Page 3 of A Sense of Misgiving
And that undeniable fact, Flora realised, was at the heart of the mild misgivings that had recently crept up on her. Her father had unexpectedly visited Beranger Court in the spring, demanding that Flora return to Salisbury and the bosom of her family. Someone had heard the dowager countess, in one of her more eccentric outbursts, expressing sacrilegious beliefs in a loud voice in the village. No daughter of the Canon Chancellor of Salisbury Cathedral could be associated with such a shockingly blasphemous female.
Flora had not the slightest intention of giving up a position within a family that had embraced her so generously, or turning her back on a charge who both challenged and entertained her. A lady who had shown her a great deal more attention than her own mother ever spared for her. The dowager herself prevented a terrible dispute between father and daughter by appearing in front of Papa with a bible in her hands, asking for Flora’s help to interpret a passage she didn’t understand. It was the first and only time that she had seen her father completely lost for words.
Since the countess had never once opened a bible in Flora’s presence, her little charade demonstrated how groundless her family’s concerns were regarding the old lady’s state of mind. She was not senile—merely lonely. She was, however, most definitely mischievous. Flora had grown to depend upon her sometimes quirky yet often sound common sense. She had been touched beyond words when the countess had used her wits to outmanoeuvre Papa and save Flora’s position, especially since she kept insisting that she had no need of her services.
Flora had heard nothing from her family since Papa had retreated in defeat. All her letters remained unanswered, but her father still wanted her back, she knew, even though she was his least favourite daughter. Her sixth sense told her that he had not given up on his plan to see her married to his curate, Mr Bolton. Flora thought the admittedly handsome cleric pompous, self-centred and dull. A mirror image of her father, in fact. She assumed Papa wanted the match to go ahead in order to somehow advance of his own career. If that was the case, she could expect to hear from him before she became legally independent.
There is nothing he can do to force me away from here.
She had seen Mr Bolton in the local village back in the spring, just before Charlie Beranger, the brother closest in age to the earl, had married Miranda Defoe. What the cleric was doing there she had been unable to fathom, but his presence had made her decidedly uneasy. He had no ecclesiastical duties that far from Salisbury, so he could only have been there in the hope of seeing her. She had pretended not to notice him. He hadn’t accosted her and she hadn’t come across him anywhere since then. But she still felt uneasy about the entire situation and would welcome some advice from the suspiciously absent Remus.
‘We shall have a party and celebrate your independence in style,’ the countess decreed. ‘You must have a new gown for the occasion.’
‘I must have no such thing!’ Flora gasped. ‘Thank you, my lady, but you have already been far too generous, and it will take me months, years even, to repay the earl for all the clothes you will insist upon ordering for me. I don’t need half of them, as I keep trying to tell you.’
‘Ha! Perhaps not, but you enjoy wearing pretty things in bright colours after all that drab grey you arrived here hiding beneath.’
‘I cannot deny it, but a party is out of the question. I am not a member of the family, and besides I have no friends to invite.’
‘A party you shall have, miss, and you will enjoy it, or I’ll know the reason why. I am not so senile that I don’t know what you get up to. Emma and Charlie both have you to thank for their marital bliss.’ She blew air through her lips. ‘While it lasts.’
‘My lady!’
‘Ha! Passion wanes, my dear, which is why so many men take mistresses. And why so many married ladies enjoy their littleaffaires.’
‘Not Emma and her Mr Watson, I am perfectly sure of it. And certainly not Charlie and Miranda. They are most definitely soulmates.’
‘Romantic twaddle! I don’t suppose you ever celebrated with parties in your childhood home.’
Flora laughed and rolled her eyes. ‘Heaven forbid!’
‘I doubt if heaven had much to do with it. More a case of your father being such a miser.’
‘Well, we shall see.’
‘There’s nothing to see. You will have a party and a new gown. My mind is quite made up. We shall go into the village soon and consult Mrs Keller. She is a miserable excuse for a dressmaker, but she’s all we have, so we shall just have to make the best of her services. We might as well order you a couple of warmer walking gowns whilst we’re at it. All the ones you have now are for the summer and if you will insist upon dragging my aging bones around the lake every morning, you need to be more warmly attired.’
‘Really, I have quite enough.’
‘Stop complaining and do as you’re told for once. The evening gown will be a birthday present from me. The rest we can worry about another time.’
‘You said that about my summer wardrobe, but earl forgot to deduct some of the cost from my stipend on the last quarter day. However, you can be sure that I shall remind him.’
‘He has more to concern himself with than your trifling affairs. You are a terrible trial to me, and seldom remember your place. Even so, I have become accustomed to your bossy ways and I don’t want my grandson replacing you with someone who has absolutely no sense at all.’
Flora knew when she was beaten and smiled her gratitude. Zeus, the dowager’s unsociable white cat, jumped from the bed and onto Flora’s lap. She smoothed his sleek coat and the cat purred up at her, examining her through piercing green eyes.
‘That feline is positively fickle,’ the countess complained.
‘You only say that because he likes me as much as he likes you. You are accustomed to being the only person who can touch him, but he seems to have adopted me as well, so we shall have to share his affections.’
‘Cats are free spirits, like me in my younger days, and no one can tell him how to behave. That’s why I have some small affection for him.’
‘Well, you and Zeus must discuss the matter while I go and make up a tincture for your arthritis. I shall be back directly.’
‘I don’t have arthritis. Nor do I have any use for your terrible potions.’
‘Of course you do not.’ Flora lifted Zeus onto his mistress’s lap and sent a significant look in the direction of her crooked fingers. ‘I shall be but a moment or two.’
