A Sense of Misgiving (Perceptions Book 3)

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘Look, Grandmamma, Luke has given me the most delightful bracelet as a birthday gift. My first grown up piece of jewellery. What do you think of it?’

  Flora declared that it was delightful.

  ‘I once had something like it, given to me by some gentleman or other,’ the countess said. ‘Certainly not your grandfather. I have no idea where it is now. I dare say someone or other stole it.’

  Flora shook her head. The countess had a case full of jewellery, all of which was itemised and dated according to the time of its acquisition. None of it had been stolen.

  ‘It’s lovely, Mary. Your brother is very generous, but it is no more than you deserve.’

  Sam greeted his grandmother and fetched her the much-anticipated glass of sherry to relieve her dry throat.

  ‘I don’t suppose he did more than pay for it,’ Mary replied in a quiet aside to Flora as she held her wrist up so that the sapphires sparkled, reflecting the light back at her. ‘Paul would have sought it out, but I don’t bear Luke any ill-will. He has so many more important things to occupy his time. And there is to be a party to celebrate my birthday on Saturday. I can invite whomsoever I wish.’

  Flora squeezed her hand. ‘And you can tell me later who that will be,’ she replied, aware of Luke’s gaze resting upon them as they chatted. He looked preoccupied, and Flora wondered what thoughts were distracting him.

  ‘You have already guessed that there is someone I would most particularly like to invite,’ she said, her eyes threatening to outshine the sapphires on her wrist. ‘How is that possible? We have barely exchanged a private word since my return.’

  ‘Nothing could be easier,’ Flora replied, squeezing her hand. ‘You look as though you have been lit up from within. Don’t ever feel tempted to take up gambling, Mary. You are hopeless at bluffing.’

  ‘I don’t suppose anything will come of it. I am not even sure if I want matters to develop.’ Mary looked momentarily uncertain. ‘I don’t know when or if I shall see him again. Besides, he may not wish to pursue the acquaintance.’

  ‘If he does not, he is not worth knowing.’

  ‘Anyway, I shall be fully occupied now, learning to act as Luke’s hostess. Emma did it so well, which makes it even more important for me not to fail him.’

  ‘Of course you will not fail. It’s inbred. You have been absorbing manners and mores since the cradle. It will be good practise for when you have your own household to run.’

  Mary waved the possibility aside. ‘I don’t think that will happen anytime soon.’

  Flora just smiled, thinking that Mary underestimated her charms. She was not as handsome as her sister Emma, but she had developed her own style and character just in the short time that Flora at been resident in Beranger Court. With Emma now married and settled elsewhere, Mary must find her own way, and Flora would help her as much as she could. With only her eccentric grandmother’s example to follow, it seemed prudent to offer a guiding hand as far as her own limited experience of society permitted. Flora would certainly know if the gentleman who had attracted Mary’s interest returned her regard, and would find a way to warn her if he was pursuing her purely for financial gain.

  They went through to dinner, where the countess was on excellent form, keeping the family in fits of laughter with exaggerated tales of her youth. No one believed a word she said, but Flora sensed their pleasure whenever she felt well enough to behave outrageously.

  The countess tired quickly and did not linger downstairs for long after the meal ended. Flora retired early, too. She would not presume to remain with the family once her charge had herself gone to bed. But she wasn’t tired, and lay awake for a long time staring up at the bed’s canopy, worrying about her father’s intentions. She concentrated hard, hoping that her senses would lend her further clues. But nothing jumped out at her and she eventually fell into a restless sleep.

  The countess seemed crotchety the following morning, and more than usually argumentative. Flora knew that the previous evening had exhausted her, exacerbating the aches and pains she refused to admit to. The weather was dull, with a persistent drizzle, ruling out their usual morning walk.

  ‘I shall make up your tincture, my lady, then read to you.’

  The countess flapped her hand. ‘Do whatever you must.’

  Which was, Flora knew, the closest she would ever come to admitting that Flora’s cures offered her some relief. The old lady drank the potion without her customary complaint and settled down with her cat on her lap while Flora read aloud from the latest popular novel, Little Women. Her ladyship’s eyelids had slipped shut before Flora completed the first chapter. She set the book aside and collected a rug which she managed with some manipulation to place across her knees without dislodging Zeus, and then continued reading silently for her own enjoyment.

  Sandwell appeared at the usual time with the countess’s mid-morning cup of hot chocolate. Flora held a finger to her lips to indicate that Sandwell should remain silent, but the sound of the door opening and the smell of chocolate roused the old lady.

  ‘What?’ she grumbled. ‘What are you two whispering about?’

  ‘Neither of us spoke, ma’am.’

  ‘Well, you are no good to me if you have nothing entertaining to say for yourselves.’ The countess pointed a gnarled finger at Flora. ‘Go about your own business and come back this afternoon. I have no use for you at present. And do something about your hair. It’s fallen half down yet again.’

  Flora smiled, apologised for her appearance, closed her book and tucked it under her arm. It had engaged her attention and she wanted to know what happened next. ‘I shall see you later, then. If the weather improves, we might still take a short walk. The fresh air will revive you.’

  ‘You and your fresh air. Never saw the point of it myself.’

  Worried by how easily the countess tired nowadays and wondering if there was anything else she could do to remedy that situation, Flora decided to consult her grandmother’s notes on herbal remedies as soon as she returned to her room. Thinking about a possible combination of cat’s claw and ginger root, she took no notice of where she was going and almost walked straight into Paul.

  ‘Oh, I beg your pardon,’ she said, flustered. ‘I was miles away.’

  ‘How is the countess today?’

  ‘Unusually tired, which is what I was so preoccupied about.’

  ‘It’s to be expected—and if it’s any consolation she is a great deal improved since you took over her care.’

  ‘Thank you, but even so…’

  ‘I was in search of you anyway.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘I know you usually have a few hours to yourself at this time of day, and I don’t want to intrude upon your leisure time.’

  ‘You are not.’ She smiled at him. ‘How can I help you?’

  ‘It’s Luke,’ he said, his tone both wary and sympathetic. ‘He would like to see you in his library.’

  ‘Oh dear!’ Flora’s heart lifted at the prospect of spending a few minutes with the gentleman who occupied so many of her thoughts, many of which were quite shockingly inappropriate. ‘What have I done to displease him this time?’

  ‘Nothing, to the best of my knowledge,’ Paul replied, as they descended the stairs together.

  ‘Yet you expect me to face him alone?’ Flora said playfully when they reached the hall and Paul turned in the direction of his own office. ‘That is not very kind.’

  ‘You are well able to hold your own.’ Paul and Flora had developed a friendship over the months, drawn together by their inclusion in a family to which they were not related. They were both paid employees who were not looked upon as servants. But there was none of Paul’s customary light-heartedness in his response today, which only added to Flora’s growing sense of misgiving.

  She took a moment to compose herself, then tapped at the library door before she was observed by servants loitering outside it like a recalcitrant school girl called to the headmistress’s s
tudy to answer for her latest misdemeanour. Luke’s deep voice bade her enter. She paused to pat her hair and then rolled her eyes when she recalled the countess remarking upon its untidiness. There was nothing to be done about that now, and hopefully Luke wouldn’t notice. She straightened her shoulders and turned the handle.

  He sat behind his desk in shirtsleeves, scowling over whatever he was studying, but put his quill aside and looked up as she walked in. His smile erased the worry lines around his eyes and gave him a boyish look. He stood, rounded his desk and indicated the arrangement of chairs in front of the fire.

  ‘Thank you for coming so promptly,’ he said, waiting until she had seated herself before taking the chair across from her. Romulus, the large black and white mongrel that Flora had rescued a few months previously and Luke had subsequently adopted, was stretched full length in front of the fire, dozing. At sound of Flora’s voice he jumped to his feet, wagging his tail, happy to see her.

  ‘He missed you,’ she said, ruffling his ears, ‘and attached himself to Paul or me in your absence.’

  ‘So I understand. The mutt’s loyalty is particularly intransigent.’

  ‘Anyway, here I am. A summons from the master of the house,’ she said, feigning fear in an attempt to lighten an atmosphere that felt as oppressive as the weather. ‘I would not dare to keep you waiting.’

  Romulus flopped back down again, his large head on Flora’s feet.

  ‘Rest assured that no misdeeds on your part have been brought to my attention. Quite the contrary, in fact. Your service to my grandmother is exemplary.’

  ‘Then why do you look so grave? Ah, of course. The countess insists upon spending money on my wardrobe and you know I cannot repay you all at once. Well, you have no need to worry yourself on that score. In fact, I wanted to talk to you about that very subject. You did not deduct the agreed amount from last quarter’s stipend, so I expect you to take twice as much next time.’ She straightened her already rigid spine. ‘I do not require all my new finery, but her ladyship refuses to be convinced. I will however pay for it. In fact I absolutely insist upon it.’

  Luke waved her words aside with an elegant flip of his wrist. ‘I do not recall agreeing about repayment, and anyway that is not why I asked to see you.’

  She liked the way that he pretended she’d had any choice about complying with his request. ‘Then why?’

  Without saying a word, he stood and retrieved a letter from his desk. She recognised her father’s sloping hand the moment he passed it to her, and her insides quailed.

  ‘Ah!’

  He raised a brow. ‘You expected something of this nature?’

  ‘I haven’t read it yet, but I assume he still wants me back in Salisbury and has reverted to underhand means.’

  ‘Your heightened perceptions.’

  It wasn’t a question and she merely nodded, heartened that he hadn’t derided her gift. He had seen proof of what her abilities could achieve on two vital occasions, but had attributed both to either luck or coincidence. Even so, he must have allowed himself to wonder if there could be a third explanation that was beyond his understanding.

  ‘Read it,’ he said softly.

  Flora did so quickly, frowning as she attempted to comprehend its meaning. And then again, more slowly.

  ‘I have absolutely no idea what he refers to.’ She looked up at Luke, her expression conveying her confusion. ‘Clearly, he is trying to force you to return me to his unloving care.’

  ‘You don’t understand because to the best of my knowledge, what he refers to did not happen.’ He shook his head. ‘I refuse to believe it.’ Luke tapped the letter, which Flora had returned to him, against the clenched fingers of his opposite hand. ‘What I don’t understand is how your father could have come by the particulars.’

  Flora smiled, attempting to reassure him when all she felt was ungovernable rage at her father’s underhand tactics. ‘You fail to make allowances for the fact that people confide in the clergy. The Church of England does not have the confessional, but it is generally assumed that men who answer God’s calling possess the necessary wisdom to offer guidance to troubled souls. It’s also reasonable to assume that their discretion is absolute.’ She ground her jaw. ‘Unfortunately, in my father’s case, that would be a grave error of judgement.’

  The corners of Luke’s mouth twitched. ‘Evidently.’

  ‘I shall of course inform my father that I intend to give notice.’

  ‘You will do no such thing! My grandmother depends upon you.’ He lowered his voice and examined the pattern on the rug beneath his feet. ‘As do I.’

  ‘My father will make good on his threat if he does not get his way. Never doubt it. Don’t depend upon his better nature since as this letter shows, he does not possess one.’

  ‘Paul tells me you will soon attain your majority.’

  She nodded. ‘In less than four weeks, after which Papa will have no authority over me. I cannot think why he is so determined for me to return to Salisbury. He doesn’t even like me very much, and never approves of anything I do.’

  Luke sent her an unreadable look. ‘Then the man is a blind fool!’

  ‘He wants me to marry his curate, as you are aware. I do not like Mr Bolton, and have made it clear to him that his advances are unwelcome. And yet right until the moment I left to come here, he continued to shower me with attention.’ She shook her head. ‘I cannot make it out at all. If Mr Bolton wants to advance his own career by allying himself with my family, my next sister Pamela would more than welcome a declaration from him. She told me several times that I was out of my senses to reject him. And Pamela is more devout and obliging than I will ever be, which would make her a far more biddable wife.’

  ‘Men always want what they cannot have.’ Luke sighed. ‘Take it from one who knows.’

  ‘Well, if you will not accept my resignation, what are we to do about this?’

  ‘What indeed?’

  ‘First and foremost, we cannot permit my father to bully you, or to destroy your reputation. Apart from anything else, there is Mary’s future to consider.’

  Luke smiled at her, and the grip of winter left his eyes. ‘You despise the thought of returning to your family, but you immediately offered to do so when you saw that mine was under threat. Paul said it would be that way. You are truly a good person, Flora.’

  She gave a little laugh and waved the compliment aside. ‘My father would give you an argument on that score.’

  ‘We have already established that your father is a bigot, a bully and a fool. I also suspect that his sudden desire to have you back relates to your looming independence. I just wish I knew why.’

  ‘I had reached the same conclusion, but don’t have the first idea either. Will you tell me what lies at the heart of his threat against you?’ she asked softly, after a brief pause. ‘I have proved to you, I think, that I at least fully understand the meaning of discretion.’

  He fixed her with a penetrating look. ‘I don’t want you to think badly of me.’

  She met his gaze and held it, and time appeared to stand still. ‘That will never happen. You cannot be held to account for the sins of your father, any more than I can be tarred by my own father’s disgraceful conduct.’

  Luke did not respond immediately, and Flora left him to contemplate without attempting to influence his decision. But she had already made up her mind. If he did not trust her sufficiently to tell her the truth, then she would leave here. Now. Immediately. Today. Without giving notice. It would break her heart, but very likely secure the future of the family whose warmth and kindness had restored her jaded spirit over the past few months. She might very well do that anyway if she thought there was no other way, but she badly needed Luke to trust her so that she could make a decision that was based on all the facts.

  ‘My mother and father drowned when the steamship they took to America went down mid-Atlantic.’ Flora nodded, already aware of the facts as told to her by the countess. �
��What you will not know is that they were not visiting America just to oversee the family property there.’ He paused. ‘They were leaving to avoid a scandal.’

  She leaned forward impulsively and touched his hand. ‘What happened?’ she asked, sensing the pain searing through his skin.

  ‘The details to this day are sketchy, and I only know what Father told me before they left and what I subsequently pieced together. When he died it no longer seemed to matter, and I tried to put it behind me. The truth had died with him. However, there was a dispute over a debt of honour. Another gentleman loudly proclaimed that Father had incurred substantial debts in a private game and had not paid them.’

  ‘That would be enough to ruin the family,’ Flora agreed, nodding emphatically. ‘Was he a gamester?’

  ‘Yes, but he was usually successful.’

  ‘You, I suspect, have the intelligence to realise that a gambler’s luck always runs out eventually, which is why you seldom indulge.’

  ‘You are very perceptive.’ He took her hand and briefly squeezed her fingers before releasing it again.

  ‘Were there not signed vowels to enforce the debt?’

  ‘Apparently not. Merely a gentleman’s agreement sealed with a handshake.’

  ‘Other players then, who could attest to the loss?’

  ‘No. The game was played in a gentleman’s house during the course of a party. The other players had been cleaned out and retired. Only a couple of servants remained, so it was essentially my father’s word against his host’s, since it would be assumed that the servants would say whatever their employer told them to.’

  ‘Is the gentleman to whom the debt was supposedly owed still alive? If so, we should speak with him.’

  Luke ran a hand through his hair. ‘That’s just the problem, my sweet. He died violently shortly after the game took place.’

  Flora gasped and felt the blood drain from her face. ‘Murdered?’

  ‘It was made to look like an accident. A shooting accident. It could very well have been one, since it took place during a shooting party such as the one I have just attended. It happened a month or two after the supposed debt had been incurred.’