Suddenly, I found myself wishing Captain Carter had not left my side.
‘You could not see your way to tell me what connection exists between you and Mr Ambrose?’ Lord Dalgliesh’s voice was deceptively soft. ‘I would really like to know.’
‘I told you before,’ I said, finding it increasingly difficult to meet those blue eyes that bored into me like drills. ‘There is no connection.’
‘Such a pity, such a pity.’ He sighed, and smiled regretfully. ‘Do you remember, Miss Linton, that I told you I always get what I want?’
Without sign or command, the men who separated us from the rest of the ballroom and who, until now, had been standing with their backs to us, turned and stepped closer, surrounding us, surrounding me, cutting off any way of escape.
Escape? Why would I want to escape? We were at a ball, for heaven’s sake - a public festivity, hosted by one of London’s most prominent noblewomen! He couldn’t do anything to me here, surely, could he? And besides, he didn’t even look as if he wanted to do anything to me. His smile was so friendly, so charming, he looked as if he desired nothing but good for the entire world.
With every step the soldiers took towards me, I felt less sure of that.
‘Would you like to accompany me on a little stroll?’ he suggested, brightly. ‘I’ve heard Lady Metcalf’s garden is truly beautiful at night.’
What should I do? Scream for help? But help with what? He hadn’t done or said anything improper. There was nothing concrete to suggest danger of any kind. And still, something inside me screamed and clawed at my innards to get me to turn and run.
‘I…’ My voice was a mere whisper. What should I do? ‘I… don't think so, Your Lordship.’
‘Are you sure?’ He looked crestfallen, then he suddenly glanced around, saw the soldiers, and his face brightened. ‘Oh! There are a few friends of mine!’ He turned to me again. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like to come for a stroll? I think my friends would love to accompany us. These military fellows spend so much time breathing in gunpowder fumes, they need a lot of fresh air.’
He laughed - a light, carefree laugh that expected nothing but my joyful acceptance. If anybody watching the scene saw me decline again, they would think me abominably rude. What should I do? Oh, if only some help were here, Captain Carter, or Mr Ambrose, or…
‘Excuse me? Excuse me please, gentlemen, let me through please…’
And from between the beefy soldiers of the Indian Army stepped the figure of Edmund, the piano tuner’s son. He gave the startled Lord Dalgliesh a polite smile and said: ‘You will excuse us for a moment, I’m sure? I have to tell the lady something.’
And with that, he took me by the arm, leading me a few steps away without even waiting for an answer. Lord Dalgliesh stood where he had been standing, his face back to the perfect beneficent smile that seemed to be his favourite expression. Yet, in my time with Mr Ambrose, I had learned to read minuscule changes in facial expressions. Charming as his smile was, it didn’t soften the steel in his blue eyes.
‘Miss Linton,’ Edmund began, and gave a little bow, ‘I must thank you from the bottom of my heart for your initiative in inviting me to this ball tonight. It has brought me joy beyond what I can say. I cannot adequately express my thanks, but, as a gesture, I wondered whether you would do me the honour of dancing a reel with me?’
I could have kissed him.
Not literally, of course! I mean, my little sister was in love with him, for heaven’s sake! And even if he weren’t the apple of her eye and cherry of her heart, I would never kiss him. He looked just so… kind. Harmless. Conservative. Plus, I didn’t have plans to kiss any man, of whatever sort, ever.
But figuratively speaking, I planted a big buss on his forehead.
‘Why, thank you, Mr Conway,’ I said, curtsying and extending my arm in the most ladylike manner I had ever managed to fake. ‘A dance is just what I need right now.’ Yes, and please in the middle of the dance floor, far away from His Lordship and company! ‘I would be delighted.’
Over my shoulder I smiled at Lord Dalgliesh. ‘You will excuse us, Your Lordship.’
‘Certainly, Miss Linton.’ He bowed, just a few inches. Was it a coincidence that, at the gesture, the wall of soldiers opened up to let us pass? ‘Until we meet again.’
I shuddered as we passed between the uniformed men and they closed ranks behind us.
‘Are you cold, Miss Linton?’ Edmund enquired politely.
‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘Let’s dance.’
*~*~**~*~*
It was terrible.
He stepped on my feet a lot, but nevertheless, I tried not to step on his. I thought it was the least I could do, considering he may have just saved my life. I still wasn’t too sure about that, to be honest. Lord Dalgliesh hadn’t really said anything threatening. He had just invited me on a little walk, after all.
But now and then I caught his eye across the ballroom, and had the feeling that it would have been a pretty long walk to an unpleasant destination. I made sure that I stayed among plenty of people for the rest of the ball. Unfortunately, that meant having to dance almost every dance, with any partner who happened to be available. Sometimes, safety came at too high a price.
All that sustained me through the long hours of the ball was the sight of Ella and Edmund. Whether they were dancing or not, and no matter how far apart they were, their eyes never left each other. I had to admit I was beginning to warm to this Edmund chap. Maybe it wasn’t so terrible that my little sister was in love, and she wouldn’t end up miserable and oppressed like so many other women who gave themselves over to a man.
And if she would, Edmund would rue the day he was born!
As the evening dragged on, the music became slower, the crowd less excited, and finally, it was all over. Lady Metcalf stood at the door to say goodbye to all the guests. We were some of the last ones to leave. Yet there was one other behind us, surrounded by an entourage of figures in uniform.
Lord Dalgliesh nodded to me and smiled.
I could almost hear a voice whispering into my ear: This is not over.
*~*~**~*~*
I had assumed that, now he had dropped my sister like a hot brick, Sir Philip would try to get rid of us as soon as possible. I was mistaken. He took us home in his coach as planned and, the entire drive, did nothing but chinwag about the fabulous Lady Katherine he had met at the ball. However, other than you might imagine, this was not awkward in the least. Quite the contrary.
Why, you might ask?
I might have been angry with him for casting aside my sister like a used glove - but seeing as Ella was quite delighted to be thrown aside like a used glove, and looking happier with every word he spoke, taking pains to agree most energetically with his praise of Lady Katherine, it was rather hard. Especially since my aunt was shooting gazes of fiery anger at the poor Sir Philip, not one of which he actually noticed.
‘…and her hair, as golden as the sunlight, don't you think?’ he sighed, his eyes dreamy.
‘Most definitely,’ Ella concurred, nodding energetically. ‘Golden sunlight on a summer morning. Don’t you think so, Mr Conway?’
‘W-what? Oh yes,’ stammered Edmund, who had been too busy staring at Ella to hear one word in ten.
‘I shall send her a bouquet of flowers directly in the morning. Or maybe two, or three! What do you think, Miss Ella?’
‘Make it four.’
‘What an excellent idea! My thanks.’ He bent to her and gently kissed her hands. ‘Only a good friend can give such good advice.’
At the word 'friend', my aunt nearly burst into flames from indignation.
It wasn’t long till we reached home. Sir Philip’s departure then happened a lot more speedily than usual. He needed to leave to buy flowers for Lady Katherine, and my aunt needed to retreat to her room to simmer with rage at the inconstancy of young aristocrats.
‘Farewell, you all,’ he called to us, sticking his head out of the coach wind
ow and lifting his hat in parting a last time, an excited smile on his face. ‘I shall hope to see you all at my next ball. You are all invited.’ And, turning to the coachman: ‘Onward! Find me the nearest florist, man!’
‘Yes, Sir!’
The whip cracked, and the coach rolled off down the street.
My aunt was already in the house, as could be deduced from the sound of crashing china from somewhere on the first floor. Lisbeth and Gertrude were on their way to follow; Edmund had excused himself. Only Ella, Maria, Anne and I were still standing outside, looking after the coach.
‘Well,’ Maria sneered, giving Ella a superior look. ‘It seems you are one suitor short, little sister.’
‘Yes!’ Ella sighed, a happy smile suffusing her features. ‘Will you excuse me? I have, um… things to do.’
Pirouetting around like an overexcited ballerina, she hurried off around the house, into the back garden. I thought I had an inkling what ‘things’ she had to do, and with whom.
‘Is it only me,’ Maria asked, confused, looking at Anne and me in turn, ‘or did she seem not the least bit disappointed about losing one of the most eligible bachelors in London as a potential husband?’
‘Of course she was disappointed,’ I said. ‘Couldn’t you tell by the way her left little finger twitched? That always gives people away. Now, if you will excuse me, I think I have the sudden urge to take a late night stroll in the garden…’
*~*~**~*~*
‘Oh, Ella, my love!’
‘Oh, Edmund, my love!’
As sweet nothings fluttered through the holes in the fence, I settled myself comfortably down behind the bushes. Seeing as this might be a longer episode of the romantic Drama of the Back Garden, I had brought a copy of The Further Adventures of Robinson Crusoe with me. For now, though, it remained closed, and I peeked through the foliage towards the place where Ella was clinging to the fence and, through the fence, to Edmund. It had to be quite uncomfortable embracing somebody around several metal bars, but neither of them seemed to mind.
My eyes strayed to the ladder leaning against the garden shed. Still, neither of them seemed to have noticed it, or thought of using it.
‘Oh, Ella, my love,’ Edmund whispered. ‘How can this be? How can I be so fortunate to be holding you in my arms tonight, when I thought that by now I would have lost you forever?’
‘We must have a guardian angel watching over us from heaven,’ she whispered, pressing her face into his chest as best she could.
From heaven? From behind the bushes, rather.
But otherwise, she had hit the nail pretty much on the head.
‘Tell me this is true,’ Edmund sighed. ‘Tell me I am truly holding you right now, and it is not some phantasm I have dreamed up in my desperation of losing you to another.’
‘It is true, Edmund, my darling. I am here. I will always be here. I love you!’
‘I love you, too!’
‘I love you more!’
‘No, I do!’
I tuned out their conversation and immersed myself in The Further Adventures. I only resurfaced from my adventures in Madagascar when, out the blue, I heard my name.
‘…Lilly!’
‘Yes, my darling Ella. Your sister…’ Edmund murmured.
I was up on my feet and listening intensely in an instant! They were talking about me? What the heck did they have to talk about me?
Edmund was smiling. ‘So I finally met her.’
‘What did you think of her?’ Ella asked anxiously.
I leaned forward, pricking up my ears.
Yes? Yes? What did you think of me? And be careful what you say, you little piano-tuning bastard! I have a sharp parasol!
‘What do I think of her?’ Edmund laughed. ‘Ella, if not for her, I wouldn’t even have been at that ball. I would never have held you in my arms. Right now, after you, she ranks as the person I respect most in the world, more than the Queen, or, yes, even Ignaz Bösendorfer.’
Bösendorfer? Who the dickens is Ignaz Bösendorfer?[49]
The name sounded like someone you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley, but from the reverent way he pronounced it, and the way Ella beamed up at him, the chap must have been royalty or maybe an ancient demigod. For some reason, I found myself grinning.
Blast! What did it matter if Edmund thought well of me? But I couldn’t wipe the silly grin off my face.
‘If only we could reveal all to her,’ he sighed.
‘I know, I know, Edmund.’ Ella mirrored his sigh. ‘I wish, too, that she knew how dear I hold you in my heart. I wish she could hear and see us right now! But it cannot be.’
Well, actually, my dear sister…
‘Nobody must ever know! If our affections ever became known…!’
She trailed off. He picked up the meaning of her words without great difficulty.
‘Your aunt didn’t seem very fond of me,’ he ventured.
‘She can be… difficult, sometimes.’
‘Do you think she might ever be prevailed upon to accept me as the man who loves you?’
‘I… don't know. Maybe.’
One thing about my little sister… she is an eternal optimist. From inside the house, there came another crash of china, followed by a screech that sounded like Sir Phillip Wilkins’ name, mixed with powerful invectives.
Ella jumped and guiltily looked back at the house.
‘Your aunt?’ Edmund asked.
She nodded. ‘She had set her heart on this match. I would be sorry for her sake that it did not come about, but…’ she smiled weakly at Edmund, ‘somehow, I cannot seem to manage to be very sorry.’
He smiled back. But then, his face became solemn again.
‘But you’re not sorry that we didn’t have to run away, either, are you?’ he asked.
Ella sucked in air, sharply. She hesitated. Then: ‘No, I’m not.’
Her voice was small. ‘I… love you with all my heart, Edmund. But in my heart I also love Aunt, Lilly, my other sisters, even Uncle Bufford, though we practically never see him. My heart would have been broken, had I been forced to leave them. And with a broken heart, I could not have loved you half as well as you deserve.’
There were a few minutes of silence. Then, Edmund spoke again, and his voice was a little unsteady.
‘Ella, I… I have to ask your forgiveness.’
‘Forgiveness, Edmund? For what?’
He swallowed.
‘For this… for my devious plans. For how I tried to lure you away from your home, your family, and trap you in a disgraceful union. Now that the weight of Wilkins is lifted off my mind, I can hardly comprehend what I was thinking, what I was doing. And I’m not just talking about my plans to run away with you. The way I’ve been acting, presuming to touch you where I shouldn’t touch you, presuming to hold you like no gentleman should… I must have been mad! I… I only ever want to behave to you as a gentleman should behave, Ella. You are the sweetest, most gentle lady that ever walked the earth. You deserve nothing less, in fact, you deserve a lot more.’ Again, he took a breath. ‘So, I wanted to apologize for all I did. I wish you to know that, had there been any other way, had I been master of myself and my heart, I would never have suggested an elopement. If you can, forgive me, and forget all about it. We will go back to the way things were. I will behave with propriety towards you, and never again step out of line.’
‘Of course I forgive you, Edmund.’ Was something wrong with my ears or did she sound a tiny bit disappointed. ‘And of course you are right. We should behave properly. We have been acting… foolishly, lately.’
He nodded.
She nodded.
Yet he didn’t loosen his grip on her, still holding her in a manner that I, at least, would not have termed proper for a gentleman.
‘Before we return to propriety and forget foolishness, though…’ he muttered, his voice rough.
‘Yes?’ Her voice was tinged with hope.
‘Could I hold you for just
one minute longer?’
Tears sparkled in her eyes as she pulled him even closer. Unlike so often in the last few weeks, I knew that this time, they were tears of happiness.
‘Yes!’
*~*~**~*~*
It was only next morning I realized that, during the latter half of the romantic interlude in the garden, I hadn’t once got bored and reached for The Further Adventures of Robinson Crusoe. Did this mean I was actually developing an interest in romance?
If that were the case, I thought I’d better find a lake to drown in!
But no!
It had to be that I was simply happy to see Ella happy. Yes, that was a perfectly legitimate reason to stare at her from behind a bush. My reasons had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that I was beginning to wonder what it might be like to have somebody care for me the way Edmund cared for her. Nothing at all like that.
And Ella was happy, incandescently happy. It was as though she was a flower that had been squashed by a heavy stone. Now that the stone had been lifted and the sun could reach her again, she stretched towards the sky, unfurling her petals and blooming like never before. She even had her own bee fluttering around in the form of Edmund, though I would biff him if he should try to pollinate her. Even metaphors should have their limits.
Apart from the happy time I spent in the garden each evening, listening to Ella’s profusions of happiness, I tried to avoid home as much as possible over the next few days. My aunt was still in a china-chucking mood, and even though Uncle Bufford, by a message sent via the trusty Leadfield, had strictly forbidden her to indulge in such wanton waste of perfectly good crockery, she might still succumb, and my head was too precious to me to serve as a target.
Moreover, Patsy and the others frequently appeared at home to try and capture me for the purpose of questioning. I had no wish to be subjected to their inquisition on the why and how of my spectacular speech at the anti-suffragist rally, at least not until I had thought of satisfactory lies to give as answers.
So, you can see, I had all the reasons in the world to avoid home for now and seek refuge in another place that afforded me more peace and quiet. And the only other place available to me was number 322 Leadenhall Street.
Storm and Silence Page 66
