Even though Flora had no wish to ‘come out’ herself, she did feel slighted at the fact that Aunt Charlotte, her mother’s sister, who was covering the cost of Aurelia’s debut, had not thought to do the same for her eldest niece.
Breakfast continued in its usual virtual silence. Alistair did not like idle chatter at the table, saying it disturbed his concentration while he was reading of world events. Flora glanced at her father from under her eyelashes. All she could see was his bald patch rising like a half-moon above his paper, wisps of greying red hair sprouting from just over his ears. How he has aged since the Boer War, she thought sadly. Alistair had sustained a gunshot wound, and although the surgeons had been able to save his right leg, he walked with a bad limp, supported by a stick. The most dreadful consequence of his injury was that the ex-cavalry officer, who had spent his life on horseback, now found himself in too much pain to ride out with the local hunt.
Even though they had lived under the same roof for nineteen years, Flora could recall no more than one or two conversations with her father that had continued past basic politeness. Alistair used his wife as his emissary to impart any wishes he might have for his daughter, or to express his displeasure. For the hundredth time, she wondered just why her mother had married him. Surely, with Rose’s beauty, intelligence and good family name – she’d been an ‘honourable’ before her marriage – she would have had a wealth of prospective suitors to choose from? Flora could only presume that her father possessed hidden depths that she’d never had the good fortune to find.
Alistair folded his newspaper meticulously, signalling the end of breakfast. A slight nod from Rose indicated that both girls could leave the table. They slid their chairs back and made to stand up.
‘Remember the Vaughans are coming tomorrow afternoon to take tea, so it’s baths for both of you tonight. Sarah, can you draw them before dinner?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Sarah bobbed a curtsey.
‘And Aurelia, you shall wear your pink muslin dress.’
‘Very good, Mama,’ Aurelia agreed as the two girls left the dining room.
‘The Vaughans’ daughter, Elizabeth, is making her debut with me,’ said Aurelia as they crossed the hall, her footfall echoing in the silence while Flora’s stockinged feet padded on the freezing granite slabs. ‘Mama says we visited them in Kent when we were younger, but for the life of me, I can’t remember it. Can you?’
‘Unfortunately, I can,’ said Flora as they mounted the stairs. ‘Their son, Archie, who must have been six to my four years, pelted me with crab apples in their orchard. I was bruised all over. He was quite the nastiest boy I’ve ever met.’
‘I wonder if he’s improved,’ chuckled Aurelia. ‘He must be twenty-one now, if you’re nineteen.’
‘Well, we shall see, but if he decides to pelt me with crab apples again, I shall simply return the favour with stones.’
Aurelia giggled. ‘Please don’t. Lady Vaughan is Mama’s oldest friend and you know Mama adores her. Well, at least I will know one person before I go to London. I hope Elizabeth likes me, because I’m sure the young ladies are far more sophisticated down south. I shall feel like a country peasant in comparison.’
‘And I am absolutely certain that’s not how you’ll be seen when you’re dressed up in all your finery.’ Flora opened the door to her bedroom and Aurelia followed her in. ‘You’ll be the most ravishing debutante of the Season, Aurelia, I’m sure of it. Although I don’t envy you,’ she added, crossing the bedroom to open Posy’s cage and allow the rabbit to run free.
‘Are you absolutely sure you don’t, Flora?’ Aurelia perched on the end of the bed. ‘Despite your protestations to the contrary, I’ve been worried that you might. After all, it’s not fair that I’m to have a debut when you didn’t.’
‘What would all my animals do without me?’
‘True, although I’d like to see your future husband’s face when you insist on sharing your marital bedroom with your menagerie!’ Aurelia scooped up Posy in her arms.
‘If he misbehaves, I’ll set Albert the rat upon him.’
‘Can I borrow your pet if necessary, then?’
‘With pleasure.’ Flora grimaced. ‘Aurelia, we both know the Season is simply about finding you a husband. Do you want to get married?’
‘To be truthful, I’m not sure about the marriage part, but I’d rather like to fall in love, yes. Doesn’t every girl?’
‘Do you know, I’m beginning to think a spinster’s life would suit me well. I shall live in a cottage surrounded by my animals, who will all love me unconditionally. It seems far safer than ever loving a man.’
‘But rather dull, don’t you think?’
‘Perhaps, but then I think I am rather dull.’ Flora picked up the dormice, Maisie and Ethel, in one of her palms and they curled up contently with their bushy tails wrapped around their heads, as she swept out their cage with her other hand.
‘Goodness, Flora, when will you ever stop putting yourself down? You excelled in the schoolroom, you can speak French fluently, and you draw and paint like a dream. I’m a complete dunce in comparison.’
‘Now who’s putting themselves down?’ Flora teased. ‘Besides, we both know that being beautiful is a far more prized quality in a woman. It’s pretty, entertaining girls that marry well, not plain old bones like me.’
‘Well, I shall miss you terribly when I do get married. Perhaps you could come with me to my new home, for I really don’t know what I’ll do without you. Now, I must go downstairs.’ Aurelia let Posy hop to the floor. ‘Mama wishes to speak to me about the London diary.’
As Aurelia left the room, Flora imagined herself rattling about in Aurelia’s future home – the maiden aunt that appeared so regularly in novels she had read. Sliding off her bed and going to her desk, Flora unlocked the bottom drawer and took out her silk-covered journal. Pushing up her sleeves so as not to get ink on the lace cuffs, she began to write.
10
The following morning, Flora hitched her pony, Myla, to the trap and drove into Hawkshead to collect the box of discarded cabbage leaves and old carrots kindly saved for her by Mr Bolton, the greengrocer. She knew her parents didn’t approve of her driving herself, feeling it inappropriate that the eldest daughter of Esthwaite Hall should be seen in anything other than a carriage, but Flora was not to be dissuaded.
‘After all, Mama, since you and Papa let our driver go, there’s only Stanley to drive me and I feel it’s terribly unfair to ask him, when he has so much else to do in the stables.’