Page 21 of A Sense of Fate
‘Is it so long since anyone showed you kindness? Is that why you are so suspicious?’
The lady grunted. ‘Everyone wants something. I’m only suspicious when they pretend not to.’
‘Are we not supposed to find our reward for good deeds in the afterlife?’
‘Ah, you must be the bible basher’s daughter I’ve heard so much about.’
Flora gasped, not because she was offended but because Mrs Finch’s words echoed those the countess had often used to describe Flora in an effort to insult her. She smiled as she coaxed the meagre fire back to life and threw another log on it. ‘Is that how I am described?’ She chuckled. She could see Mrs Finch was disappointed that her efforts to claim the moral high ground had failed. ‘Sit down and let me see if there is anything I can do to relieve your pain.’
‘I am not in pain.’
Flora glanced up at a shelf sagging beneath the weight of a well-thumbed collection of books. Some were in French, and all pertained to serious subjects.
‘I was once the Countess of Swindon’s companion, but I suspect you already know that, given your reference to bible bashing. Anyway, if her determination always to have the last word failed to make an impression upon me then you, Mrs Finch, might as well give up trying to shock me before you have even begun.’
‘Impudent chit!’ But the older lady’s lips wobbled with the effort it took her to refrain from smiling.
Ignoring her protests, Flora helped to raise her swollen ankles onto a footstool and gently probed. Mrs Finch was unable to help wincing, even though it was evident that she tried to pretend nothing was wrong.
‘It’s as I thought. Why have you not consulted a doctor?’
‘Doctors?’ She flapped a gnarled hand. ‘Pah! What can they do? Anyway, there’s nothing wrong with me other than old age, and they haven’t found a cure for that yet, as far as I am aware. I went out to purchase Elliman’s Embrocation—’
‘Which won’t help you at all. Don’t believe all the advertisements in the newspapers. You are in pain, despite what you say, yet you need not be. I can help you as well as any doctor—perhaps better than some, and I don’t charge.’
‘I don’t want your charity, child. I am not your experiment.’
‘No, ma’am. You are a cantankerous old lady, but I enjoy a challenge and so I shall not allow that to deter me.’
‘If you were as impolite towards Lady Swindon as you are to me then I am surprised you lasted a week in her employ.’
‘Not as surprised as she was,’ Flora replied, glancing up and grinning. ‘Although I did feel guilty about spoiling her fun when I first arrived and stood up to her, I will admit. As soon as she discovered that my father was the canon chancellor at Salisbury Cathedral the devil got into her and she assumed that she would be able to shock me into giving notice with her exaggerated tales of various lovers. It took her a while to realise that I could give as good as I got and that nothing she threw at me could be worse than my meekly returning to the family fold. Besides, I found her colourful imagination highly educational. No one talked about that sort of thingin Cathedral Close.’ Flora rolled her eyes theatrically. ‘Babies were delivered by storks and left under gooseberry bushes.’
‘Harrumph!’
‘We became very good friends, the countess and I, even if like you she pretended that my cures were unnecessary and made no difference.’ Flora’s smile faded. ‘I miss her lively irreverence.’
‘Hmm.’
‘Hemlock,’ Flora said, straightening up from her examination of the lady’s ankles.
‘You mean to kill me off as well?’
‘I haven’t killed anyone yet.’ Flora paused, grinning. ‘Great though the temptation has sometimes been.’ She settled on a chair across from Mrs Finch. ‘Hemlock is dangerous, but if you know what you are doing, which I can assure you that I do, then it helps to reduce swelling.’
‘Where will you find hemlock at this time of year? The summer is almost over. Not that I’ll let you anywhere near me with it. My question was purely rhetorical.’
‘I have ointments made up.’ She went into the scullery and placed water to boil, searching the cupboard for tea, of which there was a limited supply.
‘Aren’t you having any?’ the old lady asked, when Flora handed her a steaming cup.
‘No, I must be on my way.’ Mrs Finch seemed disappointed. ‘I will call tomorrow with the ointment you don’t want to try.’
Flora did so and took with her a couple of novels that she had borrowed from the circulating library as well as half of one of Beatrice’s cakes that Flora said would otherwise go to waste.
‘Frilly nonsense!’ Mrs Finch declared, glancing at the books. ‘I have no time for novels.’
‘In which case, I will take them back.’
