‘I will do some research into Romulus and Remus when I get a moment,’ she told the disinterested cob. ‘That will help me to decide, but…What on earth?’ She pulled the gig to a halt and jumped down. There was an animal in the ditch to one side of the road, making a terrible sound. ‘What is it?’ she asked, approaching with caution. ‘Oh, you poor thing!’
A large and pathetically skinny young dog with a matted coat and blood oozing from a gaping wound on its flank whined pathetically at her. Flora didn’t know if the animal was wild or domestic, friendly or rabid. It made no difference. Follow your instincts. She found an old blanket in the gig, snatched it up and approached the dog with hand outstretched.
‘Hey, fellow,’ she said gently. ‘Let me help you.’
Clearly in distress, the dog still licked her hand. Assured that he wouldn’t bite it off, she persuaded him to hobble to his feet, then gently draped the blanket over him and struggled to pick him up, holding his injured side away from her. The dog whined but didn’t put up a fight. She placed him on the gig’s seat, then climbed up beside him, stroking his matted head.
‘We’ll make you better, boy,’ she assured him.
The dog seemed to understand her and rested his chin on her thigh as she drove on. As she approached her destination, she wondered if she was overstepping the bounds by taking him back to Beranger Court. It didn’t matter. She would attend to his wounds herself with her herbal remedies, then try to find out who owned him. No one other than the grooms, where she intended to keep him, need know.
Her plans were thwarted when she drove into the stables and found Luke and Charlie there, in deep discussion about a horse that was tethered in front of them. They turned when they heard the gig arrive. Their smiles turned to frowns when they saw her and they both bounded towards her.
‘Are you hurt?’ Luke asked.
It took Flora a moment realise why he had asked. Her gown and gloves were bloodied. She must look a fright.
‘Not me,’ she replied, ‘but this poor fellow. I found him in a ditch on the way back from the reservoir. He’s injured. I couldn’t leave him to die. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Of course not. Let’s have a look.’
Without concern for the welfare of his white shirt, Luke lifted the dog from the seat. Charlie extended a hand to help Flora down.
‘Always doing good works,’ Charlie said, smiling.
‘The poor creature’s in pain. What would you have done?’
‘Precisely the same thing, I shouldn’t wonder.’
Luke carried the dog into a small area off the tack room and laid him down on the blanket. He snapped his fingers and a groom scurried in with a bowl of water. The dog struggled up onto his forelegs, whining in pain, and drank greedily.
‘He’s skin and bone,’ Flora said, horrified.
‘A stray, most likely,’ Luke said, gently examining the creature. ‘No more than a year old, I’d say. He’s a cross-breed, quite handsome.’
‘He has different coloured eyes,’ Flora exclaimed in delight, gently stroking his big head. ‘Can we help him? I could make something up with my herbs.’
‘Let’s wash away the dirt and see how severe his wound is.’
The dog growled when Luke gently touched his injury, but didn’t attempt to bite.
‘He’s knows you’re trying to help him,’ Flora said, proud of her new friend.
‘It isn’t actually that bad,’ Luke said. ‘If we keep him clean I think it will heal on its own. It’s probably more starvation that saw him finish up in that ditch. The poor chap’s exhausted.’
A large bowl of kitchen scraps appeared and Luke’s prediction proved to be correct when the dog demolished them without bothering to involve his teeth. He then sighed in contentment, licked Luke’s hand, and curled up to go to sleep.
‘What shall we do with him when he’s better?’ Flora asked.
‘I can see that you have already grown attached to him,’ Luke replied, smiling. ‘In which case I shall keep him. I’ve been thinking about getting a dog.’
‘Less trouble than a wife,’ Charlie said, grinning. ‘Cheaper, too.’
‘You don’t mind that he isn’t some expensive pedigree?’ Flora asked.
‘As far as I’m concerned, that’s a point in his favour.’
‘I couldn’t agree more.’ Flora nodded, shuddering at the thought of her appearance. She had abandoned her hat during the rescue mission and her hair was now windblown and tangled. Her gown was bloody and her face was probably dirty, too. Neither elegant gentleman mentioned her dishevelment or seemed especially concerned about it. ‘His accident of birth is not his fault.’
‘I can see that he has earned himself a protector,’ Luke said.
‘What shall you call him?’
‘You decide. After all, you found him.’
Flora tilted her head to one side, thinking it important that his name should reflect his character.
‘Romulus,’ she said on a whim, convinced that she felt an angry gust of wind on the side of her face as she made the suggestion.
‘The founder of Rome,’ Charlie said. ‘He was a ruthless individual, if memory serves.’
‘And a survivor.’
‘Romulus it is then.’ The dog, half asleep, flapped his tail. ‘You see, he approves. Keep an eye on him,’ Luke said to the hovering groom. ‘Let me know if he gets any worse.’
‘Want me to ask around?’ Charlie suggested. ‘See if any of the local farmers abandoned him. You know how they do that with…well,’ he grinned. ‘Unfortunate accidents. The abandoned dogs finish up worrying livestock and getting shot. Can’t have that sort of irresponsibility.’
‘Do that. Someone’s deliberately damaged that old wall up on the northern border and cattle got through the gap. Doubt if the two incidents are connected, though. Parkin’s looking into it.’
‘This poor creature couldn’t damage anything,’ Flora protested.
‘True, but whoever once owned him might have done. Not everyone around these parts likes me and some may try petty acts of revenge for perceived slights.’
‘Astonishing,’ Flora said, sharing an impudent smile with Charlie. ‘Only imagine.’
‘I barely can,’ Charlie replied.
Luke sent them both a droll look. ‘Come along,’ he said to Flora. ‘You’d best get yourself inside. You’ve had quite enough excitement for one day.’
You have no idea!
Chapter Five
‘This is quite unnecessary,’ Flora protested the following morning.
‘You are the one who insisted upon calling Mrs Keller in.’
‘To satisfy your ladyship’s requirements.’
‘Stop complaining, child. Anyone would think that you were being tortured. Keep still and let Mrs Keller do her worst.’
Flora knew when she was beaten and obediently turned into a statue as the local dressmaker took her measurements. She couldn’t think what else to do. Short of refusing outright, which would only result in the countess pulling rank, she had no alternative. But that didn’t mean she was happy to have been outmanoeuvred by her stubborn charge. Yet again.
‘You must have something new to wear at Emma’s wedding,’ Flora said, thinking it important that the countess should understand her reasons for calling upon Mrs Keller’s services. ‘You are the family’s matriarch and have a position to maintain.’ And you cannot embarrass your granddaughter by attending the ceremony in one of your colourful kaftans in order to make some sort of obscure point. ‘No one will notice me. Besides, I have plenty of lovely gowns, thanks to your generosity. I have no need for more and would prefer not to become more deeply indebted to your ladyship.’
‘Oh, do hush your chatter, miss!’ A gnarled hand waved aside Flora’s objections. ‘You still have shockingly few garments that are fit to be seen. If I must set foot in a church, and if you insist upon sitting beside me, I cannot have you showing me up.’
‘I am in danger of becoming v
ain,’ Flora confessed once the modiste had departed with specific instructions for both their gowns. ‘And vanity, in case you were not aware, is an unpardonable sin.’
‘Piffle!’ The dowager waved that observation aside, too. ‘In my experience behaving sinfully is a great deal more rewarding than a life of miserable piety.’
‘Even at the risk of being condemned to hell.’
‘One must first believe in its existence in order to worry about being consigned to its fiery depths.’
‘True enough.’ Flora found her ladyship’s rather shocking views on the subject of religion enlightening. No one in Cathedral Close had ever dared to voice any doubts about the teachings of the church, accepting everything they read in the bible or heard preached from the pulpit Sunday after interminable Sunday as…well, gospel. Everyone expect Flora, that is, and even she hadn’t dared to express her alternative views. She gave the old lady a swift hug. ‘Thank you so much for my lovely new gown, but I absolutely insist upon paying for it myself. I shall made sure that Lord Swindon is aware of my resolve, just in case he thinks I am taking advantage of your good nature.’
Flora referred to all the dowager’s grandchildren by their Christian names. The gentlemen had insisted, saying it was too confusing otherwise since there were three Mr Berangers in residence. Although she addressed Luke informally when they were alone, she was careful to maintain the formalities the rest of the time for fear of seeming presumptive.
‘I keep telling you, girl. I don’t have a good nature!’
‘Have it your way, ma’am.’ Flora contented herself with a whimsical smile. ‘Even though I know better.’
‘You are too young to know much about anything, much less the benefits of living a life of self-indulgence. My raja gentleman explained to me once that prominent Hindu beliefs include Kama, which translates to the fulfilment of desire and passion, and there isn’t the slightest possibility of his going to hell.’
‘Because they don’t have one in his religion,’ Flora added briskly, aware that the dowager had either been misled, or deliberately misinterpreted that particular facet of the oldest religion to suit her own purposes. Flora couldn’t find it in herself to disapprove.
‘You haven’t been beyond Salisbury, so how can you stand in judgement upon us more enlightened individuals?’ The countess tossed her head in an imperious manner, clearly not expecting a response. ‘Anyway, what’s this I hear about you rescuing rabid dogs?’
‘Oh, Romulus is not rabid. In fact, he’s a delight. I went to see him this morning and he is already a lot better. He just needed a little affection and something to eat, like most of us, I suppose. I believe Lord Swindon plans to keep him.’
The countess harrumphed. ‘He would do better to find himself a wife.’
‘I expect he’s looking for a suitable candidate.’ Flora flashed a mischievous smile. ‘I hear tell that he keeps a mistress in Swindon.’
‘A Mrs Devonshire. Discreet, biddable, and very good at what she does, if half of what I hear is true. Well, I should take a very dim view of it if my grandson settled for second best.’ She flashed a provocative smile. ‘I expect that shocks your prudish sensibilities.’
‘Sorry to disappoint you, but even I am aware that gentlemen of his lordship’s ilk have kept mistresses for centuries. It’s rather expected of them. And from what I have read, mistresses often have a better time of it than wives.’
The countess sent Flora a jaundiced look. ‘Thinking of offering your services?’
‘Me?’ Flora laughed, aware that a deep blush had touched her cheeks. ‘Now that would give my father legitimate reasons to disown me.’ She chuckled. ‘It might almost be worth it—but alas, I am not handsome enough to attract a rich lover, or desperate enough to consider attempting it.’
The dowager harrumphed. ‘You underestimate yourself.’
‘I suspect Mrs Devonshire’s services will make his lordship less likely to enter into a hasty and inappropriate marriage.’ Flora mused, returning her thoughts to Luke’s paramour, annoyed when jealousy curled its way through her bloodstream, muddling her thinking. ‘Don’t look so downhearted, ma’am. You ought to know by now that the more you try to shock me, contrary creature that I am, the less likely you are to succeed. It was, after all, me who raised the subject of mistresses.’
‘Bah, you are no fun.’
‘Come along, your ladyship. It’s time for our walk. I allowed you to wheedle out of it yesterday—’
‘I do not wheedle.’
‘You can have no excuses today. The weather is fine and exercise is good for you.’
‘Has anyone ever told you that you are impossibly bossy?’
‘Perhaps, but I seldom listen to criticism.’
‘Because you think you are always right.’
‘Hardly, but when it comes to your welfare I have your best interests at heart. A gentle stroll around the lake will give you plenty of time to rest before Emma’s dinner party this evening. I am sure you will not want to miss it.’
The old lady’s face came alight with mischief, showing Flora a brief glimpse of the beautiful young woman she must once have been. That expression was one she had seen before and knew spelt mischief. The dowager countess was renowned for the forthright expression of her opinions—opinions designed to deliberately give offence if she disapproved of a person. Since she had openly expressed her disapproval of Mrs Cooper and her young husband, Flora suspected that the evening would not pass off without her charge enjoying herself at someone’s expense.
Once it became clear to Flora that the rest of the dowager’s family didn’t expect her to somehow stop her ladyship from speaking her mind in public, Flora had learned to take her outbursts in her stride. Lady Swindon seldom criticised anyone who didn’t deserve it, voicing publicly what others only dared to say in whispered asides, so it promised to be an entertaining evening.
*
Miranda Defoe turned up her nose as her maid withdrew a figured muslin evening gown from her armoire.
‘Too plain,’ she said, waving the garment aside. ‘I want to make an impression, Bertha, not blend in with the wallpaper.’
‘Have you forgotten about the raspberry wild silk, miss?’ Bertha asked, after Miranda had rejected two more gowns and was starting to feel desperate. She should have had more gowns made before her return to England. She would have done so since she was intent upon making a lasting first impression upon a certain gentleman. News of Emma’s betrothal had reached her, necessitating a hasty return from France, and there had been no time to indulge herself with visits to the leading exponents of Parisian couture.
‘Of course!’ She clapped her hands. ‘That’s inspired.’
It was the one gown that she had managed to have made, but in the excitement of her return she’d forgotten all about it. Bertha produced the garment from within folds of soft, protective muslin and shook it out. Miranda stood and touched the beautiful shimmering fabric and elaborate cream lace with gentle fingers.
‘Oh, my dear!’ Her step-mother bustled into the room, glanced at the gown and frowned. ‘Are you planning to wear that this evening?’
‘I am,’ Miranda replied. ‘It will be a perfect opportunity to show it off.’
‘I should have thought that you would prefer to keep it for a more suitable occasion. I mean, it’s not as though there is anyone at Beranger Court whom you especially wish to impress.’ Christina narrowed her eyes at Miranda. ‘Is there? You have not mentioned any particular attachment.’
And nor was she likely to. Not to her step-mother. ‘I am surprised you asked that question, Christina. It will be your first invitation to Beranger Court since marrying Philip. It will give you, your husband and his brothers an opportunity to impress the leading family in the district.’
‘I have no interest in impressing anyone who doesn’t accept me for who I am.’
‘Yes you do. You were offended when the invitations dried up after Papa’s death. Then you all tr
ied to persuade me not to return to England when I heard of Emma’s forthcoming nuptials. Your exact words, if memory serves, were that local society needed time to forgive and forget.’
‘Did I say that?’ Christina glanced in a mirror and patted her curls.
‘You know very well that you did.’
‘I thought we were all having such a lovely time that there was no reason to rush back.’
‘I told you that you didn’t need to, if you’d rather not. I made that point very clear.’
‘You couldn’t return alone. How would it have looked?’
‘I am sorry if I spoiled your pleasures, Christina.’
‘Not mine, but Philip and the boys had business opportunities that they had to curtail.’
‘Stop trying to make me feel guilty, because it won’t serve. I haven’t noticed any of them give much attention to their business affairs since the day you married Philip, especially not Matthew. I cannot persuade myself that my return thwarted their ambitions. Besides, their welfare is not my responsibility.’
‘They worry about you, Miranda, as do I.’
‘That is very kind of them, but there’s really no need, as I have told you countless times before. If you and Philip have plans that require you to be in France then you can be sure that I shall manage here quite well without you. I will take a companion, if necessary, just to stop you worrying about the proprieties.’ Not that you’ve given them much though in terms of your own situation. ‘And if you and Philip feel the need to remain with me, there’s nothing to prevent Matthew and Theo from going off to do whatever it is that Philip’s family does. You never have explained it to me properly.’
A Sense of Purpose Page 6
