A Sense of Destiny (Perceptions Book 6) Read online

  Perceptions

  A Sense of Destiny

  Wendy Soliman

  Perceptions

  A Sense of Destiny

  Copyright © Wendy Soliman 2020

  Edited by Perry Iles

  Cover Design by Clockwork Art

  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.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Wiltshire: Autumn 1881

  The rain held off for the first time in over a week as Flora sat back against the comfortable cushions in the carriage that Archie Hardwick, the Marquess of Felsham, had sent to collect her. Drawn by two magnificent matching bays, with a driver on the box seat and a tiger up behind, she felt like royalty. Sunshine filtered through a bank of heavy cloud and beat down on the men she could see in the fields, taking advantage of the break in the weather to harvest their crops.

  ‘It’s a sign that I’m doing the right thing,’ she muttered.

  Talking to yourself?

  Flora almost jumped out of her skin at the sound of another voice, and placed a hand over her palpitating heart. It took her a moment to realise that the voice was coming from inside her head.

  ‘Remus!’ She spoke aloud, despite the fact that it was possible for her to communicate with her spirit guide telepathically. ‘I’ve told you before, it’s impolite to creep up on people.’

  Remus’s translucent form manifested itself on the seat across from her. Flora was amused to see that her irrepressible protector was garbed in a scarlet robe, elaborately trimmed with gold braid. But the garment didn’t reach his knees and left far too much of his ghostly person visible. He chuckled when she quickly averted her gaze.

  And there was me thinking you were finally overcoming your reserve, given that you are about to visit an unmarried man. And I did not creep. I am incapable of creeping. Everything I do is achieved with style and grace.

  ‘Why are you here?’ she asked anxiously. ‘I only ever see you when you think I need to be warned about something dire.’

  You saw me a few weeks ago, after you gave up living in the lap of luxury with your hunky earl, moved into that hovel of a cottage and became a kept woman.

  ‘It’s hardly a hovel and I am not being kept, as you so crudely suggest.’

  I know. I was hoping to see…

  ‘Don’t you dare spy on me, Remus! You are supposed to protect me, not live vicariously in the hope of seeing…well, whatever it is that you hope to see.’

  Remus flapped a translucent hand. You haven’t the remotest idea what I live in hope of enjoying, which proves what I have told you before. You are far too narrow-minded.

  ‘And you still haven’t told me why you are here.’ She smiled. ‘You’re curious, aren’t you? You want to see how the marquess lives. Can’t you go and spy on him in the same way that you snoop into my affairs? Why do you need to…? Ah, I think I know.’ She grinned at the apparition jiggling up and down on the seat across from her, now looking evasive. ‘You can’t see anything in my world unless it’s through my eyes.’

  Decent horses these. Remus floated through the roof to peer at the bays and then returned to his seat. The marquess has taste, I’ll grant him that much. He is such a hunk too. Remus’s expression turned dreamy. I don’t blame you for accepting his invitation.

  ‘I don’t know what you think we plan to do,’ Flora said, fighting a smile, ‘but it won’t be anything like as exciting as you hope. Sorry,’ she added, ‘but we are merely having lunch together.’

  Of course you are. Remus indulged in an elaborate eye-roll. Your high morals will ensure that you die an old maid and miss all the fun.

  ‘If it’s so much fun misbehaving where you are now, why have you dragged yourself away just to irritate me?’

  I thought you would enjoy a little immoral support. I know you must be nervous. His expression reflected carnal curiosity, making Flora smile in spite of herself. Visiting a single gentleman unchaperoned. A very attractive gentleman. His lameness makes him more appealing, one imagines. He’s still very…well, robust, despite his disability. Not that you have noticed, of course. Your father’s skewed sense of morality is too deeply ingrained in your soul for you to follow your instincts.

  ‘His opinion, I can assure you, has absolutely no bearing on the matter.’

  Don’t dismiss him out of hand; your father, that is. Your family haven’t given up on you yet and will no doubt resort to more underhand tactics to bring you back into the fold. Especially now that you have a little money of your own.

  ‘There is nothing they can do to me,’ Flora said, sounding more self-assured than she felt. Even talk of her father still had that effect upon her, which was exasperating.

  Are you sure about that? Can you honestly say that the possibility doesn’t keep you awake at night?

  She sighed impatiently. ‘I was looking forward to today. Now you are spoiling things by mentioning my father.’ She flapped a hand at him. ‘Go away and indulge in the blood sports you enjoy so much.’

  Sorry. Remus slumped into the corner and Flora averted her eyes when his toga rode up even higher. It was ridiculous really. He wasn’t a living person and no one else could see him. Even so, she really didn’t want to be treated to such an intimate view. Ignore me. You won’t know I’m here.

  Flora took him at his word and stared out the window at the passing scenery for the remainder of the journey. Remus could be annoying, and never seemed to take life—or in his case afterlife—too seriously. Even so, she was glad of his distracting company because she was more nervous about her decision to visit Archie than she was willing to admit. She had agonised over the wisdom of accepting his invitation, hampered by her Christian morality when it conducted full-scale warfare against her desires. Remus was right about that, even though she would never make the admission.

  She had distanced herself from her father, now the influential dean of Salisbury Cathedral, but the Christian tenets that had been drummed into her all her life were embedded too deeply for her to dismiss them out of hand, and the thought of causing a scandal was abhorrent to her. Even so, she had eventually agreed to take luncheon with Archie, perhaps in an unconscious act of defiance.

/>   She had accepted because she liked and trusted him to behave himself—well, probably. She didn’t think she was particularly attractive and he would find her easy to resist. She also sensed an underlying loneliness in the crippled man who had assumed massive responsibilities upon the recent death of his father. Taking luncheon alone with Archie Felsham was arguably the most daring thing she had done since finding the strength to break away from Cathedral Close and make her own way in the world, so she fully intended to enjoy herself and put to the back of her mind her doubts about the wisdom of her decision. No one need know. This was an unmarked carriage, Archie’s coachmen were not in livery and she was fairly sure that the servants in his house were too protective of their positions to gossip and risk dismissal.

  She felt a fluttering in her stomach as the carriage drew closer to Felsham Hall and turned between its towering gate posts. The gates were opened by a uniformed porter who saluted her. Flora pulled her half-veil lower and avoided looking at the man, belatedly wondering if the veil made her look as though she was keeping a clandestine engagement—the very impression she had been at pains to avoid. Recklessly, she threw the veil back and decided to have the courage of her convictions.

  She peered through the window as Felsham Hall itself came into view. Despite the ivy clinging to its wall, it looked dark and gothic, a bit like the impression its owner could sometimes project when his mood turned reflective. There were Doric pillars, turrets and towers crowned with pediments, steeply pitched rooves, tall chimneys and irregularly spaced windows. She could see that the house had originally been built around a quadrangle but additional wings had been added with no thought for architectural symmetry. The resulting structure looked large enough to accommodate a small army.

  ‘Who could possibly want so much space?’ she wondered aloud.

  It wasn’t a very picturesque house, Flora thought, but it somehow suited Archie’s quixotic personality. Neatly cut lawns sloped towards a meadow with woodland beyond it and she could see a ribbon-like river bubbling over a rocky bed in the far distance.

  A low whistle reminded her of Remus’s presence. It has possibilities. You should marry the man, then you can make this place more welcoming.

  ‘Unless you can make sensible suggestions, remain quiet if you will insist upon tagging along,’ Flora snapped.

  You know he’s halfway to being in love with you.

  ‘Nonsense! Honestly, Remus, I have absolutely no idea why your lords and masters inflicted you upon me. Your perceptions are, to put it charitably, askew.’

  Remus chuckled. Have it your way.

  Before Flora’s nerves had a chance to overtake her, the carriage rattled to a halt at the entrance portico and Archie stood at the top of wide stone steps, smiling as she took a footman’s proffered hand and alighted from the conveyance. She glanced up at Archie, suddenly nervous. He seemed so imposing; effortlessly conveying the impression of being master of all he surveyed—which, of course, he was. Authority came as naturally to him as breathing, causing Flora to wonder why such a great man would take the trouble to entertain her. Could Remus be right about his feelings for her? She chased such thoughts away, even though they echoed the opinion of her late charge, the Dowager Countess of Swindon.

  They had both got it entirely wrong.

  Dressed in sombre black since he was still in half-mourning for his father, Archie leaned upon his silver-handled stick, watching her with unnerving stillness. His handsome features that were never entirely free from pain softened as she hesitantly, and then with more confidence, returned his smile. This was irrepressible Archie—irreverent and approachable—not the powerful Marquess of Felsham, who could so easily intimidate her.

  ‘Don’t negotiate the steps,’ she said, glancing up at Archie. ‘I will come to you.’

  ‘Flora.’

  He took her hand when she reached his position and flashed that predatory smile of his that never failed to melt her insides as his approving gaze raked her attire. Flora would never admit it, not for a hundred pounds, but she had worn a new gown especially with the hope of impressing him. In lilac striped muslin, the dress showed off her narrow waist and its pinpoint bustle stopped short of a train. She fully intended to explore Archie’s lovely grounds and would prefer not to make a fool of herself by tripping over complex clothing that as a paid companion she’d seldom had occasion to wear and was not accustomed to.

  ‘Thank you for coming.’ He took her gloved hand in his and kissed the back of it. Her veil had fallen down over her eyes again and he pushed it back. ‘You don’t need to hide from me,’ he added softly.

  ‘Curiosity got the better of me,’ she replied with an impish smile. ‘And so I decided to come and see how you live and what you get up to.’

  He chuckled. ‘You are very welcome to see how I live. Other than that, I would prefer not to shock you.’

  ‘You are as bad as the countess. She was a great one for speaking about shocking behaviour, although I never saw any signs of it.’

  His chuckle turned into a full laugh. ‘Don’t tempt me,’ he warned.

  ‘How are you?’ she asked, steering the conversation back onto safer ground, as she pondered upon the inadvisability of flirting with a master of the art. She wondered too why she had done so. It had not been her intention, but there was something about Archie’s cavalier approach to life that was infectious and she simply didn’t seem able to help herself.

  ‘All the better for seeing you.’

  ‘I see your harvest is underway,’ she said, nodding towards the distant fields full of men at work.

  ‘The weather has delayed it.’ He offered her his arm and she placed her hand on his sleeve, feeling formal and a little intimidated as they stepped into his house. ‘My steward tells me there is more rain in the offing, so we are, quite literally, making hay while the sun shines.’

  He led her into a cavernous entrance vestibule from which an ornately carved oak staircase rose up to the first floor gallery from two different sides. The décor was outmoded and it felt chilly. She couldn’t begin to imagine how cold it must be in the winter. A butler stepped forward and Flora tensed. Butlers could be the most terrifying of creatures, very protective of their masters’ interests. This one covertly assessed her and she was pleasantly surprised when she sensed an affable aura about him.

  ‘Draper, this is Miss Latimer.’

  Draper inclined his head. ‘Your servant, ma’am.’

  ‘Good morning, Mr Draper.’

  ‘We shall take luncheon in half an hour, Draper,’ Archie said.

  ‘As you wish, my lord. I shall inform cook.’

  Draper disappeared on silent feet. ‘Phew!’ she said, watching him go.

  ‘You’re not afraid, are you?’ Archie sent her a considering look. ‘I have never known you to be afraid of anything. God alone knows, you stood up to the countess and she became devoted to you. Speaking personally, I never encountered anyone or anything more terrifying than Lady Beranger when she took it into her head to be contrary.’

  ‘The countess was lonely, and amused herself at the expense of those who didn’t have the backbone to stand up to her—which those who aspired to become her companion before me did not.’ Flora flashed a wry smile. ‘This is altogether different. I am here, alone with you.’ She rolled her eyes in a manner that would have impressed Remus. It did impress him, she belatedly realised, catching a glimpse of his emerging features floating in the space above their heads, a huge smile splitting his ghostly face. Really, he was the most inquisitive spirit guide in the universe, and she made a shooing motion behind her back with the fingers of one hand. ‘Only imagine if word spreads,’ she added mischievously. ‘My reputation will never recover.’

  ‘Then why did you come?’

  ‘Oh Archie, you know very well that despite everything I enjoy rebelling. Besides, I think I have earned the right. Your butler doesn’t seem to disapprove of me, which is an encouraging start.’ She paused, curiosity overcoming
good manners. ‘He seems young for such a responsible position.’

  ‘I pensioned off my father’s retainers the moment I assumed responsibility for the marquessate.’ A flash of pain passed through his eyes that had nothing to do with his disability and everything to do with the death of his beloved father, a man Flora knew he had respected and whose passing he regretted as much as Flora regretted the countess’s. They had that much in common. ‘I met Draper during my time in France,’ he added, referring to the ten years he had spent there following the accident that had crippled him. ‘He made himself useful to me, so I promised him a position here when I returned. When the butler’s situation became available, he seemed the obvious candidate.’ Archie winced and shifted his position.

  ‘What are we doing standing about here, discussing your domestic arrangements, when you are clearly in pain?’ Flora said. ‘We should be sitting down somewhere.’

  ‘Nonsense. My pain is manageable nowadays, thanks to you. See how much easier I find it to walk.’

  He headed along a wide corridor to prove his point. Flora hung back to watch his progress, pleased to observe that his limp was less pronounced and that he seemed able to walk a little faster. She caught up with him at the huge, ornately carved double doors to what was obviously the drawing room. She looked around the high-ceilinged room as she stepped into it, and couldn’t prevent a soft exclamation slipping past her lips. It was half the size again of the drawing room at Beranger Court but far less comfortable. The furnishings were probably of good quality, the artefacts dotted about very likely expensive antiques, but even the sun streaming in through the full length windows failed to alleviate the gloomy, unused feel. It was more like a museum than a drawing room.

  ‘Good heavens,’ she muttered.

  ‘It’s a barn of a place and long overdue for renovation,’ Archie said, correctly interpreting her reaction. ‘Somehow I never seem to find either the time or the inclination. I seldom use the room since I don’t entertain, so it doesn’t seem important. Besides, the pater liked it the way it is, so changing it wasn’t an option during his lifetime.’