by Robert Thier
A barrage of images flashed through my mind in an instant.
Lord Dalgliesh and Mr Ambrose facing off across a ballroom, their eyes glittering like ice.
Lord Dalgliesh’s men charging us in the dark alleys of the East End, knives drawn.
Lord Dalgliesh and Mr Ambrose shaking hands like they wanted to break each other’s bones.
Lord Dalgliesh standing in his secret hideout, under the red cross and golden lion banner of the East India Company, shipping off illegal goods and stolen secrets to God-only-knew-where.
Lord Dalgliesh’s guards shooting at us, ready to kill.
Had I met Lord Dalgliesh before?
Oh yes, I had. And I had no wish to repeat the experience.
Luckily, half the times we met (the ones where guns and knives had been involved) I had been in men’s dress. But even so, if he recognised my female incarnation, it would not bode well for me.
‘No, I don’t believe so,’ I managed in a reasonably calm tone and tried to step back. His grip tightened still more.
‘But I do.’ His eyes, sharp as steel over his aquiline nose, narrowed. ‘Yes. We have met somewhere before. At a ball. I saw you with-’
‘Let go!’
But it was too late. I saw his eyes widen, and his lips silently form the word Ambrose.
‘Miss Linton.’ Suddenly, he was smiling again. This time, it looked neither harmless nor friendly. ‘So good to see you again. I always wondered what became of you after that night. Why don’t you step over here for a moment? We haven’t come across each other in a long time, and I would love to discuss a mutual acquaintance of ours.’
‘Sorry. I don’t really have the time right now.’
I tugged to free my shoulders from his grip - to no avail. His hands were like steel clamps. And he was still smiling.
‘I insist. Please follow me, Miss Linton. We are going to have a good, long talk, where nobody else can hear and-’
‘Lillian! Lillian, my love!’
Let me tell you, when that shout came from behind me, it was the last thing I expected. I still could hardly believe it when a moment later, Morton Marmeduke Fitzgerald stumbled around the corner, huffing and puffing on his short legs. He was the most unlikely guardian angel I had ever set eyes on, and the first suitor ever in my life I was actually glad to see.
Lord Dalgliesh apparently was just as surprised to see Mr Fitzgerald as I was. Good.
‘Morton!’ Tearing myself out of Lord Dalgliesh’s loosened grip, I hurled myself at Mr Fitzgerald, crushing him against me. ‘I’m so happy to see you!’
‘Um…you are?’
‘Yes, of course, my dear!’
Morton blinked. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course, silly! We just got engaged, remember?’ Half-turning, I threw a very significant look at Lord Dalgliesh. ‘I’m so happy! Morton is such a good man, and important, too. There would be such an outcry if anything were to happen to him.’
‘Indeed?’ Lord Dalgliesh sized me up for a moment - then his gaze slid to Mr Fitzgerald, and he gave a ‘Well, you can’t judge a book by its cover’-shrug. His eyes found mine again, and they were steel-blue slits. ‘I’ll take your word for it, Miss Linton. Although I think, of the two of you, you are far more important.’
Half-turning, he gave a sharp nod. ‘Until we meet again, Miss Linton.’
And he strode away into the darkness.
‘Who was that, darling?’ Mr Morton asked, beaming up at me.
‘No one of consequence,’ I lied. ‘Shall we go inside?’
‘Yes! Wait until everybody hears the news! They’ll all be so excited! Especially your aunt!’
I shuddered. ‘Oh yes, I’ll bet she’ll be.’
Taking a deep breath, I let myself be led back into the house of Lady Abercrombie. Now I had two big problems facing me. Namely, in rising order of importance:
How was I going to get away from this party alive without Dalgliesh getting his hands on me?
And, much more importantly:
How the hell was I going to get rid of my new fiancé?
*~*~**~*~*
I could describe the reaction with which my aunt greeted the announcement of our engagement when I and Morton - or Morty, as he asked me to call him - came back into the ballroom. I definitely could. However, I don’t really want to. If you had been hurled into the darkest pit of hell with gleeful harpies cackling above, you wouldn’t be particularly eager to talk about it either, trust me.
Suffice it to say that it took her only three minutes and twenty-seven seconds to spread the news through the whole ballroom, and when she was done, she sat happily in the middle of a circle of congratulatory well-wishers, as if she were the happy bride-to-be, smiling at everybody, while in her head counting the social and monetary advantage this would bring. To judge by the breadth of her smile, they both were considerable.
‘Lillian, my love! Shall we dance?’
I tried to manage a smile at the man I refused to think of as my future husband. ‘Um…of course, err…Morty. I’d be delighted to.’
When hell freezes over!
He pulled me onto the dance floor, and I let him. The dance began. Half-heartedly, I tried to smash his feet, but I hadn’t really counted on it working. His feet appeared to be nearly as hard as Mr Ambrose’s head. He would be nearly impossible to get rid of.
And do you know what the worst of it was?
Part of me liked Morty!
He seemed to be - wonder of wonders - a decent man, a nice man even, who cared about his tenants and just wanted to live a quiet life in the country. If I had to pick a man with whom to spend a nice, quiet evening and discuss the benefits of sheep dung as crop fertiliser, I would probably have picked him. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to stab him in a dark alley with my parasol rather than marrying him!
After three more dances, tradition demanded that the happy couple - thank God! - split up to dance with other people. I lost sight of Morty, but I always took care to stay in the centre of the crowd, far away from any dark corners. Once or twice I spotted Lord Dalgliesh, and from the way he looked at me I could tell he had not given up.
‘Miss Linton!’
I whirled at the sound of someone calling my name - but it wasn’t Dalgliesh. It wasn’t Morty, either.
‘Captain Carter!’
The British Army captain gave me his favourite cheeky grin, and did a little bow that was anything but respectful. He was one of the few males on this planet that I could actually tolerate.
‘Miss Linton. What a pleasure to see you. And how is your aunt? Still happily nasty, I trust?’
And remarks like this were the reason for my tolerance.
‘Nastier than ever before, thank you. Avoid her at all costs.’
‘I shall do my best.’
‘How is our mutual friend, Sir Philip?’
Captain Carter pointed over to where a tall, lanky figure with oversized ears and a rather impressive nose was dancing with a wispy blonde, his eye dazed with adoration. ‘In love. How else?’
‘That makes how many times this month? Four?’
‘Five.’
‘My, my, he is in good form.’
‘It’s the spring air, I’m sure.’
Behind us, the musicians struck up the tune of a lively dance. Captain Carter extended his hand. ‘Well, Miss Linton? Would you like to dance?’
I breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Yes!’
Unlike the torture sessions on the dance floor with other members of the male species, I actually liked dancing with Captain Carter. He was one of the few men I had met whose hands didn’t wander, and who truly seemed to enjoy the dance itself, not the groping. He helped me enjoy it, too, a thing I would not have believed possible before I’d met him.
Plus, while I was dancing in the middle of the ballroom in the hard, muscled arms of a British Army captain with a shiny sabre at his side, the chances of my being forcibly abducted by Lord Dalgliesh seemed relatively sli
m.
The first dance started. It was a quadrille - definitely not my favourite, but Captain Carter made it bearable. He never pushed me around, never took his eyes off my face, and didn’t even mind when my foot occasionally landed on his, which, in this case, happened purely by accident, I swear. After two rounds through the ballroom, just when I was starting to get comfortable, the captain nodded sideways to somewhere out of my field of vision.
‘Dear me. I think I have a rival for your affections.’
I gaped at him. ‘What?’
‘Look over there.’
Turning with the music, I followed his nod with my eyes and what I saw drove the captain’s words right out of my mind. There, in the shadow of a column, stood Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh.
I had been doubtful before as to whether Lord Dalgliesh would permit me to leave. But looking at him, standing there like that, staring at me, I knew. I could see the bleak truth in his eyes.
‘That man has been staring at you ever since we started dancing,’ the captain’s voice drifted to my ears from far, far away. ‘Any idea who he is?’
‘No,’ I lied. ‘No idea at all.’
The dance drifted to a close around us. Halting our moves, Captain Carter dismissed Dalgliesh with a shrug and smiled down at me. ‘Well, I can’t blame him for staring.’
I stomped on his foot. This time, it wasn’t by accident.
‘Ouch!’ His grin widened. ‘Not in a good mood tonight, are we?’
‘No! Definitely not.’
‘Would you like another dance?’
‘Yes! Definitely yes!’
‘All right. Hold on. I think this one is going to be a bit livelier.’
He was right. The notes of a polka started whirling through the air. We danced this dance, too, and another after that, and it was still not enough. I knew that soon enough, the worries of the world would come crashing down on me again, but just for the moment I wanted to shove them in a corner, hang a blanket over them and pretend they didn’t exist. For one waltz and one blissfully mad polka, I forgot all about Lord Dalgliesh and my…
Ew! There really was no other way to say it: my engagement.
Two blessed dances. But the bliss didn’t last long after we stepped off the dance floor.
‘Captain Carter!’ My sister Maria advanced on us, giving me a bright, cheerful I’ll-gut-you-like-a-fish smile. She was leading someone forward. A small, roundish someone. ‘How wonderful to see you here. Have you met Lillian’s fiancé? Mr Morton Marmeduke Fitzgerald.’
The captain’s eyebrows shot up like Chinese fireworks. He stared at Morty - who thankfully didn’t notice because he was busy bowing and mumbling greetings - and then glanced over at me.
‘Fiancé?’ he whispered.
‘Temporary!’ I whispered back.
‘Since when is there such a thing as a temporary fiancé?’
‘Since I invented it! Now shut up!’
‘Yes, Miss Linton.’
‘And don’t smirk like that! This isn’t funny!’
‘Of course not, Miss Linton.’
And, of course, he didn’t stop smirking.
But what he didn’t know was: this really wasn’t funny. Because it was about much more than my getting an unwanted fiancé. Over Morty’s head, I caught another glimpse of Lord Dalgliesh, his golden hair shining in the chandelier’s light. He wasn’t alone, now. Reinforcements had arrived: several officers in uniforms of the presidency armies surrounded him. Huzzah! Lord Dalgliesh’s personal pack of bloodhounds had arrived.
I had to get out of there. And I had to do it fast.
‘Lilly!’ Maria sent me another bone-chilling smile. ‘Why don’t you tell Captain Carter exactly how you and Mr Fitzgerald met? I think he’d just love to hear such a romantic story.’
‘I’d love to, I really would, but, um…I’ve just remembered I have to go to the powder room. Please excuse me.’
And before my sister could grab me and think of any more tortures for me, I ducked behind a portly Dame of the Empire and vanished into the crowd. I hadn’t been lying. I really had to get to the powder room. Just not to powder anything, or to pee. Pushing people aside right and left, leaving a trail of ‘Ouff!’s and ‘Pardon me!’s behind me, I made my way to the discreetly marked door. Grabbing a nearby waiter by the arm, I pulled him behind a vase filled with flowers.
‘Miss?’ He looked taken aback. ‘Um… how may I help you?’
‘Well…I’m not sure…’ I cleared my throat. ‘It’s a bit delicate.’
He smiled. ‘Don’t worry, Miss. I’m sure there’s something I can do.’
‘Oh, would you?’ I gazed up at him with wide, adoring eyes, doing my best imitation of my little sister Ella. ‘The thing is…oh, I hardly know how to say it!’
‘You can trust me, Miss.’
‘I can see that.’ Shyly, I touched his arm. ‘You seem like such a kind man. You see…a friend of mine - a younger cousin - spilled wine on his tailcoat and trousers. And, you know, he is here to make a good impression on old Lady Abercrombie, and she can be, rather…particular.’
The servant shuddered. ‘No need to say more, Miss.’
‘I just need someone to slip out and get him a fresh tailcoat and trousers,’ I pleaded, making my eyes even bigger. ‘Please? They don’t have to be new, just presentable. I’ll pay, of course. Here you are, two shillings. You may keep the rest.’
The man’s face lit up. ‘Miss! That’s very generous!’
Depends on how you look at it, Mister. My life is worth two shillings.
‘Just hurry, will you?’ I pleaded. ‘My young cousin is hiding right now, but sooner or later Lady Abercrombie is going to notice he’s gone, and then-’
‘I understand. What size is your cousin?’
‘About the same size as me. Hurry! And thank you for doing this!’
The waiter flashed a smile. ‘No need to thank me, Miss. I’ll be back in a moment.’
I spent hours - or at least it felt like hours - in agony, pretending to chat and laugh with the people around me. Every now and again someone would appear and say:
‘Miss Linton? Congratulations on your engagement!’
And I would have to resist the urge to vomit into a vase. Every moment, I expected Dalgliesh to appear and try to grab me. But when someone suddenly appeared behind me, it was not Dalgliesh.
‘Miss?’
‘There you are!’ I whirled and grabbed the clothes from the waiter, not even glancing at what they were. ‘Thank you! Thank you so much! I, um, will bring them to my cousin right away!’
And I slipped into the powder room. To heck with the waiter if he’d find that strange. I was never going to set a foot in this house again anyway!
One wrestling match with a hoopskirt later, I stepped out of the powder room, my own man once again, even if only in pretence. Keeping my head down, and especially doing my best to avoid any eye contact with my family, I made my way towards the exit. I was a little bit sorry about leaving Ella behind to fend for herself, but she was still in such a state of bliss from last night that I doubted she would even notice.
‘Lillian? Lillian, my love!’
Damn and blast! He would definitely notice, though. I glanced up just long enough to catch a glimpse of Morty, his eyes shining, looking around to find his beloved.
Well, his beloved was out of here, pronto!
Pushing past my dear betrothed, I made my way towards the doors of the ballroom. A servant bowed as I passed.
‘Would you like me to call you a cab, Sir?’
Wonderful, Lilly! He didn’t call you ‘Miss’!
‘No, thank you.’
I’d be glad enough if I could get out of the house alive.
They were waiting for me in a niche near the exit. Lord Dalgliesh and one of his henchmen, this one not in uniform. They were hidden from sight, behind a curtain that normally hid unsightly boots and umbrellas from the eyes of visitors. I would never have noticed them if I had not
been looking for them. The curtain twitched as I approached, and immediately, I stopped to listen.
For a moment or two, there was nothing. Then:
‘Where is she, My Lord?’
‘This is her engagement party. She is not going to come out quickly. Especially not if she suspects we’re lying in wait for her. She will leave in the middle of a crowd of her friends. We’ll have to be quick and decisive. Do you have the syringe?’
‘Yes, my Lord.’
‘Good.’
A pause.
‘I know it’s not my place to ask, my Lord, but…why do you want her? She seems to be a nobody. Just another silly little girl wanting to get married. And this is a very public place. The risk of exposure-’
‘Bryant?’
‘Yes, my Lord?’
‘Don’t ever question my orders again. Do you understand?’
There was another pause. I could practically feel the tension crackling in the air.
‘Yes, my Lord.’
‘But…’
‘Yes?
‘Since you are going to be in charge of questioning Miss Linton, I might as well tell you now. I want her because she has information. Whatever is visible on the surface, she is more than she seems to be. She appears to be acquainted with Mr Rikkard Ambrose.’
Another pause.
‘Oh.’
‘Indeed.’
‘I’m sorry, my Lord. I did not know that.’
‘Now you do. See that you keep it to yourself, or your days are numbered.’
Taking a deep breath, I started forward, and at the sound of my footsteps the whispering voices cut off. But I could feel them, behind the curtain, ahead of me - a dark force, waiting to reach out and grab me. Would they? Would they recognize me? Maybe I should have told the waiter to bring me a false moustache, too. Although that might have made him slightly more suspicious.
The curtain fluttered without a breeze. Sucking in a deep breath of air, I hastened my steps - and prepared to run.
Come on, Lilly! Just a few more steps, and you’re past the curtain!
Three, to be exact.
Two.
One…
The Bliss of Love
Zero.
Minus one.
Minus two.
Minus three.