Storm and Silence

by Robert Thier

  Blast! Why did I have to think about him now, when I had just achieved a measure of peace and managed to forget all about the existence of the overbearing, annoying and infuriating species known as ‘men’ for a couple of minutes?

  But the more I tried to force his image from my mind, the clearer it appeared: his stark, angular features, his typical look of cool disinterest and, most of all, those dark, sea-coloured eyes that seemed like pearls from a bottomless ocean. Seeing all the opulent splendour surrounding Sir Philip Wilkins, I could not help but wonder why Mr Ambrose, who was supposedly one of the richest men in London, spent his days in an office with bare stone walls. I also couldn’t help wonder where he had gotten his money from, if indeed he was as rich as Maria had claimed. He didn’t seem to me like a wealthy landowner, not at all the sort of man to fit into London’s high society.

  For a moment, I amused myself with the thought of how he would act if he were here. I couldn’t help but smile. He’d stick out like a shark in a flock of peacocks.

  Then, suddenly, I was jerked out of my thoughts by the most unlikely thing imaginable. A voice beside me. A man’s voice. A man’s voice asking, in a calm, polite tone: ‘Miss Linton? Will you do me the honour of dancing with me?’

  Practicing Impertinence

  My eyes flew open, and I looked up to see an upright, elderly military gentleman with an enormous moustache standing before me. Not Mr Ambrose. Definitely not. It was Colonel Remington, one of the many captains and colonels Sir Philip had introduced me to.

  And why the heck had I been thinking of Mr Ambrose? He wasn’t even here!

  The Colonel cleared his throat. Maybe he thought I hadn’t heard him.

  ‘Will you do me the honour of dancing with me, Miss Linton?’ he repeated.

  ‘Err… no,’ I said.

  He turned a bit red in the face, and went away, looking rather affronted.

  Hm… Perhaps that had not quite been according to etiquette? I racked my brains, trying to remember my aunt’s lessons. Hadn’t there been something about a lady never being allowed to refuse a dance unless she had already promised it to another gentleman? Well, if there was such a rule, it was complete bollocks.[20] I should have the right to choose not to dance with whomever I bloody well pleased!

  Through a gap in the potted plants I could see Colonel Remington joining a few of his military friends - mostly younger officers. He was gesticulating quite energetically. No doubt he was conveying something he considered to be of some importance.

  One of the young men laughed. ‘Maybe she just didn’t like the looks of you,’ he teased the elder gentleman.

  My mouth dropped open. They were talking about me. Me! Well, at least that would ensure that I wouldn’t be bothered with any more invitations to dance this night. My lapse in courtesy would spread across the room like wildfire, and surely all those chauvinists would be revolted and shocked to the core. None of the men would even bother to give me a second glance after that.

  ‘I must have a look at that wench,’ the young officer continued with a wink, and my mouth dropped open a little farther. ‘Was she pretty?’

  I couldn’t hear the Colonel’s more muted reply to this, but the young officer laughed again. ‘Come on, old boy, she must have been! And known it, too - quite a conceited little madam, to turn down an officer like that.’

  He winked at the other young men around him and strode off. I could hardly believe that he was going to do what I thought he was going to do.

  Nevertheless, when the dance had ended and the next one was approaching, I saw him striding towards me with a gait so pompous you could have identified him as a young military officer even if he had been missing his uniform, medals and underpants. He was accompanied by one of his friends who had already been introduced to me.

  Both of them examined me not unlike one would examine a piece of meat on a butcher’s counter. I ignored them with magnificent composure and took another piece of solid chocolate from the plate beside me.

  ‘Miss Linton?’ Mr Familiar Soldier made an extravagant bow, and Mr Unfamiliar Soldier followed suit.

  ‘I don't know whether you remember me? I’m Major Rushworth. Sir Philip introduced us.’

  I did not deign to reply immediately - after all, it was considered impolite to talk with your mouth full, wasn’t it? Instead, I finished my chocolate, and then plastered a smile on my face.

  ‘Sir Philip introduced me to a great many people,’ I replied sweetly. ‘Most of whom my unreliable memory has already unintroduced again. You, I’m afraid, are among them.’

  It was half true. I had actually forgotten him. Nevertheless, my memory was usually very good - yet only for things I wanted to remember.

  Major Rushworth blushed slightly but didn’t let that deter him.

  ‘Well, may I be permitted to introduce you to a friend of mine? To this gentleman, here, Lieutenant Ellingham.’

  My eyes narrowed. I didn’t know much about etiquette, but I did know that the inferior person was always introduced to the superior. By deciding to introduce me to his friend and not the other way around, he had put me on a level below him. And that was something, considering the complacent smile on the lieutenant’s face, which I did not appreciate at all.

  ‘No, you may not,’ I told him. ‘But you may introduce him to me, if you like.’

  ‘Err…’

  Apparently, at first the major didn’t quite know what to say to that. He gazed at me for a moment, then collected himself again, cleared his throat and went on: ‘Err… very well. Miss Linton, may I be allowed to introduce my friend Lieutenant Ellingham to your notice?’

  ‘Yes, you may.’ The smile on my face was widened a bit and I nodded graciously. ‘Delighted to make your acquaintance, Lieutenant Ellingham,’ I lied.

  ‘As am I,’ said the young man, whose arrogant smile had not in the least been reduced in radiance by my rebuff.

  ‘Well, I’ll leave you to it then,’ the Major said, throwing me another odd glance and then disappearing with an eye roll at his friend. I saw the message ‘It’s your funeral’ clearly in those eyes.

  And he was right. It was.

  Lieutenant Ellingham seated himself beside me. Taking the bull by the horns, I turned to him. Best to get this over with.

  ‘Well, what should we talk about, Lieutenant? The weather would be a good subject of discussion, if we were not inside and it was night.’

  ‘How about the society?’ he asked, gesturing towards the people dancing everywhere in the grand room.

  ‘That would be unwise. When you make conversation, it is generally considered best to say nice and polite things. And the present society would not furnish me with a lot of opportunities for that.’

  He blinked at me, no doubt wondering if he had heard right. In the end, he seemed to decide that he had not. I was a lady, after all. Ladies didn’t say impolite things. It was unheard of.

  Instead of trying to find another topic, he cut right to the chase.

  ‘I must admit, Miss Linton, that I had a particular reason for wishing an introduction with you.’

  ‘Did you, now?’ I couldn’t entirely keep the sarcasm out of my voice. But the young man’s arrogance apparently made him immune to sarcasm from ladies as well as to impudence. He gave me a smile that he probably thought was charming.

  It wasn’t.

  ‘Yes, I did. I have been admiring you from afar for some time now. You have caught my eye, Miss Linton.’

  ‘Indeed?’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘I can’t remember you throwing it at me, to be honest. I don't have your eye on me, I promise. I never catch eyes. They are rather slippery and slimy things, not at all the kind of objects I would like to carry around in my pocket.’

  ‘Um…’ he blinked, just as dumbfounded as his friend before, clearly lacking the brains to decipher my reply. For some unknown reason, I took pity on him.

  ‘Were you going to ask me if I would dance with you?’ I asked him.

  ‘Yes! T
hat is it, exactly. How did you know?’

  ‘Let’s just say I am a discerning person. Well, if it is a dance you want, that makes things very simple.’

  ‘Excellent.’ He got up, his arrogant grin back on his face, and held a hand out to me.

  ‘No,’ I said, not looking up at him.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a look of confusion cross his face.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘You want to dance with me - I have just given you my answer. No.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Yes. Why don't you try that young lady over there? She looks to be in want of a partner, and unlike me, she actually wants one. Goodbye.’

  He stood rooted to the spot for a few more seconds, then let his hand drop and walked off. Picking another piece of chocolate off the plate, I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. For some reason, he didn’t appear very disheartened. If I had to choose a word to describe his facial expression, I think I would have chosen ‘intrigued,’ though I didn’t see how the bloody hell that could be.

  Through the potted plants, I saw him return to his friends, and they hooted and slapped him on the back while he grinned shame-faced. I was very pleased with myself. Now, finally, there would be an end of the matter. No more invitations to dance tonight.

  A few minutes later a cough distracted me, and I looked up only to be confronted with another officer asking me to dance. I turned him down like a bedspread. And the one after that. And the one after the one after that. And the other gentlemen who followed, from captains to colonels, from misters to majors. It was amazing - the more of them I sent packing, the more seemed to pop up everywhere. You’d think that by now they would have gotten the message.

  During a break in the assault of dance-addicted gentlemen, I took another peep through the foliage. Ella was again being whisked across the floor in the arms of Sir Philip Wilkins and looked about ready to faint from the attention. I grinned. It would do her good to be out in society. Maybe she would get a little more confidence and experience.

  But as I let my eyes wander farther over the assembled guests, I noticed something strange: I couldn’t see my aunt anywhere. That was very curious indeed. Ella, Maria and Anne were busy hunting for prospective husbands. Lisbeth was doing her best, and even Gertrude was dancing with a quiet, elderly gentleman.

  My aunt would hardly leave the dance floor at such a moment, unless it would be to…

  And then the voice of doom spoke behind me.

  ‘Lilly - What in the name of the Lord is this I have been hearing, about you refusing to dance?’

  Oh blast!

  *~*~**~*~*

  My aunt emerged from behind a potted plant like a vulture from behind a lone desert rock and stalked towards me. I could almost see the sword of just punishment in her right and the scales in her left hand.

  ‘Err… hello, Aunt,’ I said. ‘This is a nice evening. Wonderful ball, don't you think?’

  But apparently, my aunt did not want to change the subject right now. ‘I heard from Colonel Remington that you refused to dance with him.’

  ‘Um… only from him?’

  ‘Yes, he… Wait, what do you mean, only from him? Do you mean to say there are others with whom you refused to dance?’

  I could have slapped myself for not keeping my big mouth shut. I wasn’t usually timid, but in the face of the huge fire breathing dragon that was my aunt, I cowered on my chair, my eyes downcast.

  ‘Err… maybe?’

  ‘Either you did or you didn’t. Well?’

  ‘Did.’

  ‘How many? Two? Three?’

  ‘Err… more something like… thirteen? Maybe fourteen?’

  Watching my aunt’s expression, I truly believe that had we been at home, my eardrums would have been in some danger of being shattered by her reaction. However, at this very moment a gentleman stepped up to the refreshment tables and took a piece of chocolate off the plates, reminding my aunt that we were in company and that ladies did not scream like furies when they were in company.

  Slowly, she stepped towards me until only inches separated us and bent down towards my ear.

  ‘If you should be so lucky as to have another deluded gentleman apply for your hand,’ she hissed into my ear, ‘you will accept it or I will lock you in your room and throw the key away, understood?’

  I paled. My aunt, misinterpreting my look, nodded satisfied. ‘That’s it. No lounging about in the park or in the garden, no going to the library, and above all no meeting with those friends of yours.’

  All I could manage in answer was a shaky nod. My aunt didn’t know the real force of her threat. I had obligations now. I couldn’t simply be locked in my room like a spoiled child. If I wasn’t punctually at work tomorrow, Mr Ambrose would dismiss me for sure.

  For a fleeting moment the idea of leaving home entered my mind - but no. I wasn’t even of age yet. My aunt could bring me back and forcibly lock me in my room if she wished. Though if she heard I had left her house to work for a living, she would probably lock me in an insane asylum instead.

  I swallowed hard. There was nothing for it.

  I had to dance.

  Dance with a man.

  *~*~**~*~*

  Six or seven minutes later, a young officer approached me and bowed. Colonel Malcolm. I remembered him from Sir Philip’s flood of introductions. Somewhere behind him I could see a few others, among them Lieutenant Ellingham, laughing quietly. ‘Miss Linton? May I have the honour of the next dance?’

  The officer braced himself for the rebuff.

  ‘Yes.’

  He stared at me, evidently taken aback.

  ‘Really?’

  I pulled a face. ‘Yes, really. I said yes, didn’t I?’

  ‘Umm… yes, you did. It’s just…’

  I rolled my eyes at him.

  ‘Let’s just get this over with, shall we?’

  The music began to play. Getting to my feet, I grabbed the surprised officer by the hand and hauled him onto the dance floor, while his friends watched in awed amazement.

  ‘Are you wearing good, solid boots?’ I asked.

  ‘Boots?’ The young man looked at me with mounting confusion. ‘Yes, Miss. Why?’

  ‘Because I’ve never danced before in my life and I will probably step on your feet half the time. I don't want you permanently injured.’

  He grinned a little boy grin. ‘That’s all right. I don't mind. I’m a cavalry officer you know? Had a horse step on my foot three times already. You don't think you’re heavier than a horse, do you?’

  Suddenly realizing what he had said, he blushed.

  ‘Begging your pardon, Miss. I didn’t mean to imply that… well…’

  Unwillingly, I had to grin back. This might just not be such an ordeal after all.

  ‘Hmm…’ I replied, pretending to contemplate the question. ‘No, I don’t think I’m quite as heavy as a horse. But nearly.’

  He smiled, relieved. ‘Then I shall take care with every step I take.’

  We danced. It didn’t turn out to be that terrible. Colonel Malcolm was - for a man - relatively quiet and well-behaved. He pointed me into the right direction without forcing me and didn’t complain when I trampled on his toes. When we were done with the quadrille, he bowed to me in a very gentlemanly manner and said with a light smile that this had been a very novel experience.

  My next partners were not quite so agreeable. While my aunt watched from the shadows of the potted plants, I wrestled with various men who seemed to think dancing consisted of pushing around the female like a piece on a chessboard. Whenever they would get too overbearing, I would make good use of my heel and aim a solid kick at the gentleman’s feet, or use my fan to prod them in the ribs. This elicited very satisfying groans from the male monsters. In that way, I got through about an hour of dancing. Sweat was beginning to trickle down my forehead. I threw a pleading glance at my aunt.

  She shook her head.

  So I smiled at the next g
entleman and said yes, he could have the honour of this dance. The fight was beginning to go out of me. My kicks became increasingly feeble. After another half hour, I turned to my aunt again, this time clasping my hands in supplication.

  She considered a moment - then nodded.

  Thank the Lord! I was free. What bliss.

  Staggering to a chair near the refreshment tables, I flopped down on it and leaned back, closing my eyes. Whoever knew dancing could be so exhausting? If this was what you had to do in order to catch yourself an eligible bachelor, I wondered at the fact that not more ladies had decided to try and go find a job of their own. Compared with this, even working for Mr Stoneface Ambrose looked like a piece of chocolate cake.

  Could I take off my shoes? My feet ached, and I wanted so much to give them a little room and air. But although this hadn’t been included in any of my aunt’s lectures about etiquette, I somehow believed that taking off your shoes and putting your feet on the next table wasn’t considered acceptable behaviour at a high society ball.

  My only consolation, I thought with a grin, was that I knew that my partner’s feet would be hurting a dang sight more than mine right now. There was nothing so useful to a girl as really solid heels.

  ‘… and abominably rude,’ a voice made its way through the haze of my exhaustion to my brain. My eyelids fluttered open. The voice was coming from behind the nearest potted plant. I wasn’t someone who eavesdropped, normally. Normally people didn’t have anything interesting to say. But this sounded like one of those rare occasions where it might be interesting to keep an ear open. After all, they mentioned rudeness. They might be talking about me.

  ‘Yes, that is what I heard,’ I heard another voice, which I recognized as Lady Metcalf's. ‘But he has certain… redeeming features.’

  Oh. Not me. They were talking about some stupid man. Losing interest in the discussion, I slowly rose and started away in the direction of another refreshment table. I almost didn’t catch the next sentence.

  ‘But can anyone of you tell me what is so fascinating about him?’ Another voice demanded. ‘I just got back from the country and found that all London is awash with talk of him. I mean, what is so special about this Mr Rikkard Ambrose?’