Page 18 of A Sense of Misgiving
‘You had best excuse me, Paul,’ she said, getting up without looking at him. ‘I need to change and then join Grandmamma and Flora.’
‘Of course.’ He stood too and appeared to have recovered from whatever had briefly troubled him. ‘I wish you a pleasant afternoon.’
Mary watched him go, sighing as the door closed softly behind him. ‘Whatever was that all about?’ she wondered aloud.
*
Flora was deeply troubled by Mary’s sudden attachment to a member of the Redfern family, to say nothing of its timing. She didn’t believe in coincidences, and struggled to decide whether or not to tell Luke about it as she changed for their afternoon excursion. In the end she decided not to say anything quite yet. She would hopefully meet the gallant captain for herself that afternoon, and would then have a better idea if the Referns being brought to her attention twice in the same hour—albeit for vastly different reasons—was indeed one of the coincidences that she set so little stock by.
She removed her day gown and slipped into the russet wool walking dress with green trim that the countess had insisted she purchase. It had the advantage of a matching hat, beneath which she could hide her untidy hair. She examined her reflection and was forced to concede that the countess had been right to insist that the colour would suit her complexion. She smiled, thinking it ironic that a lady who made such extravagantly outrageous choices when it came to her own wardrobe should show such excellent taste when selecting Flora’s. Further proof that her ladyship’s mind was perfectly sound, and that she was simply amusing herself by pretending otherwise.
Having warned Sandwell that the countess would be taking a carriage excursion that afternoon, she found her charge suitably attired when she called to collect her.
‘I hope you will enjoy visiting Emma,’ Flora said as she helped the countess into Luke’s carriage. Mary followed them into it, and as soon as they were settled the coachman set his team off at a steady trot.
‘I day say she’ll be too preoccupied with thoughts of babies to remember who I am.’
‘Stop being so grumpy,’ Flora chided gently. ‘You cannot deceive us. Mary and I both know that you are looking forward to the visit. Besides, it’s too nice a day for anyone to feel out of sorts. I absolutely forbid it.’
‘Emma is thinking of naming her baby after you, Grandmamma—if it is a girl, obviously.’
A flicker of pure joy lit up the old lady’s faded eyes for a second. ‘I never could abide the name Isadora myself.’ She folded her gloved hands in her lap. ‘Can’t imagine why anyone would inflict it upon a hapless child.’
‘It’s a very pretty name,’ Mary protested.
‘It will most likely be shortened to Izzy,’ Flora remarked, ‘and that’s attractive, too. Ignore your grandmother, Mary. There is no pleasing her when she is in such a contrary mood, so we shall talk about other things and pretend she isn’t here.’
‘You’ll do that anyway,’ the dowager grumbled. ‘Most people assume I am senile and won’t understand a word they say, so speak freely in front of me. Ha!’ she cackled. ‘I could fill a book with the secrets I have overheard since Luke decided he was ashamed of me and stopped allowing me out on my own. Besides, what I do hear is tame, and not nearly as outrageous as the things I once got up to myself.’ She flapped a hand. ‘Young people lack imagination nowadays. And society’s matrons are not much better. They don’t have enough to do with themselves so they take pleasure in spreading gossip about their friends without bothering to check their facts.’ She shuddered. ‘I had no time for such things in my day and found more interesting ways to occupy my time.’
‘So you insist, ma’am,’ Flora said, sharing a smile with Mary. ‘But unlike the leaders of society to whom you refer, I am not that easily shocked. Besides, I am convinced that you exaggerate quite shamelessly.’
‘I dare say you are. How else can you stay at peace with your puritanical soul?’
‘Well, there is that,’ Flora replied, biting her lip to prevent herself from laughing.
Their conversation brought them to the gates of the house that Emma now occupied with her husband, Luke’s good friend Alvin Watson. Emma herself greeted them at the door and clasped her grandmother in an affectionate hug.
‘This is an unexpected pleasure,’ she said, leading them into a small but pleasantly appointed drawing room. ‘Some tea for my guests if you please, Pearson.’
‘At once, my lady.’
Flora settled the dowager in a chair closest to the fire and ensured that she was not exposed to any draughts.
‘You look remarkably well, Emma,’ Flora said. ‘Please accept my warmest congratulations on your happy news.’
‘Thank you, Flora dearest. I feel exceedingly well, and very happy.’ Her beaming smile emphasised her words.
‘When is the child due?’ the dowager asked.
‘Just after Christmas. But Alvin fusses over me most terribly. It’s as if no woman ever had a baby before.’
‘So he should. He’s the one to blame for your condition,’ the countess muttered.
‘Grandmamma!’ Emma cried, her cheeks flaming. ‘What a thing to say.’
‘Can’t deny the truth, girl.’
The tea arrived at that moment, saving Emma’s blushes.
