‘Perhaps the attachment is all in my head, rather as Lucy’s must have been when she harboured expectations of Luke.’ Mary’s brisk tone was supposed to hide her uncertainty, but she suspected that Flora was not deceived by it. Mary felt deeply attracted to the captain, yet wary about his motives for singling her out. Hopefully, if he did like her for all the wrong reasons, Flora would sense it at once. She was such a good, sensible judge of character, and since her thinking would not be muddled by emotional involvement it would be easier for her to be pragmatic. ‘Anyway, the Redferns are a large family. Lucy has three sisters, all married now, and four brothers. Fergus is, as I say, the youngest. So if there is any family money, I doubt that much of it will have filtered down to him, and he will have to make his own way.’
‘Accounting for his decision to serve in the army.’
Mary sighed. ‘I sometimes wish I was a blacksmith’s daughter, then I would know that any affections bestowed upon me were genuine.’
‘It’s natural to assume that people from other walks of life have an easier time of it, but it isn’t necessarily true. I have never been in love, but I have been the recipient of unwanted attentions.’
‘Your father’s curate?’
‘Yes. And I never for one moment considered accepting him, not even to please my family. I am quite determined never to marry for anything other than the deepest reciprocal love, you see, and I am told that I will instinctively know when my affections are returned. Emma certainly did—and Miranda, too. Anyway, you are in a more fortunate position than I, since you are assured of financial security. Take comfort from that, and wait until you are sure that your feelings are returned for all the right reasons.’ Flora squeezed Mary’s hand. ‘That said, there is absolutely no reason why your Fergus should not adore you for yourself as well as your fortune. He is unworthy of you if he cannot see for himself all your good qualities.’
‘Thank you, Flora. You always know exactly the right things to say.’ She wrinkled her brow. ‘His attentions have been very marked, but perhaps he’s just being polite because I am Lucy’s particular friend. It’s so hard to know, so I shall follow your advice and allow matters to take their own course. Lucy plans to call here soon, and hopefully the captain will escort her. Mr Arnold is never around as much as she would like, because of his business. Something to do with textiles, I think, so Captain Redfern escorts Lucy everywhere now that he is back home and has nothing else to do except recover his health.’
Zeus, Flora noticed, had now climbed the tree and was helping the falling leaves on their way by batting them from the branches. ‘Why do we not deliver Lucy’s invitation to your party in person this afternoon? I assume they live nearby.’
Mary perked up at the idea. ‘Yes, very close to Emma actually.’
‘Well then, we can leave your Grandmamma with Emma to talk about babies for an hour and then move on to see Lucy.’
‘What a lovely idea.’ Mary clapped her hands at the prospect. ‘I will order up the carriage.’
‘Good. Is Lucy’s brother staying with her?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well then, wear your best hat, my dear, because I dare say we shall see him, too.’
Grinning, Mary jumped up and impulsively kissed Flora’s cheek. ‘Thank you, I shall. I feel so much better for having spoken to you. Emma noticed my interest, of course, but her thoughts are naturally on her condition. One cannot blame her for that. But she did mention that she can see nothing but good in Captain Redfern.’
Flora shook her head. ‘Sorry, Mary, but when did Emma see anything other than good in anyone?’
Mary conceded the point with a wry smile. ‘I don’t know how we ever managed without your sound common sense, dearest Flora.’
Flora patted Mary’s shoulder, told her she was entirely welcome and that she would see her later.
Alone again, Mary fell to contemplating. Luke would probably not approve of her settling her interest upon a gentleman without prospects, but he wouldn’t withhold his consent, not if he was convinced that they truly loved each other. But how was she supposed to be sure that Fergus Redfern genuinely loved her? He had bombarded her with attentions during her frequent calls upon Lucy and had been hugely entertaining on the two occasions that Mary had dined with her friend. He was the greatest possible fun and didn’t seem to take life too seriously.
Her heart quailed at the thought of his debilitating injuries, the full scope of which she had obviously not seen at first hand. Was she attracted to him because he invoked her sympathies, and because a career he claimed to have loved had been cut tragically short? Mary could not have said. She had never been more conflicted. All she knew for a certainty was that a gathering seemed more congenial when Fergus Redfern formed a part of it, and she had made excuses to visit a friend whom she had barely seen for months simply because she knew she would likely see Fergus whenever she did so.
He had reminded her repeatedly about the close friendship that had always existed between their families. About the similar tragedies they had endured, in that both of their fathers had died violent and unexpected deaths. She had felt an immediate, heart-stopping, attraction towards the injured hero, and Lucy had dropped heavy hints about how delighted she was to see Fergus taking an interest in another person for the first time since his return to English soil.
‘Am I interrupting?’ Mary smiled at Paul when he put his head around the door. ‘You look busy.’
‘Never too busy for you.’ She and Paul enjoyed a close friendship, and she had always been able to ask him absolutely anything. But she wouldn’t tell him about Fergus. Confiding in Flora was one thing. Women instinctively understood the difficulties when it came to affairs of the heart. But men, from her observations, married because they were expected to sire heirs or for financial expediency. Her sister Emma and brother Charlie, both of whom had married for love, were exceptions to that rule. Mary adjured herself to remember that fact. ‘What can I do for you?’ she asked him.
He returned her smile. ‘Do I have to have a reason?’
‘Of course not. I am always pleased to see you, and I’m glad that my slave driver of a brother allows you some time for yourself.’
‘Actually, I did call for a specific purpose. I wondered if you had finished your list of guests for the party and if there were any invitations you required delivering.’
‘Thank you. That’s thoughtful of you.’ Paul sat beside her at the table and they went through the list together. ‘Flora and I are going to take Grandmamma to see Emma this afternoon, so we can deliver their invitation in person, as well as Lucy’s.’
Paul scowled. ‘Her brother is on furlough? I see his name on your list.’
‘Yes, he’s staying with Lucy, so I must include him. He was badly injured in Afghanistan, but he can escort his sister since Mr Arnold is in France. It’s very sad for him. Anyway, that just leaves Lord Hardwick. I thought I should invite him since he is such a good friend of yours and Luke’s. He will have to stay over, of course. The poor man cannot travel home at night with his injuries.’
‘That’s kind of you, Mary. I shall make sure word reaches him. Is there anyone else?’
‘Just Charlie and Miranda, and we will call on them this afternoon as well.’
Paul opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again without any words emerging. He looked conflicted, and Mary wanted to ask him why. But she felt awkward suddenly, when there had never previously been any awkwardness between them. She had always looked upon Paul as another brother, but the manner in which he bestowed a lingering glance upon her features now was anything but fraternal. Mary felt unexpected warmth spread through her body and blushed beneath his prolonged scrutiny.
‘You had best excuse me, Paul,’ she said, getting up without looking at him. ‘I need to change and then join Grandmamma and Flora.’
‘Of course.’ He stood too and appeared to have recovered from whatever had briefly troubled him. ‘I wish you a pleasant afternoo
n.’
Mary watched him go, sighing as the door closed softly behind him. ‘Whatever was that all about?’ she wondered aloud.
*
Flora was deeply troubled by Mary’s sudden attachment to a member of the Redfern family, to say nothing of its timing. She didn’t believe in coincidences, and struggled to decide whether or not to tell Luke about it as she changed for their afternoon excursion. In the end she decided not to say anything quite yet. She would hopefully meet the gallant captain for herself that afternoon, and would then have a better idea if the Referns being brought to her attention twice in the same hour—albeit for vastly different reasons—was indeed one of the coincidences that she set so little stock by.
She removed her day gown and slipped into the russet wool walking dress with green trim that the countess had insisted she purchase. It had the advantage of a matching hat, beneath which she could hide her untidy hair. She examined her reflection and was forced to concede that the countess had been right to insist that the colour would suit her complexion. She smiled, thinking it ironic that a lady who made such extravagantly outrageous choices when it came to her own wardrobe should show such excellent taste when selecting Flora’s. Further proof that her ladyship’s mind was perfectly sound, and that she was simply amusing herself by pretending otherwise.
Having warned Sandwell that the countess would be taking a carriage excursion that afternoon, she found her charge suitably attired when she called to collect her.
‘I hope you will enjoy visiting Emma,’ Flora said as she helped the countess into Luke’s carriage. Mary followed them into it, and as soon as they were settled the coachman set his team off at a steady trot.
‘I day say she’ll be too preoccupied with thoughts of babies to remember who I am.’
‘Stop being so grumpy,’ Flora chided gently. ‘You cannot deceive us. Mary and I both know that you are looking forward to the visit. Besides, it’s too nice a day for anyone to feel out of sorts. I absolutely forbid it.’
‘Emma is thinking of naming her baby after you, Grandmamma—if it is a girl, obviously.’
A flicker of pure joy lit up the old lady’s faded eyes for a second. ‘I never could abide the name Isadora myself.’ She folded her gloved hands in her lap. ‘Can’t imagine why anyone would inflict it upon a hapless child.’
‘It’s a very pretty name,’ Mary protested.
‘It will most likely be shortened to Izzy,’ Flora remarked, ‘and that’s attractive, too. Ignore your grandmother, Mary. There is no pleasing her when she is in such a contrary mood, so we shall talk about other things and pretend she isn’t here.’
‘You’ll do that anyway,’ the dowager grumbled. ‘Most people assume I am senile and won’t understand a word they say, so speak freely in front of me. Ha!’ she cackled. ‘I could fill a book with the secrets I have overheard since Luke decided he was ashamed of me and stopped allowing me out on my own. Besides, what I do hear is tame, and not nearly as outrageous as the things I once got up to myself.’ She flapped a hand. ‘Young people lack imagination nowadays. And society’s matrons are not much better. They don’t have enough to do with themselves so they take pleasure in spreading gossip about their friends without bothering to check their facts.’ She shuddered. ‘I had no time for such things in my day and found more interesting ways to occupy my time.’
‘So you insist, ma’am,’ Flora said, sharing a smile with Mary. ‘But unlike the leaders of society to whom you refer, I am not that easily shocked. Besides, I am convinced that you exaggerate quite shamelessly.’
‘I dare say you are. How else can you stay at peace with your puritanical soul?’
‘Well, there is that,’ Flora replied, biting her lip to prevent herself from laughing.
Their conversation brought them to the gates of the house that Emma now occupied with her husband, Luke’s good friend Alvin Watson. Emma herself greeted them at the door and clasped her grandmother in an affectionate hug.
‘This is an unexpected pleasure,’ she said, leading them into a small but pleasantly appointed drawing room. ‘Some tea for my guests if you please, Pearson.’
‘At once, my lady.’
Flora settled the dowager in a chair closest to the fire and ensured that she was not exposed to any draughts.
‘You look remarkably well, Emma,’ Flora said. ‘Please accept my warmest congratulations on your happy news.’
‘Thank you, Flora dearest. I feel exceedingly well, and very happy.’ Her beaming smile emphasised her words.
‘When is the child due?’ the dowager asked.
‘Just after Christmas. But Alvin fusses over me most terribly. It’s as if no woman ever had a baby before.’
‘So he should. He’s the one to blame for your condition,’ the countess muttered.
‘Grandmamma!’ Emma cried, her cheeks flaming. ‘What a thing to say.’
‘Can’t deny the truth, girl.’
The tea arrived at that moment, saving Emma’s blushes.
‘Is Mr Watson at home?’ Flora asked, as she stirred her tea and took a sip. ‘I should like to offer him my congratulations.’
‘He’s about estate business somewhere. I have no idea when he will be back.’
‘Never mind,’ Mary said. ‘Luke insists on holding a dinner to celebrate my birthday, which is what brings us here. It’s to be on Saturday, and naturally we hope you can come.’
‘We would be delighted to. We have no engagements. It will be lovely.’
Mary showed off her bracelet and Emma dutifully admired it.
‘I don’t need to ask how you are enjoying married life,’ Flora said, glancing around the room and noticing little elegant touches that spoke of Emma’s style. ‘You seem very comfortable.’
‘Oh, I am. Absolutely. Alvin has given me a free hand with the house.’
‘I can see remarkable differences since my last visit,’ Flora assured her. ‘Anyway, Mary and I are going on to Mrs Arnold’s to issue her invitation.’ Emma sent Mary a speculative smile and nodded. ‘May we leave her ladyship here and collect her on the way back? Too much time in the carriage tires her.’
‘You make me sound like an inconvenient parcel,’ the countess objected.
‘Of course you may,’ Emma said at the same time. ‘It will be delightful to have her to myself for an hour.’
‘Beware what you wish for,’ Flora said in an undertone to Emma as she put her cup aside and stood. ‘She is in a cantankerous mood today.’
‘Don’t worry. Nothing will spoil my high spirits.’
‘No.’ Flora gave Emma an affective kiss. ‘I am perfectly sure nothing will. No one deserves happiness more than you, and I am very pleased to see you looking so radiant.’
Flora and Mary continued on to Mrs Arnold’s home in companionable silence. The carriage turned between gateposts barely wide enough to accommodate it and stopped in front of a small manor house, the outside of which appeared somewhat neglected. Flora wondered if Mr Arnold’s business was doing as well as Mary had led her to believe. The early signs were not encouraging.
They were shown into a shabbily elegant drawing room that reinforced Flora’s suspicions about a shortage of funds. A very different future to the one that Lucy had anticipated for herself with Luke, she imagined. Did she harbour resentments, and were those resentments shared by her brother? Did the brother know about their father’s accusations regarding an unpaid debt of honour? And worse, did he think the late Lord Swindon was responsible for his father’s death? His murder?
Flora closed her eyes and concentrated hard, but conjured up only swirling grey, which was neither encouraging nor definitive. Even so, she already harboured deep suspicions about Lucy Arnold’s and her brother’s intentions.
A petite, very pretty lady with piercing blue eyes and soft waves of blonde hair stood to greet them. She enfolded Mary in a hug, expressing both surprise and pleasure at seeing her again so soon. Her affection for Mary seemed genuine, but Flora’s doub
ts about the woman intensified when Mary introduced her and Mrs Arnold seemed momentarily unsettled to be asked to entertain a paid companion.
‘You have heard me talk with the great affection about dearest Flora,’ Mary said, beaming. ‘She has worked wonders with Grandmamma, and I am delighted to call her a friend.’
‘You are very welcome to my home, Miss Latimer,’ Mrs Arnold assured her with icy politeness.
More tea was ordered, over which Mary issued the invitation to her birthday dinner.
‘Oh, how lovely. It’s been far too long since we were last at Beranger Court. Thank you, Mary, I shall be delighted to come. But Mr Arnold is still away, and I seldom see him.’
‘Your brother is naturally included in the invitation, if he is not already engaged,’ Mary said, blushing.
‘If he is, I am perfectly sure that he will alter his plans, if only for the pleasure of seeing you again. And to act as my escort, of course. He’s about the place somewhere and I dare say he will show himself when he hears that you are here.’
‘Are you settled in Wiltshire for the winter, Mrs Arnold?’ Flora asked into the ensuing silence.
‘Yes. We will go up to London for a few weeks after Christmas, once the season is under way, but we generally don’t mix much in society. Mr Arnold doesn’t have time for it.’
‘No more do we,’ Mary replied. ‘I have not been presented, and don’t intend to put myself through that particular form of torture, so it would be awkward. All my brothers tend to avoid it as much as possible. They get too much attention, they claim, but I think they are being unreasonable. We ladies are expected to marry, and marry well, but how can we become acquainted with eligible gentlemen when they hide themselves away? It’s all very well for you, Lucy. You found your heart’s desire here in the country, as did Emma. I wish I could have the same good fortune.’
‘I certainly did.’ Lucy looked away, but not so fast that Flora didn’t catch a brief glimpse of the bitterness in her expression. ‘But things do not always turn out the way one would hope.’
A Sense of Misgiving (Perceptions Book 3) Page 6