Page 58 of A Sense of Fate
Flora laughed. ‘That’s settled then.’
‘I am excited to be going to Beranger Court. I used to spend hours after you left wondering what it must be like to live amongst such exalted company. Now I shall find out for myself.’ She swirled in a circle, full of youthful excitement. ‘It hardly seems credible. I thought you would send me away because you couldn’t be bothered with me.’
‘Now you are making me feel guilty for neglecting you in the first place.’
‘Nonsense. We have already decided that neither of us would be free from Papa’s machinations if you hadn’t found the courage to leave first, so we shall not speak of it again.’
‘No,’ Flora agreed, kissing the top of her sister’s head. ‘We shall not.’
The promised expedition left Melanie the ecstatic owner of a fetching green striped outfit, set off by a velvet cloche hat, soft leather gloves and new half boots.
Melanie had quickly grown accustomed to sleeping in her own room but declared as she retired the night before her visit to Swindon that she wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink because she was too excited.
Flora remained beside the fire, her grandmother’s latest diary open on her lap. She had read the same entry three times without absorbing the words, still preoccupied with thoughts of Archie. He had accused her of flirting with him, and she was now worried that she might have frightened him off. She had come to depend upon his friendship more than was wise and would be hard pressed now to manage without it. Even so, his behaviour confused her. One moment she thought he wanted more than friendship, the next she was worried about losing his respect.
‘Oh, this is useless!’
Flora locked the diary away in her escritoire and retired for the night. As she attempted to sleep, something nagged at the back of her mind. She had read a significant passage in her grandmother’s neat hand but had failed to make the connection. She woke abruptly from a light doze in the middle of the night, with a pounding headache and a clear recollection of what she had missed.
But she had to be sure.
She scampered through the quiet house, avoiding the floorboards that squeaked, and lit the lamp above the escritoire with a taper from the dying fire. She unlocked the diary and reread the passage that had been plaguing her subconscious mind. She let out a little sob when there could be no further doubt that she had previously interpreted it entirely incorrectly, deceived by misconceptions.
‘This is terrible,’ she muttered. ‘It cannot possibly be.’
With a shaking hand, she locked the book back up and returned to her bed, her head spinning as she tried to deny the unpalatable truth.
It had been there all the time, and she had been too blind to see it.
But then again, perhaps she hadn’t wanted to.
Archie left White’s a deeply concerned man, with no clear proof that what he’d been told about Flora’s father and Conrad was accurate, even though he believed in his heart that it very likely was. Be that as it may, belief and proof were two entirely different things. It would be one hell of an accusation to throw at anyone without the evidence to back it up, and as good a way as any to get oneself sued for slander.
He was so deep in thought as he headed for the stairs that he didn’t hear his name being called at first. He turned and acknowledged Riley Rochester, who was also taking his leave, and who civilly slowed his pace to accommodate Archie’s more awkward gait.
‘Don’t often see you in town,’ Rochester said after Archie had enquired after the health of Rochester’s young family.
‘I prefer to remain in the country, given…’ He glanced down at his stick as it tapped on the marble stairs and allowed his words to trail off.
‘Quite. We have moved out of town too. Much nicer for children to have country air.’
‘Absolutely.’ Archie decided to seize the moment. ‘Can I ask you a hypothetical question in your professional capacity?’
‘Of course.’
Archie took a moment to choose his words with care. ‘If you were aware that someone closely connected to a person who meant a great deal to you was doing something illegal, how would you proceed?’
They had reached the lobby and stood to one side, away from gentlemen arriving and leaving and asking the harried porter to hail cabs, as Rochester considered his answer. ‘That would rather depend on the nature of what they were doing. Nothing to do with Marcus Conrad, I hope. I saw you upstairs in conversation with him.’
‘No, not at all. His reputation I believe is unimpeachable, and I hear he is making genuine efforts in the House to improve the lot of the working man. I know nothing to his detriment—other than the fact that he is a politician, of course.’
Both men chuckled.
‘Assuming no one has died,’ Rochester said in a considering tone, ‘then I would put the feelings of the person I cared about first. If he or she is under threat from the miscreant, then I would attempt to find evidence of the crime that is being perpetuated. There’s usually something if one looks hard enough in the right places. Then your duty would be clear, you will have acted with honour and the person you care about should have no cause for complaint.’ Rochester smiled. ‘I hope that helps.’
‘It confirms what I have been thinking myself,’ Archie replied, wondering why he supposed that Rochester would come up with something more definitive. ‘Thank you.’
‘My pleasure. Send word to the Yard if you wish to discuss specifics.’
