Page 3 of A Sense of Turmoil
‘You are feeling argumentative today,’ Flora said, smiling up at her charge from her customary position on a footstool at her feet. ‘That is an excellent sign.’
‘You know nothing, but being young, naturally you assume you know it all.’
Flora glanced out the window at a glorious early autumn day, watching a rainbow of leaves being blown across the lawns by a stiff breeze. She would like to take a turn around the lake at this, her favourite time of year, and would probably do so later when the countess dismissed her for a few hours.
Since Luke’s departure, Beranger Court had seemed very quiet. His other two brothers were both now married and although they lived close by, in Luke’s absence they only called at the Court to visit their grandmother. The countess hadn’t been downstairs to dine for a long while now, which meant that Flora hadn’t either. She spent her days raiding Luke’s library in order to satisfy her voracious appetite for reading, or played the wonderful piano in the drawing room to her heart’s content. She spent hours in the stillroom perfecting the healing tinctures she made up, took long walks and rode Amethyst, her Irish draft gelding given to her by Luke on her twenty-first birthday. A leisurely existence for which she was well paid and which was a far cry from her strict Christian upbringing as the eldest daughter of the Canon Chancellor of Salisbury Cathedral. She almost felt guilty about the amount of time she had to please herself.
Almost.
‘What shall you do with yourself when I am no more?’ the countess suddenly demanded.
‘I beg your pardon?’ Flora blinked at her charge. ‘Why the obsession with death today?’
‘My time’s almost here, and we both know it.’ The old lady blew air through her lips impatiently. ‘I have no desire to hang around for ever, you know. And you, believing in the hereafter as you do, will doubtless take comfort from the fact that I shall be going to a better place.’
‘Yes, there is that, but you don’t need to go quite yet.’
‘Will you find another position?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Flora tilted her head, feeling a dull ache invade her insides at the prospect of being parted from Luke. But there again, Mary was right to say that he would have to marry soon. She couldn’t bear to see him with another woman, even though she wanted him to be happy. He deserved to be. Flora was a contrary individual who had become accustomed to Luke singling her out when he had time on his hands. She enjoyed their lively debates and frank exchanges of views. Flora glanced at the countess and the dull ache within her intensified. The moment her charge died Flora would have to leave Beranger Court. Her work here would be done and she would be in the way.
‘I haven’t considered the matter,’ she lied.
‘Just so long as you don’t go back to the bible bashers, I shall be able to rest easy.’
‘Oh no, ma’am, I shall not return to my family. I doubt whether they would have me even if I wanted to go back.’ Flora flashed a mischievous smile. ‘I have made myself a bit of a black sheep.’
‘You’ve not heard from them?’
‘Not a word since this time last year when I confronted my father over the inheritance my grandmother left me. They seem to have severed all ties.’ Flora attempted to smile but the gesture felt strained and probably came out more as a grimace. Despite her differences with her family, they werestill her family and although she had little in common with any of them, it upset her to think that her mother in particular could wash her hands of her eldest child so easily. ‘I am alone in the world now.’
‘That’s preferable to being unhappy with relatives who don’t understand you. You will always find your way, Flora love. You have more compassion in your little finger than those who spend half their time on their knees praying their sanctimonious hearts out will ever possess. It’s impossible for you to pass someone who requires your help without doing what you can for them.’ She snorted. ‘And you won’t suggest praying for guidance as a form of recompense either.’
‘Grandmamma’s money is safely invested. I dare say there will be enough for me to live somewhere frugally when the time comes. However, we shall not discuss such a gloomy prospect now.’ Zeus jumped from the countess’s lap and settled instead upon Flora’s. ‘Would you like me to read aloud to you?’
The countess watched her cat and harrumphed. ‘That feline doesn’t understand the meaning of loyalty.’
Flora smiled as she stroked his sleek back and was rewarded with a purr. ‘Oh, I rather think that he does. I admire the way cats insist upon their independence. I could do worse than follow Zeus’s example,’ she added in an undertone.
‘I’ve a mind to go back to bed, Flora,’ the countess said, yawning. ‘Send Sandwell to me, then you can do what you like until I need you again.’
‘I feel almost guilty being paid to do nothing.’
But Flora could see that the hour the countess had spent out of bed had tired her. She rang for Sandwell, helped her return the countess to her bed and then left the room, promising to return and take her luncheon with the old lady.
Free to do as she pleased, Flora’s plans for a long walk with Luke’s dog Romulus were interrupted by Woodley, the butler, who informed her that she had a visitor. Romulus, who had been lying across the door to the countess’s room, presumably so that Flora wouldn’t slip past him when she had discharged her duties, stood up and wagged his tail. Flora absently tugged at his ears.
‘A visitor?’ Flora frowned. ‘I am not expecting anyone. Who is it?’
‘A lady who claims to be your mother,’ Woodley responded.
‘Goodness, I was just now talking to the countess about my family and telling her that I hadn’t heard a word from them.’ She wondered if her perceptions had subconsciously regretted the lack of contact with a mother whom she had seen just once since taking up her position at Beranger Court eighteen months previously. ‘I wonder what she wants.’ Whatever it was, Flora knew that it wouldn’t be good news and she would likely prefer not to hear it ‘Where is she?’ she asked, sighing.
‘In the morning room, miss.’
‘Very well. Thank you, Woodley.’
Flora glanced in the nearest mirror. Her hair looked more or less tidy and she wore a pretty gown of worked muslin in shades of russet and green that complimented her colouring. A gown much finer than anything she had ever been permitted to own during her childhood in Cathedral Close. The knowledge gave her confidence. She straightened her shoulders and made for the stairs, with Romulus still at her side, wondering if Remus’s warning had gone awry and his preoccupation with hedonistic pleasures had made him appear to her at the wrong juncture. It was frustrating that he hadn’t returned. She would have been able to ask him. She was perfecting the art of communicating without words, but she didn’t trust her fledgling abilities enough to do so when in company. It was an oddity; she could hear what he said to her inside her head quite clearly but was uncertain the he would hear her if she responded telepathically.
