Hunting for Silence (Storm and Silence Book 5)

by Robert Thier

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked, batting my eyelashes like a professional cricket player.

  ‘Don’t give us that innocent routine! What is this charade supposed to be? What the heck is your connection to…to that man? How…why…what…?’

  ‘I believe he already stated it, didn’t he?’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘We’re getting married.’

  ‘How can this be?’ she growled. I heard the unspoken part at the end. How can it be you lowly little insect, and not me? ‘It’s impossible! This is a fake! It’s impossible for something like this to happen without any of us knowing!’

  ‘Oh,’ Ella picked that moment to say in an innocent and sublimely effective tone I couldn’t hope to match, ‘I knew.’

  Maria nearly swallowed her own tongue.

  I knew there was a reason why Ella was my favourite sister.

  ‘You what?’

  Instantly, everyone’s attention turned to Ella. My dear, innocent little sister sat there, sipping her tea with her little finger sticking out, the perfect image of a lady. I, personally, always mixed up my little finger with my middle finger.

  ‘You didn’t?’ Ella’s eyebrows rose oh-so-innocently. ‘Wasn’t it so obvious? I’ve seen the sign for. oh…about four years.’

  Impressive! Since that’s before I actually met him.

  My dear little sister had impressive hidden skills. Lying like a rug apparently being one of them.

  ‘Four years?’

  My dear sisters’ eyes were almost popping out of their heads.

  ‘Oh yes. He sent her love letters all the time.’ She gave a meaningful sigh. ‘I still remember that one he sent from Paris…such touching words of love!’

  Ah yes. The one that said ‘stop wasting ink’.

  By this point, Anne and Maria’s heads were nearly ready to explode. Taking turns and helping each other as all good sisters should, they manged to simultaneously glare at me and Ella. ‘From Paris? He sent her love letters from Paris?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Ella took another sip of tea. ‘Just before she went to visit him there and he proposed.’

  This year, I decided, I was going to have to get Ella something really spectacular for her birthday.

  ‘P-proposed? In Paris?’

  ‘Oh yes. Where was it again, Lilly?’

  ‘On the stage of an opera house,’ I cheerfully proclaimed. ‘His opera house.’

  Looking at Maria’s face right there and then, for the first time I realized why the expression ‘green-eyed monster’ was used to refer to jealousy.

  ‘Why!’ My dear older sister’s fist slammed onto the table. ‘Why you? It’s impossible! Not a bloody pudgy gibface[56] like yo—’

  ‘Maria! Control yourself!’ Gertrude admonished. She was a quiet girl and very rarely played the eldest sister card. But right now, her eyes were sparkling with danger.

  But, apparently, Maria didn’t give a flying fig. ‘Why would I? You know as well as I do she’s the worst of all of us! She’s wilful, unladylike, ignorant about anything a girl of good birth ought to know, and as for her looks, well…’ She cast a look at me, and then at the mirror on the wall that clearly said Compare specimen A and B and tell me you don’t realize what I mean.

  ‘I realize what you mean,’ Ella said, sweetly. ‘Unlike you, she actually has some.’

  ‘You…! You little…!’

  Bravo, Ella!

  I was feeling less and less anxious about leaving this house and leaving her behind. Apparently, my little sister had grown quite a bit recently, and was more than capable of taking care of herself.

  But even Ella could not hold my twin sister’s wrath long. The soon-to-be-married elephant in the room was just too tempting to ignore.

  ‘You!’ They both whirled towards me. ‘It’s all your fault! Tell me! How did you do it? What did you do to ensnare him?’

  ‘Hm, let me think…’ I tapped my chin, thoughtfully. ‘What was it called again…ah, yes! ‘Being nice’. That was one of the things I did. You should try it once in a while. And…what was the other one gain? Oh yes! ‘Having a brain’! That was useful, too, and—’

  ‘You…!’

  Eyes lit with rage, Anne and Maria charged towards me. Unable to restrain herself, Anne reached out to grab me by the collar, and—

  —and with his inimitable sense of timing, Mr Rikkard Ambrose pushed open the door.

  Anne froze.

  ‘Something wrong?’ He raised an eyebrow, just one millimetre.

  Anne backed off as if her hand had been seared. A smile as sincere as a succubus’s marriage vow appeared on her face. ‘N-no! Of course not. I was just about to hug her and congratulate her!’

  ‘Indeed?’

  ‘Yes! It’s been such a wonderful surprise!’ He smile widened. ‘The two of us should have a long chat later. Now that we’re going to be relatives, we should get to know each other better.’

  Icy eyes scrutinized my sister for one long moment. Then…

  ‘No. We shouldn’t.’

  Sometimes, I really, really loved Mr Rikkard Ambrose.

  ‘Seems like your uncle isn’t available at the moment,’ he said, turning to me. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew his silver pocket watch and let it snap open. ‘I have an appointment with the head of a turnip farm in Cheshire in half an hour. Let matters rest here for today. I can come back another day and finish this asking for your hand business.’

  On the other hand, there were moments like this one.

  But before I could leap forward and try to suffocate my dear fiancée, an angel rushed inside to save the day.

  ‘Oh no, Mr Ambrose, you mustn’t!” Aunt Brank dashed into the rooms, her arms flailing like a frantic windmill. ‘You mustn’t!”

  Angels come in the unlikeliest shapes and sizes.

  ‘I must not?”

  ‘I just spoke to my husband! He will be happy to speak with you. Please, come right this way.”

  ‘Hm. Very well.” He held out his hand towards me, and before even thinking about it, I took it. ‘Let’s go, shall we?”

  My heart made a leap. This was it! The big moment. I wasn’t of age yet. Not quite. If I wanted to marry this man, as much as I detested the fact, I needed another man’s permission. Of course, I could always wait a few months, but…

  Out of the corner of my eyes, I glanced at Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s sublime profile.

  Nah. Waiting was out.

  ‘Let’s go!’ I said and, together, my husband-to-be and I marched towards the stairs, following my aunt. Slowly, we ascended the stairs, the old wood beneath our feet creaking ominously. We came to a stop at the dark door at the end of the landing.

  ‘Husband?’ Clearing her throat, she knocked at the door. ‘I’ve brought Mr—’

  ‘Ah,’ a familiar growl came from inside. ‘The madman is here, is he?’

  ‘Husband!’

  ‘Do you have to remind me, woman? It’s painful enough every day when I see that ring on my finger. Get the two of them in here!’

  ‘Y-yes.’

  Aunt Brank opened the door, and I stepped through before she managed to realize she was actually politely holding the door for me. Her suddenly souring face as I stepped past was a fabulous sight.

  Unfortunately, it was superseded by the grim face of Uncle Bufford, sitting behind his desk with his fingers steepled. Mr Ambrose followed me into the room and the door closed with a click behind us.

  ‘Hm. Hello, Girl.’

  ‘Hello.’

  Uncle Bufford’s eyes flicked to Mr Ambrose.

  ‘You are…?’

  ‘I,’ he informed uncle Bufford, ‘am the man who is going to marry your niece Lillian.’

  ‘Confident? Good, good.’ His brows furrowed. ‘If you can back it up, that is. Name?’

  Mr Ambrose’s eyes flashed with the pride of a man who knew his name meant something. ‘Rikkard Ambrose.’

  ‘Hm. That one.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I see.’

&nbs
p; ‘Indeed.’

  Yes…this conversation was about as full of scintillating rhetoric as I had expected.

  ‘You seem like a gentleman.’ Uncle Bufford leaned forward. ‘But this little girl is very precious to me. So you understand I have to make sure…’

  ‘Yes.’

  I couldn’t help but feel moved. Precious? I was precious to him?

  ‘So,’ he growled, ‘how much are you willing to pay for her?’

  Precious?

  Precious!

  That dastardly old badger…! I…

  I felt Mr Ambrose’s hand holding me back.

  He cocked his head. ‘I thought it traditionally is the duty of the bride’s family to pay a dowry?’

  ‘I’ve never been particularly fond of traditions that empty my wallet. So…’ Small black eyes sparkling, eh leaned forward. ‘How. Much. Will. You. Pay. For. Her?’

  Ambrose regarded him coolly for a moment or two—then leaned forward, too, meeting his gaze. ‘Not a penny.’

  My mouth dropped open. But before anything could come out of it, he grabbed my hand and, stepping forward, continued, ‘Because I know her. Because she is free to choose. I cannot offer money to buy what you don’t own. I will only marry her because she wants to, not because you allow it.’

  I felt a lump rise in my throat. He…he just said the most wonderfully romantic thing he had ever uttered in his life to me. And he did it while being as miserable a skinflint a skinflint as ever. That was the man I loved!

  ‘Harrumph.’ Uncle Bufford’s did his very best to hide it under his bushy eyebrows, but I saw the glint of approval in his eyes. ‘So it’s like that, is it?’ He gazed at Mr Ambrose out of narrowed eyes. ‘Are you at least going to pay for the ceremony?’

  I grinned. Translation: you have my blessing.

  ‘No. Are you?’

  Translation: thank you.

  Well…I was being optimistic about that one.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Hm.’

  ‘Hm. Hm. We appear to be at an impasse.’

  ‘Indeed?’

  ‘Yes. I completely approve of you, yet I cannot agree to the match as long as you remain stubborn on this issue.’

  Mr Ambrose considered for a moment. ‘How about we split the costs fifty-fifty?’

  ‘Sounds sensible. However, I have paid for her room and board for more then a decade. The costs of that should be subtracted from my share, which would leave you owing me, let me see…’ Reaching for an abacus, he swiftly shifted a few different-coloured beads around, then looked up. ‘Roughly two-hundred pounds sterling, ten shillings and sixpence.’

  The answer came swift and decisive. ‘Unacceptable.’

  ‘I’m afraid that is a non-negotiable condition.’

  ‘Then we are indeed at an impasse.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘Hm.’

  ‘Hm. Hm.’

  I grinned. ‘I can see the two of you are going along great!’

  Two heads turned, and two cool gazes bored into me, silently asking What is this deranged female talking about?

  My grin widened, and, folding my arms behind my neck, I leaned back in my armchair. ‘By all means, do continue. I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy this.’

  ‘You are supposed to be fearful and anxious to obtain my blessing,’ Uncle Bufford grumbled.

  I continued to grin, unabashed. ‘Sorry to disappoint.’

  ‘You don’t look sorry.’

  ‘Oh my. Indeed?’

  His small dark eyes scrutinized me for a long moment. ‘You look…happy.’

  The grin on my face slowly morphed, until a soft, sincere smile was left, unlike any I could remember having on my face before. ‘I am.’

  ‘Hm.’ His jaw worked for a moment—then he glanced at Mr Ambrose. ‘Maybe we can discuss who shall take care of the wedding costs at a later date.’

  Giving me a long look, Mr Ambrose’s hand squeezed mine. ‘Agreed.’

  ‘So…’ Reaching out, I took his gnarled old hand. ‘Will you give it to me? For free?’

  He knew what I meant. His jaw worked, and, after a moment of intense struggle, he nodded.

  ‘You have my blessing.’

  A Warning to the Grim Reaper

  Chapter 33

  ‘Cold, Hard Commitment’ from Mr Ambrose’s Point of View

  I stood there, in the garden, gazing up at the window pane at the back of the hotel. The window pane that blocked my way to her.

  I knew it was a waste of money to pay for this much glass. I should just have left the windows empty instead, customer complaints be damned!

  Well, no matter. This problem was easily resolved.

  Bending down, I picked up some gravel from the path that ran behind the building and hurled it against the window.

  Plink.

  I waited.

  And waited.

  And waited another long, long moment.

  By Mammon! Three entire moments of waiting? This whole ‘love’ thing was really getting out of hand!

  Or at least that’s what I thought until she opened the window and I saw her face.

  For one long second, we gazed at each other in silence, I ordered.

  ‘Come,’ I ordered.

  Her face twisted in a way that made me want to tear the wall down, as well as any other obstacles that stood between us. ‘I can’t. I…I might have caught the disease. I can’t come near you until—’

  My eyes narrowed. ‘Miss Linton?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Get your derrière down here right now.’

  ‘I thought you had promised not to give me any more orders.’

  ‘That wasn’t an order,’ I told her, and held out one hand. ‘Please.’

  She stared at me for long, long moment—then, in a blink, swung her legs over the window sill and slid down, dashing towards me. She only came to a stop a few yards away from me.

  Still too far. Much too far.

  I gazed at her, unable to take my eyes away. Every second counted.

  This isn’t time wasted, I realized. This is the best way to spend time there ever was.

  I took a step forward.

  And she abruptly jerked back.

  ‘Stop!’ Quickly, she raised a hands to block my path. ‘I’ve got to tell you something! The doctor was here again. He said… he said that Ella…’

  ‘I know,’ I cut her off. As if, after paying his bills, I’d let that quack off without squeezing every little bit of information out of him.

  ‘Then you know you can’t come any closer. If you do—’

  As if I care!

  I took a determined step forward.

  ‘No!’ She leapt back, her eyes wide with fear. Fear for me. ‘Aren’t you listening? I might be infected, too! Nobody knows how the sickness is transmitted! It could be through contact, and you’d be—’

  With you. Wherever you go.

  I could have said it aloud, I suppose. Instead, I chose a much more expedient method. Grabbing her face tightly in my hands, I pulled her towards me and claimed her lips with mine.

  You are mine! My lips spoke without speaking. You are mine and I am yours!

  She stiffened for just a moment—then softened. Her arms came up around me, pulling me tightly against her with a force I hadn’t thought her capable of. In return, my arms enfolded her, determined never to let go.

  ‘You crazy, crazy man!’ I felt her whisper against my lips. ‘How could you do something so stupid?’

  I cocked my head, challenging her. ‘I prefer the word “determined”, Miss Linton.’

  ‘Sure you do—mmm!’

  I kissed her once again. Kissed her with all the ferocity and determination I could muster. So what if I died? I could have died in the gold rush. I could have died tracking through the dessert. I could have died on the seas a thousand times. And still, I had done it! Profit vs Risk. That’s all there was to it. Profit vs risk. If the former outweighed the latter, you stride ahead and destroy an
ything in your path!

  I gazed into her eyes for a long, long moment.

  And in this case, the profit most definitely outweighs the risk.

  Cholera be damned!

  I released her after how long I neither knew nor cared. She took a slightly wobbly step backwards, her eyes still closed in bliss, and when she finally opened them, they were the colour of warm chocolate.

  ‘Why?’ she whispered.

  I could read the rest of the question in those chocolate eyes of hers.

  Why risk this? Why kiss me?

  I cocked my head. ‘I believe the vows we intend to speak say “till death do us part”, do they not? You ought to know by now, Miss Linton—I don’t speak words I do not mean.’

  In those warms eyes of hers, suddenly, a fire was lit. Reaching out, she grabbed hold of me and held me close. I did not object.

  ‘Neither do I.’

  Adequate.

  My arms slid around her and I stroked her hair, gently pulling her face against my chest. She cuddled into me, and I felt a tug deep in my chest.

  At this point, I was 99% sure it was not heartburn. Not that I would ever waste the money on a doctor’s appointment to make sure.

  If this is heartburn, I can live with it. I want to.

  I kissed her again. And again. Apparently, I had managed to make her loose her reticence. When we broke apart again, I took her face in both hands and turned her so I could look straight into her eyes.

  And what I saw in there made me want to punch something.

  Pain.

  Deep, terrible pain.

  Under normal circumstances, I would simply eliminate the one who’d put it there. But in this case, that would probably be…inadvisable.

  I felt a muscle in my cheek twitch.

  ‘How is she?’

  The pain flared, and I knew that I’d guessed right.

  ‘Bad. Very bad. I’m not sure…I’m not sure she—’

  I pressed a finger on her lips, cutting her off. ‘Sh. She will.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  Because I’ll buy the underworld and evict her if she doesn’t!

  However, a little voice at the back of my mind, a voice that sounded suspiciously like my little siter, told me that might not be the entirely correct thing to say.

  ‘Because you won’t give up until she’s well again,’ I told her instead. ‘And neither will I.’ With a single finger, I gently stroked her cheek. ‘You look exhausted. How long is it since you’ve last slept?’