Page 20 of A Sense of Fate
‘I’ll help you into it, then get on with my work.’
‘Good man.’
Chapter Five
Four days had passed since Elroy Conrad’s unwelcome visit, and Flora hadn’t seen or heard from him since. Hopefully he would accept her wish to be left alone, but her sixth sense told her otherwise.
No form of communication had arrived from her family either. It was too much to expect that the new Mrs Janson would recall her manners and send Flora a brief note of thanks for the generous gift she had bestowed upon the couple. Even so, she reasoned, Pamela’s incivility would give Flora a justifiable reason to cut off all connection with her oldest sister and her insufferable husband. They had never been close anyway. Pamela was a replica of her mother—sanctimonious, cold and disapproving.
The only sister Flora had any time for was Melanie, but whether the child would be permitted to spend time in Flora’s company and put herself at risk of contamination from Flora’s rebellious ways was highly unlikely. Flora sighed, accepting that she could not right all the world’s wrongs.
‘Are you going out today, miss?’ Polly asked, her voice breaking into Flora’s introspective thoughts. ‘It’s colder than ever and they say it might snow.’
‘All the more reason to attend to my old ladies. The weather will make their maladies worse. Besides, I have a book that Mrs Finch will pretend not to enjoy.’
‘Do you still intend to take luncheon with Lord Felsham tomorrow, miss? Mr Pawson came into the village yesterday and asked specifically.’
Flora smiled and raised a brow. ‘And you just happened to see him?’
Polly blushed. ‘Well, he knows that I go to the market for Beatrice on a Thursday and…’
‘It’s all right, Polly. Your private affairs are exactly that; private. I shall not pry into whatever arrangement you have with Mr Pawson. I know that his lordship depends upon him and trusts him absolutely, which is good enough for me. You have had a difficult time and I enjoy seeing you being admired, as you have every right to be. What’s the point in being so pretty otherwise?’
‘I’m not sure about being pretty. I don’t see it myself but if I am…well, that’s what got me into trouble.’
‘You were not at fault if your master couldn’t keep his lust in check. I am perfectly sure that you didn’t encourage his attentions.’
Polly stood a little straighter. ‘I did not.’
‘At least you have Alice.’
‘And the pair of us would be in the workhouse if you hadn’t taken us in. I shall always be grateful to you for that, Miss Latimer.’
‘You have more than repaid me with your loyal service. Anyway, I am glad to see you enjoying Mr Pawson’s attentions. I don’t suppose you’ve felt able to trust any man since your misfortune but I know Mr Pawson won’t overstep the bounds.’
Polly giggled. ‘I’ll make sure your new violet costume is pressed and ready for tomorrow,’ she said. ‘I expect you’d like to wear it. It’s warm and his lordship hasn’t seen it before.’
Flora wondered if she ought to object to Polly’s insinuations but decided against it, at least in part because shedidwant to impress Archie. He had admired her in violet once before, remarking that it complimented the colour of her eyes. She would be deceiving herself if she tried to pretend that she hadn’t had this newest costume made with his approval in mind. She smiled to herself, her thoughts returning once again to the strict rules that had been enforced in her family’s home. Had she grown vain in her quest for independence? The possibility amused her. Not that she had much to be vain about. Even so, adopting one of the deadly sins—albeit unintentionally—and thereby offending her father, felt like a revenge of sorts.
‘Yes, that will do admirably. You had best come with me,’ she added mischievously. ‘I am sure Beatrice will enjoy an excuse to spoil Alice for the day.’
‘If you wish it.’
She spoke so primly that they both burst out laughing.
‘I am sure we will have a lovely day despite the cold weather,’ Flora said. ‘You will be impressed by Lord Felsham’s estate, even if the house is more like a mausoleum than a home. It needs to be lived in. Lots of children creating mayhem…that sort of thing. Anyway,’ Flora added, slipping her arms into her warmest coat, the one she reserved for her works in the village and didn’t mind getting dirty. ‘I had best be getting along before the snow you speak of arrives and inconveniences us all.’
Flora went about her business briskly, sending frequent glances skywards as heavy clouds grew progressively lower in the sky, making it seem like the middle of the night even though it was not yet noon. Villagers waved but didn’t pause to chat as she drove Mabel from cottage to cottage. She smiled to herself, thinking about Archie driving a similar form of transportation, something the suave marquess would have considered beneath his dignity before his accident.
‘There is much to be said for the cobs in this world, is that not right, Mabel?’ she asked the horse. ‘Slow and steady, shockproof and entirely reliable.’
Mabel flapped her ears back and forth and continued on her plodding way, apparently unconcerned by the treacherous conditions that had caused a flightier horse to come to spectacular grief just outside the tavern. There were plenty of people on hand to help the hapless rider to his feet. The man seemed more embarrassed than injured, so Flora continued on her way.
Her final call was at a cottage that was a little higher up the social ladder than the lowly dwellings inhabited by the majority of the people she helped. She had heard Mrs Isadora Finch described as a distressed gentlewoman, a description that Flora found entirely apt. Mrs Finch possessed a refined manner and form of address, and was intelligent and well educated. Now in her sixties, her movements were hampered by severe arthritis. Flora had met her by accident at the weekly market not long after her arrival in the district. Mrs Finch had lost her footing and had been unable to get up without Flora’s assistance. The incident had left her winded and Flora insisted upon helping her home.
‘I suppose you expect a reward,’ the lady said acerbically.
One glance around the scrupulously clean yet shabbily furnished cottage and Flora knew that Mrs Finch was indeed distressed, accounting for her determination to fall back on her dignity.
