Page 48 of A Sense of Turmoil
‘We owe it to Papa for you to see this through, and I will help you all I can by distracting Miss Latimer. You must seize this opportunity though, while Swindon is so upset about his grandmother; since you will never get a better one. Console him in whatever manner you think appropriate, only don’t take the ultimate step.’
‘What do you take me for?’
George’s chuckle sounded mean. ‘I know exactly what you are, my dear. Anyway, if Swindon has you before you have his ring on your finger, he will lose all interest and respect.’
‘I know how to snare him. All I need is the opportunity. Still, it’s good fortune that we found out how intelligent Sam Beranger is,’ Ottilie said in a pensive tone. ‘We miscalculated there, thinking the youngest brother would be the easiest to fool. If he looks into past accounts…’
George lowered his voice, making it necessary for Flora to strain her ears in order to pick up his words. ‘There’s no reason why he should, but to be on the safe side, get Swindon to propose. Do whatever you have to. Let him catch you crying, or something. I don’t know. You females know all the tricks, and you better than most. But do something quickly. Time’s running out. Once the old lady dies and Swindon’s officially in mourning, his thoughts won’t turn to proposals.’
Their voices faded as they left the conservatory. Flora fell onto a stone bench, mindless of the cold, as she mulled over what she had just learned. The Flemings were in dun territory, had left Boston under a cloud, there was something untoward in the accounts and it was vital to their interests that Ottilie marry Luke before that something came to light. Most likely George or his father before him had been siphoning off the profits, which made Flora wonder what had happened to them, given George’s impecunious state. She had to warn Luke, but how?
She was reluctant to admit to eavesdropping, and George and Ottilie would deny the conversation anyway. It would be their word against hers and it would create an opportunity for Ottilie to cry all over Luke, accusing Flora of being jealous. She couldn’t tell him that she had sensed these things either, since she was well aware that he didn’t believe in her abilities. In this case, he would be right to do so since she had obtained her intelligence by more earthly means—through deliberately listening to someone else’s conversation.
Part of her wished that Archie was still here. She would not have hesitated to confide in him. He would have known what to do. She wouldn’t go to Paul. It would be unfair to test his loyalty to Luke. Besides, he was preoccupied with thoughts of impending fatherhood.
Flora knew that she was on her own.
She also knew that she would have to be on her guard and steer well clear of George Fleming. If he caught her somewhere alone and unawares, she suspected his revenge for what he perceived as an unjustified slight at the dinner table would be brutal. She liked to think that Remus would warn her if any such situation was likely to arise, but she didn’t want to depend upon her spirit guide’s spasmodic attention to her affairs.
‘Where are you when I need your advice, Remus?’ she muttered.
Did someone shout?
‘Oh, so you are here,’ Flora replied accusingly. ‘Were you hovering when George and Ottilie revealed their true characters?’
Firstly I do not hover, I materialise with elegance and élan. I shall make allowances for your distracted state and assume that you didn’t deliberately intend to hurt my feelings with such a flippant remark.
Flora quirked a brow, endlessly amused by Remus’s pride. ‘Do spirit guides have feelings?’
Remus’s full form materialised and floated onto the bench beside her.Certainly we do. Cut me and I bleed. Well, obviously I don’t, but metaphorically speaking, at least. And yes, I heard them. Sounds as though they bear your earl’s family a grudge and have been cooking the books.
‘I managed to conclude that much for myself. Well, not about the grudge but certainly about the accounts. The question is, how do I warn Luke?’
The earl, luscious though he is, is not my responsibility, more’s the pity and I am not permitted to materialise in front of him. Your care however is entrusted to me and I must somehow keep you safe from the lustful intentions of George Fleming.Remus gave an other-worldly sigh.But I suppose you’re worried about your earl being trapped into marriage with a conniving female.
‘I realise you think that he’s narrow-minded because he refused to acknowledge my abilities, such as they are—’
They are pitiful, I’ll agree with you there, but they are still beyond the understanding of most mortals, so it doesn’t surprise me that the earl dismisses them out of hand.Remus leaned a translucent elbow on his knee and cupped his chin in a skeleton hand.You could send a cable to Sam in Boston, I suppose, and ask him to check back through the books for anomalies.
‘I could, but it will take too long.’ Flora paused, glad to have someone to talk the matter through with; someone who knew the truth and took it seriously. Well, as seriously as Remus ever took anything. ‘I could simply ask Luke to trust me, but he won’t. We are not as close as we once were, and I don’t understand why.’
He’s jealous of your friendship with his friend.
‘Nonsense!’ Flora waved the suggestion aside.
Remus shrugged.Have it your way. I’ll have a ponder but I can’t think of any way that you can warn him without earning his mistrust and disapproval, so you can either take that risk or else simply let him make a fool of himself. Anyway, must toddle off. I have an engagement this afternoon.
‘Thanks for the advice,’ Flora replied sarcastically, knowing better than to ask what he intended to do. Bloodthirsty sports were not her idea of entertainment.
Remus’s image faded and she was on her own.
She went upstairs to join the countess, who was weakening by the day. She was awake and sitting up in bed, supported by a barrage of feather pillows and with a thick shawl draped around her shoulders.
‘You look windblown,’ the countess complained.
‘I’ve been sitting outside, enjoying the respite from the rain,’ Flora replied, touching the countess’ forehead and tutting. She was too warm yet would likely complain of being cold. Her breathing was more laboured than usual, and she was feverish. ‘I am going to the stillroom,’ she said, standing, ‘and shall be back directly.’
Sandwell, to whom this comment was directed, nodded. The countess voiced a feeble complaint and closed her eyes.
