Page 67 of Lady Audacious
Odile had been angry with Doris when she learned of her disloyalty, but it only took a moment for her to accept that the girl had voluntarily admitted to her deceit when she had been asked to go too far. Odile was still unsure whether it was Doris’s idea to own up to her transgressions or whether she had been forced into it when Joe Wright had refused to be a party to the scheme. Either way, she had learned her lesson, had kept her position and was now proving to be a good worker, just as Mrs Blaine had predicted would be the case.
Joe had winked at Odile when she thanked him for not acceding to Miss Farquhar’s ridiculous plan and told her that he’d been severely tempted. Odile had laughed in spite of herself, half believing him. She was aware that he and Doris had shared the money the crazy woman had offered and didn’t blame them for that. It wasn’t as if Miss Farquhar could demand its return. Besides, the loss of a fairly large sum was less of a punishment than she deserved.
Reuben had returned, grim-faced, having escorted Miss Farquhar back to Amberley Hall. He told Odile that he had given his mother an abridged version of events and made an excuse for the fact that their guest would be leaving forthwith. His mother, Emily told her, found it difficult to think badly of anyone, and was especially fond of Miss Farquhar.
‘What made her do it?’ she asked Reuben, as they walked together in the gardens with Emily and Willow immediately after the event. Odile felt bruised and dishevelled and still a little shocked, but was otherwise unharmed.
‘She wanted to marry Reuben,’ Emily said, twitching her nose and answering for her brother. ‘And I’m afraid our mama encouraged her to think that there was hope for her. I could see at once that there was not, and I knew that Reuben had given her no reason to think otherwise. I always sensed that there was something a little bit…well, intense about her. I had seen her attempting to hide the most terrible temper tantrums when she didn’t get her way, which is why I never really took to her.’ She grinned at Reuben. ‘I am glad she will be gone and not returning.’
‘As am I. I am only sorry that she turned her spite on you, Odile,’ Reuben said.
‘Don’t worry about me. I am a graduate of Miss Mackenzie’s Academy and have survived much worse.’
Emily smiled. ‘Goodness. Only imagine, I begged to be sent away to school. Perhaps it is as well that Papa refused to allow it.’
Reuben laughed and tugged at one of his sister’s curls. ‘You would likely have been a ringleader when it came to girlish antics, squirt.’
Odile had seen little of Reuben since then and hadn’t had sufficient time to worry about his absence. Whenever her thoughts turned in that direction, she chided herself for her stupidity and found an occupation that would distract her. There were plenty to choose from. Reuben had helped her solve her immediate problems, and was probably leaving her to come to terms with her new life and make sense of the flashbacks she experienced.
‘You are no better than the horrible Miss Farquhar,’ she told herself sternly one evening when she couldn’t sleep and images of Reuben’s rugged features and provocative smile filled her senses.
She hoped she hadn’t given him reason to suppose that she too had expectations. After all, he had instigated the kisses they had shared. Was it her fault if her inexperienced responses gave her true feelings away? The possibility embarrassed her, but there was nothing to be done about it now.
She took pleasure from the fact that her house was already unrecognisable from the shell it had been when she had first moved in. The new curtains looked wonderful, and fires had been lit in the main rooms, giving the place a warm, lived in feeling. Walls had been painted, wainscoting polished and furniture restored. Odile was learning that she needn’t worry about every penny spent and had made two separate journeys into Chichester to seek out treasures to add her own style to the place. Candlesticks, vases, ornaments and lots of books, which now lined the shelves in her library. She took a great deal of pride in that particular achievement.
But it was the gardens that especially pleased Odile. She had tended them more or less alone, bringing them back to life and lovingly caring for the weed-free herbs that had now begun to flourish. She felt her mother’s calming presence guiding her, and it filled her with contentment.
She had dug up most of the poisonous plants, putting an end to that unhappy saga, and replaced them with beneficial alternatives that she could make good use of. She intended to develop a stillroom and use her newfound wealth to help others less fortunate than herself, with no expectation of reward other than the satisfaction of a job well done. Just as her parents had hoped to do before necessity had altered their priorities.
‘We shall not be sidetracked,’ she told an attentive Willow.
Odile received two letters from her brother asking her to forgive his neglect. He insisted that he had acted with her best interests at heart. She didn’t reply because she was still unsure how she felt about him. Then a letter arrived from Primrose Peabody, gushing over Odile’s good fortune in having been so well provided for by such a thoughtful brother. Odile instinctively knew that she probably resented Odile for having possession of funds that she thought should be her husband’s. Odile, normally accepting of people and their foibles, took a dislike to the woman without having met her. Primrose went on at length about her three children and how they longed to meet their aunt. Odile doubted it and threw the letter into a drawer, also unanswered.
It was odd, she thought, as she tugged at a particularly stubborn weed one afternoon. She had longed for a family to care for her all those years she had been at Miss Mackenzie’s. Now her prayers had been answered and she was reluctant to be embraced by its members.
‘Perhaps I have grown more independent than I realised,’ she told Willow in a reflective tone. ‘Oh, who can that be?’
The sound of a carriage arriving had her wiping her hands on the sides of her breeches as she stood up and went to investigate. Several locals had called and made themselves known to her but she hadn’t forged any friendships other than with Emily, who wasn’t averse to getting her hands dirty and helping in the garden. It was she who had persuaded Odile to go into Chichester and browse through the market for treasures. Emily had gone with her and Odile had enjoyed a couple of wonderful days, giggling like one of the girls she had once taught.
It was not Reuben’s carriage, as she had secretly hoped, but another smart equipage that she didn’t recognise. Her frown increased when the coachman assisted an elderly gentleman leaning heavily on a stick from it. The old man’s body was bent with age, his face an undulating landscape of wrinkles, folds and blotches. But his eyes were still keen with intelligence, probing as deep as a verbal question when they came to rest upon Odile, who was unkempt in her lad’s attire and in no frame of mind to endure criticism.
‘Good afternoon, sir,’ she said briskly. ‘Are you lost?’
‘Not if you are Miss Aspen.’
‘I am. And you are…?’
‘Your grandfather.’
Shock ricocheted through Odile, who rocked back on her heels, stunned. ‘My what?’
The man gave a throaty chuckle. ‘Didn’t know you had one, I’ll be bound,’ he said.
‘I didn’t know that I had any family until a few weeks ago. I have a brother, it seems, who mentioned something about my father’s father disowning him when he married my mother.’ Odile canted her head and narrowed her eyes at her visitor. ‘If you are he then please excuse me if I do not bid you welcome.’
‘My, but you are outspoken!’ He seemed amused rather than offended.
‘I find there is less possibility of misunderstanding if one speaks one’s mind. Living here alone I have become a target for every chancer in the region who appears to think that a helpless female is incapable of forging her own path.’
