Page 46 of A Sense of Fate
‘How dare you!’ Her father’s face had turned puce with rage. ‘You leave the bishop out of this. Not that he would listen to a word said to him by a trollop like you. He and I understand one another.’
‘Do you?’ Flora tilted her head in a considering fashion. ‘You probably believe what you say but have failed to take into account the fact that his tolerance is not limitless. Oh yes, I know what it is that you hold over him.’ She had the satisfaction of seeing her father’s mouth fall open. ‘He told me himself why he was so keen to promote a match between myself and his nephew—or should I say his son—so perhaps you would be better advised to believe that the bishop and I understand one another.’
‘I shall deny anything you say about Melanie. You have blown the entire episode up out of all proportion in order to justify your quite outrageous interference and your dislike of me, your own father.’
‘Have I?’ She allowed her words to linger for a moment before adding, ‘Bullies dislike being stood up to, I usually find. And as far as belief and proof is concerned, I hear that the art of photography has improved considerably over recent years. I dare say you will prove to be as predictable as all bullies and back down, since I mean what I say.’ She dealt him a look of steely resolve. ‘I will not permit Melanie’s character to be stifled in the way that mine was.’
‘Stifled?’ He shook his head. ‘You were out of control, developing independent ideas. You had to be stopped. It was my duty and you should know that I never shirk from my duty.’
‘This is not about my conduct, but about Melanie’s safety. I will not permit her to return to a household where she will be systematically abused—and trust me, Father, I have the power to make you think twice about forcibly taking her away. You accuse me of having Lord Felsham’s ear. If you seriously believe that’s the case then he will naturally side with me. Besides, when he meets Melanie he will believe what he sees with his own eyes, because unlike you he is a compassionate man. And hedoeshave the authority to tarnish your reputation beyond recall. The newspapers would lap the story up.’
Her father puffed out his chest a little less pugnaciously, uncertainty now etched in his features. ‘You wouldn’t dare! Such scandalous rumours would be the finish of me and would destroy the reputation of the entire family.’
‘What family, Father? I have left, Melanie has left, Pamela is married now. Perhaps you should have thought of your diminishing authority over us all before you behaved with such unwarranted cruelty,’ Flora replied coldly.
Her father fell back into his chair and addressed her in a more conciliatory tone, which she knew must have required a huge effort of will. Bullying and dictating were more his style. He was not known for his will to compromise. ‘Despite our differences, Flora, I have always wanted the best for you. Living alone here with a marquess at your beck and call…’ He spread his hands, attempting to seem reasonable. ‘You must realise how it looks. I have not forgotten the way Lord Felsham strolled into my investiture—uninvited, I might add—and strolled out again with you on his arm, bold as brass.’
‘Ah, so that accounts for your desire to push another man of your own choosing onto me. You judge everyone else by your own low standards. Lord Felsham are I are friends, and you are of the view that friendships are not possible between a man and a woman without intimacy intruding?’ She sent him a challenging look. ‘Why not go directly to his lordship with your concerns, if you arethatworried by rumours that only appear to have reached your own ears?’ When he hesitated, Flora pounced. ‘You do not believe it any more than I do, and you are using Lord Felsham as an excuse to pretend to know what is best for me.’
Her father slumped in his chair, something that he almost never did, his shoulders sagging as he rested his forearms on his thighs. It was an indication of insecurity that she had never imagined she would see him display. ‘I no longer know you at all,’ he said, shaking his head as though disappointed and confused. He was very likely both, but Flora thought of her own suffering at his hands and felt no sympathy.
‘Perhaps you never did. I am too much like Grandmamma ever to be the daughter you wish for. I cannot seem to accept anything without questioning its validity.’ He flinched at the mention of his mother’s name and looked momentarily frightened. ‘Why are you so determined to push Mr Conrad at me?’ she asked. ‘What is your connection with that gentleman?’
‘He is very respectably engaged in an important position at Coutts bank,’ her father replied, regaining both his posture and his dictatorial tone.
Flora frowned. ‘That does not explain why he was at Pamela’s wedding. Is he a personal friend of yours? I think it unlikely. You do not forge friendships. Melanie said you held her hand in that flame when she overheard a part of his conversation with you.’
‘She should not have eavesdropped,’ he said, not an ounce of contrition in his tone or expression. Flora would have been surprised if there had been. She had never known her father to doubt himself.
‘He is not a man of the cloth, and I find him rather arrogant.’
He paused for a protracted moment. ‘I will tell you—but if I do so, I must ask for your secrecy.’
She sat forward, intrigued. ‘You are assured of it.’
‘Very well. Mr Conrad is a member of a small, select circle of intellectual gentlemen from a variety of walks of life. The church, the law, science, exploration, medicine, politics. We meet regularly and in secret to enjoy informed debate about world situations, and to decide upon philanthropic donations. We have set up bursaries in certain subjects to encourage the finest minds to excel in their chosen fields and also to offer anonymous donations to worthy causes.’
‘Highly commendable, but why the secrecy?’
‘Some of the gentlemen are exceedingly wealthy and demand anonymity, a situation that we all respect and which is a requirement of membership. If our purpose became public knowledge, we would be swamped with pleas for admirable causes, which would leave us no time to improve our minds. Mr Conrad invests our funds and ensures that they are distributed in accordance with our decisions.’ He paused. ‘He is a good and honourable man, as you would know for yourself if only you would give him an opportunity. He was up at Oxford with Felsham and has a very poor opinion of his moral conduct, which is partly why I am so concerned about his influence upon you.’
‘I see.’
But she didn’t, not really, and she was highly suspicious about everything he had just told her. The explanation of his philanthropic society sounded contrived; rehearsed almost. As though he had expected the question and had prepared a plausible response. One that it would be impossible for her to verify. Her father was not the type to hide the occasional good deed and ensured that he took full credit on those few occasions when he felt generously inclined.
‘Well anyway,’ Flora added, ‘despite Mr Conrad’s unsullied reputation in your eyes, he is wasting his time with me. I have no interest in him, or indeed in acquiring a husband at all, and have made my feelings very plain.’ She stood to indicate that the interview had reached an end. ‘I will not receive him if he calls again. Try not to listen to rumours, Father. They are not true. My friendship with Lord Felsham is platonic; on that you have my word. You may not think a great deal of me and you may disapprove of the way I live, but you must concede that I have never lied to you, which is one of the reasons why we constantly clash.’
He bowed his head, presumably because he knew it was true. ‘Melanie can remain here for an extended stay,’ he said magnanimously, making it sound as though he was being gracious rather than having his hand forced. ‘We will discuss the matter again in a few weeks.’
Flora wanted to tell him there would be nothing to discuss, but allowed him to have the final word. She rang the bell and Polly answered it so rapidly that Flora suspected she had been sitting on the stairs, listening and ready to come to Flora’s aid if necessary.
‘Goodbye, Father,’ Flora said, watching as Polly handed him his hat and gloves. ‘My respects to my mother.’
He inclined his head and left without uttering another word.
‘He’s gone! You did it!’ Melanie flew down the stairs and launched herself into Flora’s arms, almost knocking her from her feet. ‘How? What did you say?’
Flora smiled and draped an arm around her sister’s shoulders. ‘Come and sit down and I will tell you. Ask Beatrice if we could have some tea please, Polly.’
