Page 1 of A Sense of Fate
Chapter One
February 1882
Flora Latimer stared vacantly out of the window as the train puffed slowly into Salisbury, the cold, grey weather perfectly reflecting the nature of her thoughts. Almost two years had passed since she had left the cathedral town of her birth in a defiant act of rebellion against her father and the strict childhood regime that had threatened to stifle her spirit. But even Flora at her most imaginative could not have foreseen the remarkable changes that her bid for freedom had wrought upon her life.
Her courage had brought its own rewards. The nervous creature who had escaped Salisbury in a determined effort to avoid being married off to her father’s curate had become an independent and self-assured young woman.
She reflected upon those changes now as she glanced down at the fashionable pale blue outfit she had chosen to wear for her sister’s wedding. With her underbodice attached to the outer jacket and a bustle caught up at the back of the dress, she looked elegant. The fitted front of her bodice lay flat, drawing attention to Flora’s slim waist. The high-crowned matching felt hat, elaborately trimmed with chenille, painted wooden beads, ribbon and a profusion of feathers sat on top of Flora’s copper curls, which had for once been tamed into obedience.
‘I am the epitome of the modern, independent woman,’ she said aloud, luxuriating in having the entire first-class carriage to herself—an expensive indulgence that bolstered her courage and reflected her success.
Talking to yourself again.
A puff of wind whistled past Flora’s ear. ‘Ah, Remus. I thought I sensed your presence,’ she said, addressing her quixotic Roman spirit guide, who could sometimes be depended upon to remember his purpose and actually guide her.
I do have other things to do, you know. Places to be. I cannot always be around to hold your hand, just because you are anxious about facing your family. And what on earth is this huge contraption?
‘It’s a train, Remus. A speedier mode of transportation than the chariots you favour. The world is changing. You repeatedly tell me that you have other occupations, but I am not sure if I believe you. Besides, I am not anxious, precisely,’ Flora replied. ‘Well, I suppose I am to a degree. I just wish I didn’t have to endure the day. My sisters resent me—all of them bar Melanie at least, who has yet to fall into line with the family’s view of the prodigal daughter. Doubtless she will do so as she matures, which is a very great pity. I am rather fond of my youngest sister, but the rest of them are a mirror image of our parents, which I suppose is not to be wondered at.’
You are not like them.
‘No, and I have been more or less disowned as a consequence. Now they are being charming and attentive all of a sudden.’ Flora scowled. ‘I don’t like it. They are up to something.’
Look how much more fun you’ve had since you were disowned by that sanctimonious bunch. You have a hunky earl lusting after you and a tragic marquess too.Remus gave an otherworldly sniff.Some people don’t know when they are well off.
‘My circumstances are very different, it’s true. I certainly didn’t anticipate such drastic changes when I found the courage to leave home.’
Flora had taken up a position as companion to the dowager Countess of Swindon, fighting off her family’s disapproval and ignoring her father’s outright insistence that she remain in Cathedral Close. Luke Beranger, the earl to whom Remus had just referred, was the dowager’s grandson. Flora had adored the old lady, taking her quirky moods in her stride and refusing to be bullied by her. She had rapidly become indispensable to the entire family as a consequence and had grown closer to them in the process. She had been as heartbroken as the rest of them when the dowager countess died, but astounded when she was very generously remembered in her will.
The countess’s largesse, along with an inheritance left to Flora by her own grandmother which she’d come into when she reached her majority the previous year, now allowed her to live comfortably and independently in Lyneham. Her cottage, Fox Hollow, just happened to be owned by Archie Felsham, the Marquess of Felsham and Luke Beranger’s closest friend. Flora’s own friendship with the brooding marquess was complicated by her growing attachment to the damaged and highly intelligent aristocrat—a man who was out of her league yet invaded her senses and sometimes made her yearn for the unattainable.
‘I still don’t enjoy coming back to Salisbury,’ Flora said, continuing to articulate her thoughts aloud, thinking anyone who happened to overhear her would consider her a candidate for Bedlam. They were not to know that Remus’s ghostly form was perfectly visible to Flora, perched on the seat across from her, ready for a good gossip. ‘You recall what happened in the autumn…’
Of course I do. Your father somehow manipulated the bishop into pushing his no good nephew at you.’
‘Yardley was a bounder, but it didn’t stop you from swooning over him.’
Darling, haven’t you learned anything yet? The bad apples are always the most fun.Flora smiled in spite of herself. Remus was irrepressible. Nothing seemed to temper his irreverent attitude to the afterlife, other than any mention of his brother, Romulus.Besides, your wounded hero saved you from Yardley’s clutches.
‘Yes, he did, didn’t he?’
It was true. Archie had been severely disabled following a fall from a lady’s bedroom window in his student days. He now lived with constant pain and could walk only with the aid of a stick. Flora’s abilities with herbs—a gift she’d inherited from her grandmother along with the second sight that so offended her father—had brought a considerable improvement to Archie’s mobility, but he would never be completely whole again. Whacking the back of Yardley’s knees with his stick in Flora’s defence when he’d tried to force himself upon her had, she knew, helped to restore Archie’s diminished masculine pride.
‘Well anyway, I shall be on my very best behaviour today while I watch my silly sister being married off to my father’s latest curate. Then I shall take myself back to Lyneham on the late afternoon train having done my duty.’
Then why are you so anxious?
It was a very good question, and one to which Flora gave due consideration before responding. ‘Hard to say. I suppose I still think my father will try to do something to interfere with my life. He doesn’t approve of my living alone, away from his controlling clutches. Besides, he is being conciliatory, which is always a worry. I only have experience of dealing with him when he’s throwing his weight around, expecting immediate obedience.’
He doesn’t know you very well, in that case.
‘He wants something, you just mark my words.’
Flora tapped her fingers against her knee, the soft leather of the gloves that matched her attire sinfully comfortable—as they ought to be, given their outrageous cost. But gloves were one of the many aspects of a lady’s attire that the countess had insisted should never be skimped upon. The quality of a lady’s accessories told the world a great deal about the lady herself, the countess said, and her habits in that regard appeared to have rubbed off on Flora. She had learned that being smartly and expensively attired gave one confidence and earned the respect of others.
You still think your father used his hold over the bishop to secure promotion?
‘I know he did, and we both know what that hold is. I feel rather sorry for the bishop, being stuck with a subordinate who possesses the power to destroy him, but that’s my father for you. He is never happier than when he is manipulating others.’
