Page 17 of A Sense of Injustice
‘She is indeed.’ Grandmamma chuckled. ‘Don’t be taken in by her scatty behaviour. She is still very astute and doesn’t miss a trick. She just amuses herself sometimes by pretending to be muddle-headed.’
‘Did she want to know what brought me to Swindon?’ Louise asked in a state of some agitation.
‘Calm yourself, my dear.’ Grandmamma helped herself to a muffin, still warm from the oven, and forced one upon Louise too. ‘She did not ask me to explain the reasons for your sudden return. I merely said that you had come for a long overdue visit, which as far as I am aware is why you are here. And very delightful it is to see you.’
Louise felt tears flood her eyes. ‘Thank you so very much for not asking questions, Grandmamma. I should hate for you to disapprove of my conduct.’
‘My dear, nothing you ever do could earn my disapproval. I very much doubt that your circumstances are of your own making. I can see that something is troubling you, and when you are ready to unburden yourself I am more than willing to listen and offer advice.’ She smiled. ‘I am impossible to shock. I was not always old, you know, and do remember how it felt to be pursued by not always scrupulous gentlemen. They were the ones who always seemed the most appealing. There’s something about scoundrels…they have engaging manners that one finds hard to resist. Anyway, I well remember being confused by the demands of society when I was your age, and since you no longer have a father to depend upon for advice…’
‘Oh, Grandmamma!’ Louise felt overwhelmed; unworthy of her elderly relation’s compassion. ‘Whatever have I done to deserve you?’
‘Well, my dear, we can none of us choose our families, but I hope that I at least am not a cause for disappointment in your eyes.’ She finished her muffin and delicately wiped her fingers on her napkin. ‘Did you enjoy Miss Latimer’s society? I saw the two of you in close conversation for a considerable amount of time.’
‘I did. In fact, I intend to call on her later today, if you don’t need me for anything.’
‘Oh, I am glad. Isadora, the countess, is inordinately fond of the girl. She has made herself indispensable to the Berangers as a whole, come to that. Well, given that they threw a party in honour of a servant, I imagine that much was obvious to you.’
‘Poor Miss Gregory.’ Louise smiled. ‘She couldn’t make it out at all. A servant seated at the table with the gentry, and as guest of honour no less. I am sure she will never recover from the indignity.’
‘Piffle!’ Grandmamma puffed out her cheeks. ‘The chit has ideas above her station. I could tell you a few things about her family’s history that would curdle milk. Her uncle, the squire, is respectable enough. But the rest of them…’ She flapped a hand but refrained from expanding. ‘However, she’s wasting her efforts on Luke Beranger. She ought to aim lower. Much lower.’
Marianne joined them at that point, still looking half asleep, and Louise spent the rest of the morning reacquainting herself with a sister whom she had barely seen for the past ten years.
After a light luncheon, she set off for Beranger Court, driven there by her grandmother’s coachman, wondering if she could bring herself to tell Flora the complete truth about her circumstances. She sensed that her new friend wouldn’t turn her back on her, but she was unsure if there was anything Flora could actually do to help her, so it would be a calculated risk. If word got out about Louise’s situation, she would be ruined. But since there was every possibility that she would be ruined by a cruel and vindictive person anyway, she might as well go with her instincts and unburden herself. God alone knew, she needed to confide in someone before the weight of her problems ground her down completely.
She thought about Henry Beranger, who had gone out of his way to make himself agreeable to her the previous evening. Like all the male Berangers, he was tall, with a sweep of thick brown hair, equally brown eyes and rugged features. His gentlemanly conduct, relaxed good nature and the efforts he took to entertain her only served to reinforce her previously bad judgement and increase her regret. Louise couldn’t be herself with him because she didn’t deserve his attentions. If he knew the truth about her conduct he would be repelled and want nothing more to do with her.
Sighing, she watched the passing scenery as the carriage covered the short distance between her grandmother’s abode and Beranger Court.
‘I am an idiot to have allowed a little flattery to ruin my life,’ she muttered.
?????
‘Ah, you are awake.’ Flora smiled at the countess. ‘How do you feel today?’
Sitting up in bed with her cap askew, the old lady appeared to be in a curmudgeonly mood. Flora had learned to gauge her state of mind at a glance, but she also knew that late nights took their toll on her strength—especially since she refused to moderate her intake of wine or retire when she felt fatigued.
‘Tired of being asked that question,’ she replied querulously.
‘Which means your joints are stiff. I thought as much, so I have made you up a tincture.’ She poured the potion into a glass and held it to the countess’s lips. She drank it down without her usual litany of complaints, further proof that the medication worked and that the countess knew it.
‘Disgusting,’ she complained, putting the empty glass aside.
‘It’s a lovely day. I have already been out riding. I don’t suppose I can tempt you out for a walk. It isn’t cold and the colours are quite magnificent.’
‘Are you trying to kill me off, child? Go walking alone, if you must. You set too much stock by fresh air.’
‘I doubt whether I could kill you off even if I wanted to,’ Flora responded. ‘You have the constitution of an ox and will likely outlive us all, just to be contrary.’
‘You will discover for yourself if you reach old age that being contrary is one of the few pleasures left to a person.’
Flora smiled. ‘A benefit that you do not scruple to exploit.’
‘I’ll get up and sit in my chair. Help me, Sandwell,’ she said to her maid who was hovering in the background. ‘Don’t just stand there looking useless.’
Between them they hauled the countess to her feet. Sandwell slipped her charge’s arms into a robe, which she belted tightly before draping a thick shawl around her shoulders. Thus protected against the cold, even though a good fire burned in the grate and the room was if anything a little stuffy, the countess shuffled across to her favourite chair. It afforded her a wide-reaching view of the grounds and was surrounded by framed photographs of her family. Most of the people in those pictures were now dead.
‘Go away, Sandwell. This irksome child can entertain me for a while. Come back when it’s time for luncheon.’
