by Robert Thier
Well, ‘poor cane’ was really all that needed to be said.
‘But where is Mr Linton?’ the captain enquired, glancing around in the coach, seeing only two other occupants. ‘Isn’t he coming back with us?’
‘He,’ my dear employer said with frostbite in his voice, ‘had to ride. I thought he deserved a lesson. His performance has been less than pleasing, lately.’
‘Indeed?’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘You sang a different tune yesterday night when-’
A kick from Mr Ambrose silenced me. Probably better that way. The ending of that sentence would likely have given the good captain a rather nasty shock.
With three passengers, plus luggage, and a coachman and gigantic bodyguard on the box of the carriage, we travelled more slowly than we had done on our way to Newcastle. Still, only once did we stop at an inn. The sun was just rising high enough to peek over the trees when we continued our journey towards Mr Ambrose’s ancestral home.
‘Do you think anyone will be expecting us?’ I enquired as I caught the first glances of the huge manor house through the trees. ‘Did you send word ahead?’
‘And waste perfectly good money on a message that will only arrive a day earlier than us?’ Mr Ambrose gave me a cool look. ‘Don’t be absurd, Miss Linton.’
‘Oh. Well, I suppose we can knock and see…’
‘There! There they are!’
The last words didn’t come from me. They didn’t come from Captain Carter either, and they most certainly did not come from Mr Rikkard Ambrose. No, they came from two figures on the steps of the manor house, waving and calling as if we were a whole boatload full of prodigal sons returning.
‘Seems like your dear mama has been missing you.’ I gifted Mr Ambrose with a brilliant smile. ‘Isn’t that sweet?’
The look I got in return didn’t contain much sugar.
‘Well, let’s not keep her waiting!’ The coach rolled to a stop and, grabbing Mr Ambrose by the hand, I towed him out of the coach and towards the waiting women. They started to rush down the steps towards us. ‘I’m sure your mother will be ecstatic to see you agai-’
‘Lillian!’ Throwing her arms around me, Lady Samantha engulfed me in an ocean of pink fluff. ‘Lillian, dear, oh we were so worried! Are you all right? Are your injuries better? Oh, we were so terrified when we heard! We’re so happy that you’re back on your feet again!’
‘Yes,’ Mr Ambrose’s voice came from somewhere beyond the fluffy pink vice that engulfed me. ‘I can see that my mother is clearly ecstatic to see me again.’
‘You…’ Letting go of me, Lady Samantha marched up to her son, glared up at him and poked him in the chest. I am not joking. She actually and truly extended her forefinger and poked Mr Rikkard Ambrose in the chest. And her finger didn’t freeze and drop or anything like that. ‘How could you! How could you take Miss Linton into such terrible danger? Rick, I don’t know what to do with you! I really don’t…’
Her words drained away, and she simply stood there, gazing up at her son. She didn’t look angry. She didn’t even look mildly annoyed. No, it was much worse than that. She looked disappointed. Her big blue eyes gazed up at her son with a look that said: You did this? I thought you were better than that. I thought I could rely on you,
Mr Ambrose shifted.
‘Miss Linton insisted on accompanying me. She-’
‘Well, of course she did!’ Lady Samantha glanced over at me, and her gaze held so much warmth and love and tenderness, I felt the instinctive urge to duck behind a bush to shield myself from the onslaught. ‘I wouldn’t have expected anything less.’
‘You shouldn’t have listened to her!’ That was Adaira, jumping into the conversation and glaring at her brother. ‘It obviously was a stupid idea!’
Then she turned to me and threw her arms around me. ‘I’m so happy you’re back! You’re the only sensible female hereabouts!’
I could have pointed out that those two statements were a tiny little bit contradictory, but instead simply hugged her back and grinned at Mr Ambrose over her shoulder. The look he shot back at me was less than pleased. My grin widened.
‘Lady Samantha?’ Bowing, Captain Carter approached the lady of the house. ‘I see that you have quite a lot to discuss with Miss Linton and your son. I shall return to my room and see you at dinner.’
‘Of course, Captain. Of course. Thank you for ensuring that this county is secure again, and we can all sleep safely in our beds tonight.’
‘Only doing my duty, Your Ladyship.’
And, with another bow, he marched off towards the house, where a footman was already waiting for him.
‘I will leave as well,’ Mr Ambrose stated coolly. ‘I have some urgent business matters to take care of that cannot-’
‘You stay right where you are!’ Letting go of me, Adaira marched up to her brother, blocking his way. ‘Mother and I have a few things to say to you, brother dear.’
‘But first,’ Lady Samantha added, turning back to me with that expression that simultaneously made me feel warm inside and made me want to run for the hills, ‘we’ll take care of you, my dear. You must be exhausted! After all the things that excuse for a son of mine put you through-’
‘I’m fine,’ I protested. ‘Really, my injuries weren’t as bad as you might have heard. A few scrapes, a black eye, a couple of bruised ribs - nothing much.’
‘Black eye? Bruised ribs?’
Oh. Hadn’t I mentioned those in my letters yet? Oops.
‘Rikkard Ambrose!’ Blue eyes wide with horror, Lady Samantha turned on her son. I judged this might be the right opportunity to sneak away - but no such luck. She immediately turned back and engulfed me in another hug, as if trying to shield me from the whole big, bad world. A second later, she was joined by Lady Adaira. Unfair! Two against one!
‘Oh, you poor, poor dear…’
‘We’ll keep you safe here, don’t worry.’
‘Come. Let’s find you a quiet place to rest, and you can tell us all about it.’
Can I? Does that include my crossdressing and my recent ‘business deal’, My Lady?
But I didn’t even get a chance to ask that question. Instead, I was dragged away, well aware that something was going to happen to me that I hadn’t experienced for nearly fifteen years. I was going to be intensely, thoroughly, and lengthily mothered.
May God have mercy on me.
*~*~**~*~*
I was sitting in the small pink drawing room - a rather great honour, probably, for from the decor I deduced this was the favourite room of the lady of the house - when a knock sounded from the door. Lady Samantha ceased plying me with tea and biscuits for a moment, and glanced over her shoulder.
‘Come in.’
The door opened, and Rikkard Ambrose appeared in the doorway.
‘Not you! You stay out. You’ve caused enough damage as it is.’
‘Mother, I-’
‘Not another word!’
Hurriedly, I swallowed a mouthful of biscuit, clearing the way. ‘It’s all right, Lady Samantha. I don’t mind if he comes in.’
‘Of course you don’t, child.’ She gave me a smile that was more motherly than a pregnant midwife expecting her thirteenth child. I almost could read her thoughts stamped on her forehead: He’s let you get hurt so badly, and still you want to be near him. Oh dear, you can’t help yourself, can you?
Well, as a matter of fact, I couldn’t. But there was also the small fact that he was the one who signed my monthly pay cheque. I could hardly order him from the room, especially one that wasn’t mine.
Mr Ambrose’s jaw tightened. ‘I am coming in.’
‘Rikkard Ambrose, don’t you dare! I forbid-’
Ignoring his mother, Mr Ambrose strode into the room, followed by the hulking figure of Karim.
‘I will speak to Miss Linton alone, Mother.’
‘You will do no such thing!’
It sounded brave, and Lady Samantha even tried to put her hands on her hips and look
properly outraged, but next to the towering form of Karim and the black-clad menace that was her own son, she appeared distinctly unscary. There was simply no way you could look as sweet and harmless as Lady Samantha and order someone like Mr Rikkard Ambrose around. It was a physical impossibility. I wondered how she had gotten him to eat his spinach when he was little.
‘Please, Your Ladyship.’ Just as she was about to gather her courage and attempt to move mountains and icebergs for me, I placed a restraining hand over hers. ‘I’d like to have a word with him.’
‘Oh dear…are you sure?’ Her eyes wandered from me to Mr Ambrose, and back to me and the faint remnants of bruising still visible on my face.
‘Yes,’ I told her. ‘I’m sure.’ Sure that I don’t want him to pick you up and throw you out of the room. Which he will do, if you don’t move.
‘Very well. You may speak with him, and I will go. But I will not leave you alone with him. A gentleman alone-’ She interrupted herself, glanced at Karim, and after some clearly painful deliberation, corrected herself: ‘Two gentlemen alone with a lady in her room - that isn’t seemly. I won’t allow it.’
Reaching for a little bell on the table next to the chaise longue where she had wrapped me up in blankets and started stuffing me with home-made biscuits, she rang. Immediately, a maid scurried into the room and curtsied.
‘Yes, My Lady?’
‘I shall leave for a little while. Remain here and keep Miss Linton, my son and Mr…’, again, she glanced at Karim, ‘…and his associate company. If Miss Linton needs anything, or there is anything else amiss, fetch me immediately, understood?’
The maid’s eyes flickered from me to Mr Ambrose and back. She blushed, and her eyes widened.
‘Oh. Um, yes My Lady.’
‘Good. I shall take my leave, then.’
And giving her son a last meant-to-be-stern-but-really-loving look, she strode out of the room.
Silence descended.
For a long, long moment, Mr Ambrose simply stood there, staring at me with those icy, sea-coloured eyes of his. Then, finally:
‘I am sorry you were hurt, Miss Linton.’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘Indeed?’ An apology from Mr Rikkard Ambrose? A rare thing indeed. But why is he telling me this? I already know this.
‘Yes. I can think of people who deserve it much more than you do. One in particular comes to mind.’
Ah. So that’s it.
This wasn’t about what had happened to me. This was about what might happen to someone else if I wasn’t careful.
‘I trust you remember our agreement?’ Mr Ambrose enquired, his voice soft as the snow before the avalanche.
‘Indeed I do.’
‘Adequate.’
In the corner of the room, the maid was practically panting with the effort to appear as if she weren’t listening.
‘And you shall keep up your end of the bargain?’
‘Certainly I shall.’
‘And you are, I presume, aware that it is an exclusive agreement?’
‘It is?’
‘Oh yes, Miss Linton. In fact, I insist on exclusively receiving the benefits from this particular contract.’
‘I see.’
In the corner, the maid was blinking fast, trying to decipher Ambrose’s speech - to no avail.
‘Is that all?’ I enquired.
‘Yes, Miss Linton. That was all.’ Turning, he strode towards the door. Only when he had reached the door did he turn around once more, and for the first time I noticed that Karim hadn’t moved.
‘One more thing, Miss Linton…after the terrible ordeal you’ve lived through, I feel concern about your safety.’
‘You do?’
‘Oh yes. You must allow me to extend my protection to you. Karim here, my trusted bodyguard, will remain with you for the foreseeable future. He has sharp eyes and will make sure that nothing untoward happens in my absence.’
My eyes went wide with shock. He couldn’t be serious! He couldn’t be planning to-
In the corner I heard the maid sigh. ‘How romantic…’
Romantic? Romantic my feminist foot!
‘Till we meet again, Miss Linton.’
And he strode out of the room, closing the door behind him.
A Companion for a Lady
I had a chaperone. A chaperone.
And not just that.
I had a turban-wearing, sabre-swinging, seven-foot-tall chaperone with a figure like a whole team of wrestlers and a beard the size of Lincolnshire. A chaperone who would use hard fists instead of soft reprimands to make sure nothing ‘improper’ would be going on.
Concerned about my safety?
Ha!
Mr Rikkard Ambrose was about as concerned about my safety as a turtle was concerned about forgetting its shell at home. It was just a ruse! A ruse to make sure that a certain captain of the British Army didn’t come within a hundred feet of me.
Lady Samantha, unfortunately, wasn’t quite perceptive enough to see through her son’s diabolical plans. Instead, she was delighted at the interest her dear Ricky seemed to take in my ‘safety’, and immediately forgave him everything for which she had been blaming him, the scheming son of a bachelor!
‘Isn’t it sweet of him that he’s being so thoughtful?’ she whispered, pressing my hand and glancing over at Karim, who stood in the corner of the room, arms crossed, stiff as a piece of furniture. (If furniture could scowl and carry heavy weaponry.)
‘Oh yes. Very sweet.’
‘He must really care for you.’
My heart made a leap, and I glanced over at Karim again. Had he heard? He shouldn’t be able to. We were speaking very low, and he was across the room from us. But I wouldn’t put it past that big bearded brute to have the ears of an Egyptian fruit bat hidden away somewhere under that turban of his.
So I simply gave Lady Samantha’s hand a gentle squeeze in return and winked. Her face broke into a dreamy smile. Never in my life had a wink been received with so much delight.
‘Oh, my dear! So there is something between the two of you! I knew it! I simply knew it! Has he…has he said anything yet?’
‘Hm, let me think…’ Considering, I tapped my chin. ‘I think I do remember him speaking a word or two…’
‘Really?’ Her eyes went wide.
‘Yes. I think it was last year. The words were “work” and “faster”. If I remember, he used them quite a bit on his employees.’
‘Oh, Miss Linton! Don’t jest with me!’
‘You called me Lillian before,’ I pointed out.
‘Did I?’ Her ears turned pink. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, my dear. I must have been overcome, seeing you safe and sound again after I heard you were injured.’
‘I don’t mind.’
Our gazes met and held for a long, long moment. There was understanding in the air between us. ‘Neither did I,’ Her Ladyship said, softly. ‘I shall look forward to the day when I can call you Lillian, my dear.’
With a smile, she rose and turned away. Perhaps it was my imagination, but just before she left the room, I thought I heard the whispered words ‘…and maybe even call you daughter.’
Blood rose to my cheeks, and I hoped against hope that Karim had not heard that.
*~*~**~*~*
Thud!
‘Ow! What, by the beard of the-!’
‘He! What is this?’ Shoving forward, I pushed against the door.
Thud! ‘Ouch! Stop that, you accursed woman!’
‘Karim? Karim, is that you?’
‘Who else?’
‘I don’t know,’ I shot through the gap. ‘Offhand, I can think of about fifty people who would be more likely to stand in front of my bedroom door in the morning. What in God’s name are you doing out there?’
‘Standing guard.’
‘Standing guard?’
‘Yes. On Ambrose Sahib’s orders.’
‘What for?’
‘To protect you from anyone who might wish to come
inside to do you harm.’ A snort came from beyond the door. ‘Although I must wonder whether the reverse would not be more practical.’
‘Get out of my way or I’ll brain you with my parasol!’
‘My point exactly.’
Feet shuffled outside. The way was clear. Buttoning up the last few buttons of my dress, I pushed open the door - and there he was: big, bearded and beastly as ever. Karim was just missing a bonnet, a fan and a plain brown dress to make the perfect young lady’s chaperone. I refrained from mentioning that to him, however.
‘Why exactly are you here?’ I demanded. ‘Don’t tell me that Mr Ambrose is afraid Captain Carter would sneak to my room at night to sing love ballads to me and ensnare me in a web of passion?’
Karim’s face remained as impassive as a block of wood with a big beard.
‘It is not for me to question the Sahib’s instructions.’
‘No, of course it isn’t. So, you are going to follow me around everywhere from now on?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is there any way I can get rid of you?’
‘No.’
‘What if I bribe you?’
‘No.’
‘What if I knock you over the head?’
‘No.’
‘What about if I start taking my clothes off?’
A slightly unusual tactic, I admit, but one I had actually employed with success in the past. Only…that had been in the wilderness of the Amazonian jungle, not in the hallway of the most lavish British manor house north of the River Trent. I had a feeling that Lady Samantha would be less understanding of my semi-naked state than the nice Indian tribe we had visited back then. I wouldn’t do it. Not here.
Still…Karim didn’t need to know that, did he?
His eyes widened. ‘You would not! Not even you would dare…not here, no!’
‘Are you sure?’ Suggestively, I played with the top button of my dress. ‘You’d better run, if you want to preserve the innocence of your eyes.’
For one long moment, he wavered, torn between his duty and escaping the clutches of yours truly - then his face set into even grimmer lines, and he crossed his arms in front of his chest.
‘Do your worst, woman who is worse than ifrit. I have orders from Ambrose Sahib. I shall not go.’
