A Sense of Misgiving (Perceptions Book 3)

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘Well,’ he said, when the door closed behind Fothergill. ‘A lady of means. What shall you do with your windfall?’

  ‘Repay you for my extensive new wardrobe,’ she replied, and burst into tears.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mary changed her mind four times about which gown to wear for her outing with Captain Redfern. She wanted to look her absolute best, without it appearing as though she had made any particular effort. The skies were dull and it looked as though they might have more rain. She half expected him to send word that he had cancelled the arrangement because the inclement weather would obscure the view, which was supposed to be the reason for the excursion. But no message had been forthcoming, and since he was due to collect her in an hour she assumed the arrangements would not be altered by disobliging weather.

  ‘What do you think, Maud? The blue merino or the burgundy check? Maud? Are you listening?’ Mary turned her head, annoyed with her maid for not attending to her duties properly when the occasion was so important to Mary. The girl was nowhere in sight. ‘Maud?’

  ‘In here, my lady,’ came a pathetic voice.

  Frowning, Mary went into her adjoining bathroom and found her maid doubled over on the floor, clutching her belly and groaning.

  ‘What is it?’ Mary crouched in front of the girl and felt her brow. It was warm to the touch and she was perspiring profusely. ‘Is it something you ate?’

  ‘No, my lady, it’s my monthlies. I get the cramps something terrible, but never as bad as this before.’

  Mary sympathised. She did too, and tried not to resent the inconvenience. It was not as though Maud had done it to deliberately irritate Mary. The girl was new to her employ, her services having been engaged just a few weeks previously when her existing maid left to marry a farmer.

  ‘Oh dear, you can’t carry out your duties like this. You had best take to your bed, I suppose. There’s nothing else for it.’

  ‘No, ma’am, I couldn’t possibly. I’ll be all right in a moment or two.’ She groaned as a fresh spasm hit her. ‘You need me to come with you this afternoon.’

  ‘You are in no fit state to do so. Now take yourself off to bed. I will have someone send up a hot brick and a tincture to help with the pain. I expect you will be all right tomorrow, but if you are not, I shall manage.’

  ‘You’re very kind, ma’am.’ Maud looked pale and frightened. She was probably worried that she would be dismissed. ‘But who will help you dress?’

  ‘I’ll cope well enough. Now be off with you.’

  Mary watched her maid walk through the door, doubled over, tears in her eyes, still clutching her midriff and moaning to herself. She rang the bell and briskly gave orders to the maid who answered it to have Maud made as comfortable as possible. One of the parlour maids with aspirations to become a lady’s maid enjoyed the opportunity to help Mary dress. She dismissed her as soon as she had done so, and with time to spare pondered upon her difficulty. She couldn’t take the parlour maid with her. She would be needed here, and Maud was in no condition to accompany her. She wondered if Grandmamma could spare Flora, but decided against asking. Lucy didn’t like Flora and Mary didn’t want her pleasure interrupted by their spats. Flora was not, Mary knew, the type to accept thinly veiled insults without retaliating.

  But she had given Luke her word. Well actually, now that she thought about it, she had not. He had advised her to take her maid along and had assumed that she would. Mary had not actually agreed to do so. Besides, they were simply going on a drive for a few hours, and stopping to admire the view from the top of Swallow Hill. Not that there would be much of a view to admire, she silently conceded, glancing out the window at the dull sky. But that was not the point. Mary straightened her spine. There was nothing else for it. She would go alone.

  Fortunately, there was no sign of Luke or any of her brothers when Captain Redfern’s carriage bowled into view at precisely the agreed time. Woodley opened the door for her when it came to a halt at the front entrance portico, saving the captain from the inconvenience and leaving his team and coming into the house. He drove Lucy’s landau himself, with Lucy was seated behind him, protected from the elements by the vehicle’s hood. The captain smiled at Mary, got down from the box seat and took her hand.

  ‘Punctual. I like that,’ he said.

  ‘As a military man, I dare say you do.’

  He helped her into the conveyance and she took up the place beside Lucy. If Maud had accompanied them, she would have had to sit up front with the captain and it would have looked odd. With her conscience thus salved, she resolved to enjoy herself.

  ‘Good afternoon, Lucy,’ she said brightly as the captain pushed his team forward into a trot. ‘It is such a shame that we don’t have a finer day for our excursion. I so wanted to see the view.’

  ‘We shall just have to make the best of it, my dear. How are you after all the excitement and attention of the other evening?’

  ‘Oh, perfectly well, thank you. I trust I find you the same. When does Mr Arnold return? Have you received word? I dare say you are anxious.’

  ‘No. He tends to come and go without consideration for my convenience.’

  Mary dealt her friend a sharp look. ‘But you are not dissatisfied with your marriage, I hope.’

  Lucy smiled. ‘Things do not always turn out the way one expects,’ she said, looking away from Mary. ‘You are an heiress, so you cannot be expected to understand.’

  ‘And yet I shall never know if gentlemen are attracted to me for myself or my fortune. You on the other hand are very beautiful and I recall lots of eligible men falling at your feet. Yet you chose Mr Arnold, so I always assumed it must have been because you were deeply in love with him.’

  Lucy’s dour expression evaporated and she offered Mary a brittle smile. ‘Let us not dwell upon my domestic felicity. I am more interested in your affairs.’

  ‘Then your curiosity will be quickly satisfied. I spend my days drawing and painting, visiting friends and neighbours and generally accustoming myself to not having Emma around. But of course I have Flora, who is wise and kind and the greatest possible fun, and that means a great deal to me.’

  A momentary frown touched Lucy’s brow, but she made no comment and the rest of the journey passed in idle conversation.

  Captain Redfern pulled the conveyance to a halt at the top of Swallow Hill, but as Mary had feared would be the case, the view was completely shrouded in mist. A fine rain had started to fall.

  ‘Oh, how disappointing!’ Mary cried. ‘I so wanted to see it again.’

  ‘It’s freezing up here,’ Lucy complained when a strong gust of wind rocked the carriage. ‘I have no intention of getting out and ruining my hat in this wind and rain. Take us back home, Fergus. We will give Mary tea in warmth and comfort.’

  The captain touched his hat. ‘Very well. I am sorry this is so disappointing, Lady Mary. We shall have to do it again when the weather decides to be kinder.’

  ‘I don’t want to put you to the inconvenience of going home and then having to go out again to take me home.’ Alone. Mary felt suddenly uneasy, as if she was somehow being manipulated. ‘It would be easier if you took me back to Beranger Court and I will entertain you both to tea there.’

  ‘I wouldn’t hear of it,’ Lucy insisted, and since her brother had turned the conveyance and set off back down the hill, it was evident that her opinion would not be taken into account.

  They are just being kind.

  The drawing room in Lucy’s home was mercifully warm. It was a long way from Swallow Hill, and despite the carriage’s hood Mary had become quite damp. She accepted the cup of tea that Lucy poured for her and took a sandwich from the platter. Lucy and her brother were good company and Mary began to relax when they started telling exaggerated stories of their younger days. As one of a large family herself, Mary understood sibling rivalry and the deep-seated affection that still prevailed between the youthful warring factions.

  ‘You spoke earlier
of your artistic endeavours,’ Lucy said, when tea had been consumed. ‘I myself dabble and would value your opinion. I have only just taken up the hobby, and you will probably be able to tell that I am in urgent need of instruction from a good tutor. But I find it soothing and a good way to fill the long hours when my husband is away.’

  Mary lifted a shoulder, feeling remarkably sorry for her friend. ‘Then by all means, but I should warn you, I am hardly an authority. Paul is actually much more accomplished than me, and sometimes gives me hints.’

  ‘Oh yes, Mr Dalton.’ Lucy frowned. ‘I confess I find the hierarchy in your household confusing. He is Luke’s secretary, and yet dines at table with the family. As does the countess’s companion for that matter.’

  ‘Paul is more than a mere secretary. He is one of Luke’s closest friends. They went through school and university together. You knew him then, surely?’

  ‘Yes, but his circumstances are not on a par with your brother’s, so I am surprised he kept up the connection.’

  ‘Paul is a younger son and must make his own way. Luke trusts him absolutely, so the arrangement works very well. We all look upon him as a member of the family, as we do dear Flora. There is nothing confusing about it, I assure you.’

  Lucy didn’t respond, making Mary wonder why strict demarcation lines were so important to her. She stood and followed Lucy from the room, slightly surprised when the captain tagged along. But his behaviour had been impeccable, and she told herself she had nothing to fear from him. Besides, she did like him very much. She blushed when she felt the warmth of his gaze focused on her profile and decided that if he tried to steal a kiss or two, she would not put up too many objections.

  Lucy led the way through the small house to a conservatory at the back of it. There was no sunshine to penetrate the glass, which made the room chilly but not uncomfortably so. Lucy’s latest creation, a half-finished portrait of the garden beyond the conservatory, stood on an easel. Mary stood back to study it, trying hard to come up with words of encouragement for a work that was poorly executed, showed little talent and less application on the artist’s part.

  ‘Very promising,’ she said diplomatically.

  ‘Yes, what is it?’ Lucy asked impatiently, turning when a maid hovered in the open doorway.

  ‘A visitor for you, ma’am.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  The maid looked uncomfortable as she proffered a salver. Lucy picked up the card resting upon it and tutted. ‘I shall have to receive this gentleman. He is a close friend of my husband’s and might bring news of him.’

  ‘Then go,’ Mary said, shooing her away.

  It suddenly seemed very still and quiet in the conservatory. The captain loomed over Mary’s shoulder as they both studied the canvas with barely an inch of daylight separating their bodies. Had he been standing so close before?

  ‘It’s not terribly good, is it?’ he said, breaking the uneasy silence with a smile in his voice.

  ‘It would be unkind to discourage her by saying so. She has some talent and is still a beginner. As she herself said, with the guidance of a good tutor—of whom there are many in the area—and a little dedication, she will soon improve.’ Mary turned away from the canvas, starting to feel distinctly uneasy. ‘It’s cold in here. Shall we return to the drawing room and rejoin Lucy?’

  ‘Hang Lucy!’ Mary was astonished when the captain’s hands caught hold of her shoulders and swivelled her around to face him.

  Mary’s eyes flared. ‘What are you doing?’ she demanded.

  ‘I am glad of this unexpected opportunity to speak with you alone, Lady Mary.’ His dark eyes gleamed with passion as he looked down at her, but there was also an edge to his voice that made his words sound rehearsed and clinical. ‘I have not known you for long, but I sensed the moment we were introduced that there was a connection between us.’

  Mary swallowed. ‘You did?’

  ‘You feel it too, I think.’

  ‘Well, I…’

  Mary allowed her words to trail off because there was no correct answer to give. She studied the floor, wishing that Lucy would return. This was all wrong. She felt suddenly afraid of him. The desire for a clandestine kiss was one thing, but the dark, brutal passion she saw in his eyes and his cold, calculating expression truly frightened her.

  ‘Admit it, my love, agree to become my wife and I will dedicate my life to your happiness.’

  ‘Your wife!’ She forcibly shook his hands from her shoulders and turned away from him. ‘So Flora was right,’ she said beneath her breath. This was all about her fortune. He couldn’t possibly have formed a lasting attachment in such a short time. ‘You disappoint me. Do you imagine me so desperate for a husband that I will accept a man I am barely acquainted with and count myself fortunate? If so, you don’t know me at all.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Please make allowances for a man gripped by the fiercest love who is unaccountably nervous.’

  Mary laughed aloud, which appeared to be the last reaction he had expected and deeply offended him.

  ‘I regret that you find me amusing,’ he said stiffly.

  ‘You only have yourself to blame for that. You have not made the least effort to pay court to me, and simply assumed that I would accept you with gratitude. In which case, it is I who should be offended.’ Mary turned towards the door. ‘This situation is embarrassing for us both, so perhaps you will have the goodness to summon your coachman and have him drive me home. I shall not enter a carriage alone with you.’

  ‘You little fool!’ He grabbed her wrist and forced her to turn and look at him. The lightning change in his expression—from passion to simmering rage—took her breath away. He was a dangerous and resentful man, she realised, belatedly wondering if she should have rejected his proposal a little less decisively. ‘If you do not marry me then your entire miserable family will suffer the consequences.’

  ‘Kindly release my arm and refrain from issuing mindless threats.’

  She rubbed her wrist when he let it go, wondering if she would have bruises. This was déjà vu in its cruellest form. Her only previous proposal had been delivered by a fortune hunter after he had contrived to get her alone, and he too had proved reluctant to take no for an answer. He had turned violent when she repeatedly declined him, which it what she suspected the captain would also do.

  It appeared as if he really had expected her to accept him. He thought too well of himself to consider any other outcome, and Mary supposed she was partly to blame for that situation since she had made little effort to hide the fact that she enjoyed his attentions. What was it about her that attracted such vain men? Was she so very plain that they really did think she would be grateful to be noticed by them? Perhaps she should consider having a season after all, even if the prospect didn’t appeal to her. Presumably in London the unmarried gentlemen would be obliged to remember their manners at the height of the season. But then again, her very presence would imply that she was on the prowl for a husband, and she would be targeted by just as many fortune hunters.

  ‘It is no threat,’ he said into the ensuing silence.

  ‘I won’t listen to this. You have proposed, I have refused you. A gentleman would leave it at that.’

  ‘You have no idea, do you?’

  Mary blinked at him. ‘No idea about what?’

  ‘Your sainted father reneged on a debt of honour.’

  Mary again laughed. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  She felt her mouth fall open and denials spill from her lips when the captain explained about a supposed debt incurred during a card game at Redfern Hall not long before her parents had tragically drowned. She fumed with anger when he hinted that his father’s death had been no accident and that her father had been responsible for it.

  ‘Where is your proof?’ Mary sent him a scathing glance. ‘You have none, I am absolutely sure, because Papa would never have behaved in such a fashion.’

  ‘Oh, there is proof. There are gentlemen who witnessed
the game.’

  ‘And gentlemen’s testimonies cannot be bought? A vowel would go some small way to convincing me.’

  ‘There is nothing in writing.’ He made the concession grudgingly. ‘My own father foolishly assumed that a gentleman’s word would be his bond.’

  ‘Careful,’ Mary warned, her temper rising. ‘You claim you want to marry me, but when I respectfully declined, you chose to employ coercion, yet you speak of gentlemanly behaviour. It might have escaped your notice that I am not of age and cannot marry anyone without my brother’s permission, which will not be forthcoming if it is you I wish to marry. He is already wary of you. Now, we have exhausted the subject of your marital ambitions and I would like to leave. Either arrange for my return home or I will walk.’

  ‘I am not the only person in possession of the particulars of that infamous card game.’ He paused. ‘Or of the shooting party where my father lost his life.’ He sounded a little desperate now, presumably not having expected to meet with so much opposition to his proposal, or Mary’s outright denial of her father’s supposed crimes.

  ‘If you expect me to ask who else is involved with this fiction then I fear you will be in for a long wait.’

  ‘Your little friend, Miss Latimer. Her father, a respected clergyman, is also aware of the situation.’

  Mary blinked up at him. ‘Flora?’

  ‘Ah, I see I have your full attention at last,’ he said, with a self-satisfied grin. ‘Now, we can resolve this matter easily enough. The bottom line is that your family are indebted to mine. Not only did your father fail to satisfy his gambling debts, but your sainted brother disappointed my sister. We will say nothing more about my father’s untimely death. There is, as you say, no proof, although I know in my heart that what I say is true. However, I am inordinately fond of Lucy and cannot permit Luke’s slight to go unavenged.’

  ‘Luke?’ Mary frowned, trying to ignore her fear at his sudden hostility. Wondering what had happened to his limp, which had magically disappeared. ‘Luke didn’t make Lucy any promises as far as I’m aware.’