Yes, you do. Think about the reasons why, though. When a lady dresses well it screams, ‘Look at how pretty I am! I’m from a respectable family, so marry me, please!’ When a man dresses well, it says, ‘Look at me. I have money. I am strong and independent - so get out of my way, you bastards!’
A smile spread over my face. Yes, considered in that light, I had nothing at all against dressing well.
Half an hour later, I was standing in front of a mirror, dressed in a sleek black tailcoat and hat. And that wasn’t all. Grinning, I regarded the waistcoat I had fallen in love with at first sight and demanded to have on the spot.
‘What do you think of it?’ I asked the assistant.
‘Um… certainly very luxuriant, Sir. But… are you sure you wouldn’t like something a tiny bit more restrained?’
‘Whyever would I?’
‘Well, excellent workmanship though your waistcoat undoubtedly is, it nevertheless has something about it that to some people might seem a tiny bit… ostentatious? The purple peacock pattern, for instance-’
‘Exactly!’ I gloated, turning from right to left to watch the peacocks dance. ‘When he sees this, he’ll go ballistic!’
‘He, Sir?’
‘I’ll take it! I’ll take the waistcoat.’
‘Yes, Sir,’ the assistant sighed, resigning herself to her fate. ‘I’ll wrap it up for you with the other items. Anything else?’
I hesitated. There was still quite a lot of money left. Amazing how far even a niggardly salary would go if you didn’t have to pay things like rent, servants’ wages and groceries.
‘Yes,’ I said, starting to nod. My grin became even wider. ‘Yes, definitely. Do you sell solid chocolate?’
*~*~**~*~*
‘Where did you get this?’ Ella demanded. She, Patsy, Flora and Eve sat squashed onto one of the benches in Green Park, gazing with longing in their eyes at the box of sweets and treats I had brought along.
‘That’s a secret,’ I grinned.
Patsy narrowed her eyes at me. ‘A secret like where you disappeared to the week before last?’
‘Oh, give it a rest, Patsy!’ Eve’s elbow dug into Patsy’s massive ribs. The bigger girl hardly blinked. ‘If I get solid chocolate out of it, I don’t care if she’s smuggling rum across the Scottish border!’
Ella stared from her to me in shock. ‘Y-you aren’t, are you?’
Rolling my eyes, I held the box of chocolates out to her. ‘Here. Take one.’
Hesitantly, glancing around as if she expected a policeman to spring out at her from the bushes at any moment, Ella reached out and took one of the chocolates. With unusual restraint, I waited till all of them had taken one before I picked one for myself.
‘Hm!’
‘Mmm…’
Sounds of appreciation were coming from all around - except from Patsy. She was glowering at me, and pointed at the chocolate in her hand.
‘This is bribery!’
‘Oh, Patsy… now really. I was just trying to do something nice.’
‘It won’t make me forgive you, you know? I still want to know where you disappeared to! Friends don’t disappear on each other. And if one does, that can’t simply be erased by bribing with chocolate!’
‘Just try it, will you?’
‘As long as you understand that I won’t forgive you-’
‘Yes, yes, I understand. Go on. Take a bite.’
Throwing me another suspicious glare, Patsy cautiously raised the chocolate to her mouth and took a tiny bite. Her eyes closed in ecstasy.
‘Mmmmmm…’
‘Like it?’
‘Hmm… Yes! Yes, damn you!’
I took a bite for myself. The flavour spread through my mouth like ambrosia and nectar combined. I smiled at her.
‘Am I forgiven?’
Putting the last bit of chocolate into her mouth, she hesitated. ‘You said this wasn’t a bribe!’
‘I lied.’
Her eyes flew open. ‘You little…’
‘Well?’ My smile widened. ‘Am I forgiven?’
‘Do I get another one?’
‘Certainly.’ Invitingly, I held the box out to her. ‘Help yourself. If, that is, you…’
‘Yes, yes, blast you! I forgive you!’
My grin threatened to split my face in two. ‘You are the world’s best friend, Patsy!’
‘And you are a conniving little witch, Lillian Linton!’
‘Thank you.’
‘Now give me my chocolate!’
*~*~**~*~*
Needless to say, when I went to the office next time, I was in a very good mood. A mood that became even better when I passed Mr Ambrose on my way through the upper hallway, and he froze, his eyes bulging slightly at the sight of me.
Stopping, I proudly posed for him to show off my new attire.
‘Is something the matter, Sir?’ I asked sweetly.
His dark eyes, not bulging anymore, came up to meet mine.
‘Nothing, Mr Linton. You have only just reaffirmed my conviction that females should not be allowed to have money of their own.’
‘Oh, so you like my new waistcoat, do you? Aren’t the peacocks pretty?’
‘Mr Linton?’
‘Yes, Sir?’
‘Get to work!’
‘Yes, Sir!’
I had just stepped into my office when, with a plink, the first message shot out of the pneumatic tube, landing on my desk.
Mr Linton,
Bring me file 37XVII197.
Rikkard Ambrose
‘I haven’t gone anywhere,’ I called to him through the connecting door. ‘I’m still here, in earshot. You could have just yelled through the door.’
With another plink, the next message popped out onto my desk.
Mr Linton,
This is still the most efficient method of communication. Now bring me the file.
Rikkard Ambrose
A snort escaped me. Efficient method of communication my foot! He just wasn’t in the mood to open his mouth, that was all! But then, he had a perfect right to keep it shut, and, being my employer, he also had the perfect right to order me around to fetch files for him. So I rose to my feet and disappeared between the shelves. Once I had found the right one, I shoved it under the door to his office.
‘Your file, Si-’
Another plink from the direction of the desk cut me off. I hurried back to open the message.
Mr Linton,
Bring me file 37XVI195.
Rikkard Ambrose
Blimey! He couldn’t be that fast a reader, could he? No, of course he couldn’t! I could see his game! He wanted to chase me around again, did he? Well then, let him chase me! I didn’t mind sweating for my money!
Plink! Plink!
Message after message landed on my desk. They became faster and faster, shorter and less polite, if that was at all possible. From a shower of demanding little messages I stumbled into a rainstorm, and from that into a hailstorm!
I remembered the words I had flung at him not long ago - You’ll have to think of something better than that to get rid of me! - and his soft Will I, now? in reply. It hadn’t taken me long to realize that those three words had been a promise. He hadn’t given up on forcing me to quit, not by a long shot.
But if this was his best effort, he truly would have to think of something better. Forcing me to carry files around? I had done that for him from the beginning! I could do it with my eyes closed, I could do it drunk, I could do it sleepwalking!
Bring me file 38XI199.
Bring me file 35IV150.
Bring me file 36VII176.
Thus it went on and on and on. I ran in a triangle between my desk, the shelves and Mr Ambrose’s office door, hardly daring to sit down before with another plink, a new message popped out of the pneumatic tubes.
Plink.
Grab message, read.
Bring me file 35IV155.
Jump up, run to shelves, grab file, run to door, run back to de
sk.
Plink.
Grab message, read.
Bring me file 36VII174.
Jump up, run to shelves, grab file, run to door, run back to desk.
Plink.
Grab message, read, jump u-
I was already half-way to my feet when my eyes fell onto the piece of paper on my hand. I froze.
I had to read it twice before the message written there in Mr Ambrose’s meticulously tidy hand reached my brain. Still, I did not comprehend it. I read it again. Slowly, the meaning of the sentence began to penetrate into my mind.
Mr Linton,
Tomorrow we are leaving by ship on a lengthy trip to Africa. Be at St Katherine’s Docks at 7 pm sharp.
Mr Ambrose
*~*~**~*~*
I sat there for at least five minutes, staring at the message. I didn’t have to consult my new pocket watch to know that it was at least that long. I just knew it. Maybe it was even longer. Ten minutes? Thirty? An hour? A year?
Finally, one thought managed to crystalize in my stunned mind.
Africa? Bloody Africa?
He had to be joking. Even if this was Mr Ambrose, he simply had to be joking!
Slowly, I rose from my chair and wandered towards his office door. I was already raising my hand to knock when the realization settled in:
He isn’t joking. Bloody hell, he isn’t joking!
My hand dropped and, instead of knocking, grabbed the doorknob. One twist, and I threw the door open with all the force I could muster. I crashed against the stone wall of the office with an unhealthy-sounding crack!
I held up the message.
‘What is the meaning of this?’
Slowly, very slowly, Mr Ambrose raised his gaze from the file on which it had been concentrated. His dark eyes pierced me.
‘I was about to ask the same of you, Mr Linton. Perhaps you are not aware of the subtleties of office etiquette, but you are supposed to knock your fingers against the door before you enter, not knock the door against the wall.’
‘I feel more like knocking your head against the wall! What is this-’ I brandished his message in the air, ‘-supposed to mean? Tell me!’
Leaning back, he regarded me coolly over long, steepled fingers.
‘I should have thought the meaning was quite clear. We leave for Africa tomorrow. I have some business matters to attend to in Egypt and wish for you to accompany me.’
‘Egypt? What the bloody hell do you want to go to Egypt for?’
His gaze cooled another dozen degrees. ‘That is none of your concern.’
‘None of my concern? I-’
‘You took the money!’ Suddenly he was on his feet and around the desk. It happened so fast I didn’t even see him move. He was in front of me before I could blink, and I took an involuntary step backwards. ‘You took the money, knowing full well what it entailed, remember?’
And I did remember.
You’ll have to do whatever I say, go wherever I command. Do you understand?
Blast him!
‘But… but I can’t go to Egypt!’ I protested. ‘I got into terrible trouble for disappearing for just a few days! How on earth am I going to explain to my aunt that I’m going to be away for several weeks?’
‘Months, probably,’ he corrected, with a careless flick of his fingers.
‘Months? She would go through the roof! That is absolutely impossible!’
‘I see. Well, if you feel unable to fulfil the requirements of your position, I shall of course understand. Mr Stone will take care of the necessary paperwork. That will be all.’
My breath caught. I understood well enough - but I didn’t want to.
‘Necessary paperwork?’ I managed. ‘What paperwork, Sir?’
‘Why, for your resignation, of course.’
‘I have no intention of resigning!’
His dark eyes flashed. Taking two strides forward, he was in front of me in a moment, towering above me.
‘Curious… You refuse to do your work, and still, you expect me to pay you? That, Mr Linton, is not something I tolerate in my employees.’ Lowering to a murmur, his voice grew menacing. ‘Either you do your duty and accompany me to Egypt, or your employment shall be terminated forthwith. It is your choice.’
Slowly, it dawned on me: this had been his plan all along. Burying me under a mountain of files for the day had just been a preliminary, a first stage to exhaust me and bring down my resistance. Now that I was weary from long day’s work, he was launching his real attack.
Egypt! Bloody hell, I can’t go to Egypt!
And he knew that. He had found the one crack in my armour I had not been able to patch up: keeping my work secret from my family. I couldn’t disappear without explanation again - not if I wanted to have a home to return to. And if I tried to tell them why I had to go? That I was planning to go on a trip to Africa, dressed up as a man, to earn a living for myself? Ha! My aunt wouldn’t just throw me out of the house - she’d throw me into a loony bin!
I glared at Rikkard Ambrose’s cool, composed, stone face, suspicion burning in my gaze.
Does he have to go to Egypt at all? Or is it all just a trick to get rid of me?
Did it really matter? Either way, I was trapped.
Taking his pocket watch out of his tailcoat, Mr Ambrose let it snap open.
‘Ten pm,’ he announced. ‘Apparently, it is time for you to get yourself home, Mr Linton. Your work is over for today.’ Snapping it shut again, he stashed the watch away. ‘In fact, your work here is over, period.’
‘You… you…’ I tried to think of something bad enough to scream at him, but I wasn’t sufficiently well-versed in profanity. So I just glared up at his cool, chiselled, damnably perfect features.
‘I shall expect your resignation on my desk tomorrow, or by the latest when I return from Egypt,’ he told me, turning away and settling down at his desk again. Without even glancing at me, he resumed his paperwork. ‘You may go, Mr Linton. Goodbye. I expect we shall not see each other again.’
Without a word, I whirled around and marched out of his office.
Well, I thought grimly to myself, we’ll just see about that, won’t we?
The Nice Ocean
He was standing near the water at St Katherine’s Docks, looking out over the River Thames. The wind that was blowing grey, stormy clouds across the sky also gripped his black tailcoat and made it flutter around him like bat’s wings. With his arms folded, glaring at the wide water as if he meant to conquer the river and all the oceans beyond, he looked like a darker version of Admiral Nelson, just before his triumph at Trafalgar.
It almost seemed a shame to ruin such a pretty pose. Almost.
I tapped him on the shoulder.
‘Good afternoon, Sir.’
Mr Ambrose whirled around so fast he nearly knocked me over. His dark eyes were wide and, for once, I had the sublime satisfaction of seeing his mouth open with surprise. He had pretty nice teeth, incidentally. He should open his mouth more often.
‘You… you…’
‘Me.’ I nodded and gave my best imitation of a salute. ‘Mr Linton reporting for duty, Sir! Packed and ready to depart!’
‘You can’t be here!’
‘Actually, I can. As far as I know, my presence at this particular spot does not violate any laws of physics or any moral standards. Besides, you told me to be here, didn’t you?’
Slowly, his mouth slid shut until his teeth were hidden again, and his lips pressed into the usual thin line. To judge from the noises he was making, those nice teeth were being gritted. Poor darlings.
‘Yes,’ he informed me, keeping a tight leash on his voice. ‘That does not mean, however, that I actually expected you to make an appearance.’
One of my eyebrows rose. ‘What? You expected me to disobey you? Whyever would you think I would do something like that?’
More grinding noises. Dear, dear, those poor teeth…
‘I thought, Mr Linton, that you mentioned th
ere would be some slight difficulties regarding your accompanying me on this trip. Difficulties in respect to your family, if I remember correctly.’
‘Oh, you mean my aunt?’ I waved a dismissive hand. ‘That was easy to take care of, once I gave it a little thought. I just told her that I would be visiting my grandmother in Northumberland to go man-hunting among the Northerners. The prospect of having me more than a hundred miles away combined with the possibility of my coming back with a husband or not coming back at all, soon won her over to the idea.’
His dark eyes sparkled, raking over me, then sweeping from left to right - looking for a solution, no doubt. A way out of this.
‘And what will your grandmother in Northumberland say when you do not arrive?’
‘Nothing. She doesn’t know I’m supposed to visit her.’
‘Indeed? That should cause something of a sensation when your aunt and grandmother next communicate with each other.’
I smiled. ‘Not really. They don’t communicate. They can’t stand each other.’
‘I see.’ His eyes stopped roaming and focused on me again. ‘I can empathize with the feeling. It seems you have everything quite neatly planned.’
‘I have, haven’t I?’ Part of me had to resist the temptation to purr and stretch like a cat. This was as close to a compliment as Rikkard Ambrose had ever gotten.
‘Sahib?’ came a voice from behind a stack of crates and suitcases on the dock. ‘Sahib, I think we-’
A massive figure stepped around the pile of luggage and froze in mid-step, staring at me. I stared back. The last time I had seen Karim, he, Mr Ambrose and I had parted ways in the lair of the evil Lord Dalgliesh. True, I had known he was alive, since Mr Ambrose had said as much, but seeing him again in the flesh (and in a large amount of muscle and beard) was a relief.
‘Karim!’ I stepped forward, not knowing exactly why. Maybe to give the big brute a hug? ‘So you got out of there alive, did you? Wonderful!’
The little black beetle eyes of the huge Mohammedan[11] bored into me. ‘This creature! It is still alive? Why did you not warn me that it would be coming with us, Sahib?’
Oh. That’s right. In my joy at seeing him alive again, I had completely forgotten for a moment that Karim and I detested each other.
‘Excuse me?’ My eyes narrowed. ‘Did you just call me “it”? I do still have a gender, even if it’s not entirely clear from my clothes which one, at the moment.’