Page 15 of A Sense of Turmoil
‘You might appear a bit more enthusiastic,’ Archie remarked.
‘He wants to be in love,’ Paul said, ‘and he’s trying hard to convince himself that he actually is.’
‘I thought he already was,’ Archie said with a perspicacious look.
‘Don’t be more of an ass than comes naturally,’ Luke muttered. ‘It’s time to change for dinner, gentlemen. Grandmamma plans to come down in your honour, Archie, for the first time in months.’
‘How is she?’ Archie asked.
‘Failing,’ Luke replied, aware that the light-hearted atmosphere had given way to one of deep sadness. ‘Flora says it will be weeks, months at most. Grandmamma knows it and seems prepared.’
‘Well, let’s make the old girl smile while we still can in that case,’ Archie replied, draining his glass once more before leaning heavily on his stick and hauling himself slowly to his feet. ‘Later, gentlemen,’ he said, limping towards the door.
*
Flora had noticed an improvement in the countess’s spirits at the prospect of Archie’s visit. The old woman had sent Sandwell to help Flora dress, as she sometimes did, and it was a gesture that Flora appreciated. Looking her very best tonight would give her self-esteem a much needed boost. She chose a pretty evening gown in bronze figured silk that bared her shoulders and had short puffed sleeves decorated with lace and embroidery. Thanks to the services of an hour-glass corset, the gown clung to her figure and was finished with an elaborately tiered bustle. The garment was yet another gift from the countess, a habit she refused to break despite Flora’s protests. The old lady claimed that it gave her pleasure to see Flora wearing the creations she dreamed up for her—an argument that the kindly-intentioned countess knew full well Flora wouldn’t be able to counter.
She sat still while Sandwell dressed her hair, glad to have an opportunity to wear the gown for the first time. She smiled at her reflection when it occurred to her that she was being impossibly vain. She was no beauty, but she did have a good figure and saw nothing wrong with showing it off.
‘Thank you, Sandwell,’ she said, when the countess’s maid declared herself satisfied with Flora’s hairstyle. ‘As always, you have worked wonders.’
‘You look very pretty,’ Sandwell said.
‘Is the countess ready to go down?’
‘She is. I got her dressed early. It tires her just to change her gown, so she’s had a while to sit down and recover her strength while I’ve attended to you. She’s probably dozed off.’ Sandwell paused. ‘You will rein her in if she insists upon drinking too much, won’t you, miss? It will only set her back if she overdoes it.’
Flora rolled her eyes. ‘I shall do my very best, but it won’t make much difference if she gets carried away,’ she said, a catch in her voice.
‘I know.’ Sandwell brushed aside a tear that slipped down her cheek.
‘You have been with her for a long time.’
‘Over twenty years. I flatter myself that I know her better than anyone.’
Flora touched Sandwell’s shoulder. ‘She is lucky to have you.’
‘And you. When you arrived, I didn’t think you’d last five minutes. A clergyman’s daughter indeed! I couldn’t imagine why anyone would have thought…but I am convinced that her ladyship has gone on for so long because you are not afraid to challenge her. She was tired of living, found nothing to amuse her and was ready to give up before you came. But she takes an interest in your welfare now. It’s given her a purpose, and she has become inordinately fond of you.’
‘Thank you for saying so. It means a great deal.’ Flora felt her own tears welling and blinked them aside. ‘However, we shall not be sad this evening. We owe it to the countess to ensure that she enjoys herself, and if she does take a glass or two too many…well, as I say, it won’t make much difference. Not now.’
Flora somehow managed not to smile when she followed Sandwell into the countess’s sitting room and found her, as Sandwell had predicted, sitting with her head lolling forward, snoring softly. She wore one of her most flamboyant gowns in a rainbow of clashing colours with a plumed headdress that had fallen over her eyes. Sandwell woke her gently and set the headdress back in place.
‘I can see that you’re feeling colourful tonight, ma’am,’ Flora said, offering the countess her arm and gently easing her to her feet. ‘Are you ready to go down?’
‘I’ve been ready for ages. It’s you that’s held things up by primping yourself.’ She cast a glance down the length of Flora’s body. ‘Still, I suppose you won’t disgrace me.’
Flora spluttered on a laugh. ‘God forbid!’ she said. ‘And thank you again for this lovely gown. You are far too generous.’
‘And you would do well to admit that you enjoy wearing extravagant clothing.’
‘I will readily make that admission, ma’am.’
‘And do a penance for it later to salve your Christian guilt, I dare say.’
Flora laughed. ‘Something of that nature.’
They walked together at a snail’s pace along the wide corridor that led to the gallery and the wide, sweeping staircase. The countess was out of breath by the time she had descended it, and sat for a moment on a chair in the vestibule regaining her strength. But the sound of laughter from the drawing room quickly galvanised her, and Flora could tell from the determination in her expression that she fully intended to enjoy herself.
