‘No one will blame you for that, least of all Paul, I’m sure.’
‘When I think of how she deceived me, just so that she could get close to Luke, whom she was convinced would find her irresistible. And her a married woman, too.’ Mary’s expression turned scandalised, reminding Flora just how young she actually was. Flora was only a few years older, but her life had been very different to Mary’s and she had been obliged to face reality at a much earlier age. ‘It seems she had always thought that Luke would propose to her. She’d made up her mind that they had reached an understanding, which of course they had not.’ Mary shook her head. ‘Why did she marry Mr Arnold if she was so sure of it?’
‘Lucy Arnold has always been indulged. It is my experience that women who are accustomed to getting their own way in everything seldom accept defeat graciously. And as to marrying in haste, it was either through financial expediency, or because she feared being left on the shelf, I expect.’
‘Yes, possibly,’ Mary conceded. ‘I was so taken in by her that I had not stopped to consider.’
‘Lucy has always been admired for her looks. But as the months and years passed she probably grew tired of waiting for Luke to make up his mind, so she panicked and accepted the first eligible offer that came her way. She had been a sensation during her season and probably treated her fellow debutantes very shabbily. Beautiful women do not care for competition. It’s only human nature that those she shunned—who are now well married themselves—would view her as an object of pity if she failed to procure a suitable husband, and their pity would have mortified her.’
Anger coursed through Mary’s expression. ‘I was completely taken in by her, but I suspect you were not, dearest Flora.’
‘Well, I—’
‘I should have been suspicious when she kept making snide comments about you.’ Mary sniffed. ‘As though you could possibly be anything other than kind and wise and good. Well, I shall not be taken in again. This episode has taught me a lesson.’
‘Good girl!’ Flora smiled at Mary, who looked angry, bitter and determined all at the same time. ‘Are you going down to dinner?’
Mary shook her head. ‘No. I don’t think I can face it. I’ll have something sent up.’
‘Join your grandmother and me, in that case. The countess isn’t going down, so we shall dine together in her rooms. I am sure she will want to see you and quiz you on your ordeal.’
‘Oh, lud!’
Flora smiled. ‘It won’t be so very bad. She will crow about the fact that she saw straight through the captain, of course. She told me after your party that his limp was affected.’
‘She did?’ Mary raised a brow. ‘Well, he had me completely fooled. It was only when he got me inside that horrible conservatory that he stopped pretending to be lame, but of course by then it was too late.’
‘You were distracted by your attraction to him, just as he intended you should be.’
‘How could I have been so predictable?’
Flora smiled and patted Mary’s shoulder. ‘We’ll see you shortly then.’
‘Yes, thank you, Flora. I think I would prefer not to be alone after all.’
‘That’s settled then.’ Flora kissed the top of her head. ‘Don’t worry about dressing. Come in your robe, if you like.’
‘I think I can manage something a little better than that.’ Mary sprang to her feet and impulsively hugged Flora. ‘Whatever would I do without you?’
‘You don’t ever need to find out,’ Flora replied, pinching Mary’s chin and leaving the room.
The countess, who had already heard the particulars of Mary’s ordeal from Flora, treated her granddaughter with brisk sympathy.
‘Cannot abide scoundrels who prey upon innocent young women,’ she said, as the three of them enjoyed their soup. ‘A salutary lesson, my dear. There are predators everywhere and I’m afraid that you will always be targeted by those who can get close enough to try and lure you in.’
‘I have learned my lesson, Grandmamma.’
‘I am surprised Luke didn’t thrash the man to within an inch of his life,’ the old lady remarked.
‘Actually, it was Paul who knocked him down,’ Mary told her.
‘Ah, yes.’ The countess shared a glance with Flora. ‘I rather suppose he did.’
Mary looked confused by the comment but didn’t seek clarification.
‘I imagine the earl assumed that having their ambitions thwarted would be punishment enough for Lucy Arnold and her brother,’ Flora opined. ‘Lucy has convinced herself that she and the earl had established some sort of understanding, and he probably now worries that he unwittingly gave her the wrong impression, accounting for his leniency. Well, leniency if you take into account the fact that neither Mrs Arnold nor her brother will be embraced by local society if the earl makes it clear that they are no longer received here.’
The countess nodded. ‘A terrible fate for a woman of her ilk, certainly.’
Flora’s charge decided to retire as soon as they’d finished eating. Mary, exhausted by the day’s events, vowed to do the same.
With time on her hands, Flora resisted the urge to go in search of Luke without just cause. Instead she retired to her room and steeled herself to read through her grandmother’s papers. Her birthday was drawing nearer with each passing day. Her father was not aware that she was already in possession of the potentially damaging documents and might try something desperate to prevent that situation from arising. She did not trust Captain Redfern either. His plans had been thwarted and he and his sister humiliated. Men often reacted recklessly when they found themselves backed into corners. Especially men of limited intelligence who seemed to think that life owed them a living.
Her father was of more immediate concern. In his desperation he might spread rumours about Luke’s father, clouding their reputation in doubt and uncertainty. Society loved nothing more than a scandal to chew over, and Flora couldn’t allow that to happen. This entire situation was her fault, and so she must somehow resolve it.
She read late into the night, until the words blurred in front of her eyes and ceased to make sense. She had scoured the diaries that related to the time of her grandfather’s death, but nothing out of the ordinary had jumped out at her other than a passing reference to his demise.
Flora paused. That was odd, but presumably Grandmamma had been too distraught with grief to elaborate. She threw the journal aside with a frustrated sigh, emotionally overwrought, and rubbed her tired eyes. She must have missed something hidden there in her grandmother’s neat hand. Either that or there was nothing to find, and her father’s only resolve had been to get his hands on her financial inheritance. She dismissed that possibility with a weary shake of her head. Although a great deal to her, the amount was too small to warrant her father going to so much trouble.
Flora was too exhausted to go over the journals again tonight. Tomorrow would be soon enough. She prepared herself for bed, slid between the sheets and was asleep in seconds.
*
Luke spent most of the evening alone in his library, considering his sister’s narrow escape and attempting to suppress his seething anger. He worked his way down the whisky decanter, convinced that Lucy Arnold was quite mad and wishing his gentle sister Mary had not been the manipulated in her spiteful quest for revenge. He said so aloud.
‘One of the travails of being an authority figure,’ Paul, slumped in a chair across from him and helping him deal with the whisky, remarked. ‘I was there, remember. I saw the way Lucy went out of her way to attract you when we were all young and too stupid to exercise caution, but you never did anything to make her suppose she’d succeeded.’
‘I wasn’t careful enough in those days.’
‘You were reckless, certainly, but what person in your situation would not have been?’
Luke sent Paul a dour look. ‘We all sowed our wild oats, except you, my friend. You’ve always been sensible.’
Paul flipped a wrist. ‘Yes
well, I was the only one without a wealthy and influential parent to bail me out of trouble.’
‘The burdens placed on a younger son.’
‘Something like that.’
Luke refilled their glasses.
‘Mary is dining upstairs with Flora and your grandmother, I’m told,’ Paul remarked into the ensuing silence.
‘Good. They will take her out of herself and help her recover her spirits.’ Luke took a long swig of his refreshed drink. ‘I hope Mary being targeted twice in quick succession by fortune-hunters does not damage her spirit, but if anyone can make her see that it was not her fault then Flora, with her pragmatism and sound common-sense, is best placed to do it.’
‘Mary’s a level-headed girl. She’ll recover and learn to be more cautious in future. She just needs time, and I dare say Flora will help her, so stop dwelling upon Lucy bloody Arnold. You did absolutely nothing to encourage her expectations intentionally. And even if you did, you wouldn’t be the first man to fall for a pretty face, bestow the woman with too much attention before getting to know her better and then having a change of heart. There’s nothing dishonourable about that. You didn’t declare yourself, or give her any reason to suppose that you would. The woman’s delusional if she thinks she’s been badly treated.’
‘All true enough, but actually I wasn’t thinking about her. I was thinking about Redfern. I should have pressed him and found out how he came to pass that rumour of the gambling debt—and murder for that matter—on to Flora’s father. That was more than just a coincidence, which worries me.’ He scrubbed a hand down his tired face, his fingers catching on his bristled chin. ‘She needs to know for her own peace of mind, and find out what it is that he doesn’t want her to stumble across in her grandmother’s possessions. We are all vulnerable while Latimer has the power to instigate a whispering campaign against us.’
‘Flora needs to read whatever her grandmother left her in her own time. It will be emotional. She tells me she was attached to the old lady.’
‘I should offer to help.’
‘The best thing you can do is give her some distance. She has a lot to cope with, and this is something she has to do alone.’
‘Right.’ Luke sighed. ‘What a damned mess.’
‘You need a distraction. A visit to Sussex is long overdue,’ Paul remained him, speaking of a manor house with about fifty acres that formed a part of the Beranger family’s properties. The steward who oversaw its upkeep had been pressing Luke for some time to call in. There were decisions required that only he could make.
‘I can’t leave Mary—’
‘Don’t be an idiot. You’re the last person she needs. She already feels guilty enough for not taking her maid with her when you specifically told her that she must. Take yourself off for a few days. You need some breathing space to make sense of things too. I’ll make sure Mary’s all right.’
Paul sent Luke a significant look and he immediately understood his friend’s subtext. Lucy had bandied accusations about Luke’s attachment to Flora, and he knew there was an element of truth to Lucy’s claims. If she had noticed, others would have done so, too. Did Flora harbour expectations? Had he unintentionally given her reason to believe that he looked upon her as anything more than a trusted employee and friend? Was it a repeat of the way he had treated Lucy?
Luke shook his head, aware that he thought more fondly of Flora than he ever had of Lucy, equally aware of the obstacles that would have to be overcome, the eyebrows that would be raised, if his interest in Flora became serious. Paul was right, as always. He needed to take a few days away from Beranger Court and think things through.
‘If Flora finds anything in her grandmother’s papers and I am not here…’
‘You can’t be all things to all people, Luke,’ Paul replied, an irritated edge to his voice. ‘This is a matter for her to settle with her father. You can’t do that for her, not unless she asks you to. She has a lot to handle. She needs time, too.’
‘Very well,’ he said, stretching his arms above his head. ‘I’ll take the train up to London tomorrow, spend the night in the London house and then go on to Sussex.’
‘I think that would be wise,’ Paul said softly.
*
The next few days passed in a blur, and yet somehow time also seemed to drag. Flora felt constantly tired and emotionally drained, reading day after day of all the good her grandmother had done with her herbal cures. Her grandfather too had brought comfort to so many people with his séances. Was that not what religion was supposed to do, she reflected? Supply comfort in anguished times? Give people something to…well, have faith in. Why must there only be one true god, and who got to say which god that was?
She shook her head, trying not to feel aggrieved because she hadn’t seen Luke since before he went off to rescue Mary. She knew he was now in Sussex, dealing with problems at one of his other properties. She also knew that she had no claim on his time, and realised that it would not be wise to get into the habit of leaning on him for support. She felt angry with herself for having become dependent upon a gentleman so far above her in the order of things that he could be forgiven for forgetting her name. He would marry sooner or later, she reminded herself, and his new countess would have something to say about a paid companion who failed to remember her place.
She took comfort from the fact that when that time came she would at least have enough savings and income on which to live. She reapplied herself to her grandmother’s journals, going back to the one that covered the time when her grandfather had died, two years after her own birth. On this occasion she noticed an anomaly that she had previously overlooked. There was a section missing from the book. No pages had been torn out, but an entire week’s worth of activities around the crucial period had not been recorded. That had not happened before. Her grandmother had been a dedicated diarist and there were entries for every day, faithfully recording every little thing that she did.
Flora put the book aside and pondered for a moment. Something exceptional must have happened during that period. Well of course it had! Her grandfather had died, and her grandmother would have been grief-stricken. But that did not, Flora sensed, account for the missing entries. Grandmamma might not have been able to write about her terrible loss when it was still so fresh and painful, but Flora was convinced that she would have gone back and recorded the particulars of that unhappy time when she felt more composed. She had left the diaries to Flora, who was absolutely convinced that she would have wanted her to know all the painful details.
‘So where is it, Grandmamma? What is it that you want me to know and that Papa is equally anxious to keep from me?’
She felt her grandmother’s comforting presence all around her, flowing from her possessions and fuelling the atmosphere, but it brought her no nearer to finding the missing entries. Flora tapped a finger against her teeth as she contemplated her dilemma. Grandmamma had never hidden her diaries. Flora clearly recalled the current one always having pride of place in the centre of her dresser. Flora wouldn’t have dreamt of reading them, but she wouldn’t put anything past her father. If there had been something contentious or suspicious about her grandfather’s death, it would make sense that it was not openly recorded.
‘Suspicious? What am I thinking?’
She had to know the truth, no matter how unpalatable, and searched through her grandmother’s letters, which she had not yet had the courage to explore in detail, with renewed focus. When nothing untoward came to light, she turned her attention to her books. She had almost given up hope of finding anything when he fingers fell upon a thin wedge of papers, sealed with wax, lodged carefully inside the protective sleeve of her grandmother’s handwritten book of herbal remedies.
The book had been Grandmamma’s bible and since acquiring it, Flora had taken it to bed with her every night to study and to learn from. She recalled her grandmother labouring over it, adding and amending remedies as she assessed their effectiveness. Flora had of
ten sat at her side, listening, watching and absorbing everything. Learning at the feet of an expert herbalist. It ought to have occurred to her at once that anything of significance would be concealed within that weighty tome, but the papers had been so well affixed that she had only found them when the outer sleeve slipped.
Flora studied the wax. It had cracked but remained unbroken. There was no address on the outside of the papers, but then there didn’t need to be. This was intended for her. Flora took a deep breath, feeling a great sense of foreboding. With shaking hands, she broke the seal and began to read.
*
‘I appreciate your company, but you really don’t need to dedicate so much of your time to me.’ Mary paused, in the process of attempting to capture the likeness of a heron that stood statue-like in the lake’s shallows. ‘I am quite recovered from my ordeal.’
‘Then take pity on me,’ Paul replied, making an adjustment to his own sketch. ‘Luke has taken himself off and I am entirely without occupation. Look upon me as a charitable cause if it helps.’
Mary laughed. ‘You are never that.’ She tilted her head to one side, using the end of her pencil to push aside a strand of hair that kept blowing across her eyes. ‘Why is it so difficult to draw a bird’s beak? The obliging creature has posed without moving a feather for ten minutes now, but I still can’t get it right.’
‘It’s out of proportion.’
Paul leaned over her to indicate the area where she had got it wrong. The spicy aroma of his cologne assailed her senses, making her feel a little breathless. She glanced at his rugged profile. It should have been so familiar to her, and yet it felt as though she was seeing him for the first time. She looked down at his hands, still bruised and cracked at the knuckles from where he had struck Captain Redfern. Now they guided her pencil across the paper, a stroke here, a line there, righting her portrayal of the heron in a few gentle and instinctive movements.
A Sense of Misgiving (Perceptions Book 3) Page 22