A Sense of Injustice (Perceptions Book 4)

  Perceptions

  A Sense of Injustice

  Wendy Soliman

  Perceptions Series Book 4

  A Sense of Injustice

  Copyright © Wendy Soliman 2019

  Edited by Perry Iles

  Cover Design by Jane Dixon-Smith

  This e-Book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations contained are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance of actual living or dead persons, business, or events. Any similarities are coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any method, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of

  The Author – Wendy Soliman

  This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction fines and/or imprisonment. The e-Book cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this e-Book can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the author.

  Chapter One

  Beranger Court, Swindon: October 1880

  ‘It’ll do at a pinch, I suppose.”

  ‘Praise indeed, coming from your lips, ma’am.’ Flora Latimer smiled at her curmudgeonly charge, the Dowager Countess of Swindon, and dipped a curtsey that created a satisfactory swish of her silk skirts.

  ‘I was referring to the fall of your gown,’ the countess replied, sniffing. ‘You should know by now that I never flatter.’

  Flora’s smile widened. She glanced down at the shimmering bronze gown that hugged her figure, transforming her from the mousy creature she’d been when she first took employment in this magnificent house just six hectic months previously into a person she barely recognised. Trimmed in cream lace with an elegantly draped overskirt gathered behind with lace and satin ribbons, the gown was positively decadent. Flora could almost pass for the lady of the house rather that the disowned daughter of a senior cleric at Salisbury Cathedral.

  The generosity of the aristocratic family who had taken her in had helped her to become a strong, independent young woman with thoughts and opinions she was no longer afraid to express. Thoughts that failed to conform to the teachings of her joyless and repressive God-fearing childhood.

  ‘Six yards of brocade, six more of silk, twenty of lace and three of satin ribbon went into this gown, so I am reliably informed.’ Flora grinned. ‘I hope that I can do justice to all the effort that went into its making by displaying the local modiste’s handiwork to good effect. It by far the most elaborate gown I have ever owned—and goodness only knows I have owned more than I ever imagined possible since coming into your service. I feel grown up, indulged and thoroughly spoiled.’

  ‘You are grown up, child. This is your one-and-twentieth birthday, in case it had slipped your mind, and all this fuss and nonsense tonight is in your honour.’

  ‘Fuss and nonsense that you insisted upon, ma’am. Hence the need for a new gown that I could have afforded to pay for myself.’ She wagged a finger at the countess. ‘You are too generous, and you should not have done it.’

  ‘Just because you have inherited a few shillings, there’s no occasion to throw your money around on fripperies.’

  Which is exactly what Flora had been attempting to make the countess understand every time she felt the need to spoil Flora.

  ‘This dress cost a good deal more than a few shillings, and I don’t have the least intention of frittering my inheritance away. It offers me independence. My father no longer holds any authority over me, although I doubt that I have heard the last of him. At least I feel more secure, knowing that I have the means to support myself when you finally grow tired of my bullying you and dismiss me from your service, as you often threaten to do.’

  ‘Ha! You wouldn’t go, even if I insisted. You are far too comfortable here.’

  ‘For which I hold you entirely to blame. You are too lenient and I never have enough to do with my time.’

  ‘You’re not as bad as some who have been inflicted upon me, so I suppose I can put up with you for a little longer. Anyway, I have a trifling gift for you.’ The countess snapped her fingers and her maid stepped forward carrying a small box which she handed to the countess.

  ‘You have already given me more than enough,’ Flora protested, glancing down at her gown. ‘I cannot accept anything else.’

  ‘Oh, do stop being so tiresome!’ The countess thrust the box into Flora’s hand. ‘Happy birthday, you irritating child.’

  Flora shook her head, knowing when she was beaten. She opened the box and gasped as she revealed a delicate opal and seed pearl brooch nestling in the velvet lining of the box. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she breathed. ‘I have never owned any jewellery. Papa didn’t approve of personal adornments.’

  The countess gave a contemptuous sniff. ‘That doesn’t surprise me. Anyway, it will fit nicely on that bodice. The perfect finishing touch.’

  The countess had the sensitivity not to call attention to the tears that flooded Flora’s eyes. For all that she pretended to be befuddled, her mind was still as sharp as a tack. She would be aware that Flora hadn’t heard a word from any members of her own family on this most special of days, and was attempting to make amends for the slight in her own unique way.

  Flora fastened the brooch onto her bodice where it dipped low between her breasts, drawing attention to her décolletage.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, holding back tears by the sheer force of her will. She had done all the crying she would ever do over her family and refused to admit that their neglect might still have the power to affect her.

  ‘Come along then, child. You still have duties to perform, birthday or not, and I can’t be expected to get down all those stairs unaided. Not at my age.’

  ‘You got up onto the roof unaided the other day when my back was turned for a moment,’ Flora reminded the old lady as she proffered her arm. ‘I still don’t know what you expected to achieve by risking your neck, other than to frighten us all half out of our wits.’

  ‘I was conversing with the moon, since you insist upon sticking your nose into my affairs. Intellectual stuff. I wouldn’t expect someone with your narrow-minded Christian beliefs to understand.’

  Flora bit her lip to prevent a smile from escaping. ‘Of course not. But you might have more consideration for the servants. If you were to fall and break your neck, it would create a devilish amount of mess for them to clear up.’

  The countess sniffed as she slowly descended the stairs. ‘They get paid well enough for doing precious little.’

  Flora knew that she had spoiled her charge’s pleasure by speaking so flippantly about the possibility of her meeting a grisly end. The old lady thoroughly enjoyed being outrageous, and had probably expected to be told how much she would be mourned were she to die through her own stupidity. One of the reasons why she and Flora rubbed along so well together was because Flora refused to become flustered by the countess’s determination to make mischief.

  ‘Goodness,’ Flora said, blinking when they reached the lower hall and she peeped around the door to the dining room. The long table was set for twenty, with shimmering crystal, dozens of candles, pristine linen and the very best gilt-edged china. ‘All this for me? It’s overwhelming.’

  ‘Someone needs to mark the occasion,’ the countess said, flapping a hand. ‘Now find me a chair in the drawing room. And a glass of sherry. One could die of thirst while you gawp at the arrangements like t
he gauche child that you are.’

  ‘No one is down yet,’ Flora said, conducting the countess to a comfortable chair beside the fire. She smiled her thanks at the footman who had anticipated the countess’s dry throat and stood ready with the required sherry.

  ‘This party is being held in your honour, so you have to be here to greet the guests.’ The countess took a sip of her drink, clearly determined to be argumentative. ‘Don’t you know anything?’

  ‘We are only expecting the family, Lord Hardwick and a few neighbours. No need for ceremony.’

  ‘Have something yourself, child.’ The countess tutted when Flora declined to join her in a glass of sherry. ‘Today of all days, let your hair down from its tight bun.’

  Flora, whose hair, thanks to the skilled fingers of the countess’s personal maid, was arranged in a becoming style with long spiral curls falling from a central parting around her face, merely smiled. ‘I shall wait a while. Intoxicating liquor goes straight to my head, as well you know.’

  ‘That’s because you’re unaccustomed to it. I don’t suppose there was anything interesting to drink in that ghastly place you came from. Not even the vinegar that passes for altar wine.’

  ‘Perish the thought,’ Flora said, grinning.

  Filled with an overwhelming sense of anticipation, Flora strolled the width of the room, enjoying the feel of the silk train that whispered in her wake. She, a relative nobody, wearing an expensive gown with a silk train! If her father could see her now, he would have an attack of apoplexy. Sometimes she felt the need to pinch herself, terrified that she would wake up to discover that all this had been a massive figment of her overactive imagination. That she was still in the restrictive confines of Cathedral Close, every moment accounted for by the strictest parents imaginable.

  Her thoughts were interrupted when Lady Mary, the countess’s granddaughter, bustled into the room wearing a becoming blue gown that enhanced the colour of her eyes.

  ‘Grandmamma, Flora. I am sorry to have kept you waiting. I had a small disaster with my gown.’ She kissed her grandmother’s cheek. ‘I put my foot through the train, clumsy oaf that I am.’

  ‘You are not remotely late, Mary,’ Flora assured her. ‘As you can see, no one else is down yet.’

  ‘Happy birthday, dearest Flora.’ Mary gave Flora an affectionate squeeze, careful not to crush their gowns.

  ‘Thank you so much for the charming drawing that you did for me. I am delighted with it,’ Flora replied. ‘Really, you are all too generous. Just look at what the countess gave me.’

  Flora indicated her brooch and Mary duly admired it.

  ‘I suppose you’ve been finding excuses to dally with the fiancé of yours,’ the countess complained. ‘I don’t believe your pathetic excuses about a torn hem for one moment.’

  ‘Oh yes, I was with Paul earlier,’ Mary responded, smiling angelically. ‘It is very convenient being engaged to be married to my brother’s secretary and best friend. Since he lives here, he cannot avoid seeing me.’

  ‘As if he would want to!’ Flora cried. ‘The man has the good sense to adore you.’

  Mary shook her head when she was offered sherry. ‘We’ll wait for the champagne, I think. Anyway, Grandmamma, if I was dallying, as you so charmingly suggest, I should have thought you would approve, given how often you have told us about your various liaisons.’ Mary and Flora shared a smile. ‘I could claim to be following a family tradition.’

  The countess’s chin jutted pugnaciously. ‘Wait until you have Dalton’s ring on your finger before you start playing the field,’ she said, clearly put out because she’d failed to shock anyone. ‘Once you have, then I shall tell you how to keep him dancing attendance upon you.’

  Mary grinned mischievously. ‘I look forward to it, Grandmamma.’

  ‘Have you and Paul decided where you intend to live?’ Flora asked.

  ‘Yes, we shall remain here.’

  ‘Good. I hoped you would.’

  ‘Paul doesn’t have the least intention of giving up his position, although Luke says he no longer has to be his valet as well as his secretary, which is generous of him. We are taking over the suite of rooms that Emma and I shared. Now that Emma is married and moved away, they are far too big for me on my own. So none of us will be inconvenienced and I shall not have to move away from you, Grandmamma.’

  ‘I suppose you expect me to tell you that I’m glad,’ the countess complained. ‘But since I hardly see you from one day to the next, where you choose to live is of little consequence to me.’

  ‘Her ladyship is feeling especially provocative today,’ Flora said, smiling.

  ‘I am not provocative. I never provoke.’

  ‘Have it your way,’ Flora replied, sharing an amused look with Mary.

  ‘We have decided not to marry until the spring,’ Mary told them. ‘The weather is so unpredictable at this time of year. Besides, Emma’s confinement will be in January, and I would like my sister to recover from that ordeal so that she can enjoy the occasion.’

  ‘That’s very thoughtful of you.’

  ‘Who’s thoughtful?’ Emma asked, walking slowly into the room and kissing all the ladies in it. ‘Happy birthday, Flora. I do hope you like the brushes we gave you.’

  ‘The silver backing is exquisite, Emma. You are so generous,’ Flora replied.

  ‘It is not every day that a lady comes of age.’ Emma eased herself into the chair beside the countess and placed a hand protectively over her distended stomach. ‘The occasion should be marked appropriately.’

  ‘Where is your husband?’ the countess asked. ‘And Mary’s fiancé, come to that. In the library with Luke and my other grandsons, I dare say, drinking brandy and telling ribald tales. That’s always that way when they get together with Archie Hardwick.’

  Hardwick had been the current earl’s closest friend during their Oxford days, together with Alvin Watson—who was now married to Emma—and Paul, Mary’s intended. Archie had fallen from a lady’s bedroom window when her husband came home unexpectedly and had fled to France to avoid the ensuing scandal. Now back on English soil, he was badly crippled but as flamboyantly outrageous as ever. Flora found him charming.

  ‘It’s true,’ Luke’s sister-in-law Miranda entered the room, smiling. ‘Happy birthday, Flora. Good evening, ma’am.’ She bobbed a curtsey for the countess’s benefit and exchanged warm greetings with the girls. She was married to Luke’s brother Charlie and had become great friends with his sisters. ‘This is for you, Flora.’ She handed over a wrapped package. ‘I do hope you like it. And yes, the gentlemen are closeted in the library. Charlie promised to go and fetch them all, but I suspect that I won’t see him again—or any of them for that matter—for a long while.’

  Flora smiled. ‘I dare say not.’

  ‘Do open your gift, Flora.’ Mary bounced on her toes. ‘I so adore receiving presents myself.’

  Flora untied the pretty ribbon, pulled back the wrapping and found an exquisitely embroidered, very delicate shawl made from the exact same silk as her gown. She gasped her appreciation.

  ‘But this must have taken you hours,’ she said, feeling very emotional as she looked up at Miranda. ‘You are too kind. How did you know about the fabric?’

  ‘I am not nearly kind enough, given that you saved my life and ensured my happiness into the bargain.’

  ‘Hardly.’

  Flora had helped Miranda and Charlie to overcome various obstacles, but she couldn’t take all the credit for that. Remus, a Roman warrior and her self-appointed spirit guide, had been there to alert her when danger threatened, acting as an early-warning system courtesy of her second sight. Luke had benefited from it too, but stubbornly refused to believe that it was anything other than coincidence when she’d been able to warn him before disaster struck. His refusal to open his mind to her abilities saddened her, since in all other respects the two of them got along very well.

  ‘I knew the countess had commissioned a new gown fo
r you, so it was simply a matter of consulting the modiste, who advised me on the fabric.’

  Flora draped the shawl over her arms and smiled at Miranda. ‘Well, I am very grateful that you went to so much trouble on my behalf. I am quite overwhelmed.’

  Woodley, the butler, produced a bottle of champagne. Since the gentlemen had not yet deigned to join them, the countess decreed that they should open the bottle and share its contents.

  ‘You can be sure that they won’t be sipping tea,’ she said, disgruntled.

  The others agreed. Glasses were poured and everyone drank to Flora’s health. Flora smiled and laughed and thanked them all, thinking that she had grown closer to these people in a few short months than she had with her own family in over twenty years. This was where she belonged. Soon the gentlemen would join them, and she would have the pleasure of Luke’s company, and that of Archie Hardwick. She was half in love with them both, but she felt it was a harmless obsession since neither gentleman looked at her with responding interest.

  She didn’t care that no one from her family had bothered to send her their good wishes today. The Berangers were her family now, Beranger Court her home. But she felt perplexed by niggling concerns that had wormed their way into her brain, today of all days when she ought not to have a care in the world. She had learned long since not to doubt her instincts, but had no idea what they were telling her to expect, especially since Remus hadn’t bothered to show up. She comforted herself with the knowledge that he would probably tear himself away from his hedonistic other-worldly pursuits for long enough to enlighten her sooner rather than later. He always did in the end, even if he amused himself sometimes by making his warnings far from clear.

  Remus did so enjoy his little jokes.

  ‘Where are those tiresome boys?’ the countess demanded crossly, draining her sherry glass, and taking a new one brimming with champagne from Woodley’s tray. ‘The rest of the guests will be here soon. Really, if they will insist upon telling bawdy stories, they might be courteous enough to relate them in my presence.’