face had turned puce with rage. ‘You leave the bishop out of this. Not that he would listen to a word said to him by a trollop like you. He and I understand one another.’
‘Do you?’ Flora tilted her head in a considering fashion. ‘You probably believe what you say but have failed to take into account the fact that his tolerance is not limitless. Oh yes, I know what it is that you hold over him.’ She had the satisfaction of seeing her father’s mouth fall open. ‘He told me himself why he was so keen to promote a match between myself and his nephew—or should I say his son—so perhaps you would be better advised to believe that the bishop and I understand one another.’
‘I shall deny anything you say about Melanie. You have blown the entire episode up out of all proportion in order to justify your quite outrageous interference and your dislike of me, your own father.’
‘Have I?’ She allowed her words to linger for a moment before adding, ‘Bullies dislike being stood up to, I usually find. And as far as belief and proof is concerned, I hear that the art of photography has improved considerably over recent years. I dare say you will prove to be as predictable as all bullies and back down, since I mean what I say.’ She dealt him a look of steely resolve. ‘I will not permit Melanie’s character to be stifled in the way that mine was.’
‘Stifled?’ He shook his head. ‘You were out of control, developing independent ideas. You had to be stopped. It was my duty and you should know that I never shirk from my duty.’
‘This is not about my conduct, but about Melanie’s safety. I will not permit her to return to a household where she will be systematically abused—and trust me, Father, I have the power to make you think twice about forcibly taking her away. You accuse me of having Lord Felsham’s ear. If you seriously believe that’s the case then he will naturally side with me. Besides, when he meets Melanie he will believe what he sees with his own eyes, because unlike you he is a compassionate man. And he does have the authority to tarnish your reputation beyond recall. The newspapers would lap the story up.’
Her father puffed out his chest a little less pugnaciously, uncertainty now etched in his features. ‘You wouldn’t dare! Such scandalous rumours would be the finish of me and would destroy the reputation of the entire family.’
‘What family, Father? I have left, Melanie has left, Pamela is married now. Perhaps you should have thought of your diminishing authority over us all before you behaved with such unwarranted cruelty,’ Flora replied coldly.
Her father fell back into his chair and addressed her in a more conciliatory tone, which she knew must have required a huge effort of wil
l. Bullying and dictating were more his style. He was not known for his will to compromise. ‘Despite our differences, Flora, I have always wanted the best for you. Living alone here with a marquess at your beck and call…’ He spread his hands, attempting to seem reasonable. ‘You must realise how it looks. I have not forgotten the way Lord Felsham strolled into my investiture—uninvited, I might add—and strolled out again with you on his arm, bold as brass.’
‘Ah, so that accounts for your desire to push another man of your own choosing onto me. You judge everyone else by your own low standards. Lord Felsham are I are friends, and you are of the view that friendships are not possible between a man and a woman without intimacy intruding?’ She sent him a challenging look. ‘Why not go directly to his lordship with your concerns, if you are that worried by rumours that only appear to have reached your own ears?’ When he hesitated, Flora pounced. ‘You do not believe it any more than I do, and you are using Lord Felsham as an excuse to pretend to know what is best for me.’
Her father slumped in his chair, something that he almost never did, his shoulders sagging as he rested his forearms on his thighs. It was an indication of insecurity that she had never imagined she would see him display. ‘I no longer know you at all,’ he said, shaking his head as though disappointed and confused. He was very likely both, but Flora thought of her own suffering at his hands and felt no sympathy.
‘Perhaps you never did. I am too much like Grandmamma ever to be the daughter you wish for. I cannot seem to accept anything without questioning its validity.’ He flinched at the mention of his mother’s name and looked momentarily frightened. ‘Why are you so determined to push Mr Conrad at me?’ she asked. ‘What is your connection with that gentleman?’
‘He is very respectably engaged in an important position at Coutts bank,’ her father replied, regaining both his posture and his dictatorial tone.
A Sense of Fate (Perceptions Book 7) Page 15