A Sense of Misgiving (Perceptions Book 3)

by Wendy Soliman

  She turned away from Luke’s library door, ringing male voices that didn’t sound entirely sober raised in laughter still emanating from behind it, and headed for the stairs. She was thinking of excuses to see Luke, she knew, and to unload her problems onto his very capable shoulders, which of course simply wouldn’t do. She had already caused quite enough upheaval in his household. She would talk to him tomorrow, before Mr Farthingale arrived. It would give her time to reflect upon her remarkable exchange with her father and try to make sense of an otherwise senseless situation.

  Chapter Eleven

  Luke woke early on Monday with a dry mouth and sore head. He groaned when he recalled that he, Archie and Paul had tucked themselves away the previous evening and done justice to a barrel of French brandy as they relived old times. Alvin had been ridiculed by a jug-bitten Archie for quitting early and joining his wife. Much as he enjoyed Archie’s rise from the dead, Luke now wished that he’d called a halt when Alvin had.

  ‘I’m getting too old for all this,’ he groused as he dressed without help and stomped down the stairs. The thought of breakfast made him feel queasy, so he ordered coffee to be delivered to his library. When he entered that room, the aroma of tobacco and brandy still lingered in the stale air. He opened a window, despite the fact that a cold breeze whistled through it, bringing with it the threat of more rain and causing the fire to gut. Romulus, who had followed him into the room and was already settled in front of the fire, lifted his head, sniffed the air and barked. Luke laughed and ruffled his ears.

  ‘Yes, all right. You warned me. You’d think by now that I’d know better than to try and keep pace with Archie, but we men have our pride.’

  Paul joined him along with the coffee, looking relatively unscathed but wearing a thunderous expression.

  ‘Morning,’ he said morosely, helping himself to coffee and throwing himself into a chair. ‘Archie’s about to leave.’

  ‘Right.’ Luke levered himself to his feet without asking Paul why he felt the need to scowl. They were intimate friends, but Paul still had a right to privacy. ‘We’ll see him to his carriage. Save him hobbling all the way in here.’ Luke glanced at the decanter. ‘And getting fresh ideas.’

  ‘He deserves to hobble. The damned man is indestructible. Falling all that way without cracking his head open, and he can still drink the lot of us under the table. It’s not natural.’

  It hurt Luke’s face to smile, so he made do with slapping Paul’s shoulder. ‘You look a damned sight better than I feel, if it’s any consolation.’

  Paul shook his head. ‘Not much.’

  When they caught up with their friend, Luke had the satisfaction of seeing that Archie also looked a little green around the gills. ‘Send my regards to your father,’ Luke said, shaking Archie’s hand.

  ‘I will,’ Archie replied, now taking Paul’s outstretched hand. ‘He’s not doing well. His health is failing, so it’s just a matter of time.’ Archie rubbed his chin. ‘My main regret is the loss of the last ten years here in England. It’s been lonely for the old man, but he’s never once told me that I behaved like an irresponsible idiot. Decent of him.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Luke replied, risking a grin and the resulting pain that shot through his temple. ‘You’ve got us to remind you of that at regular intervals.’

  Archie glowered at Luke.

  ‘The marquess has the questionable comfort of your presence now,’ Paul said, ‘which is at least something.’

  ‘There is that.’ Archie sent Luke a curious look, clearly as confused by Paul’s contrary mood as Luke was. Luke responded with a shrug. ‘So, I’ll leave you two to further the Swindon estate’s interests and make more filthy lucre. I shall be in touch soon.’

  Luke slapped Archie’s shoulder but knew better than to help him into his father’s comfortable carriage. Archie had been lucky to survive his fall, but he’d been told he would never walk again. Whichever surgeon had imparted that wisdom could have had no prior knowledge of Archie’s stubbornness. As his broken body slowly healed, he had confounded medical minds as, step by agonising step, he learned to walk with the aid of sticks. Luke knew that every step was still an effort of will and that he accepted help only when there was absolutely no alternative. His valet was the only person he tolerated helping him in and out of the carriage, and he did so now, unobtrusively, turning a deaf ear to Archie’s language.

  Luke and Paul stood side by side, Romulus at Luke’s heals with tail wagging, watching the conveyance make its way down the drive and disappear from view.

  ‘Let’s get back inside.’ Luke turned to lead the way. ‘Flora’s solicitor will be arriving on the late morning train. Make sure someone’s at the station to meet him, will you?’

  ‘Naturally.’

  ‘What’s the matter, Paul?’ Luke asked as they returned to his library, his concern for his friend’s continuing dark mood transcending his desire to respect his privacy. ‘You don’t seem like yourself this morning.’

  ‘I’m getting too old for all this carousing.’

  ‘Aren’t we all, other than Archie?’

  Luke sensed there was more to Paul’s foul mood than an aching head, but when he chose not to confide in him, Luke didn’t press him. They dealt with the most urgent of the morning’s affairs with as much efficiency as their combined debilitation could manage. The rest, Luke decided, could wait.

  ‘Right, that’s it.’ Luke leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. ‘Mary’s going on an excursion with Redfern and his sister this afternoon.’

  Paul’s scowl returned with intensity, causing the pieces to fall into place in Luke’s sluggish mind. Flora had made a casual remark about Paul’s interest in Mary only the other day, but Luke had not taken it seriously. It should not have surprised him that Flora’s instincts were so astute, although no doubt she would claim that it was her trusty sixth-sense at play. Luke shook his head, unable to believe in the gift that she insisted seldom failed her.

  ‘If I say no, it will only increase her interest in the rogue.’

  Paul nodded. ‘Even so, I wish we’d heard back from Horse Guards. There’s something about him that’s not quite right. And I’m not saying that just because I don’t like him.’

  ‘I tend to agree, but Mary is taking her maid with her so she’ll be safe enough.’

  ‘Ah.’ Paul relaxed visibly. ‘I didn’t know that.’

  ‘It was Flora’s suggestion.’

  ‘That woman is a godsend.’ The both laughed at the unintentional reference to her upbringing and the tension in the room eased. Romulus, as though sensing it, stretched in front of the fire and yawned. ‘She has a wealth of sound common sense far beyond her years.’

  ‘By the time Mary returns from her excursion, we will hopefully have a better idea of what Flora stands to inherit and why her father is so damned worried about it that he’s willing to resort to blackmail.’

  ‘I’d be more interested to—’ Luke looked up when someone tapped at the door. ‘Come in.’

  Both men stood when Flora entered. ‘Please excuse the interruption.’

  ‘You are not interrupting anything. In fact, we were just talking about you,’ Luke replied.

  ‘Oh dear.’ She shared a smile with Paul as she bent to greet Romulus, who turned in delirious circles at the sight of her. ‘What have I done now?’

  ‘I had best get on with this lot,’ Paul said, indicating the pile of papers that Luke had left him to deal with. ‘Excuse me, Flora.’

  ‘Please, don’t go on my account. I have nothing to say to Luke that’s you’re not welcome to hear too.’

  ‘I have had more than enough of his company for one morning. You’re welcome to him.’

  Paul left the room and Luke felt fully aware of Flora’s presence as a temporary silence descended over it. He had seen her the previous day, walking alone around the lake, and the desire to join her had almost overwhelmed him, accounting in part for the amount of brandy he
had consumed in the hope that it would distract him. He also knew that she had attended Evensong alone and he’d been unaccountably worried when she was late returning from the service. The presence of his friends had prevented him from sending for her and asking her why she had been delayed. She was a servant in his household, he had been obliged to remind himself, and what she got up to in her leisure time was absolutely no business of his.

  ‘You look a little ragged, if you don’t mind my remarking upon the fact,’ Flora said, her lilting cadence breaking the silence, a teasing smile touching her lips.

  ‘Blame Archie.’

  She canted her head, looking sceptical. ‘And you have no willpower of your own?’

  ‘Not where Archie’s concerned. We none of us have. He’s like a force of nature, and you just get swept along with whatever it is that he decides to do. And since there isn’t that much he can do nowadays other than drink…’

  ‘Don’t expect me to feel sorry for you. I am convinced that he wouldn’t use his disability to coerce you into draining your cellars.’

  Luke shook his head cautiously to avoid agitating his headache. ‘He doesn’t need to. Our friendship goes back too far and—’

  ‘And you thought you had lost him, so you grasp every opportunity to celebrate his resurrection.’

  ‘Something like that. Do sit down, if that beast will leave you be.’ Luke snapped his fingers at Romulus who dutifully fell back on the rug, tail flapping, adoring eyes fixed upon Luke.

  ‘Goodness, how did you make him do that?’ Flora asked, smiling at the silly mutt. ‘He never listens to a word I say.’

  ‘He knows you are a soft touch.’

  Flora arched a well-shaped brow as Luke took the chair across from her. ‘And you are not?’

  He smiled. ‘You’ve found me out.’

  ‘Luke, I need to tell you about something that happened yesterday,’ she said, turning serious.

  Luke’s stomach lurched as he leaned forward. ‘What is it?’

  ‘My father. I went to church yesterday evening and he was there.’

  ‘How the devil…? What did he want? I presume you spoke with him.’

  ‘I received advance warning that I would be waylaid in the porch on the way out, so I was prepared after a fashion.’

  Luke gave a grim nod, in no mood to tease her about her sixth-sense.

  ‘I heard someone come into the service just after it had started, but I didn’t know it was him at the time. I’m just grateful that Mrs Ingram didn’t happen to be in the porch when I was obliged to confront Papa.’ She gave a rueful smile. ‘I was not very polite to him, I’m afraid. Mr Ingram didn’t know how to react, but you can be sure that his wife would have taken Papa’s side, what with him being such an important figure within the church.’ Flora chuckled. ‘I don’t think she likes me much anyway because I refuse to try and make your grandmother attend service.’

  ‘What happened?’ Luke could see that she was still agitated following the confrontation, but resisted the urge to lean forward and give her hand a reassuring squeeze. He had been doing that too often recently. ‘Did he try to make you return with him?’

  ‘Oh yes. He said he was in the district on church business, but I didn’t believe it for a moment. When I stood up to him, he actually tried to meet me half way by admitting he had been too strict and that if I returned with him, he would not force me to marry Mr Bolton.’

  Luke snorted. ‘How very charitable of him.’

  ‘Quite.’

  Luke listened, his anger causing a rich burn to radiate through his body as Flora continued to relate particulars of the exchange. He suspected that she was underplaying the fear she had felt to spare his feelings.

  ‘I am absolutely sure that he will try to blacken your name, using the information he thinks he holds against your late father.’ Flora tossed her head. ‘It is beyond frustrating that he would not tell me where he had acquired that information. Not that I expected him to, since I am convinced he could only have been told in confidence.’

  ‘In his professional capacity?’

  ‘Yes, and the consequences for the church would be far-reaching if he was found not to have kept a parishioner’s confession to himself.’

  ‘He must know that if he starts unsubstantiated rumours about my family I will fight back hard and publicly,’ Luke mused. ‘I’d imagine that if he’s hopeful of achieving promotion then he would much prefer not to become embroiled in a law suit. The church would take a very dim view.’

  ‘Which means whatever my grandmother left to me could be potentially more damaging to him personally.’

  ‘So it would seem.’

  Flora sent him a perplexed look. ‘But that is not what I wanted to talk to you about.’ She paused, presumably to collect her thoughts, and Luke waited her out in silence. He admired the way in which the firelight played on her pale features, casting a bronzed hue to her copper curls. Storm clouds gathered in her violet eyes, turning them almost purple, and two spots of colour appeared high on her pale cheekbones. ‘It is obvious to me that whatever I am about to inherit is of vital importance to my father.’ She looked up at Luke, deeply troubled. ‘He kept my grandmother a virtual prisoner because of her supernatural powers. I remember loud arguments just before the end. Slamming doors and raised voices.’ She managed the suggestion of a smile. ‘No one in our household was permitted to slam doors, and certainly not to shout, which is why it stands out in my memory.’

  ‘I have no doubt,’ Luke replied softly. ‘Go on. I can see you have reached conclusions that perplex you. Share them with me.’

  ‘Well, it was not long after that incident that Grandmamma died quite unexpectedly.’ Her worried eyes regarded Luke. ‘She was elderly but in relatively good health. It made no sense that her heart should give out so suddenly, but I was too distraught at the time, and too young, to think anything of it. People die when you least expect them to.’ She looked up at him again, pale and very afraid this time. ‘What if the subject of her argument with Papa caused him to…?” She shook her head. “I can hardly bring myself to voice the suggestion.’

  Luke caught on immediately. ‘You think your father might have murdered his own mother in order to silence her?’

  ‘I have absolutely no respect for him, but I wouldn’t want to think that badly of him. Since seeing him yesterday though, I have spent a largely sleepless night thinking about it and cannot come up with any other explanation for his determination to have me back.’

  Luke sent her a reassuring smile. ‘Even if you were compelled to return to Salisbury, your grandmother’s inheritance would still come to you.’

  Flora shook her head. ‘That I very much doubt. Papa would find a way to get to it first.’

  ‘There must be something in your father’s past that he’s ashamed of.’ Luke stroked his chin in thoughtful contemplation. ‘And if the particulars came to light they would destroy his ambitions.’ He fixed her with a grim look. ‘Committing matricide would certainly fit that bill, but your grandmother could hardly have written about the crime after her death.’

  ‘No, but if he did do something terrible and Grandmamma knew about it, there might be clues in her possessions. My father obviously thinks that whatever she kept has the ability to end his career. I doubt that argument I recall so vividly was about the price of candles.’ She gave an elegant flip of one wrist. ‘Anyway, I am glad you have not dismissed my theory out of hand as the raving conclusions of a paranoid female.’

  ‘There is nothing paranoid about you, my sweet. I am just relieved that he didn’t somehow force you to go back with him yesterday. Naturally, I would have come knocking at his door, creating the devil of a fuss. Rest assured that you father has met his match in me. I am not afraid of him and I wield as much power as he does. Probably more.’

  ‘Well, I thought you should know. Mr Farthingale will be here soon and then perhaps I shall finally find out what this is about.’

  ‘Would you lik
e to meet with your grandmother’s attorney alone?’

  Flora looked up at him and smiled. ‘Heavens, no. If you can spare the time, and if your headache isn’t too debilitating, then I would much prefer to have you with me. Perhaps you will be able to piece things together better than me.’

  ‘My headache is of my own making, and will be endured stoically.’

  Flora laughed and the gesture eradicated the worry lines around her eyes. ‘When Mr Farthingale leaves, I recommend a long, fast gallop on Onyx. That will clear away the cobwebs.’

  ‘If Onyx doesn’t take advantage and deposit me on the ground. God alone knows, he never stops trying.’

  ‘Well then, you will need to keep your failing wits about you if you possibly can.’

  A tap at the door preceded Paul putting his head around it. ‘Farthingale’s here,’ he said.

  ‘Ah, thank you, Paul. Have him sent in.’

  Paul disappeared and Luke smiled at his companion, who looked severe again; worried yet determined. ‘Well, my sweet,’ he said, sliding his arms into the coat he had abandoned the moment he entered his library that morning and had seen no occasion to reclaim in Flora’s presence. ‘Hopefully, all will soon be revealed.’

  *

  Flora was unsure whether to feel more worried or reassured when Luke didn’t dismiss out of hand the possibility of her father having committed matricide. The prospect was too awful to contemplate, and yet being aware of her father’s deep Christian morals and vaunting ambition, it also made a chilling sort of sense.

  ‘I recall asking Grandmamma once why she permitted Papa to imprison her,’ Flora told Luke as they awaited Mr Farthingale’s arrival. ‘Her response meant nothing at the time, but looking back…’