Page 55 of A Sense of Misgiving
‘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 grandmother 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?’
