Page 1 of A Sense of Misgiving
Chapter One
Swindon: September 1880
‘The days are becoming cooler, my lady.’ Flora noticed her charge shiver. She threw another log onto the fire and resumed her seat on the stool at the dowager Countess of Swindon’s feet. ‘Autumn is my favourite season, and the early indications are that the colour of the leaves will be especially spectacular this year. There again, I am not in the middle of Salisbury. I have never had the pleasure of experiencing autumn in the countryside before.’
‘Cool, you say?’ The countess flapped a gnarled hand. ‘You young gels are too sensitive by half. I myself am never cold.’ Her ladyship didn’t appear to appreciate the irony as she adjusted the two thick shawls draped around her shoulders. ‘You need more meat on your bones, child. Then you would not feel the cold.’
‘I am not in the least cold, ma’am,’ Flora replied with perfect equanimity. ‘How could I be when this entire house is always so very warm?’
The countess sniffed. ‘I suppose the miserable hovel you were raised in didn’t run to decent fires.’
‘Certainly not as substantial as this one, and we were never allowed a fire in the bedchambers.’ Flora managed a wry smile. ‘Expenditure on creature comforts, in case you are not aware, is self-indulgent and therefore frowned upon in ecclesiastical circles.’
‘Bah! It seems to me that anything pleasurable don’t find favour with the clergy. Not that they ever practise what they preach. I’m willing to wager that your sainted father always had a roaring fire in his private rooms, leaving the rest of you to shiver in your shoes.’
Flora inclined her head. ‘How very astute of you.’
‘The clergy set impossible standards and then line their pockets with donations made by the guilty when they fail to live up to those standards. The fools fear hell and eternal damnation if they don’t make flamboyant gestures of contrition.’
Flora tilted her head in a considering fashion. ‘A little harsh, ma’am.’
The countess harrumphed. ‘You need to open your eyes to the real world around you.’
‘No need, my lady, since I have you to do it for me.’ Flora smiled. ‘Bear in mind that the clergy have a duty to concern themselves with our spiritual and moral wellbeing.’
‘Tosh!’ Her ladyship waved the suggestion aside. ‘They sit in their ivory towers and enjoy being judgemental, but they don’t feel disinclined to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh themselves. All that sackcloth and ashes behaviour makes my blood boil.’
‘My father does not. Indulge in unsuitable pursuits, I mean.’
The countess raised a brow. ‘Sure about that, are you?’
Flora hesitated. ‘As sure as I can be. Papa is very disciplined, so I simply assumed…’
‘He’s got you well and truly indoctrinated, girl.’
‘Hardly. If that were the case, I would not have found the courage to defy him and take up this position. He is furious with me still, and no longer acknowledges my existence.’
The old lady harrumphed ‘A cause for celebration, I should have thought.’
Flora nodded, wondering why she did not feel more relieved. Why she still had these niggling concerns about her family’s intentions. ‘I count by blessings in that regard,’ she said, sounding less than convincing even to her own ears.
‘The clergy excel at making us feel guilty, even when we have done nothing to feel guilty about. We allow them to get away with it by trooping to church Sunday after interminable Sunday on the misguided assumption that our sins will be forgiven, our consciences cleansed so that we can do it all over again.’ Her expression remained sceptical. ‘An exhausting nonsense of the blind following the blind, if you ask me.’
‘Youdo not attend church.’
‘Indeed I do not.’ The countess lifted her chin. ‘I was referring to the less enlightened. I have considerably more sense, andsufficient courage to question the clergy’s right to tell me what I ought or ought not to enjoy. Sin, and I speak from experience, is considerably more pleasurable than spending hours on one’s knees, praying to a deity one cannot see, and about whose existence one remains sceptical—’ Flora gasped. ‘Aha! I’ve finally managed to shock you, miss.’ The dowager looked smugly satisfied with that achievement. ‘You claim to be relieved to have got away from the restrictions that were placed upon you in your father’s tedious household, but deep down you are still very religious and cannot bear to hear even the slightest criticism of the church.’
‘Perhaps I am a dyed-in-the-wool Christian,’ Flora replied, ‘although I suspect that my father would give you an argument on that score. I have never been devout enough to satisfy him. Be that as it may, I’ve had the tenets of the Church of England drummed into me from the cradle and I have never questioned them, not really. Well, not until I enjoyed the privilege of making your acquaintance.’ It was Flora’s turn to wave a hand to emphasise her point. ‘I’m not blind to religion’s faults, but I do know that a lot of people take comfort from their faith, especially the bereaved.’ She tilted her head and smiled at her curmudgeonly charge, of whom she was inordinately fond. ‘Surely that’s not such a bad thing?’
‘I need tangible proof that God actually exists before I part with a single penny of my fortune to an institution that is already one of the wealthiest landowners in the country. Yet there are still thousands of empty bellies that they do absolutely nothing to fill. Where’s the Christian charity in that?’
‘Well, I don’t have all the answers, ma’am, and I agree with you that the church should be more generous when it comes to the needs of the destitute.’ Flora wondered how they had managed to get onto such a contentious subject. The countess enjoyed making mischief and constantly picked on Flora’s upbringing in the hope of goading her. Flora didn’t usually allow that to happen, but she was distracted today and the countess had caught her off guard. ‘They will probably tell you that they act in accordance with God’s will,’ she said, with the ghost of a smile.
‘Piffle! I’m baffled that people still believe all that codswallop in this day and age. It sounds like a massive confidence trick to me. One that has been perpetuated over the centuries. I question the power of a deity that no one’s ever actually seen, but I am the only member of this family who is supposedly out of her wits. No one knows quite what to do with me, so they have inflicted the daughter of a senior minister upon me just to test my patience. Or perhaps to try and curtail my irreverent ways.’ The dowager folded her hands in her lap and gave a self-satisfied nod. ‘Well, my tiresome grandson will have to do a great deal better than that if he wants to keep me quiet. The day has yet to dawn when a wet-behind-the-ears slip of a girl will get the better of me. I mean, you haven’t even taken a lover yet, so what can you possibly know about the world?’
Flora smiled. ‘You seem determined to either quarrel or shock me this afternoon, ma’am, but it won’t serve. I fully intend to agree with every word you say, and we shall have a perfectly lovely time of it.’ She rested her elbow on her knee and her chin on her clenched fist. ‘Do you really think I should take a lover?’ she asked mischievously, calling the old lady’s bluff. ‘If so, perhaps you can advise me on a suitable choice, given your vast experience. I myself wouldn’t have the first idea what qualities to look for.’
Lady Berenger pouted, clearly disappointed that her tactics had failed to offend Flora. ‘No one listens to my advice anymore,’ she said with a hint of petulance.
