Storm and Silence

Storm and Silence Page 98

Secret Plans and Politics

There’s no reason to be angry! No reason to be upset! I told myself, chewing savagely on a bar of solid chocolate I had found at one of the refreshment tables. Not in the least! It is typical male behaviour, valuing a pretty doll in a ball gown more than a girl who actually chose to go out into the world and do something with her life. And there’s no reason why that should make you angry! Not in the least!

It didn’t help. The chocolate did to some extent, soothing my nerves a bit, but I was still fuming when I reached a table with free chairs and slumped down onto the nearest one.

And do you want to know what the most infuriating part was?

I couldn’t even figure out why exactly I was so angry! I mean, it wasn’t as though I were entitled attract Mr Ambrose’s attention or even had any reason to wish it. I was his secretary, no more and no less.

It’s the inequality of the thing, I finally decided. It wouldn’t bother you at all if Miss Hamilton were a sensible female who actually worked for a living and stood up to men and their unjust laws. It is the suffragist in you that has taken a justified dislike to her, that is all.

Satisfied with my findings, and very happy about my noble disposition which wouldn’t stoop to something such as petty jealousy, I took another bite of chocolate and moaned as the piece melted in my mouth.

Ohhh…

The chap who invented this was surely the only decent man living! A true genius and benefactor to the whole world. The solid chocolate did wonders for consoling me. I sat at the table, slowly finding my calmer self again and wondering what step I should take next regarding Ella and her unwanted admirer. Maybe if I just pestered him a little more…

‘Lilly, my dear!’

I froze. The voice that had come from behind me was unmistakable. It was the chief fury of hell! Turning, I saw my aunt rush towards me. But for once, she wore no angry scowl directed at me. Instead, her arms were wide open and there might have been actual tears of joy in her eyes.

‘Come into my arms, most beloved niece of mine!’ Before I could run for the hills, she had enfolded me in her arms and was pressing me to her meagre bosom. Startled, I hugged back reflexively. What was this? Could it be that this wasn’t my aunt, but her not-so-evil twin? Or a moving wax replica? Those were the only explanations for the abnormally chummy behaviour of the being in front of me which I could come up with.

‘I saw you dancing with Lord Dalgliesh!’ she exclaimed, and suddenly everything became clear to me. This was still my aunt, as she lived and breathed. ‘What did you talk about? Did he seem interested in you? Will you see him again? Oh, Lillian, don't just stand there saying nothing. You are always so quiet, girl! You will never get anywhere if you do not learn how to properly express yourself!’

‘We didn’t talk about important things really,’ I murmured, choosing my words with care. I was well aware that I was walking a mine-field here. ‘We just talked about, um… mutual acquaintances, that is all.’

‘Wonderful! Wonderful! You have made a great start with him. Now don't lose sight of him, do you hear me? If you can secure him… Good God! That would probably be the most eligible match in all of England!’

I waited with bated breath, wondering if she would make any remark about my dance with Mr Ambrose, too. But she was so full of my dance with Lord Dalgliesh that she apparently hadn’t even noticed what I had done once that had been over. I had to admit that after a while her profusions on the subject got a bit boring. Not that I had anything against Lord Dalgliesh - no more than against any other person in trousers on this planet - but I definitely did not entertain the thought of marrying him! Instinctively I knew that to him, I was no more than a marionette, just like all the other people in this room and all the people of his company. No more than an instrument to be directed according to his will. That was definitely not the kind of person I wanted to be linked with for the rest of my life.

My aunt was just in the middle of a hymn of praise on Lord Dalgliesh’s taste in dressing, when I had had enough. Rising, I told her with a more than convincingly faked smile:

‘Forgive me, Madam, but I think I am tired of sitting. I will look about and maybe find a pleasant partner to dance with.’

‘Oh yes, my darling, do that, do that! And let it be the right one!’

‘You mean the richest one?’

‘Finally! Finally, you understand my concerns! Oh, Lillian, that I would live to see this day…’ She seemed about to succumb to tears of happiness again. But then, with great restraint, she collected herself and waved me off. ‘Go, go! The next dance is starting, don’t miss your chance, my dear!’

‘Certainly, Madam.’

As quickly as possible, I made my escape. In a corner of the room I spied a nice, big potted plant.

Wonderful! Just what you need to hide behind and take a few minutes’ break before you have to face the ballroom crowd again!

Moving inconspicuously towards my target, I looked left and right to make sure no one was watching and then slid behind the large, dark green plant - only to discover that somebody else had apparently had the same idea.

Ella stumbled back against the wall, giving a little shriek, which immediately cut off when she recognized me.

‘Oh Lilly, thank God it’s you,’ she whispered, leaning against the wall and closing her eyes. ‘He isn’t lurking somewhere, is he?’

I took a peek around the potted plant. Wilkins was nowhere in sight.

‘No. At least I don't see him.’

‘Thank God,’ she repeated. ‘I swear to you, if he tries to stick another flower in my hair, I will collapse.’

‘Oh?’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘I thought you told me… what was it again? Yes, that was it! You told me it was an honour to be courted by such a great noble, didn’t you?’

She blushed. ‘Of course it is! I only meant… I mean… I am very honoured, very honoured indeed. He is paying me an enormous compliment, singling me out like this, and I really, and I… I really am flattered that I among all the ladies should be chosen to be the object of his-’

‘Put a sock in it,’ I told her with a goodly dose of sisterly affection. Ella hung her head, still blushing.

‘You… I…’

‘You don't have to pretend. Not where I’m concerned. Tell me honestly: do you want to marry Sir Philip Wilkins?’