Page 31 of A Sense of Fate
On the homeward journey Flora smiled as Polly chattered on about her exciting day. Not the smallest detail about the arrangements below stairs in Archie’s massive house appeared to have escaped her notice.
‘The kitchens are that vast, miss, I never saw such a thing. And so well organised, too. Everyone has a purpose and they all seem happy in Lord Felsham’s employ. They feel that sorry for him, what with his injuries, but look upon him as a fair master whose luck is about to change.’
‘In what way?’
‘They didn’t exactly say, but I got the impression that they thought he would soon be married. The cook and some of the maids said it was beyond time there were children in the house.’
‘Quite so.’ Flora ignored the sinking feeling in her heart at the prospect of Archie’s domestic felicity. She knew it was mean spirited, but she couldn’t help the way she felt.
‘Everyone was so kind to me,’ Polly said, oblivious to Flora’s inner turmoil. ‘There were no snide looks because of…well, you know.’
‘I imagine Mr Pawson would have had something to say on the matter if there had been.’
Polly blushed and looked out the window. She’d had a bad time of it; compromised by her previous master and then turned away without a character when her condition became apparent. Archie had recommended her to Flora, rightly assuming that she would take the girl’s side and welcome her and the baby into her home. In return, Polly had given exemplary service and was now confident enough to enjoy Mr Pawson’s obvious interest in her without suspecting his motives.
Flora wondered where it would end. Would Archie object to Pawson marrying? And if he did, what would Flora do for a maid? There were plenty of girls looking for work, but she had become attached to Polly and she would miss her little daughter enormously if they were to leave Fox Hollow.
She glanced out the window. Fat snowflakes had begun to fall, the temperature had dropped and the snow would likely settle, making the roads difficult to negotiate.
‘We shall be snowed in, miss,’ Polly said, pressing her nose against the window glass. ‘Alice hasn’t seen snow before. She will be fascinated.’
‘Undoubtedly. You must help her to build a snowman, Polly.’
‘I shall do that, although Will, I dare say, will beat me to it. He don’t say much, but he adores little Alice and she loves him right back. I am so lucky. It’s not always that way for girls like me.’
Flora patted her hand. ‘You have repaid me ten times over.’ She watched the passing scenery from the comfort of Archie’s carriage, worried about the impediment to her movements that the snow would bring. She felt momentarily guilty for taking the day for herself when she could have used it to ensure the comfort of her ladies, then chased the thought away. She had attended to the most vulnerable the previous day, and the rest of them could manage for a while.
She turned her thoughts to her parting exchange with Archie. His behaviour had confused her. He was at once attentive yet distant. Then occasionally he said or did something to make her think that his feelings ran deeper. The countess had been of that opinion, but Flora had disregarded her view as sentimental nonsense. Mrs Finch expressed a similar conviction, but she was not even acquainted with Archie, so her view could be disregarded too. She had got one thing right, though. Archie would have to think in terms of siring an heir sooner rather than later, so perhaps the downstairs gossip that Polly had referred to was accurate, as servants’ gossip so often seemed to be.
Archie was on the point of declaring himself to some fortunate and eminently suitable female.
Flora suppressed a renewed bout of jealousy, wondering how that could be when he professed not to be receiving and therefore wasn’t exposed to the company of the
oh-so-suitableaspiring marchionesses in question. His circumstances didn’t preclude him from accepting invitations, she assumed. Hostesses would not expect him to reciprocate since he lived alone, making him all the more desirable in their eyes.
If he had accepted any such invitations, he’d refrained from mentioning them. Flora felt uncomfortable, thinking that he might have done so out of deference for her feelings. She probably wasn’t very good at hiding them, a situation for which she held him entirely responsible. He had no business looking quite so robustly and distractingly handsome. His attentions made her breathless and she found herself chattering more than usual when in his company in an effort to hide her confusion about her complex feelings for the damaged, highly intelligent and influential marquess.
A marquess whom she felt drawn to, but who was never likely to be hers. He had pretended to laugh when she referred to an invasion of the middle classes lowering standards at Coutts, but she sensed that her barb had hit home. Archie would have known what was expected of him since the cradle. His father had been enormously supportive following his accident, but even from beyond the grave he would expect Archie to remember his place and marry a lady of quality.
Archie would not disappoint the man he had admired and respected so unconditionally. Which meant that Flora would just have to keep her own aspirations a closely guarded secret. That was perhaps just as well. She relished her hard-won freedom—she absolutely did—and had a point to prove. She would enjoy Archie’s friendship and the fact that he was willing to confide in her to a degree, as well as taking an active interest in her own problems. That would have to be enough for her.
She blushed when she recalled telling him that he was her guilty pleasure. What on earth had made her blurt out something so inappropriate?
The answer was obvious. The feel of his lips on her neck had been as sublime as it had been unexpected. She had momentarily let her guard down, kissed him and then made that foolish admission—one that he had probably already dismissed as the ridiculous ravings of an equally ridiculous female who harboured ambitions above her station in life.
‘Here we are, miss. Home safe and sound.’
Polly’s voice recalled Flora’s wandering attention. Her maid stared at her, looking a little alarmed by Flora’s introspection. She hoped that the nature of her thoughts had not been too apparent in her expression.
‘So we are. Thank you, Mr Pawson,’ she said, when he opened the door and handed her down. ‘I will not invite you in. Doubtless you will want to get back before the weather worsens.’ She looked away and allowed a moment for Polly and Archie’s man to say their fond farewells. ‘Come along, Polly. You will freeze to death if you linger.’
Polly, standing still and gazing up at Mr Pawson, didn’t seem to mind the prospect of freezing. She did however recall her duty and moved away from the man who fascinated her, giggling at something he had just said to her.
Flora stripped off her tippet, hat and gloves, handed them to Polly in the hallway and headed for the sitting room.
‘Tea and toasted crumpets will suffice,’ she said when Polly followed her, awaiting instructions, ‘if you would ask Beatrice to arrange it. I cannot eat more than that after such a huge luncheon.’
‘I will see to it at once, miss,’ Polly said, disappearing in the direction of the kitchen. Her first priority was doubtless to check on her daughter, for which Flora couldn’t fault her. Polly, far from resenting the child who was a product of rape, doted on the little girl and was an exemplary mother.
