‘Um… very well. Go ahead. That was not bad, just now. Not bad at all.’
I curtsied again. ‘Thank you very much, Madam. You are too kind, Madam. Your obedient servant, Madam.’ Curtsying twice more just to make the point, I withdrew.
On the other side of the coach, I met my sister. Unfortunately, it was the wrong one. I smiled at Maria as brightly as the sunshine and did another curtsy.
‘Dear Sister! How glad I am to see you. Might I enquire where I can find my dear, dear, dear sister Ella? I wish to speak to her, my dear.’
Maria stared at my bright smile with open eyes, her mouth forming a little 'o'.
‘Have you been drinking from uncle’s port wine?’ she demanded.
I wish I had. I had never tried alcohol myself, but I’d heard it was pretty good for numbing the brain and lessening the pain of torturous experiences - like the one I was going through right now.
‘Good heavens, no, dearest sister. Whatever can have given you that impression? I would never be so presumptuous! Moreover, why would a lady even think of drinking spirits? What an outlandish idea, my dearest sister.’
I smiled again, and curtsied again. And again. Maria was dumbstruck. Blimey, my acting skills were fantastic. I should really consider going on the stage.
‘I shall depart now and go looking for dear Ella, my dear Maria.’
I was hardly around the corner when my smile flickered and went out. Blast! This would be difficult to keep up.
I met Ella as she was leaving our house on Wilkins' arm. Immediately, I switched my smile back on and positioned myself on her other side. From the still-open door of our house, I caught a whiff of exotic flowers.
‘New bouquets?’ I asked her in an undertone.
Ella turned her wide, pleading eyes on me.
‘Half a dozen of them! He has told me that my lips look like rose petals, and my hair like sunflowers, and my skin like lilies, and he apparently thinks it necessary to bring me copious quantities of all that vegetation every time he makes a comparison. Please don't leave me, Lill!’
I patted her arm. ‘Don’t you worry. I’m right here.’
For a moment she closed her eyes in silent gratitude. She looked about ready to faint. And this time, I was ready to bet her anxiety had nothing to do with the fact that the man next to her wished to marry her against her will. A knight of the British Empire was leading her by the arm! That was enough to make Ella faint any day.
I, personally, didn’t have such a high opinion of Britain’s aristocracy. They didn’t seem to have anything better to do than to roam their lands shooting pheasants and foxes. Not that I missed those - I had met a pheasant in Green Park once, and it had squawked at me in a most unpleasant manner, enough for anybody to want to shoot it - but still, they didn’t seem to be a very productive sort of bird[35]. The aristocracy, I mean, not the pheasants.
We all walked to the coach, Wilkins taking the place on one side of her while I squeezed myself in on the other side, in easy slapping distance of his face. With his long nose and over-large ears, he didn’t seem like the sort of chap who would suddenly start ravishing a young lady, but then, you could never be sure. I wanted to be close so he wouldn’t get any quick ravishing done while I wasn’t looking.
‘Well,’ Sir Philip said, beaming widely. ‘Isn’t this cosy?’
Not for the first time I wondered whether there was something wrong with his brain.
The others climbed in after us, the driver jumped onto the box and off we went. The coach wheels rattled on the cobblestones as we moved towards Lady Metcalf’s residence at a brisk pace. Needless to say I didn’t know how long the drive was going to be. I was not a regular visitor there.
Just before we turned around the first corner, I looked back and saw a figure standing in front of our neighbour’s house. Even at this distance I could see the anguished look on Edmund’s face. My, my. The chap had really got it bad. I was so glad I didn’t have anything to do with this stuff called love and never would be stupid enough to. It never seemed to work out right.
Suddenly, Ella turned her head to look back, and I quickly turned forward again, fixing my new official ball-grin on my face. It was hard to keep up. The expression on Ella’s face as she gazed at her love disappearing in the distance was like a poisoned dagger to the heart of a loving sister.
‘What are you looking at, Miss Ella?’ enquired the blasted Wilkins, turning to follow her gaze.
‘Oh, nothing, nothing,’ she said hurriedly and, thank the Lord, it was at that exact moment we turned the corner and Edmund vanished from sight.
‘Well,’ Wilkins chuckled nervously, turning around again, ‘I guarantee you that anything we might be leaving behind is not half as interesting as what we are driving towards.’
‘Indeed?’ Ella’s voice was polite but indignant; disbelieving love-light shone in her eyes.
Anne leant forward, her curiosity peeked. ‘Is Lady Metcalf’s ball going to be that spectacular, then? Do you know something we don't?’
‘No, I fancy the ball will be pretty much like any other ball in London, though I do by no means intend to demean Lady Metcalf’s hospitality.’
‘Then what are you talking about?’
‘Forgive me.’ He smiled at us in a manner he obviously intended to be mysterious. For most of the inmates of the coach, it actually worked. ‘I should have expressed myself more clearly. It is not what we are driving towards that is extraordinary, but whom we are driving towards.’
Now he definitely had Anne’s and Maria’s attention.
‘Are we to understand that there will be a personage of special importance present at the ball tonight?’ Leaning forward even farther, Maria lost no time in asking the central question: ‘Is it a man?’
‘Yes, Miss Maria.’
The twins’ eyes gleamed, and even Lisbeth’s seemed to flicker. Mine slid shut in desperation. I knew what the next word out of their mouths would be. It started with an ‘m’. And the one after that with an ‘o’. And the one after that… hmm… let me think… with an ‘s’.
‘Married or single?’ Anne demanded.
I’m good at guessing, aren’t I?
‘Single, I believe.’
Opening my eyes again, I took a peek. If the twins' eyes had been shining before, they were ablaze now. They had sniffed prey and were preparing for the hunt.
‘You’re being very coy, Sir Philip,’ Maria accused him, giggling. ‘You’re giving us answers of one or two syllables.’
Four or five syllables, actually, Maria, but who’s counting.
‘What is so special about this man?’
‘Yes, tell us! What’s so special about him?’
Sir Philip raised an eyebrow. ‘Apart from the fact that he’s just about the richest man in the city of London?’
My eyes, which had just been about to close again, flew wide open. My heartbeat picked up and so did my breathing. Good God in heaven! The last person of whom I had heard that said… no, that couldn’t be! He couldn’t be at a ball, could he? What would he be doing at a ball? He’d told me himself he hated any and every kind of social event!
Anne’s and Maria’s eyes were blazing like bonfires now. ‘And his name? His manner? His looks?’
Sir Philip shook his head with a smile.
‘No, Ladies. You will not be getting any more information out of me. It wouldn’t do any good. He has to be seen to be believed.’
Oh my God, it’s him! I know it! It’s him!
Dear Lord, no! I was going to meet him? In a dress? With my family there, and people laughing and dancing everywhere? What the bloody hell was I going to say? What was I going to do? And most important of all, where would I hide?
Twice Surprised
By the time we arrived at Lady Metcalf's, I was a nervous wreck. And I didn’t mean some figurative-speech kind of wreck. I meant an old Spanish galleon with broken masts, a rotting hull and missing canons - and possibly with the rotting skeleton of the
captain in the master cabin.
Blast, blast, blast! What am I going to do? Lord help me, what am I going to do?
The coach crunched to a halt on the gravel outside Lady Metcalf’s residence, and Wilkins leaned over to my little sister with a look in his eyes as though he’d just been hit over the head with a heavy cudgel. Or maybe he was in love.
‘You look so beautiful tonight, Miss Ella.’
‘Um… thank you, Sir Philip. You are too kind.’
‘No, I tell you nothing but the truth. And to further enhance your beauty, I wondered if you would do me the honour of wearing this in your hair tonight?’
He pulled a single white rose from behind his back. Ella paled. I could see what was going on in her head as clearly as though she had told me herself: she had accepted his attentions, even his gifts, because it was what courtesy demanded. But openly wearing a sign of his affection and thus accepting it? I could tell something in her was screaming that it would be a betrayal of Edmund, her love.
Silly, of course. It wasn’t a betrayal - it was only a ruddy flower! But there it was.
‘I… feel honoured-’ she began haltingly.
‘But then,’ Sir Philip interrupted her, ‘I reconsidered. I thought that maybe this flower would fit the colour of your hair better!’ And letting go of the white rose, he pulled out a sunflower as big as my palm. Ella’s eyes widened.
‘And then, Miss Ella, I again thought, no. Nobody would see it. We need contrast to show off your beauty in the best light, it is what you deserve. So I brought this.’ And he pulled out a red rose. With an uncertain smile, he looked at Ella. ‘I simply cannot choose; they are all so beautiful! Could you perhaps pick one for me? Or maybe just wear them all? That would be the simplest solution. We could put the sunflower here, and the roses-’
I had heard enough.
‘My sister is a lady and not a flower-arrangement,’ I cut him off briskly. ‘You forget, Sir, that she has to dance, and those beautiful flowers might fall out of her hair and get trampled underfoot. We wouldn’t want that, now, would we?’
‘Oh… oh, I suppose you’re right.’ The knight looked crestfallen, like a little puppy that had been denied his stick to play with, and for a moment I almost felt something like pity. Then he perked up. ‘But she could always wear them after the dance, or maybe…’
I pulled Ella out of the carriage before he could finish the sentence. The others were already out there, enjoying the attentions of servants who were bowing, taking coats and opening doors, something which in our house happened very seldom.
‘Quickly, quickly, take my coat!’
‘You there! Open the door!’
I sighed, trying to shut out my twin sisters’ voices. At home, if you wanted to wait until Leadfield had opened a door for you, you’d probably die of old age, and if you wanted him to take your coat, he’d collapse under the weight. So this was a very welcome change, especially for Anne and Maria.
The swarm of buzzing servants escorted us to the ball room, where Lady Metcalf was already awaiting us. I looked around anxiously. But the lean, dark figure I feared to see was nowhere in sight. Just Lady Metcalf.
‘Ah! Mrs Brank! Miss Linton, Miss Linton, Miss Linton, Miss Linton, Miss Linton and Miss Linton! Thank you very much for coming. I am delighted that you could make it.’
I must say, I was impressed. Lady Metcalf’s smile was even more fake than mine, and she lied like a professional politician. But then, her father had been Foreign Secretary, so maybe it ran in the family.
‘Lady Metcalf,’ my aunt trilled. ‘I was so excited when we received your invitation. It was very nice of you, considering you have never before deigned to include us in one of your festivities.’
Ouch! I could see where this was leading. Poisonous fumes already hung heavily in the air between the two older ladies.
‘I simply could not resist,’ Lady Metcalf purred. ‘Sir Philip was so… enthusiastic. And I simply had to invite the young lady who has been so fortunate as to attract the affection of one of London’s finest young men, despite her… err… regrettable social position.’
If looks could kill, Lady Metcalf would have been a red blot on the wall right then, and my aunt would be hauled off to Codbath Fields Prison faster than you could say Jack Robinson. Unluckily, though, looks couldn’t kill, and my aunt remained a free woman.
‘Remember,’ she hissed at me while curtsying to Lady Metcalf. ‘Behave yourself!’
This was going to be a very long night. And he would be there!
*~*~**~*~*
The young man approached me with vigour in his step. He wore a bright waistcoat, a carnation in his buttonhole, and a bright, confident smile on his handsome face. I disliked him immediately.
‘Miss Linton?’ He bowed deeply. ‘Will you do me the honour of granting me your hand for this dance?’
I smiled back at him one hundred times as brightly. ‘Why certainly! How could I refuse to dance with you, Sir?’
Now if I could only remember your name, so I could put you on my list of murder victims…
‘Thank you, Miss.’
Stretching out his fingers, he clasped them around mine. Blast! I knew I had agreed to dance with him, but did that mean he actually had to touch me? Working hard to keep my fake smile on my face, I let myself be led onto the dance floor. From the edge of the crowd I could see Anne and Maria ogling me with incredulity. I smiled at them, too. Tonight was smiley night! Argh!
As the first notes of the quadrille[36] began, the young man put his arms around me and began to shove me across the dance floor. I believe officially it is called steering, but that word implies that the steerer actually knows what he is doing, whereas my dancing partner evidently did not.
‘Enjoying the dance?’ he asked me with a cheerful smile.
‘Why yes, of course,’ I replied with an even more cheerfuller smile.
Curse you! May the furies of hell hound you to pandemonium and back!
‘Me too. What a wonderful ball.’
‘Oh yes. So wonderful.’
And gouging out your eyes would be great! Yes, they should definitely gouge out your eyes, pickle them and eat them for breakfast!
I would have dearly loved to grab the bugger by the collar and see how he liked being 'steered' himself, but my aunt was watching. So I smiled until my face hurt and only contrived to step on my partner’s feet now and again. Finally I had discovered an advantage of hoop skirts: nobody could see what my heels were doing. Not even my aunt.
I danced with partner after partner. Most of them were actually quite good dancers, and those who were, went away with their feet still intact and an annoyingly good opinion of yours truly. In passing, I heard somebody say: ‘… and that Lilly Linton… such a nice, quiet, charming girl. Always smiling so brightly, it really lights up the evening. And so very…’
Mercifully, I was swept away by my partner then, so I didn’t have to hear any more of my false accomplishments. Nevertheless, I knew that my aunt had been right. If I just said, ‘Yes, Sir, of course, Sir,’ to every question asked and smiled prettily, gentlemen who before would have been running in the opposite direction at the sight of me were suddenly delighted with this blasted charming new Lilly. It made me want find an umbrella stand in which to vomit.
All this play-acting took considerable concentration. Not enough, though, to make me forget about the special guest to whom Wilkins had promised to introduce us tonight. Continuously, my eyes scanned the ballroom for any sign of Mr Rikkard Ambrose. They never found any. My anxiety grew with every minute.
What’s the matter? Why isn’t he here? Or… maybe he is here! Maybe he is watching me, gazing coldly at my dress, my fan and any other articles that screamed ‘female!’, getting more determined to get rid of the girl in his office with every passing minute!
From the moment the idea first entered my mind, I felt an itch on the back of my head as though he was standing behind me, his cold gaze drilling into the back
of my head - which of course was a load of cobblers because I was dancing the quadrille, ergo twirling continuously around the room, seeing everything.
Blast! He can’t be here! And he certainly can’t be watching me from behind if I’m always pirouetting!
Still, I fretted through three dances over Mr Rikkard bloody Ambrose! Only when I caught sight of Wilkins and Ella dancing a few paces away did I remember that I had other worries tonight as well. Remorse shot through me. For the moment, I had completely forgotten about protecting my little sister from Wilkins' overdone attentions.
Well, if I wasn’t going to saw a hole in the ballroom floor through which Wilkins could be disposed of, I couldn’t do anything while they were dancing. Afterwards, I swore to myself, I would become the most steadfast buffer in the history of womankind.
But my kind sisterly plans were cruelly dashed. By the time the dance had finished and I had manage to disentangle myself from my partner and rush to my sister’s side, the evil flower-presenter was nowhere to be seen.
‘Where’s Sir Philip?’ I asked.
‘I don't know.’ Closing her eyes, Ella sighed and leaned against my shoulder. I let her. I had originally come to serve as a sisterly buffer, but I might just as well be of use as a support column. ‘Somebody told him something, and he excused himself. Honestly, I don't care. I only care that he’s gone for the moment. Oh Lill!’
Her eyes fluttered open again, and I saw moisture glinting in there as she looked up at me imploringly. ‘What should I do? What in God’s name should I do?’
I was about to answer her (and a very clever answer it would have been!) when Sir Philip appeared out of the multitude around us, an eager smile on his face. I noticed that the sunflower he had brought along for Ella was sticking out of his buttonhole, rather clashing with his green and red waistcoat.
‘My dear Miss Ella… oh, Miss Lilian, you’re here, too? How wonderful! Where’s the rest of your family? Ah, there!’
He waved them over eagerly, and they came, interested to see what he was so excited about. I was starting to have an idea and felt a dark pit of dread opening up in my stomach.
Storm and Silence Page 32
