Page 56 of A Sense of Misgiving
‘Ah well, that I could not say, since I am unaware what these papers contain.’ He nodded to the parcel, still sitting innocently on the table. ‘I can tell you,’ he added, extracting a folded sheet of paper from his inside pocket, ‘that your grandmother left you the residue of her fortune, which is currently invested and managed by me.’ He told Flora the current total and the income it was producing, which made her blink. It was not a massive sum, but it was more than enough to enable her to live independently. ‘Your grandmother wanted you to have the freedom of choice,’ Mr Farthingale added, returning the paper to his pocket.
‘Goodness,’ Flora said faintly.
‘Your grandmother was a wise woman, and told me once that you were the only one of her grandchildren who had inherited an ounce of her powers, or your grandfather’s. Your own father refused to acknowledge it and I’m told flew into rages whenever you demonstrated your abilities.’
Flora nodded. ‘I had no idea what they were, or why I could sometimes predict things and help people with what I knew, which is what a clergyman’s daughter is supposed to do. It confused me when Papa got so angry, so I learned to hide my modest achievements from him.’
‘Your grandmother gave your father her word that she would not explain any of this to you when you were still a child,’ Mr Farthingale told her. ‘Those were his terms for allowing her to live with you all, which she wanted to do to protect you from the worst of his spite. Any breach of the agreement would have seen her on the streets.’
‘And she stuck to those terms, when I think back. Papa only got worse after her death.’
‘Presumably if she had survived until you were old enough to understand, she would have taken you into her confidence.’ He gave a faint smile. ‘She was not afraid of her son, but he forced her to walk a fine line.’
‘It seems she had enough capital to set up home alone,’ Luke remarked.
‘She did, my lord, but as I say, she didn’t want to leave her grandchildren, this grandchild in particular,’ he said, waving a hand towards Flora, ‘unprotected.’
‘I cannot believe that my father has got himself into such a taking over a relatively small amount of money. It’s far more likely that the answers I seek are amongst those papers.’ Flora wrinkled her brow and nodded towards them. ‘What are they?’
‘I have absolutely no idea. Your grandmother brought them to me a little over a year before her death, when she made her last will. She told me to keep them safe and place them in your hands only when you came of age, which is what I’m doing, give or take a few weeks.’
‘I may keep them?’
‘Of course. They are yours.’
‘Thank you.’ Flora paused to clear a throat choked by emotion. ‘Were you surprised when Grandmamma died so suddenly?’
Mr Farthingale sent her a cautious look. ‘Actually, yes. She seemed perfectly well the last time I saw her, but she was no longer a young woman. Bodies wear out, or break down, you know. Why do you ask?’
She glanced at Luke and he shook his head. He was right, of course. If Mr Farthingale had harboured any suspicions about Grandmamma’s death at the time, he would surely have voiced them. It was unfair to ask his opinion at this late stage.
‘Well, my dear.’ Mr Farthingale pulled a handsome half-hunter watch from his waistcoat pocket. ‘I have left you with a great deal to think about, to say nothing of a mountain of reading. However, if there is nothing more I can help you with, I had best get myself back to the station or I shall miss my train.’
Flora stood. ‘Thank you so very much for coming, Mr Farthingale. You have been of considerable help. I hope I may call upon you again if I have any questions, which I am sure I shall.’
‘And I will do my humble best to answer them. In the meantime, I assume you would like me to continue managing your financial affairs.’
‘Oh, yes please. I wouldn’t know where to begin.’
‘I will write to you after your birthday, now that I know where to find you, and arrange for your quarterly income to be deposited in your own account.’
Luke shook the man’s hand, added his own thanks and rang the bell to have him shown out.
‘Well,’ he said, when the door closed behind Fothergill. ‘A lady of means. What shall you do with your windfall?’
‘Repay you for my extensive new wardrobe,’ she replied, and burst into tears.
Chapter Twelve
Mary changed her mind four times about which gown to wear for her outing with Captain Redfern. She wanted to look her absolute best, without it appearing as though she had made any particular effort. The skies were dull and it looked as though they might have more rain. She half expected him to send word that he had cancelled the arrangement because the inclement weather would obscure the view, which was supposed to be the reason for the excursion. But no message had been forthcoming, and since he was due to collect her in an hour she assumed the arrangements would not be altered by disobliging weather.
‘What do you think, Maud? The blue merino or the burgundy check? Maud? Are you listening?’ Mary turned her head, annoyed with her maid for not attending to her duties properly when the occasion was so important to Mary. The girl was nowhere in sight. ‘Maud?’
‘In here, my lady,’ came a pathetic voice.
Frowning, Mary went into her adjoining bathroom and found her maid doubled over on the floor, clutching her belly and groaning.
‘What is it?’ Mary crouched in front of the girl and felt her brow. It was warm to the touch and she was perspiring profusely. ‘Is it something you ate?’
