Page 46 of A Sense of Misgiving
‘Luke’s standards must have slipped if he allows his servants to speak so irreverently to their betters.’
‘You consider yourself better than me?’ Flora flexed a brow. ‘And you find it necessary to say so. I cannot begin to imagine whom you are trying to convince,’ she added, knowing very well, ‘but your attitude suggests that you are at best insecure and at worst envious. Of what I have no inkling on either count.’
‘Disrespectful woman!’
‘You are the one who referred to my position in the earl’s household in a disrespectful manner,’ Flora responded evenly. ‘I am a servant here, and I am very happy to make that admission. There, does that satisfy you?’
Mrs Arnold swallowed, clearly attempting to rein in her jealousy. If the woman had troubled to make herself more agreeable, Flora would happily have assured her that she had absolutely nothing to feel jealous about. Yet despite disliking Mrs Arnold, she wouldn’t be unkind enough to tell her she was wasting her efforts and that Luke had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her on a personal level. Lucy Arnold would not be the first woman to assume that beauty trumped all other considerations. And she was remarkably pretty, even when she was angry and her face was pinched into an expression of jealous spite.
‘I apologise if I seem rude,’ she said ungraciously. ‘It’s just that the blurring of the lines nowadays sometimes takes me by surprise. I have never seen a paid companion dressed so lavishly before.’
‘Why thank you, Mrs Arnold,’ Flora replied, even though she knew the statement had not been intended as a compliment.
‘My brother hopes to persuade Lady Mary to join us for an expedition to Swallow Hill on Monday. Can I depend upon you to help convince her? It is clear to me that Mary sets great stock by your recommendations.’
Flora was astounded by the woman’s effrontery, although perhaps she should not have been. She required Flora’s help but was also perfectly willing to insult her. ‘If your charming brother cannot persuade her without any outside influence, then I fear his aspirations are doomed.’
‘Oh, Mary wants to go. I am absolutely sure of it.’
‘In which case I fail to see why you need my help.’ Flora saw no profit in pursuing a conversation that was uncomfortable for them both. She used the countess’s cry of delight when she won yet another hand to make her escape. ‘Pray, excuse me,’ she said. ‘The countess has need of me.’
‘Your charge is a card cheat,’ Archie Hardwick said to Flora in a quiet aside when she joined him. The game had just broken up and the countess looked very pleased with herself.
‘I am not surprised to hear you say so,’ Flora responded, shaking her head. ‘Hopefully, your opponents did not notice.’
Lord Hardwick laughed as he used his stick to support his weight and struggled from his chair. ‘You have worked wonders with her,’ he said before excusing himself and hobbling across the room to join Luke and Paul.
Chapter Ten
It was well into the early hours before the party broke up. Flora could see that the countess was visibly flagging but also enjoying herself enormously, and refused to retire until the last of the guests had left.
‘She will likely sleep all morning,’ Sandwell told Flora as the two of them helped their charge into bed. ‘She always does after a particularly late night. It takes it out of her, but she won’t be told. Anyway, I suggest you do the same. No one else will stir much before midday, so it will give you time to recover, too.’
‘All right. But please call me if I’m needed. Thank you, Sandwell. Good night.’
‘Good night, miss.’
Flora was rather scandalised at the through of spending an entire morning in bed, especially a Sunday morning. She really should go to church. The countess never accompanied her, but some of the family members often did. Flora still found comfort in the familiar ritual of a church service and in a faith as strong as it had ever been. Which was not nearly strong enough to satisfy her father’s requirement for blind acceptance of the gospels. Remus’s appearance in her life had added to her doubts about the hereafter, but had at the same time given her absolute proof of an afterlife. In the circumstances, she felt her confusion was justified. She also reasoned if that if her grandmother had possessed that proof too, and had spoken about it, it would have been enough to drive her father to the extreme measures he took to silence her, confining her to her room and restricting her activities in public.
It had been a relief of sorts when she died of natural causes. And they had been natural, had they not? The possibly of another explanation flooded her mind, shocking Flora. Her father would not go that far, surely? She fell asleep with a deeply troubled mind.
Flora’s dilemma about attending morning service resolved itself when she didn’t wake until almost noon. She guiltily pushed the covers aside, washed and quickly dressed before making her way to the countess’s rooms. She found the old lady sitting up in bed, drinking a cup of hot chocolate and toying with a slice of toast. She looked small and worryingly frail.
‘Good morning, ma’am. I am shockingly late, for which I apologise. How do you feel this morning?’
‘Perfectly well, as always. Why must people insist upon asking after my health? You will want to be examining my teeth next, as though I was a horse.’
‘It’s the polite thing to do. Enquiring after a person’s health that is, not inspecting their teeth.’ Flora perched on the edge of the countess’s bed. ‘Are you intending to get up? Shall I ring for Sandwell? Obviously, she has already delivered your breakfast.’
‘You don’t look too wide awake yourself, miss.’ The countess tutted. ‘Young gels nowadays have no stamina. When I was your age, I thought nothing of dancing until dawn and then going on in a group somewhere for breakfast. It wasn’t uncommon for one of my admirers to drink champagne from my slipper.’
‘Wouldn’t that spoil the taste?’ Flora asked, attempting not to smile.
‘Foolish child! It was the romance of the gesture that signified. But romance is something else that no longer seems fashionable.’
‘You would have got a wet foot when you put your shoe back on,’ Flora reflected, determined to call the old lady’s bluff. ‘How did you circumvent that difficulty?’
‘Nothing could be easier.’ The countess sniffed. ‘I went barefoot, and my admirers fought for the privilege of carrying me.’
