Page 58 of A Sense of Turmoil
The house seemed unnaturally quiet. Archie had returned to Felsham Hall and everyone else had gone about their personal business. Of Luke she had seen nothing at all but knew that he must be in his library—his inner sanctum, where he was more or less assured of privacy. He hadn’t been out since the countess’s death, except on business to do with her interment. Nor had he, to the best of her knowledge, paid a visit to Ottilie at Denby Lodge. That surprised Flora. Aware how much the countess’s death had affected him, she assumed that he would seek solace in the arms of his intended.
She wondered if he had asked Sam to check the accounts in Boston, just so that he could congratulate himself upon dismissing her suspicions as being nothing more than the product of her non-existent supernatural powers. She would have told him that those suggestions came from a more earthly source than the one he supposed—yes, she would have admitted to eavesdropping—but when he accused her so unjustifiably of being jealous, he had forfeited all right to her candour.
Shewasjealous, and resentful, but only because she knew he was making a mistake that he would live to regret. A man of Luke’s strong principles would never feel comfortable connected by marriage to a family who had systematically swindled his own. She had absolutely no other reason to feel aggrieved.
‘Stop procrastinating,’ she said aloud. She had been in her room for more than half an hour, staring out the window at low clouds and drizzle that perfectly reflected her mood. She had allowed her mind to wander, further depressing her, aware that she was seeking an excuse to avoid opening the countess’s letter. Zeus looked up from his position on the window seat, mewing plaintively.
‘I know,’ she said, dropping a hand to smooth his sleek back. ‘I miss her too, but we will recover together.’
Flora joined the cat, the sealed letter addressed in a familiar spidery hand clutched tight in her fist. She paused, took a deep, calming breath and broke the seal.
Well, Bible-basher,she read, smiling through tears that were already falling freely.If you are reading this then I must be dead at last. Can’t say that I regret leaving this world. I’m anxious to see what comes next. You are aware that I don’t have any patience with your Christian conviction that we are all assigned to either heaven or hell but I do believe there is more to come. Much more. I look forward to seeing my husband again and bringing him to account for his debauched behaviour. My son also has questions to answer in that regard.
But you, Flora, you have your life ahead of you. I hope my bequest will give you the freedom to live it in the way you see fit, with no interference from outside sources. We both know to whom I refer. Don’t allow public opinion to sway you. You are stronger than you think. Times are changing and there is absolutely no reason why an unmarried woman of independent means may not set up home alone without giving rise to unfounded speculation.
I couldn’t believe my eyes when they thrust such a prim creature upon me. I was absolutely certain that I would frighten you away, shock you into giving notice within the first week. But even in your awful frock and with that terrible hairstyle of yours, it didn’t take me long to detect something in you that I found intriguing. A determination to rebel, if you like, since I was similarly-minded at your age. Little did I know that I had met my match. I will admit now to something that I would never have confessed to when I was still breathing. You gave me something to live for’Flora gasped.I was tired before you came along and brightened my existence in so many entertaining ways, giving me a reason to carry on for a little longer, despite those toxic potions you forced upon me. Be aware that no one else on this earth would have compelled me to ingest them.
Flora paused to sniff inelegantly and blow her nose.Be happy, my dear, and have the courage of your convictions. I hope you will find a man to make your life complete. You might think that you do not need one but, trust me, there are pleasures to be had that you with your puritanical soul will never experience outside of matrimony.Flora smiled, thinking it was very likely true.My short-sighted grandson cannot see what’s beneath his nose, which is his loss. He always did try to please a father whom he’d placed on a pedestal, looked up to and admired. But I knew that Luke’s father was far from perfect and had absolutely no right to his heir’s unswerving devotion. Luke would have found that out for himself if my son had not died before his time.
I realised soon after my boy’s death that nothing I said would persuade Luke otherwise, and that he would not thank me for sullying his father’s memory. I realise now that was wrong of me. If I had tried, I am certain that things would have worked out differently, but by the time I recovered from my own grief I had been branded as irrational and Luke would not have taken anything I said to heart.
Watch out for the scoundrel. We both know to whom I am referring. Luke might not think of you as countess material, foolish boy, but Archie won’t scruple to make you his marchioness, if he can stop thinking that his disabilities make him less of a man and unworthy of your hand.
My gratitude and undying affection, Isadora Beranger
Flora folded her letter carefully and tucked it into her dressing case. She felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders and that she had been given permission to get on with her life. She was not altogether surprised that her perspicacious charge had noticed her interest in Luke, careful as she had been to try and hide it, but was surprised that she wouldn’t have objected to their marrying. Well, that wouldn’t happen now, and had never really been on the cards anyway. Now Luke was promised to someone else, and Flora would follow the countess’s advice and start a new life for herself away from Beranger Court.
Whenever she felt pressured by her father or by society’s opinion to return to the family fold, she would re-read her letter and take courage from the countess’s advice. The part about Archie was total moonshine, of course. Oh, he liked her well enough and they enjoyed one another’s society, but Flora harboured no aspirations in that regard.
She pleaded a headache and dined in her room that night with Zeus for company. She felt unequal to sitting down with just Luke, Paul and Mary. She had much to think about, plans to make, and required no distractions to tempt her from that path, as Luke so easily could with just a look or an intimate smile. She was no longer entitled to revel in those smiles.
The following morning she set off early in Luke’s curricle to examine the cottages Paul had found for her to look over. She hadn’t told Luke what her intentions were, but presumed that Paul had. She sensed him standing at his library window, watching her, but she didn’t turn to wave.
The rain held off and a weak sun and brisk wind filled her with optimism. An optimism that didn’t stand the test of time the moment the curricle came to a halt at the gates of the first cottage. It smelt of mould and disuse, the furniture was old and mismatched and there was scarcely enough pasture for Amethyst. She couldn’t stand the thought of parting with the gelding that Luke had insisted was a gift. Flora couldn’t accept anything quite so extravagant, but they had reached a compromise and she had agreed to treat him as a loan; at her disposal all the time she remained in Luke’s employ. Now she would insist upon paying Luke for the horse and taking him with her—a battle of wills that she was not looking forward to.
By the time they arrived at the final cottage, over twenty miles from Beranger Court, Flora was thoroughly depressed. Either the local landlords were all crooks or she had been expecting more for her money than was realistically achievable. Perhaps Paul was right to suggest that she would have to use some of her inheritance from the countess. Her needs were modest, but she had no intention of living in squalor.
She took more interest in the scenery as they made their way towards the village of Lyneham. She had never been this far east before. The tall spire of the church dominated the surrounding countryside like a soldier standing to rigid attention. A gaggle of children emerged from the local school, the girls giggling and the boys kicking a ball. The shops appeared to be doing a steady trade and there was an air of genteel prosperity about the place that drew Flora in.
A promising start.
‘That’s Felsham Hall,’ her driver said as they left the village behind them, indicating a huge mansion off to the east, situated on a slight rise in the ground and bathed in a shaft of sunshine. ‘I’ve driven the earl here to visit the marquess more than once.’
‘Oh.’
Flora strained her eyes. She hadn’t realised that this latest property was so close to Archie’s residence. She could quite see why he admitted to finding the size of his estate a little daunting. The house was massive, easily large enough to accommodate several families with ease, the grounds stretching as far as the eye could see. It seemed extravagant for one man to live there all alone, and Flora felt a little sorry for Archie because he had no choice in the matter. He could not entertain lavishly, if at all, because he was still in mourning. And if he did accept his neighbours’ hospitality, he would have an endless parade of eligible daughters thrust in front of him.
She wondered how Archie would feel if she took up residence so close to him. Would he think it was a ploy to inveigle her way into his affections? She felt uneasy but did not allow herself to dwell upon the possibility. If this cottage was as dreary and depressing as the others she had seen, then the situation would not arise.
But she knew that it would the moment the curricle came to a halt on a neat gravel driveway, completely and refreshingly devoid of weeds. The drive led to a detached cottage in its own grounds, with more pasture than Amethyst could get through in a month.
‘Oh!’ she said breathlessly, alighting from the conveyance and breathing in the fresh country air, lulled by the absolute serenity of the cottage’s location. The gardens at the front were neglected, but she could see that they had once been well tended and her fingers itched to restore them to their former glory.
A tall, thin man stepped out of the shadows and smiled at Flora. ‘Miss Latimer? My name is Renshaw. I am the agent for this property, and it would be my pleasure to give you a tour.’
Flora felt a little optimism filtering through her veil of despair as she looked up at the front of the cottage, noticing the clean windows, a sound roof and smoke coming from the chimney stack.
‘Is someone in residence, Mr Renshaw?’ she asked. ‘I thought it had been made plain to you that I require to move as quickly as possible and so only vacant properties are of interest to me.’
