Page 46 of A Sense of Turmoil
Luke took his turn to exchange a few words with the old lady and Flora followed Archie as he moved into the countess’s sitting room.
‘I won’t see her again, will I?’ he said, shaking his head. ‘She looks so frail. And that cough…’
Flora sighed. ‘I don’t think it will be long.’
‘I have told Luke that I will come back when…well, you know.’
Tears sprang to Flora’s eyes. ‘I hope the journey is not too uncomfortable for you,’ she said. ‘But at least the weather is fine. The roads will not be rutted with mud.’
‘Oh, I shall do well enough. And when I get to Felsham, the first thing I shall have Pawson do is purchase me a gig and look out for a sturdy cob to convey it. I look forward to surveying as much of my estate as I can from my new vehicle before the winter sets in and creates too much mud for comfort or freezes the ground solid.’
‘Then I wish you happy hunting, my lord.’
‘Be careful. Yardley won’t enjoy being gainsaid.’
‘I can’t persuade myself that he had any particular interest in me. He was merely trying to remain on the bishop’s good side. Perhaps he is in debt to him. There are endless possibilities. Anyway, I shall be here all the time now and have no reason to venture beyond the estate. It will all blow over, so please don’t waste your precious energy worrying about me.’
‘You are too independent for your own good.’
She stifled a smile. ‘So I have been told, more than once.’
Flora bobbed a formal curtsey, but Archie was having none of it. He took her hand, turned it over and gently applied his lips to the inside of her wrist. She looked up at him through lowered lashes, and her cheeks flooded with colour when his lips lingered and his tongue drew a pattern on her skin.
‘Have courage, my dear,’ he said, releasing her hand as Luke joined them and turning towards the door.
A short time later Pawson helped him into his carriage. He lowered the window, glanced up at the house and waved to Flora, who stood at the countess’s sitting room window. She returned the gesture but was lost from Archie’s sight when the carriage moved off. He wondered what decisions about her future Flora would have made when he saw her next, because he knew as well as she did that when that happened the countess would be gone and her services here would no longer be required at Beranger Court.
Unless, of course, Luke came to his senses and proposed to her. He had seen the look of abject betrayal in his friend’s eyes when he observed Archie kissing Flora’s wrist in a comparatively innocent manner. If he wasn’t bold enough to settle matters between them and secure exclusive rights to her affections, then Archie decided that he deserved to be disappointed. His loyalty to his best friend was not limitless.
Chapter Thirteen
Flora barely left the countess’s rooms over the next few days, and saw Luke only when he called in to visit his grandmother. He was civil towards her and unfailingly polite as they united in their concern for the old lady’s wellbeing, but the easy intimacy they had so effortlessly fallen into was no longer there. Instead, their exchanges were fraught with tension. Flora couldn’t decide if it was because they were both so worried about the countess or because Luke didn’t want to give her any encouragement. She wanted to tell him that she had no expectations, wanted nothing from him, and that she had already started to consider a future away from Beranger Court.
Swearing Paul to secrecy, she had asked him to make enquiries about modest cottages available to lease in the vicinity. She had no desire to move closer to Salisbury and be within reach of her father’s influence; nor would she settle too close to the Court and risk seeing Luke and his future countess at every turn.
For the past two days, rain and howling winds had kept her confined to the house but that morning dawned crisp and clear, a strong breeze blowing the falling leaves into eddies and drying up the puddles. In need of fresh air after having been confined so long within the cloying atmosphere of the sick room, Flora donned a warm coat and wandered into the walled garden; a favourite haunt of hers that was protected from the elements by the ancient walls that supported a dozen old and established species of climbing shrubs. Zeus followed her outside and wound himself around her legs, mewing pitifully.
‘You sense change in the air and don’t like it any more than I do,’ Flora said, bending to scratch his ears. ‘Never mind, Zeus, we are survivors, you and me. We will get through this, even if it leaves us devastated and obliged to start over elsewhere. What other choice do we have?’ She choked on a sob. ‘There will be nothing for us here once your mistress is gone.’
Zeus meowed in agreement but continued to stick close to her side, ignoring the rodent population in favour of human companionship. The wind was stronger than Flora had realised, causing her to remain on the path closest to the house, the walls of which afforded her some protection from the elements.
A whistling past her ear that had nothing to do with the weather conditions caused her to shiver.
‘Remus,’ she muttered, wondering what it could be this time that her temperamental spirit guide was attempting to express. He tried her patience with his erratic powers of communication. Remus insisted that they could connect telepathically but clearly considered that whatever he was trying to warn her about wasn’t worth the effort. Either that or he was too busy enjoying himself elsewhere and couldn’t spare the time to be distracted by her concerns. Remus had refined voyeurism to an art form.
She paused when she heard voices raised in conflict coming from the conservatory. If she continued walking, she would pass its windows and be seen. Remus’s appearance suggested that the ongoing dispute she was in danger of interrupting would yield useful information, so she flattened herself against the wall and listened. It took her seconds to recognise George Fleming’s voice berating his sister.
‘Try harder. He likes you but you don’t encourage him.’
‘Men of the earl’s ilk like to do the pursuing. No man wants what is too readily available to him. We both know that very well.’
Ye gods, they were discussing Luke. Flora felt both worried and vindicated. Vindicated in her mistrust of George and worried because he was so determined to force Ottilie upon Luke. There was nothing unusual about that. Anyone in the district with an eligible female to marry off had their eye on Luke, but there was something about the determination in George’s tone that chilled Flora’s blood.
‘I settled on that hovel we intend to move into because it gave you a further two weeks here to impress the damned earl, but you have made no effort in that regard.’
‘You settled on Denby Lodge because it’s all we can afford, and even that is beyond our means,’ Ottilie shot back at him.
Perdition, how could that be? Flora’s mind whirled. All that talk of settling back in England and purchasing an estate had obviously been moonshine. They dressed and behaved like the wealthy and privileged individuals they were pretending to be. Why were they destitute? Flora felt very worried by their desperation, especially since they seemed determined to exploit Luke in order to rectify the situation.
