‘What did she tell you?’
‘That she was his conscience. I asked her what she meant by that. It made no sense since they were barely civil towards one another and Papa flew into terrible rages at the slightest suggestion of her powers.’ She sent him a mischievous smile. ‘At least you don’t respond quite so dismissively to my abilities.’
‘I depend upon your gift absolutely,’ he replied, with a commendably straight face.
‘Liar! But thank you for pretending. Anyway, bear in mind that I was still a child at the time of that dreadful argument. My sisters and I cowered out of sight, petrified that Papa would take his bad temper out on us. It had happened before. I was only about twelve when I found the courage to ask Grandmamma about it, not long before her death, and her explanation meant nothing to me.’ Flora tilted her head in a contemplative manner. ‘There were few things she would not take the time to explain to me, but I sensed that subject was particularly painful to her, so I did not pursue it.’
‘But have given it considerable thought since then. What conclusions have you reached?’
‘I did wonder if Papa wanted her committed to an asylum, where she couldn’t say anything to harm his ambitions. But he didn’t do it, perhaps because he knew she wouldn’t go willingly and may have made arrangements for whatever she held against him to be made public if he forced the issue. So it was better for Papa to have her where he could keep control of her, after a fashion. Besides, a man of God packing his mother off to one of those terrible places…’ Flora shook her head. ‘How would that have looked?’
‘But something happened—’
Paul tapped at the door, bringing Luke’s speculation to a premature end. ‘Mr Farthingale, Luke,’ he said, ushering the attorney through the door ahead of him.
‘Thank you, Paul. Have someone send in refreshments, if you would.’
Paul nodded and disappeared.
‘Mr Farthingale.’ Luke approached the man who Flora studied with interest. His eyes were kind and twinkled in her direction, causing her to take an immediate liking to him and explaining why her grandmother had trusted him. ‘Thank you for coming. I hope your journey was comfortable.’
‘Thank you yes, my lord, and I am obliged to you for sending someone to collect me from the station.’
‘Think nothing of it.’ The men shook hands and Luke then indicated Flora. ‘You have not recently had the pleasure of making Miss Latimer’s acquaintance.’
‘Not since you were a child, my dear,’ he replied, his eyes twinkling some more. ‘But I can already see why your grandmother was so immensely proud of you.’
‘Thank you. It is a great comfort for me to hear you say so. I assume you knew Grandmamma well.’
‘Better than anyone, at least in her later years. I had the privilege of looking after her affairs, and those of your grandfather. We became firm friends.’ He took the seat beside the fire that Luke offered to him, placing a large package of papers on the table in front of him. Romulus sniffed his boots, decided he passed muster and wagged his tail furiously, pushing his snout beneath the attorney’s hand. ‘What a fine fellow,’ Farthingale observed.
Romulus’s wagging intensified in obvious agreement, making them all laugh. Refreshments were delivered by Woodley in person and the conversation remained general until they had been consumed.
‘Well, my dear,’ Mr Farthingale said, putting aside his empty cup and beaming at Flora. ‘I dare say you are curious about your inheritance.’
Flora was distracted by a gentle whoosh of wind and Remus’s image floating above Mr Farthingale’s head.
What are you doing here?
Just because I’m dead, it doesn’t mean I’m not curious too.
Don’t you already know?
You overestimate my powers. Don’t mind me. No one will know I’m here.
Flora somehow stopped herself from rolling her eyes.
‘Miss Latimer?’ Farthingale and Luke both sent her concerned looks. Damn Remus, distracting her, making her seem like she was staring at shadows.
‘Oh, please excuse me, my mind wandered for a moment.’ She sent Remus a condemning look and caught Luke studying her closely in the periphery of her vision. ‘Of course I am most curious. I had no expectations, you see. Until recently I knew nothing whatsoever about Grandmamma’s estate, or that she had anything of her own to leave to anyone. She lived with us once Grandpapa passed away, and I always assumed she had done so out of financial necessity.’
‘Your father was well aware that she was not destitute and, I happen to know, virtually blackmailed her into living beneath his roof.’
‘Blackmailed? How?’ Flora asked, frowning. ‘He didn’t want her there, so if she had the means to live independently…’
‘She was an embarrassment to him.’ Mr Farthingale pursed his lips. ‘He wanted to control her.’
‘But I still don’t understand. How could he coerce her to do something she would prefer not to?’
‘I rather think that he used her deep affection for you as a bargaining tool, my dear.’
Flora let out a low, angry hiss. ‘How dare he?’
‘Your father knew that his mother had left everything to you.’ Mr Farthingale’s kindly expression evaporated. ‘He insisted upon acting in your interests, but your grandmother had anticipated that move and left specific instructions that he not be allowed anywhere near your inheritance.’ Flora shared a bewildered glance with Luke. ‘I wrote to you in Cathedral Close when you turned eighteen, hoping rather than assuming my letter would reach your hands. Clearly it did not.’ Flora shook her head in agreement. ‘I had planned to call on you there just before your one-and-twentieth birthday and insist upon seeing you alone so that I could explain the terms of the bequest. I was not aware that you had left, you see. But then the earl came to see me and saved me the trouble by telling me that you were here. I am very glad that you found the strength of will to leave your father’s house.’ Mr Farthingale cleared his throat. ‘Excuse me, but he is very dogmatic and not at all easy to defy, I should imagine.’
‘You imagine correctly, Mr Farthingale.’
‘Well, you have obviously inherited much of your grandmother’s strength of character.’
‘I shall take that as a compliment.’
He bestowed another twinkling smile upon her. ‘It was certainly intended as one.’
‘Can I ask about my inheritance, Mr Farthingale? As you can imagine, curiosity is killing me.’ She reached down to stroke Romulus but kept her gaze fixed on the attorney. ‘What did Grandmamma leave me that is causing my father so much rancour?’
‘Are you happy to discuss this in front of the earl?’
‘Yes indeed. I know I can depend upon his discretion.’
‘But I am equally happy to leave the room if you would prefer it,’ Luke added.
‘No,’ Flora said softly. ‘Please stay. I want you here. The earl has explained to you, I believe, sir, that my father has issued crude threats against his lordship’s reputation if he doesn’t insist upon my returning home. We have racked our brains in an effort to decide why.’ A brief smile touched her lips. ‘I was never an especially dutiful child and I assumed Papa would be pleased to see the back of me. Since he is not, the only reason we can come up with for his wanting me back so badly has to do with my inheritance. And so, you see, it concerns his lordship as much as it does me, given that it is his family’s reputation my father is attempting to blacken.’
‘Very well.’ Mr Farthingale cleared his throat. ‘You never knew your grandfather, my dear?’
‘No, not really. He died before I was two years old. I vaguely recall a large bear of a man, always smiling and acting the fool to make me giggle. Grandmamma, I know, was devastated by his loss. Theirs was a love match. No question.’
‘Your grandfather had earned a reputation as a spirit medium.’
Flora gasped. ‘I had no idea.’
‘I am perfectly sure you did not, and he probably made your grandmot
her swear not to talk to you about it. Your father, with his strong religious beliefs, looked upon spiritualism as an insult to established religion, and banned all mention of it in his household.’
‘But Grandmamma had the gift too, which is what I assume drew them together. I wonder how that union could have produced someone so firmly opposed to alternative views as Papa.’ Flora spread her hands. ‘There is a growing school of thought that sees spiritualism as a valid alternative to Christianity, and séances are growing in popularity. Are Papa’s beliefs so fragile that he feels threatened by a different view on the afterlife?’
‘Your grandmother never went into detail, but I gather that something happened when your father was a young boy. His close friend’s mother was expecting another child, her third. Your father and grandfather were on the best of terms at the time and your father showed an interest in spiritualism.’
Flora widened her eyes. ‘He did?’
‘Apparently so, and he boasted to his friend that his father would be able to tell him whether he could expect another brother, or a sister. The friend’s family were deeply religious, and consulting a medium was looked upon as sacrilege. But young boys being what they are, fond of testing boundaries, the friend went ahead with the consultation. Now mediums—as I probably don’t need to tell you, Miss Latimer—don’t see everything in black and white.’ Flora sensed Remus nodding vigorously. ‘It depends upon the situation and the receptive qualities of the consultee. Anyway, all your grandfather could summon up was a mental image of a vase with two flowers in it, one of which wilted and died.’
Flora gasped. ‘Twins, and one did not survive.’
‘That is what your grandfather supposed, but he didn’t feel he could tell your father’s friend that, so he simply said that he wasn’t getting a clear enough picture to be able to predict anything. Anyway, the child was safely delivered. Another boy. Your grandfather was greatly relieved and simply accepted that he had got it wrong. It happens. He put the incident behind him, until a few months later when he was troubled by vivid images of a small boy with close-cropped hair, wearing a sailor suit and clutching his mother’s skirts. He had no idea what it could mean until your father came home in great agitation one day and told him that his friend’s younger brother had died quite suddenly.’
‘The middle child, not the baby?’ Mr Farthingale nodded. ‘How dreadful,’ Flora said, clutching her cheeks.
‘Your father was beside himself. Told your grandfather he was a fraud and that all his friends at school had turned against him. He accused your grandfather of being a charlatan; of deliberately causing vulnerable people distress by pretending a skill that he did not possess since if he really had a seeing eye, he would have known the truth. He even accused him of putting a curse on the boy. Told him the least he could have done was to have warned his friend so that his family could prepare for the tragedy, or perhaps even take steps to prevent it. Your grandfather tried to explain that it didn’t work that way and anyway, all he’d been able to see at about the time of the boy’s death was that odd recurring image of a child in a sailor suit. He knew the child who had died and although he had not seen him for a few years, he vividly recalled his beautiful head of blond curls. Your father then threw a picture of the child on the desk and…’
‘It was the boy he’d seen images of in his mind,’ Flora said slowly. ‘But with his curls lopped off.’
‘Precisely.’ Mr Farthingale nodded grimly. ‘A huge argument erupted between your father and his. Your father’s friend was very popular and he turned the other boys at school against your father, who was either picked on or ignored. His life was made utterly miserable. It was either rebellion or an effort to regain ground with his friend, your grandmother believed, that caused your father to turn his back absolutely on spiritualism in all its forms and embrace Christianity instead. She told me once that her only son was obsessive, even as a child. It seems that he applied that obsessiveness to Christianity after completing his education and rose to a position of some importance.’ The attorney folded his hands in his lap. ‘And that is all I can tell you about the foundation of the dispute between your father and his parents.’
‘I’m totally shocked,’ Flora said, feeling dazed. ‘Papa was bullied as a child, which I find hard to imagine. He has such inner-strength and never backs down.’
‘Those who are bullied either crumble or gain strength from the experience,’ Luke said. ‘I went to public school. Brutal places where the strongest survive and the weak are ruthlessly exploited, I’m afraid, so I know of what I speak. I understand all too well the importance to young, impressionable boys of peer pressure. If your father’s friend, in his grief, made accusations against your grandfather, Miss Latimer, then it doesn’t surprise me that your father turned his back on spiritualism and embraced Christianity.’
Flora nodded. ‘I suppose so.’
‘It also helps to explain why he became so determined to rise up through the church. Few if any question the word of a senior cleric, which puts that man in a position of sanctimonious superiority.’ He smiled at Flora. ‘I can see why it has worked that way for your father, Miss Latimer, but I regret the necessity for you and your sisters to have suffered such a joyless childhood.’
‘Papa must have realised that he could make a good career for himself,’ Flora added, ‘and influence minds against alternative forms of faith. It became a sort of mission for him, an exorcism of spiritualism if you like, and explains a great deal. Thank you for telling me, Mr Farthingale.’
‘I was not supposed to until you reach your majority, but I don’t imagine a few weeks makes much difference, especially since your father is employing underhand tactics to prevent you from getting to the truth.’
‘Which still doesn’t make any sense,’ Flora responded in a speculative tone. ‘What harm can the tragic tale you just related possibly do to him now?’
‘Ah well, that I could not say, since I am unaware what these papers contain.’ He nodded to the parcel, still sitting innocently on the table. ‘I can tell you,’ he added, extracting a folded sheet of paper from his inside pocket, ‘that your grandmother left you the residue of her fortune, which is currently invested and managed by me.’ He told Flora the current total and the income it was producing, which made her blink. It was not a massive sum, but it was more than enough to enable her to live independently. ‘Your grandmother wanted you to have the freedom of choice,’ Mr Farthingale added, returning the paper to his pocket.
‘Goodness,’ Flora said faintly.
‘Your grandmother was a wise woman, and told me once that you were the only one of her grandchildren who had inherited an ounce of her powers, or your grandfather’s. Your own father refused to acknowledge it and I’m told flew into rages whenever you demonstrated your abilities.’
Flora nodded. ‘I had no idea what they were, or why I could sometimes predict things and help people with what I knew, which is what a clergyman’s daughter is supposed to do. It confused me when Papa got so angry, so I learned to hide my modest achievements from him.’
‘Your grandmother gave your father her word that she would not explain any of this to you when you were still a child,’ Mr Farthingale told her. ‘Those were his terms for allowing her to live with you all, which she wanted to do to protect you from the worst of his spite. Any breach of the agreement would have seen her on the streets.’
‘And she stuck to those terms, when I think back. Papa only got worse after her death.’
‘Presumably if she had survived until you were old enough to understand, she would have taken you into her confidence.’ He gave a faint smile. ‘She was not afraid of her son, but he forced her to walk a fine line.’
‘It seems she had enough capital to set up home alone,’ Luke remarked.
‘She did, my lord, but as I say, she didn’t want to leave her grandchildren, this grandchild in particular,’ he said, waving a hand towards Flora, ‘unprotected.’
‘I cannot
believe that my father has got himself into such a taking over a relatively small amount of money. It’s far more likely that the answers I seek are amongst those papers.’ Flora wrinkled her brow and nodded towards them. ‘What are they?’
‘I have absolutely no idea. Your grandmother brought them to me a little over a year before her death, when she made her last will. She told me to keep them safe and place them in your hands only when you came of age, which is what I’m doing, give or take a few weeks.’
‘I may keep them?’
‘Of course. They are yours.’
‘Thank you.’ Flora paused to clear a throat choked by emotion. ‘Were you surprised when Grandmamma died so suddenly?’
Mr Farthingale sent her a cautious look. ‘Actually, yes. She seemed perfectly well the last time I saw her, but she was no longer a young woman. Bodies wear out, or break down, you know. Why do you ask?’
She glanced at Luke and he shook his head. He was right, of course. If Mr Farthingale had harboured any suspicions about Grandmamma’s death at the time, he would surely have voiced them. It was unfair to ask his opinion at this late stage.
‘Well, my dear.’ Mr Farthingale pulled a handsome half-hunter watch from his waistcoat pocket. ‘I have left you with a great deal to think about, to say nothing of a mountain of reading. However, if there is nothing more I can help you with, I had best get myself back to the station or I shall miss my train.’
Flora stood. ‘Thank you so very much for coming, Mr Farthingale. You have been of considerable help. I hope I may call upon you again if I have any questions, which I am sure I shall.’
‘And I will do my humble best to answer them. In the meantime, I assume you would like me to continue managing your financial affairs.’
‘Oh, yes please. I wouldn’t know where to begin.’
‘I will write to you after your birthday, now that I know where to find you, and arrange for your quarterly income to be deposited in your own account.’
Luke shook the man’s hand, added his own thanks and rang the bell to have him shown out.
A Sense of Misgiving (Perceptions Book 3) Page 18