‘Not dinner already, Scrivens?’ She frowned at the butler who stood expectantly on the threshold. ‘It’s not yet ten minutes past the hour.’
‘No, my lady. Mrs Caroline Mountjoy has arrived – to dine.’ He dragged the last two words out meaningfully.
‘To dine? Oh really!’ She placed her glass on the table with a loud click and rose. ‘I sent a note round to Beaumont Place this morning that said quite specifically the dinner was off. She must have received it.’
Jocasta released a low chuckle, and leaned closer to Flora. ‘Wait until Uncle William finds out she came anyway, despite Mama cancelling, which I know for certain she did.’
Flora lowered her glass. ‘Lady Vaughn’s brother is here?’
‘Indeed he is.’ A feline smile crept across Jocasta’s face, while an enquiring one appeared on Bunny’s.
Flora summoned an image of a handsome, always smiling man, attached to memories of long, hot sunny afternoons; picnics on the grass, impromptu cricket matches and games of hide-and-seek.
*
‘Tell her the entire household has come down with the chicken pox or something, Scrivens,’ Lord Vaughn impatiently waved him away, though the butler did not move.
‘I cannot do that, George.’ His wife looked stricken. ‘She’s already here, and—’
‘Good evening everyone.’ A flame-haired woman in an oyster silk gown swept past the immobile Scrivens and halted in the centre of the room. ‘Oh!’ She performed an exaggerated double take. ‘I thought it was going to be a party.’ Her parted lips and the way she held one hand splayed against her revealing décolleté struck Flora as contrived.
‘There’s been a change of plan, Caroline.’ Lady Vaughn directed the newcomer to an empty sofa, rolling her eyes at her husband behind the newcomer’s back. ‘Scrivens,’ she addressed the butler who still hovered by the door. ‘Would you arrange to have a place laid at the dinner table for our new guest?’
‘As you wish, my lady.’ The butler raised a sardonic eyebrow as he withdrew.
‘Do introduce me, Venetia, darling.’ The newcomer swept the company with an assessing gaze. ‘I don’t think I know everyone.’
‘Mrs Mountjoy, this is Flora Maguire, as was. She’s Flora Harrington now.’ Lady Venetia waved a gracious hand. ‘And her husband, Ptolemy Harrington.’
‘Of the Surrey Harringtons?’ Her sharp eyes raked Flora’s black gown with distaste before turning a speculative look on Bunny that instantly sparkled with interest.
‘At one time, I believe, but we’re somewhat depleted now.’ Bunny took her outstretched hand but released it abruptly.
Flora allowed herself a smile at his show of solidarity, delighted he had not kissed it.
‘Ah, yes of course, you’re the governess,’ she drawled, taking a seat with a cat-like smile which did nothing to minimize the implied insult. ‘I gather you’re here for the butler’s funeral?’ Her tone held a hint of contempt reminiscent of Flora’s mother-in-law.
‘My father’s funeral.’ Flora met the woman’s steady stare. If Beatrice Harrington didn’t possess the ability to unnerve her, the hard-eyed stranger with her cat-like smile stood no chance at all.
‘I heard Maguire fell from a horse.’ Mrs Mountjoy sniffed as if the incident was of no interest, dismissing Flora with a deliberately turned shoulder, but offered no apology. ‘Such dreadful things happen to people when out riding. Not that I ride myself, I was brought up in a city and prefer my carriage. Much safer.’
‘Didn’t you receive my note, Caroline?’ Lady Vaughn’s voice held something close to suspicion. ‘It specifically said the dinner was cancelled.’
‘What note would that be, dear?’ The lady’s blue eyes rounded in innocence, her attention shifting to Lord Vaughn as she removed the full glass from his hand. ‘Oh, thank you, George, that’s just what I need.’
Lord Vaughn blinked, his lips parted to issue a protest, but instead, he frowned as his requisitioned glass was borne away. Giving a resigned shrug, poured himself another.
‘Where’s your charming brother this evening, Venetia?’ Mrs Mountjoy gave the room a sweeping glance, then turned a frown on her hostess. ‘Is he not joining us?’
‘Uncle William will be down in a moment, Mrs Mountjoy,’ Jocasta’s lips twitched mischievously.
In answer to Bunny’s inquisitive look, Jocasta whispered, ‘He’s Mama’s younger brother who has come to stay for the summer. He always turns up after months away on some ranch in South Africa or a sheep farm in Australia. When we were children he stayed long enough to spoil us outrageously, get us into all sorts of scrapes, then disappear again until the next time. Needless to say we adored him.’
‘Ah, and does he happen to be a wealthy bachelor by any chance?’ Bunny directed a knowing look at their latest guest, who now gossiped animatedly with Lady Vaughn.
‘Funny you should say that,’ Jocasta replied, just as the door opened again and a tall muscular man entered, his intelligent green eyes sparkling with some private good humour above symmetrical features that evidenced his close kinship to Lady Vaughn.
His thick, conker-coloured hair bore the beginnings of silver wings at his temples, the only characteristic which attested to the fact he was in in his early forties. A pair of earnest brows were offset by a boyish grin, the beginnings of tiny lines beside his eyes and a deeply tanned skin which told of a life spent in warmer climes.
Murmuring apologies for being late, he went straight to where Flora sat, lifted her hand from her lap and pressed it to his clean-shaven lips. ‘Dearest, Flora. Allow me to offer my condolences for Riordan’s passing. If there is anything I can do, anything at all—’ he trailed off, as if struck by the inadequacy of this remark.
‘I appreciate the sentiment, Mr Osborne. Thank you.’ Flora’s face warmed, keenly aware that Bunny had broken off his conversation with Jocasta to stare at them.
‘Mr Harrington, I don’t believe you know my brother, William Osborne,’ Lady Vaughn said, coming to Flora’s rescue.
Bunny rose and shook William’s hand, though the way they eyed each other reminded Flora of two stags prepared to fight for possession of the herd.
‘My brother is what they call a free spirit,’ Lady Vaughn added. ‘He tends to drift in and out of our lives leaving chaos in his wake.’ Her musical laugh implied this fact had caused her some anguish in the past.
‘I love Uncle William,’ Jocasta interjected. ‘He made being a child exciting, and fun.’
‘Thank you, dearest Jo.’ William saluted Jocasta with his sherry glass. ‘Flora here was always the fourth hoyden. She was never one to turn down a dare, were you?’
‘You, a hoyden, Flora?’ Bunny’s chin jerked backwards. ‘That does surprise me.’
‘No more than the others.’ Flora stared straight ahead, pretending not to see the bemused look on her husband’s face.
‘She certainly was.’ Jocasta rapidly swallowed a mouthful of sherry. ‘Do you remember when she took that row boat out onto the river and dropped the oar in the water? You had to wade out and save her?’
Flora dipped her head to her glass, recalling the day with embarrassing clarity.
‘Ruined my favourite blazer, if I remember.’ William took a mouthful from his glass and winked at Flora.
‘Do sit here, right beside me, William.’ Mrs Mountjoy pouted, her hands spread on the sofa next to her in open invitation.
‘A kind offer, dear lady.’ William eyed her with a wary smile that did not reach his eyes. ‘I need a firmer chair, I’m afraid. Back problems, you know from my days spent on horseback rounding up cattle in the Veldt.’
Her expression hardened into an angry grimace, which disappeared so quickly when Lord Vaughn offer her more sherry, Flora thought she had imagined it.
William took an upright chair beside the sofa where Flora sat with Bunny and Jocasta. ‘Marriage suits you, Flora.’ William’s eyes roamed her face.
‘Thank you, sir, I’m very happy. Well, that
is I was, until—’ She broke off, uncomfortable beneath his penetrating look, made worse by the way Bunny shot an occasional hard one of his own towards him.
‘I understand,’ he murmured, then louder. ‘And don’t call me “sir”. You’re not a governess any longer, you’re a guest. It’s William, please. When you were a child you used to call me Uncle William.’
‘That’s right, I did.’ Her life at the Abbey was different when she was a child; she didn’t fully understand the servant hierarchy, let alone adhere to its strictures. It was only as she got older and her role changed once she became Eddy’s governess did their lives split into different directions. Less than two years before, Flora had dipped curtseys at the door and hovered like a ghost on the fringes of the Vaughn’s lives. To be taking pre-dinner sherry with the family as a guest made her feel slightly out of place, though proud too that she was welcome.
At the sound of the dinner gong, fans and shawls were hurriedly gathered as the company left their seats in preparation to relocate to the dining room along the hall.
Jocasta nudged William, nodding over his shoulder to where Mrs Mountjoy sat like a sphinx on her sofa. ‘I think our unexpected guest would like you to escort her into dinner.’
‘Stop goading me, minx.’ William downed half his sherry in one gulp, took Flora’s hand and tugged her gently to her feet. ‘You don’t mind, do you, old man?’ he addressed Bunny. ‘After all, you have her company all the time.’
‘Of course not.’ Bunny’s tight smile told a different story, but he graciously gave way and offered his arm to Jocasta.
Lord Vaughn offered Mrs Mountjoy his cocked elbow. ‘Allow me to claim the right as host and escort you into dinner myself.’
The lady dimpled her acceptance, then shot a sharp glance at William over her shoulder as they took the head of the line.
‘I take it you’re not entranced by her charms, sir – ah, William?’ Flora nodded to Mrs Mountjoy’s swaying rear end as she they took their place in line behind Bunny and Jocasta.
‘Suffice it to say,’ William dropped his voice, ‘the woman’s too predatory for my taste.’
‘You make her sound like a fox eyeing the chickens,’ Jocasta turned her head and grinned. ‘Whereas I see her more as a snake.’
‘Hush, Jo, she’ll hear you.’ Flora bit her lip to prevent a laugh.
The small procession filed down the hallway beneath portraits of past Vaughns, accompanied by the gentle hiss of gaslight from the wall sconces.
‘Papa,’ Eddy’s voice drifted backwards along the hall. ‘Mr Harrington says anyone can ride a motorcycle. May I have one?’
‘Whatever for?’ Lord Vaughn snorted. ‘There’s a stable full of horses here on which you could happily break your neck.’ He nodded at Scrivens who held open the dining room door, and disappeared inside.
Flora came to an abrupt halt as a roaring sounded in her ears, her knees buckled and she staggered. Had William not had a tight grip on her arm, she might have crumpled to the floor.
‘Oh, Papa!’ Jocasta gasped, though he had moved too far ahead to hear her. ‘He didn’t mean anything by it, Flora, truly. He simply didn’t think.’
‘I know.’ Flora smiled at her. ‘I’m fine, truly.’ She took a deep breath and fought for control, aware of the combined concerned looks Bunny and William directed at her. ‘Let’s go in, shall we? I’m quite famished.’
What with the surly butler, Mrs Mountjoy and Bunny’s jealousy, dinner promised to be a trial.
4
Flora clicked the bedroom door shut behind her and leaned against it with a sigh. ‘I’m exhausted.’
‘No wonder. It’s been an emotional day for you.’ Bunny removed his tie with a whoosh of silk. ‘The Vaughns have certainly gone out of their way to make us welcome. You must have been an exemplary governess.’ Bunny perched on the edge of one of the wing chairs, bent and untied his shoelaces.
‘I liked it, and Eddy was a lovely pupil.’ Flora leaned her hip against the arm of his chair. ‘The family were always kind, although the two older girls, Lady Amelia and Lady Emerald, didn’t have much time for me, but Lady Jocasta was my real friend, until I became Eddy’s governess. Then our lives took different directions and we grew apart.’
‘No evidence of that this evening, you were chatting away like sisters.’
‘When she wasn’t flirting with you, that is.’ Flora gently cuffed him on the head.
‘Hah! What about Uncle William?’ His sing-song tone indicated a certain resentment. ‘He seemed keen to sit beside you before and during dinner. Should I be jealous?’ He kicked off his shoes and tucked them beneath his chair.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, William Osborne is in his forties!’ Flora gave a dismissive snort. ‘He’s a nice man though and he treated me like the fourth niece, although Jo was always his favourite. He gave me a copy of Christina Rossetti’s, Goblin Market one Christmas.’
‘I don’t think I know it, but then I admit I’m not au fait with female poets’
‘It’s a poem about sisters because he knew I always wanted one of my own. Lady Vaughn was very disapproving for some reason, said it was unsuitable because of its hidden symbolism, whatever that means.’ Flora shrugged. ‘I treasured it because it wasn’t a box of marzipans or set of handkerchiefs.’
‘He apparently has hidden depths your Mr Osborne. I wonder why a man with so many attractions, not to mention affluence, has never married?’ Bunny shrugged out of his waistcoat, and draped it across a chair.
‘Why do you wish to know? Flora threw him a teasing glance over one shoulder. ‘Is it because as an old married man you want everyone to follow the same joyous path? Or do you wish them to share your misery?’ She retrieved the waistcoat and hooked it onto a hanger then placed it in the wardrobe.
‘The former of course, it has worked out marvelously for me, though I’m still tempted to call him out over the attention he paid you this evening.’
‘I believe that had more to do with his efforts to avoid Caroline Mountjoy.’ She crossed the room to where he stood by the fireplace. ‘Bunny? Was it my imagination, or did everyone seem on edge this evening?’
‘A little, although again, I suspect the presence of that Mountjoy woman was responsible for that. Besides, they would hardly discuss details of your father’s fatal accident over the lobster.’
‘I didn’t expect them to. No, it was more than that. I was conscious of everyone staring at me when they thought I wasn’t looking.’
‘I noticed that myself, but which struck me as more a protective concern. It’s only been a day since the accident, so they would want to make sure you are bearing up. Perhaps you’re ultra-sensitive to certain nuances at the moment, my love. It’s understandable.’
‘Maybe.’ She fiddled with the trim on her sleeve. ‘Lady Vaughn reminded me how little I had seen of Father this past year. I was so bound up with our new life together in Richmond, I didn’t consider that he might be missing me.’
‘He knew you would be back when you were ready.’
‘That’s what Lady Vaughn said, and that’s the trouble. When I went to America for those months, he was always in my heart. A firm, immoveable presence, whether we were together or not. Now he’s gone.’ She stopped Bunny’s protest with an upheld hand. ‘No, I’m being neither morbid nor fanciful. I don’t feel him any more – here.’ She thumped her bodice with a fist, the mild pain vying with the inner ache that wouldn’t go away. ‘He’ll always be in my head, but he’s not in my heart anymore. He’s left me.’
Bunny crossed the room in brisk strides and gathered her into his arms, her cheek pressed against his chest where his shirt stood open, the fine hairs soft against her skin. He didn’t speak, both aware that words were not only superfluous but inadequate.
‘Do you wish I hadn’t taken you away from here?’ Bunny asked after a long, thoughtful moment.
‘No, of course not. My home is in Richmond now, with you.’ And your mother.
�
�Have you been into your father’s room yet?’
Flora shook her head, dislodging him. ‘I can’t face it. I know I’ll have to go through his things eventually, but I need more time.’
‘Of course. I understand.’ He planted a kiss on her forehead, then eased back gently and finished unbuttoning his shirt. ‘I hope that geyser in the bathroom is as efficient as it looks. I’d like a quick bath before bed.’ He flung a flannel robe round his shoulders and made for the door.
‘The water heater might splutter a bit when you first switch it on. Just bang it with your fist just above the spout,’ Flora called after him.
Left alone, Flora undressed quickly, availing herself of the hot water a thoughtful maid had left in a pitcher on the dresser. She slipped beneath the covers and lay listening to the nocturnal noises of the house, while she recalled that William Osborne was the one person who had called her father by his Christian name.
While she tried to work out if that was significant or not, the soft bed worked its magic on her weary muscles and she was asleep before Bunny returned from his bath.
*
Flora woke with a start and gasped for air. Bunny leaned over her, whispering gently. ‘It’s all right, sweetheart, there’s nothing there.’
She forced herself to consciousness through a dense fog of sleep and menacing shadows, to find Bunny sat with his arms wrapped round her shoulders. ‘Were you dreaming about your mother again?’
Flora nodded, her eyes narrowed against the bright sunlight that flooded through the window, surprised to see it was morning already. She brought a hand to her forehead that came away moist, waiting for her breathing to slow before attempting to talk again. ‘It was so vivid this time. Just like when I used to live here.’ She counted back in her head and realized it was more than a year since it had last happened.
‘Was it the same as before?’ Bunny released her and slid from beneath the bedclothes. He grabbed his dressing gown from the bottom of the bed and hauled it on. ‘Or can’t you remember?’
Murder at Cleeve Abbey Page 5
