Page 36 of A Sense of Misgiving
Luke glanced at Mary and was a little dismayed to see her face light up at the sight of the captain. She blushed when he bowed over her hand and kissed the back of it. Lucy bobbed a curtsey to Luke and fluttered her lashes as he took her hand and bade her welcome. He did not follow Redfern’s example and kiss the back of her glove.
‘Welcome,’ he said calmly. ‘I am glad you were able to come.’
‘We would hardly miss an opportunity to renew our acquaintanceship with your family.’ Lucy paused, and glanced around the drawing room, now occupied by almost all their guests. Twenty people conducted conversations in muted, refined tones. ‘Is the countess not joining us? I don’t see her anywhere. I hope she is not unwell.’
‘She will be down directly,’ Luke said, deliberately turning to another arrival, thereby forcing Lucy and her brother to join the rest of the guests. A neighbour with a blushing daughter in tow attempted to monopolise Luke’s attention by regaling him with a list of her embarrassed daughter’s accomplishments. She met with equally discouraging results and was eventually forced to move into the drawing room.
Luke glanced constantly at the stairs, wondering what could be keeping his grandmother. She enjoyed making an entrance, but even by her standards, she was cutting it fine. He was reluctant to admit to himself just how anxious he was to see Flora in the new gown that had caused her so much anguish. More concerned still about his conversation earlier with his friends, from which he deduced that Alvin and Archie had got it into their thick heads that he had a serious romantic interest in his mother’s companion.
His patience was rewarded when he again looked towards the stairs and saw his grandmother leaning heavily on Flora’s arm as the two of them reached the vestibule.
‘Don’t fuss so, child. I am quite capable of supporting myself,’ the countess said, although she continued to lean upon Flora.
Luke himself barely noticed his grandmother, who for once had toned down her attire and looked almost traditional. Her determination not to embarrass Mary with flamboyant turbans or clashing colours supported Flora’s insistence that his grandmother was not nearly as senile or as mindless of her family’s finer feelings as she liked to pretend.
‘You look magnificent,’ Luke told Flora in an undertone as she approached him in a swirl of bronze silk that sculpted her svelte figure. Her features were slightly flushed, her eyes bright, the skin of her bare shoulders creamy and smooth. She was far from the most beautiful woman in the room, but Luke didn’t think any of the others capable of competing with her wholesome freshness and lack of artifice. Ye gods, he needed to have a care!
*
Flora’s relief when the countess decided upon an understated gown for herself turned to anxiety when she insisted upon delaying her appearance until all the guests had arrived. Flora herself disliked making entrances as much as the countess enjoyed making a spectacle of herself.
‘Let Mary enjoy her moment without having to fuss over me,’ the old lady insisted.
‘You have me to fuss over you, ma’am. Mary will be too busy being admired.’
‘As will you, you silly puss.’
‘Me?’ Flora shook her head decisively. ‘Hardly.’
‘Fetch me my other slippers, Sandwell. These pinch my toes something dreadful.’
Sandwell did as she was asked, only for the countess to change her mind again.
‘I would prefer my green fan.’
Flora knew better than to chide the countess. She would go down when she was ready, and not a minute sooner. Eventually that time came and the two of them descended the stairs in slow, stately splendour. Flora felt Luke’s gaze fastened upon them, even before she glanced up and met it. The warmth in his eyes as he took in her appearance made her feel as though she actually belonged in this magnificent household, mixing with such elegant and refined people. No matter how welcome they made her, she still sometimes felt like an impostor. She lifted her chin, determined not to allow her lack of confidence to show.
‘You look magnificent,’ he said.
Luke’s compliment, softly spoken had, she knew, been overheard by the countess, who possessed the hearing of a bat, despite her efforts to make it appear otherwise. Before she could say anything, her grandchildren surrounded her and she pretended to find their attentions irksome. They all held the eccentric old lady in great affection and didn’t permit her unconventional outbursts to affect them. Flora led her to a chair, and Charlie furnished them both with brimming glasses of champagne.
‘Who’s this strutting peacock?’ the dowager asked Flora, in a voice that was loud enough for the approaching Captain Redfern to hear. Deliberately, Flora knew. One look had clearly been sufficient for the countess to take the war hero in dislike. There again, perhaps she had got wind of Mary’s partiality for the man and already branded him a fortune hunter. Nothing about the perspicacious old lady’s behaviour would surprise Flora.
‘Miss Latimer.’ Captain Redfern bowed in front of her. ‘What a pleasure.’
‘All yours, I dare say,’ the countess replied with her usual forthrightness.
‘Good evening,’ Flora replied politely. She introduced the captain to the countess, who gave him a haughty nod. ‘Captain Redfern was injured in Afghanistan,’ she explained.
‘Pish!’
The captain coloured and cleared his throat. ‘One must do one’s duty,’ he said lamely.
‘Ma’am!’ Lucy Arnold interrupted a situation that was in danger of becoming embarrassing by floating towards them in a rustle of pink satin with elaborate trimmings that made her complexion look sallow. ‘It is a very great pleasure to see you again.’ She bobbed a curtsey. ‘It has been too long, but my husband’s responsibilities have kept us both from England these past several years. Miss Latimer,’ she added, dismissively.
Flora didn’t feel the need to respond and remained silent, curious to see how the countess would deal with Mrs Arnold. Her charge was in a mischievous mood, at least in so far as Captain Redfern was concerned. She wondered if her disdain would extend to the sister and felt in no frame of mind to rescue the wretched woman if it did.
‘Am I acquainted with this woman, Flora?’
