A Sense of Fate (Perceptions Book 7)

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘She don’t make a habit out of entertaining unmarried gentlemen—or any gentlemen at all, if that’s what you mean to imply. Miss Latimer maintains high standards and Lord Felsham protects her interests, there ain’t no more to it than that.’

  Elroy nodded, cutting his losses. It appeared that Felsham had made his feelings about the chit clear, and that no one locally would dare to chance their arm. He’d wondered about that. A female of modest means living alone would ordinarily be a target for the less scrupulous, and Felsham’s protection ensured that she wasn’t troubled by unwanted attentions.

  As he made inroads into his new tankard of ale, Elroy assessed what he had learned or suspected, none of which was particularly encouraging. Miss Latimer was clearly better acquainted with Felsham than he had supposed, reinforcing the information he had been given by someone other than Latimer which had been partly responsible for this visit. His curiosity had been piqued. Felsham had lowered his sights since the days when he’d held Magda Simpson in the palm of his hand, successfully fending off all competition. The predecessors for her favours—foremost among whom had been Elroy—had been unceremoniously dismissed from her bed when Magda caught the eye of the future marquess. Elroy frowned.

  The recollection still smarted.

  In some respects, Elroy decided, his temper subsiding as his limbs thawed out and the ale mellowed his mood, Felsham still had impeccable taste. Magda was exquisite, but made herself a little too available, spoiling the thrill of the chase. The virtuous Miss Latimer, on the other hand, with her impertinent tongue and religious background, wouldn’t be nearly so willing, making the eventual reward well worth the effort. It wasn’t as if her father could raise any objections if she ran to him after the event, he thought, chuckling.

  Elroy turned his thoughts to her friendship with Felsham. Did he really want to cross swords with the man who was now more mature and infinitely more powerful than he’d been in his carefree student days? It would be sheer lunacy. The man was a cripple and Elroy would be best advised to enjoy thoughts of his incapacity and leave it at that. Then he thought of Miss Latimer and the manner in which she had looked down at him and his temper reignited.

  Elroy never forgot a slight.

  If Miss Latimer discussed his visit with Felsham, which she very likely would, then the marquess would recall their previous dealings. Now he was a danger to them all and Elroy needed to remain close at hand in case drastic action was called for. He was loyal to Latimer in his way, but his first and foremost concern was self-preservation. If Latimer was right and his daughter suspected something, then Elroy would be the one to keep her nose out of their business, no matter what it took.

  Damn Latimer for making him come down here! He should have refused outright.

  Even so, Elroy had never been one to back down from a challenge, and he wouldn’t give up on Miss Latimer despite the fact that common sense told him to steer well clear. If she wasn’t involved with his old adversary then perhaps he would have taken a more sensible course, but it was too late for that. By asking him not to call again she had insulted him and made herself a target. He refused to believe that she was indifferent to him. No female who took his fancy had ever turned him away, and Miss Flora Latimer was not about to become the first. Besides, if she had her sights set on Archie Felsham, he would be delighted to exact a more personal form of revenge.

  ‘See how you like it, Felsham,’ he muttered into his tankard, ‘when the tables are reversed and I take from Flora Latimer what you plan to grab for yourself.’

  Elroy grinned as he drank down the last of his ale, settled his account and left the tavern to drive back to Salisbury.

  The battle lines had been drawn.

  Chapter Four

  Flora retired on the evening of Mr Conrad’s visit with more questions than answers rattling around inside her head. She was unable to understand why she was so worried. There was nothing that her father could do to harm her now. But she had learned to trust her perceptions, especially when Remus backed up her concerns, and slept fitfully as a consequence.

  She woke with a slight headache, but the weather had improved and she was able to make her rounds, calling upon the ladies she helped with their maladies and welcoming two little girls to the cottage to practise their scales on her piano. They showed some ability and she wanted to encourage their talent.

  They had only just left when the sound of an arrival put her on her guard. If it was Mr Conrad again, Polly had been given instructions not to allow him over the threshold.

  To her delight, it was not the odious Mr Conrad but Violet Baxter, Luke’s future wife, who walked into Flora’s sitting room wearing a becoming walking gown and a wide smile. The ladies embraced.

  ‘I am delighted to see you, Violet. Please sit down near the fire. Polly, some tea, if you please.’

  ‘I have been meaning to call for several days but the weather deterred me.’

  ‘It has been awful,’ Flora agreed. ‘Some of the older residents in the village suffer appallingly with their joints. Cold weather always exacerbates their problems, but I do what I can to help.’

  ‘I am perfectly sure that you do, and I am quite cross with you because of it.’ Violet’s smile belied the scolding. ‘Your reputation for similar care in Ashton Keynes is talked about every time I enter the village and I shall never be able to live up to your standards.’

  ‘Of course you will. I shall give you some tips about herbs and their usage if you like. Mrs Kemp will guide you. As well as being Luke’s housekeeper, she is also very good at helping the villagers.’

  ‘Thank you on both counts.’ Violet settled herself in her chair. ‘Mary sends her apologies. She intended to come with me. She was looking forward to the excursion but she has been feeling fatigued—’

  ‘I hope the baby isn’t giving her any trouble,’ Flora replied, instantly concerned.

  ‘She assures me that is not the case. Paul has called the doctor to her and he has recommended a few days’ bed rest. He assures us that nothing is wrong, but Paul is not convinced.’

  Flora smiled. ‘I am perfectly sure he is not, which is just how it should be. First time fathers have a duty to be anxious.’

  Violet smiled. ‘Mary has several months to go yet and has made it very plain that she doesn’t intend to become an invalid.’

  Flora chuckled. ‘Tell her that if she needs any of my remedies to help her along, she has but to send word. In fact, I will make up something to help her before you leave.’

  ‘That’s kind of you.’ Violet looked around the room with interest. ‘This is quite delightful. I can see that you are comfortable here and enjoying your independence. I admire your courage.’

  ‘Because unmarried ladies are not supposed to live alone?’ Flora lifted one shoulder. ‘I am not important enough for those rules to apply in my case.’

  ‘Are you not afraid?’

  ‘Of what? This isn’t a lawless village. I make myself useful and I believe I have earned the villagers’ respect. I don’t think anyone will attempt to rob me—or worse.’

  Polly returned with the tea things and quietly left the room again. Flora poured and distributed cake.

  ‘Thank you.’ Violet sat back and stirred her tea, smiling at Zeus when he peered up at her through piercing green eyes from his place in front of the fire, as though trying to decide if she was worth knowing. In the end, he turned in a circle and settled back down again with his back to her. ‘Oh dear.’ Violet smiled. ‘Your cat doesn’t seem to like me very much.’

  ‘That’s Zeus. He was the countess’s companion, much the same as me. We both loved her and miss her very much.’

  ‘I have heard this handsome feline spoken about in revered terms.’

  ‘Don’t mention his name in front of Luke’s dog. He’s terrified of Zeus; Romulus that is, not Luke.’

  Violet laughed. ‘Oh, I think Luke would sometimes like to be as reclusive as your cat.’

  ‘I am sure tha
t he will put his reclusive traits behind him now that he is about to marry you.’

  ‘We shall see.’

  ‘You have likely been told that Zeus is unsociable, which is true. I think he took his example from the countess, who enjoyed being contrary.’ Flora leaned down to stroke Zeus’s back. He let out an indignant mewl but didn’t open his eyes. ‘Zeus can be affectionate, but only when he feels so inclined, which is obviously not now. We are disturbing his slumbers and he ought to take himself off somewhere quieter, but clearly he cannot be bothered to make the effort.’

  ‘He seems very at home with you.’

  ‘We understand one another very well. Anyway, how are the plans for the wedding coming along?’ Flora asked.

  ‘Well, I think.’ Violet paused and Flora sensed that she had something delicate to say to her. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ she asked in a rush.

  ‘Mind?’ Flora blinked, genuinely confused. ‘Mind what precisely?’

  ‘My marrying Luke. I do love him very much and will dedicate myself to making him happy. After Anthony, when you and Luke saved me from his machinations, I never expected to find true happiness because I doubted my own judgement. It made me realise that what I felt for Anthony was gratitude, which is no basis for a marriage. Even so, I was determined not to marry for love…until I fell in love, that is. Now I understand that it’s worth taking the risk.’

  Flora reached across and squeezed Violet’s hand. ‘I don’t mind in the least. Whatever made you imagine that I would? And more to the point, what right do I have to interfere?’

  ‘It’s just that…well, I’ve always sensed a connection between you and Luke. He looks at you in a certain way that implies…’

  ‘It implies nothing,’ Flora insisted briskly. ‘Luke and I are good friends and sparring partners, nothing more. I have never harboured ambitions to be anything more to him and I cannot begin to think why you should imagine otherwise. If I have left you with that impression, then my manners must be at fault.’

  ‘No!’ Violet shook her head. ‘Ignore me. It’s pre-wedding jitters, I suppose. I am about to become a countess and the thought of all that responsibility terrifies me. Also, my godmother, when I was still engaged to be married to Anthony, often spoke of you and Luke in the same breath. The countess was her good friend and had put the idea into her head, I think.’

  Flora smiled. ‘The countess enjoyed creating mischief. She found it hugely entertaining.’

  ‘But perhaps it was what she wanted…you and Luke, I mean...’

  ‘The countess would have approved of you, never doubt it—and as to your responsibilities, Mary has been keeping house for Luke for several years. Before the countess left us, in fact, because she wasn’t well enough to discharge her duties. You could do worse than allow yourself to be guided by Mary and Mrs Kemp. Don’t pull rank with Mrs Kemp—which I am sure you will not—just make it clear that you require her help and you will not go far wrong. As far as your wider responsibilities with the local populace are concerned, they are loyal to Luke and so will love you simply because he does. How can they not, when you are so lovely and charming and quite without airs?’ Flora grinned mischievously. ‘The same cannot be said for some of the previous aspirants for Luke’s hand, and I confess that I did warn him away from them.’

  Violet blinked. ‘You did?’

  ‘Interfering minx, aren’t I?’ She flapped a hand. ‘My willingness to poke my nose into the affairs of others will be the death of me yet, but I cannot stand by and watch people I care about making terrible mistakes that they will regret for the rest of their lives.’ She reached across to squeeze Violet’s hand. ‘And I do care about Luke, but rest assured that I do not see you as a mistake or a rival. You will enhance Luke’s standing in the locality as well as making him happy.’

  ‘Thank you for the reassurance, but does he love me? I think he is very fond of me, but love…well, he has never said.’

  Flora waved her concerns aside. ‘Men don’t express themselves well, but take it from me that if he was not devoted to you, he would not have proposed. From a personal perspective, you have my assurance that I wish you both nothing but the very best of good fortune. Not that you will need it. I can see that you are ideally suited.’ Flora smiled at Violet. ‘I am never wrong about these things.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Violet let out a long sigh. ‘That is a great comfort. Excuse me if I am being foolish. It’s just that I so want everything to be perfect and I also want you to be my friend, Flora. You have already done so much for me and I feel we are similar in many respects.’

  ‘I will always be your friend.’ Flora leaned forward. ‘Now, tell me in detail how the preparations are coming along.’

  ‘Actually, I came with the specific intention of asking you to be my chief bridesmaid.’

  ‘Me?’ Astounded, Flora pointed at her own chest, thinking there must be some mistake.

  ‘Yes, of course you. As I say, I hold you partially responsible for bringing the match about.’

  Flora smiled. ‘Oh, I think Luke being attracted to you might have had something to do with the matter.’

  ‘Even so, I have few friends in this country. Mary will be too pregnant to attend me. Emma is to be maid of honour, as is Louise. Marianne is excited to be a bridesmaid.’ Flora nodded, aware that she referred to Luke’s brother’s Henry’s wife and her sister. ‘There are two small girls, acquaintances of my godmother’s, who will be flower girls, and then there is you.’ Violet clapped her hands. ‘Please say you will do it.’

  ‘I will do so with the greatest pleasure, if you are quite sure.’

  ‘I am so glad. I was thinking of bronze figured silk with cream Flemish lace.’

  Violet produced a sketch of the gown she had in mind for her attendants. Thoughts of her sister’s frothy confection still fresh in her mind, Flora was relieved to see that Violet’s ideas tended towards simple, elegant lines. She exclaimed over the swatches of sample materials as decisions were considered and made.

  ‘That’s settled then,’ Violet said, sitting back and marking several ticks against a long list that she had produced from her reticule. ‘I am using Mrs Keller to make the gowns.’

  ‘That is a good idea. Having the local dressmaker to cater for the earl’s wedding party will earn you a lot of goodwill.’

  ‘It was Mary’s suggestion. I believe she did the same thing.’

  ‘She did.’

  ‘Mrs Keller has your measurements, I think.’

  ‘She does indeed. The countess was always having gowns made for me. She was very generously inclined.’

  ‘Well then. Goodness, is that the time?’ Violet blinked when the clock struck the half-hour. ‘It will be getting dark soon, so I should be on my way.’ She gathered up her possessions. ‘Will you be able to spend the day at Beranger Court in two weeks’ time? Mrs Keller will be ready to do fittings at that point.’

  ‘I will look forward to it,’ Flora replied, standing to embrace Violet. ‘It has been a pleasure seeing you today. Please send everyone at Beranger Court—and your godmother too—my very best wishes.’

  ‘I shall certainly do so.’

  Left alone again, Flora took a moment to examine her feelings. It concerned her that Violet had picked up on the indefinable something that had drawn her and Luke to each other despite their differences, or perhaps because of them. Was she envious? Did she wish that she could change places with Violet? In some respects she did, but it never would have worked. She and Luke would never have agreed about her psychic abilities and it would have driven a rift between them.

  She stood at the far window and looked out into her gardens. The sleet was coming down again and she watched Will as he took armfuls of hay into the stalls to feed her horses.

  Her own horses!

  It still sometimes felt like a dream, and the realisation of what she had achieved chased away the remnants of her regrets. She could only afford to live as she did thanks to Archie’s generous insisten
ce upon discounting the rent, making her a kept woman of sorts, she sometimes amused herself by thinking. Nonetheless, the cottage was her castle and she was inordinately proud of herself for resisting fierce parental opposition and achieving her modest and comfortable independence. Fox Hollow was a fraction of the size of Beranger Court and certainly much smaller than Felsham Hall, but it represented a level of freedom that few single women could aspire to, much less find sufficient courage to embrace.

  Flora was her own mistress, Archie’s generosity notwithstanding, and unlike the majority of women her age she had no desire to improve her circumstances through matrimony. Her father, whatever his game was, had met his match, and no one would snatch away from her what she had worked so hard to achieve.

  There were plenty of duties awaiting Archie’s attention upon his return to Felsham Hall following his week with Luke. They were responsibilities that a steward could easily have undertaken, but since Archie’s mobility was so severely impaired that it was impossible for him to inspect the whole of his vast estate for himself, he preferred to keep a close eye on the accounts as well as the reports and recommendations prepared for him by his steward and keepers. It made him feel as though he was in control, after a fashion, and less likely to be swindled.

  Having written copious instructions regarding the following year’s crop rotations, he cast his pen aside and sat back, watching the sleet pattering steadily against the window glass. A year previously, unable to sit astride a horse, he hadn’t been able to supervise anything outside of the house, depending upon the loyalty of his steward to ensure that he wasn’t being robbed blind. All that had changed when Flora suggested the acquisition of a lightweight gig. Archie now drove Merlin, a plodding cob, harnessed to that lowly form of transportation and was able to supervise at least some of his estate. He revelled in the small amount of independence Merlin afforded him.