by Robert Thier
Mr Ambrose reached up, picked two nuts out of a bowl in in the middle of the table and closed his hand around them. His other hand came down in a lightning-fast move. There was an ear-splitting crack, and everyone flinched.
‘Err…yes, Your Ladyship,’ Major Strickland managed, watching Mr Ambrose calmly dissect the shattered nuts out of the corner of his eye. ‘Most wonderful indeed.’
‘We shall have such a merry time,’ the marchioness enthused. ‘I have hired the best musicians for the occasion, a quartet straight from Paris. They’ve played before King Louis Philippe and Emperor Ferdinand of Austria.’
‘Then why,’ Mr Ambrose asked, his voice as cold as a winter night, ‘were they desperate enough to come here?’
Shoving the nuts into his mouth, he grabbed another pair.
Lady Samantha cleared her throat and tried to regain the attention of her audience. It wasn’t easy.
‘The celebrations will extend from the official opening of the Christmas ball over Christmas Day and Boxing Day.’
There was another crack. Mr Ambrose had broken another nut. This time, however, I’d be willing to bet my bowler that it was unintentional.
‘Boxing Day?’ he enquired, cold eyes raking his mother. ‘You follow that…custom here?’
Lady Samantha held his gaze. ‘We do.’
Giving an involuntary shudder, Mr Ambrose turned away. Part of me almost pitied him. Boxing Day - so called because of the Christmas boxes filled with presents that employers traditionally gave to all their faithful employees - was, to put it mildly, not Mr Ambrose’s favourite day of the year. I remembered the one occasion on which one of his hundreds of clerks had dared to ask what he would be getting for Boxing Day, and Mr Ambrose had reacted by—
Well, some memories were better repressed.
‘Now, as to the Christmas ball…’
Instantly, I forgot about my fork, and my attention snapped to Lady Samantha. So did the attention of every other lady in the room, particularly the hyenas.
‘My husband is not feeling particularly well. So, this year, the Christmas ball will be opened by my son.’
Slowly and deliberately, Mr Ambrose raised his gaze to meet his mother’s. ‘What did you say?’
She met his gaze head-on. Dear me…I would never had thought the little old lady had it in her. ‘I believe you heard me. There are so many charming young ladies present.’ Lady Samantha’s gaze swept over the assembled young women in the room, lingering just an instant on me. ‘I’m sure you will find someone here that will suit you perfectly.’
At that, the eyes of the harpies practically started glowing. They fastened on Mr Ambrose with ravenous intent.
Mr Ambrose wasn’t fazed. Cold eyes reviewed the collection of ladies arrayed before him. They went from one to the next and the next - until they reached me, and swept over me as if I didn’t even exist. Budding hope that I hadn’t even realised had begun to rise inside me was crushed under a mountain of ice.
What did you expect, Lilly? You turned the man down! Did you think he was going to ask you to dance after that? For what? Being turned down again?
As if he were reading my thoughts, Mr Ambrose’s gaze suddenly snapped to me, and our eyes met.
Would I? Would I turn him down? For a marriage, yes, but for a dance? I suddenly realised that I wouldn’t. I would happily spend a dance or two in Mr Ambrose’s arms - even if it only was for the chance of stomping around on his feet a little.
Our eyes met again, and a shiver raced down my spine.
What is he thinking? What is going on in that granite head of his?
‘By the way…’ Lady Samantha’s voice interrupted our duel of eyes. Everyone looked over to her.
‘Yes, mother?’
‘Elsby has informed me that a large number of…unconventional guests have invaded the servant’s quarters.’ She glanced at me - or rather, as I realised a moment later, behind me. I half-turned and saw four of the men who had been in my rescue party standing there in ill-fitting servants’ livery. ‘May I ask the reason for this?’
Once again, Mr Ambrose’s cold, sea-colored eyes flicked to me. ‘A…package needed delivering.’
Package? Package?
‘Dozens of men for one single package?’
‘It was a very important package.’
Well, thank you so much! Now I feel much better.
‘And now that the delivery has been accomplished, will they leave?’
‘Not just yet. They will accompany us on our way back south after Christmas is passed. One can never be too careful. The highway can be a dangerous place.’
Lady Samantha hesitated - then nodded. ‘Very well. You are right. Your…friends are welcome to stay until then.’
The rest of the meal passed mostly in silence. Oh, don’t get me wrong, the other ladies and gentlemen were quite loquacious, and the hyenas tried to draw Mr Ambrose into conversation more than once. They didn’t seem to comprehend what I had known for a pretty long time: Mr Ambrose and conversations? Not a feasible mix.
But between Mr Ambrose and me, silence reigned. Silence that was punctuated only by the occasional glance out of the corner of an eye, and forceful use of cutlery. Our behaviour didn’t go unnoticed. Lady Samantha threw more than one curious glance in our direction, and Adaira - well, she didn’t content herself with glances. Her sea-coloured eyes were as piercing as the points of Poseidon’s trident. I could practically hear her whisper in my ear: what is it? What’s happened between my brother and you? Spit it out!
Luckily, spitting was against table manners. Still, her scrutiny was nearly as intimidating as that of Mr Rikkard Ambrose. When the dinner finally came to an end, I literally jumped at the chance to get away. I only mumbled a hasty excuse to Lady Samantha, then I was on my feet and heading towards the door, towards freedom-
-when a strong, hard hand closed around my wrist.
‘Miss Linton. A word?’
Oh, that cool, collected voice…
What is he thinking?
He wanted a word! With me! Was he going to ask me to open the ball with him?
But when I turned around and saw the icy determination in his eyes, I knew Mr Ambrose hadn’t come to ask anything. He had come to demand.
‘Last chance, Miss Linton.’ His voice was too low for anyone to overhear - but everyone was watching. Everyone. Especially the hyenas. Oh, and Lady Samantha. And Adaira. Spiffing! ‘Have you reconsidered my offer?’
I raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Have you reconsidered mine?’
Good God! I’m asking him in front of a room full of people including his sister and mother if he’d like to dance the fandango de pokum with me!
‘No.’
I gave him my best ‘kiss my generous butt’ smile. ‘What a shame.’
With one tug, I pulled my hand free of his grip. He gazed at me for a moment longer - then whirled around and stalked out of the room, the tails of his coat flapping behind him like raven’s wings.
I stood there for a moment, unable to move, gazing after him.
That moment was enough for the huntress to catch up to me.
‘What was all that about?’ a familiar voice hissed into my ear.
‘Oh. Hello, Lady Adaira. What a lovely morning it is, don’t you think?’
‘Really? Talking about the weather?’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that the best you can do? I would have expected a more imaginative evasion tactic from you.’
To be honest, so would I. But right now, my brain isn’t working very well.
She stepped forward, her sea-coloured eyes, so terribly familiar, boring into me.
‘What happened between you and my brother?’
I smiled. ‘Don’t worry. I didn’t seduce him and rob him of his virtue.’ Yet. ‘We’ve merely had a…difference of opinion.’
‘Ha! And I am Father Christmas.’
‘Well, now that you mention it, I think I see the beginnings of a white beard growing on your face.’
> Adaira was not deterred so easily. One small hand took hold of mine and squeezed gently, caringly - and suddenly I wanted to tell her. I wanted to have a shoulder to cry on. My usual shoulders, attached to my little sister and four best friends, were nowhere in the vicinity, and Adaira was here, and she was strong and understanding, and…
Could I tell her? Would she understand, or would she blame me?
Leaning forward, she pierced me with her foreceful gaze and put an arm around me. ‘Tell me! What has that brother of mine done to make an arse of himself this time?’
I breathed a sigh of relief.
Thank you! Thank you God, for sending me a girl with the right perspective on life!
‘He…he…’
I tried to get the words out. But with dozens of curious eyes still on us, they just wouldn’t come. The tension of the last few days had built up inside me. I longed for the dam to break and the flood to burst out of me, but not here. Not now.
Instinctively, Adaira seemed to understand. Her grip on my hand tightened, and she pulled me towards a door that lead to the hallway.
‘Come. I know a place where we can talk. And besides…’ A mischievous grin spread across her face. ‘If my brother has done something to deserve your ire, Miss Linton, I know just the right way to let off some steam.’
A Flapdoodle in the Snow
‘Aah…’ Sighing, I straightened and gazed contentedly at my handiwork. ‘You were right, Adaira. This is a marvellous way to let off steam. Let me guess - when we’re finished, this will depict…’
‘Yes, it will. Let’s just hope he doesn’t find out.’
‘We’re at the back of the house, behind three rows of hedges. He won’t even know where we are. Plus even if he found out, he can go eat my parasol!’
‘A very commendable sentiment.’ She grinned at me. ‘I have often wanted to make him eat a parasol - or a cow, or a bucket full of rusted nails. However, last time I saw you and my brother together, I had the impression that your feelings towards him were, how shall I put it, of a more tender nature?’
I ground my teeth. ‘Tender my foot! He…he…!’
‘What did he do?’
My clenched fist slammed into the half-finished snow artwork we were building. It felt very satisfying. ‘He told me he loved me!’
‘How atrocious. I can see why that would upset you.’
‘No! No, that’s not it!’
‘It isn’t?
‘No! I’m in love with him, too, curse him!’
‘You are?’ An expression of puzzlement crossed over her face that only the little sisters of attractive older brothers can produce. She shrugged. ‘To each her own, I guess.’
I punched the snow again, then grabbed some more to fill out the holes I had made in our wintery masterpiece of art. We continued sculpting in silence for a while. Finally, Adaira said: ‘Well, if that’s not what you’re angry about…what is it? Are you angry that he couldn’t keep Dalgliesh from taking you?’
‘What? No!’ I made a dismissive gesture. ‘That was nothing! I didn’t even need his help to get away. I freed myself and was just about to start on my way back when he arrived.’
‘You…you did?’ There was an unholy amount of glee in Adaira’s voice. Her eyes suddenly sparkled more brightly than the snow around us. ‘Dear me.’
I had a feeling that Mr Ambrose would be hearing quite a few comments on this subject from his little sister in the days to come.
Good. Very good indeed.
‘Yes. It’s not about the kidnapping. It’s not about him telling me he loves me on the ride back. But when we had returned, he…he…’ Righteous anger made me choke on my words. Adaira made soothing noises, and I managed to gather myself enough to get out the words: ‘He waited till the next morning - just one day after he swore that he loved me - and then he asked me to marry him!’
Silence.
Not cold silence. Not stony silence. No, this was a ‘Yes,-and-what’s-the-punch-line?’ silence.
It took Adaira a moment to realise there wasn’t one.
‘Oh. How, um…atrocious? Horrific?’
I punched the snow in front of me, trembling, with…rage? Fear?
‘I know, right? He said he loved me! How could he! How could he do this to me!’
‘Um, yes. I must say it’s really quite shocking. I mean, from love to marriage, how could anyone make that leap? It’s an outrage.’
‘Exactly! And that’s not the worst of it!’
‘It isn’t?’
‘No! His mother - your mother - wants it too! She approves of me!’
‘My goodness! How scandalous. Though I must admit I understand the feeling.’
‘There! There, you see?’ I jabbed a finger at her, accusingly. ‘Even you want me as your sister-in-law! This marriage madness is spreading like the plague!’
‘My apologies. I simply cannot help admitting that you are by far the least despicable candidate for sister-in-law that I have ever met.’
‘Gah!’ Pulling at my hair, I gave the half-finished snow sculpture a good kick. ‘Blast, blast, blast! Everyone is infected by this insanity! And do you know what’s the worst?’
‘No. What?’
‘Even I am tempted! I! I should know better than anyone else that this can only end in a catastrophe - and still, I keep having these flashes of pretty churches, and wedding dresses, and him and me together, and I think I’m going insane! And it’s all his fault!’
Adaira patted my back. ‘Deplorable! That miserable cad! I’ll help you eviscerate him.’
‘Thank you! You are a good friend.’
‘Just one thing…’
‘Yes?’
‘If you could explain to me why exactly you don’t want to marry him, that might help me understand what you’ve been going on about for the last five minutes.’
I stomped on the ground, sending a cascade of glittering crystals into the air. ‘Don’t you see?’
‘Err…no, not really. He loves you. You love him, hard as that may be to understand. So, why not make it official?’
‘Because!’ My foot slammed into the ground again. This time the snow flew so high it filled my shoe. Right now, I didn’t care. ‘Because it’s marriage we’re talking about! Marriage! Have you had both eyes and ears open? Have you heard the whispers, read the papers? Don’t you know what some husbands do to their wives?’
‘Rick would never-’
‘-hurt me, I know. But that’s not the point, Adaira.’ Taking a step towards her, I took her hands and looked straight into her eyes. ‘Do you know why I took the job as your brother’s secretary? Do you know why I’ve been running after him for over a year now, through Egypt and Brazil and God knows where else?’
‘I’ve had my suspicions, but I don’t really know, no.’
‘I did it because I want to be free! I want to be my own woman, go where I want, do what I want, be who I want to be. I don’t want to be an appendage to someone else!’
‘But you won’t be! Rick-’
‘-is a man. A powerful man, who is used to being in charge. And marriage is a contract. Do you know what it is I’d be signing up for?’ Pulling a small, leather-bound book out of my pocket, I waved it in the air. ‘I wasn’t absolutely sure myself. I didn’t want to listen to rumours and newspaper gossip columns. So I borrowed this from your mother’s library. The Book of Common Prayer. It has the standard wedding ceremony in there, as prescribed by the Church of England.’
With trembling fingers, I opened the book at the page I had marked earlier. ‘Do you really think that when the vicar steps in front of me and asks me Wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him and serve him? I will be able to answer with a “Yes”? Do you really think that when the vicar stands there and tells me, Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the Church:
and he is the Saviour of the body. Therefore as the Church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in everything,[16] I will be able to just stand there and meekly swallow it?’
Panting, I lowered the book. Adaira was looking at me with big eyes, dumbstruck.
‘If you think that,’ I whispered. ‘You don’t know me at all.’
She hesitated a moment - then nodded. ‘You’re right.’
My eyebrows shot up. ‘I am?’
‘Yes. Down with matrimony!’ She slammed her fist into her palm, then lowered her voice and added: ‘But for heaven’s sake, don’t let mother know I said that!’
A smiled tugged at the corners of my mouth. ‘I won’t.’
‘And I hope you won’t be offended if one day I choose to marry anyway?’
‘Not in the least.’
‘Because, you know…there are quite a lot of men out there who probably wouldn’t stand on the letter of the contract.’
‘True.’ I gave her a weak smile. ‘But Mr Rikkard Ambrose is not one of them.’
She nodded solemnly. She knew her brother more than well enough to know that a contract with him was not to be undertaken lightly.
‘And do you know what’s most important?’ I asked her, my voice totally serious. “He knew all this, Adaira. He knew how I felt about marriage, he knew that I would die before giving up my independence. And still - one day after telling me he loved me, he asked me to become his wife. No, he didn’t even ask - he ordered! Can you understand now why I would be a teensy-weensy bit annoyed with your dear brother?’
Adaira considered for a moment - then nodded. Bending down, she lifted up a compact ball of snow and slammed it on top of the figure we had been moulding. It was a tall figure, made of snow pounded so long it was almost as hard as ice. An old black top hat sat upon its head. For eyes, it had two sea-coloured pebbles, and the mouth was a thin line that looked as if it almost never opened.
‘I think we did a really good job.’ Cocking her head, Adaira regarded our masterpiece. ‘He looks just like the original.’
‘He has a carrot for a nose,’ I pointed out.
‘Like I said - just like the original.’
I really loved this girl.