Chapter Nineteen #2
‘Mrs Armstrong has some other use for Papa, I just know it.’ Farrah continued to tap her fingers gently on Percival’s head.
‘She made sure that I knew she is in contact with him, but for the life of me I cannot think why she would do such a thing.’ Feeling agitated again, she wanted to stand and pace the length of the room.
She thought better when she could move, but Percival’s head was still firmly lodged in her lap, and the weight of it suggested that he had fallen asleep.
She didn’t have the heart to disturb him.
‘She has taken up residence in this part of the world to … well to send some sort of message to Papa, or more to the point to us, his family, I suppose. Whatever her reasons for coming to this quiet corner of Hampshire, it cannot be a coincidence.’
Reuben looked exceptionally grave. ‘We have a lot of questions that require answers, but we have already dallied for too long and will be missed. Shall we meet again tomorrow?’
Farrah tilted her head in agreement. ‘Very well,’ she said.
‘We had best return to the drawing room now. I have yet to speak with Mrs Armstrong myself. Let me see what I make of her, and we will compare notes tomorrow.’
‘You will obviously spot something that I have missed,’ Farrah said with asperity.
Reuben chuckled as he held out a hand to help her to her feet.
Recognising that Reuben had moved, Percival stirred, abandoned Farrah’s lap and leapt to his feet too.
Farrah placed her hand in Reuben’s, powerless to resist despite the fact that she was perfectly capable of rising from a chair unaided, just as the door burst open and Charlotte skipped through it.
‘Reuben, where have you got to? Oh!’ She giggled, failing to hide the gesture behind her hand when she noticed their clasped hands. ‘Pray excuse me. I did not mean to interrupt. Mama sent me to find you.’
Reuben dropped Farrah’s hand and ruffled his sister’s head. ‘We were about to join you,’ he said.
‘We are having the most tremendous fun,’ Charlotte said, falling into step beside Farrah as the three of them left Reuben’s library.
‘We are still attempting to guess the identity of Madame Celeste. None of us are in agreement since the possibilities are endless.’ She giggled once again.
‘And becoming more and more outlandish.’
‘Have you narrowed the field down?’ Farrah asked, not daring to glance over her shoulder at Reuben, aware that he would have heard every word Charlotte had spoken and that the subject matter would have reignited his disapproval.
She wondered with a sinking heart if this fresh evidence of the damage she had done would make her seem even more vulgar than he already considered her to be.
Very likely. She didn’t need to see the evidence in his expression to have her fears confirmed.
And so instead she lifted her chin and listened to Charlotte’s cheerful chatter.
‘We are all agreed that Madame must be a member of society, otherwise she wouldn’t know so much about our ways.
’ Farrah could see a dozen flaws in that argument but chose not to voice them.
‘We think she must be an older lady, perhaps a widow, who has seen a great deal of life.’ Reuben cleared his throat but said nothing.
‘But the matrons all insist that no one in society would lower themselves and that Madame must hail from the middle classes. A lady who has fallen on hard times, perhaps. What is your opinion, Farrah?’
‘Goodness me, you are asking the wrong person. I never took a great deal of interest in the dozens of ladies I met during my season, and I am ashamed to say that I cannot recall half the names of the people who crossed my path.’ She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
‘Strictly between ourselves, I couldn’t wait to get away.
I found the entire rigmarole exhausting. ’
‘That is so very sad.’ Charlotte appeared confused by Farrah’s admission. ‘It is tiring, I dare say, but I cannot wait to participate.’
‘And you will be surrounded by suitors,’ Farrah replied, pinching her cheek. ‘The duke will have to fight them off.’
‘Oh, I’m sure both of my brothers will be impossibly protective, but they cannot watch me the entire time.’
‘Don’t be so sure,’ Reuben said in a deep, rumbling voice.
‘You see what I mean?’
Farrah laughed, but by that point they had reached the doors to the drawing room, saving her from the effort of prolonging a conversation she would much prefer not to participate in.
‘Ah, Reuben, there you are.’ The duchess beamed.
‘You have need of me?’ Reuben asked.
‘We wondered where you had got to, but never mind, you are here now and …’ The duchess looked up. ‘What is it, Pearson,’ she asked when the butler approached her chair, proffering a salver.
Farrah’s heart quickened when she noticed that the letter resting on it was black-edged. Her nerves only settled when she realised that bad news regarding her father would have been addressed to her own mother and breathed a little easier.
The duchess opened her letter with the knife that also rested on the tray. Conversations stalled and everyone in the room trained their eyes upon the duchess as she read her note and visibly paled.
‘Ah, so it has happened.’ She turned towards Farrah’s mother, seated beside her, and clasped her hand. ‘I am so very sorry, my dear.’
Mama blinked. ‘What is it, Agnes?’
‘Lord Bartholomew’s suffering has finally come to an end. He died peacefully earlier today.’
‘Oh.’ Mama seemed to be lost for words.
‘I know you and your sister were estranged, but even so …’
‘Alice and I have not spoken for years, it is true, but blood is thicker than water. I will of course send a note of condolence.’
Farrah suspected she would do no such thing.
Even in death, she would still bear her sister a grudge.
She watched the gamut of emotions flitting across her mother’s features, none of which showed the least sign of sorrow.
In fact, Farrah was almost convinced that there was momentary exuberance in her mother’s countenance.
Farrah did not like her very much at that moment, and was finally able to admit to herself that she had long since lost any respect or feelings of duty that she ought to have entertained towards her selfish, dissatisfied mother.
She glanced up, aware of the heavy weight of Reuben’s gaze resting upon her features.
She gave an infinitesimal tilt of her head to indicate that she had not lost her senses, but she herself felt great sorrow for her aunt’s loss and fully intended to call upon her and pay her respects.
What’s more, she would not keep her intentions secret from her mother.
She alone was keeping the family solvent, after a fashion, which entitled her to do as she pleased. Her mother’s grievance was not her own.
Farrah had no further opportunity to converse privately either with Reuben or Mrs Armstrong before her family took their leave.
They did so very soon after the duchess read her note.
Mama was clearly embarrassed to be the centre of attention for all the wrong reasons.
She attempted to play down her rift with her sister and made vague noises about expressing her condolences in person, but Farrah didn’t think anyone on the room was fooled by her pretence, as evidenced by the thinly veiled sceptical looks that passed between them.
Fodder for the gossip machine, no doubt.
That and the fact that she and Reuben had disappeared for much longer than Farrah had realised.
‘How excruciatingly embarrassing,’ Mama proclaimed the moment they were installed in their carriage and it had moved off. ‘Why on earth could not Bartholomew have had the goodness to die at some other time.’
‘Mama!’ Farrah was truly shocked by her callousness.
‘And why inform the duchess and not me?’
‘You have not spoken to your sister in my lifetime,’ Farrah replied briskly. ‘But I understand she was intimate with the duchess. It stands to reason that she would notify her friend before her sister, given the circumstances.’
‘Ha!’ Mama rippled her shoulders, managing to imbue the gesture with a wealth of indignation. ‘She was always one to aim high.’
The hypocrisy was not lost on Farrah, but she knew it would be a waste of breath, to say nothing of creating even more friction between them, if she remarked upon her mother’s double standards.
‘Do you intend to offer your condolences?’ Farrah asked.
‘Don’t be so ridiculous! I have been greatly wronged by my sister and even the death of her husband does not alter the fact that she was the one at fault.
She is well aware that I will never speak to her until she offers me an apology.
’ Mama paused. ‘A sincere apology. If she does so, then I am sure I will find it in my heart to forgive her. I am not one to bear grudges.’
Even Sophia’s eyes bulged at that falsehood.
‘Then I shall go alone,’ Farrah said.
Mama, who had fallen into conversation with Sophia, attempting to cajole her out of a fit of the blue devils because the duke had barely noticed her, suddenly broke off and turned to gape at Farrah.
‘You will do no such thing!’ she said acerbically. ‘We do not speak to my sister.’
‘You do not, Mama. She has done nothing to offend me.’
‘That is because you are unaware of the cause of our disagreement.’
‘Then enlighten me. I have asked you often enough, but you have never seen fit to discuss the matter.’
‘And nor shall I now. Your duty is to me, your mother, and you are not to go anywhere near Lady Bartholomew. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Crystal clear, Mama.’ Farrah tone remained level in the face of her mother’s angry tirade.
‘But I still intend to condole with my aunt. I am no longer a child. In fact, were it not for me then we would no longer be able to afford to put food on the table and so I think I have earned the right to follow my instincts.’
‘You exaggerate. Your father will return soon and all will be well.’
Farrah shook her head and fell silent, knowing when to let a conversation die.
‘Where did you go to with the duke for so long?’ Sophia demanded in a petulant tone. ‘What could he possibly have had to say to you for all that time?’
Her mother and sister both looked at her as they awaited her reply, but neither one of them thought to ask if she had made progress in the search for Papa. And that, Sophia had just decreed in a whiny voice, was the only matter that they could possibly have to discuss.