‘There you are!’
I swooped down on my prey like a hawk on an unsuspecting field mouse. Well, maybe not quite. For one thing, I didn’t grab Sir Philip Wilkins by the neck, but by the hand. For another, I didn’t carry him off to my nest on a distant, rocky crag to devour him, but simply dragged him over to a chair next to the closest refreshment table, away from an exhausted-looking Ella.
‘I have been looking for you,’ I said with a reproachful little smile and more or less forced the lanky, long-nosed lord into a chair beside me. Ella, an expression of sublime relief on her face, dropped into a chair on my other side, out of range of his romantic attentions.
‘All this dancing can be so exhausting, can’t it?’ I asked cheerfully as the first notes for the next dance sounded. ‘I’m sure you’ve been longing for a break.’
‘Well, actually I was rather enjoying-’ Wilkins began, his gaze wandering with dreamy longing between Ella and the dance floor.
‘So terribly exhausting!’ I cut him off. This was the perfect time to test a very handy technique for talking with men I had recently discovered: if they were gentlemen, and a lady intimated there was something she might like them to do, they were usually too polite to refuse. Of course, nobody ever used this technique because it was ruthlessly impolite. But then, nobody had ever accused me of politeness. ‘I’m sure you would love a little conversation for a change, wouldn’t you?’
He hesitated. ‘Um… well, yes, if you think so, but…’
It works! It works, it works!
‘I must admit I found our discussion of your house in town extraordinary,’ I cut him off again with a bright smile. ‘So exciting, in fact, that I was wondering: Do you have any estates in the country, too?’
‘Well, yes…’
That was all I needed. I let him have it - a full broadside of verbal cannonballs!
‘Wonderful! That is so interesting. How many manors are in your possession? Are they large? Is there good hunting there? Not that I myself hunt, of course, but I find the noise of guns so soothing. Reminds me of good old English traditions, and that an excellent supper will soon be on the table, don't you know? Do you yourself hunt? Oh, forgive me for even asking! You are a true gentleman, of course you hunt! I’m sure you’re an excellent sportsman, and that is so important in a man, especially an Englishman, since it’s really so central to our national character. I mean, if a German or a Frenchman don't know how to shoot, that’s all right, they can drink beer or think up poems and philosophy and everybody will say “Here we have a true example of our Nation”, but with us English, and the British in general, hunting and sportsmanship are so important. Rather demanding, don't you think? But then, our nation is the greatest in the world, I suppose that it is allowed to make demands of its subjects. What were we talking of again? Now I forgot. Oh yes, your family estates! I must ask you, do you have a library? For I am very interested in…’
And so I went on, and on, and on, until Wilkins' eyes became glassy, and Ella had settled into a comfortable nap. Let me tell you, it wasn’t easy to come up with boring subject after boring subject. Dull things to talk of aren’t as common as you might think.
Why don’t you talk about flowers and greenhouses, or romantic love? He’ll probably be happy to talk to you for hours then!
I snorted. But that was just it: I didn’t want him to be happy. I wanted him to finally see what a horrible family he intended to marry into, and run away screaming. So far, though, from the looks he gave me, the only result I seemed to be getting for my efforts was that he intended to marry Ella as quickly as possible and remove her to one of these country estates of his, as far away as possible from her deranged sister.
‘Of course,’ I said brightly, ‘Ella and I are inseparable. Wherever she goes, I go. Isn’t that so, Ella?’
I elbowed her in the ribs as discreetly as possible. Abruptly awakening from her nap, she mumbled: ‘What…? Oh yes. Inseparable, yes, of course.’
‘I believe that even were one of us to marry,’ I said poignantly, ‘the other could not survive without her sister. We would always have to be together.’
Horror washed over Wilkins' face. Like a drowning man stretching out of the water to grasp a cliff, he jumped from his chair and tapped a passing gentleman in a black tailcoat on the shoulder. In the background, the music of the last dance faded as it came to an end.
‘Excuse me, my friend.’ The words tumbled out of Wilkins' mouth into the sudden silence. He couldn’t get them out fast enough. ‘The next dance will be starting soon, and this lady here has held me captive… um, I mean, has had to sit down for several dances, lacking a partner. Would you be so kind as to oblige?’
‘If you wish it, Wilkins,’ said a horribly familiar, cold, curt voice. ‘You were most obliging in our recent dealings, I owe you a favour.’
‘It is too kind of you to say so,’ Wilkins sighed, relief breaking out all over his face.
‘No. I’m never too kind.’ Turning, Mr Ambrose nodded to Sir Philip. ‘Now, where is this lady of yours?’
Then he saw me.
Slowly his eyes wandered up and down my figure, as if he could not believe what he was seeing. He opened his mouth a fraction of an inch. I swear he was about to make a cutting remark about me wearing no trousers! Then his eyes met mine, and he remembered who and where we were.
‘Ambrose, may I introduce Miss Lilly Linton.’ Wilkins' voice was a distant buzz in the background, his gestures meaningless. ‘Miss Lilly Linton, this is Mr Rikkard-’
‘We know each other,’ Mr Ambrose cut him off. His dark eyes didn’t leave my face, boring into me with searing intensity.
The music had started playing. Around us, people were busy chattering. Nevertheless, in our small portion of the ballroom you could have heard a pin drop.
‘Y-you do?’ Sir Philip looked from me to Mr Ambrose and back again. So did Ella, who was suddenly completely awake again. There was a pause.
‘Where from?’ Wilkins inquired added in a tone of undisguised curiosity and scepticism. As if I didn’t exist on the same level as His Mightiness Mr Rikkard Ambrose!
Well, I didn’t, monetarily speaking, but still. It was pretty cheeky coming from a chap who went about London bombarding innocent young ladies with flowers!
