Storm and Silence

  What would it be like, the thought shot through my head, to care about another person so completely that you couldn’t live without them? To care about a man?

  The image of a face appeared in my mind - cold, hard, forbidding and so completely unreachable. I shoved the image away with all my might.

  To hell with it! To hell with him! What would it be like to care about a man? I didn’t ever intend to find out! If this tragedy of Ella’s had taught me anything, it was that men brought nothing but trouble. Trouble, and too many bouquets of flowers.

  ‘Ah! Miss Ella! There you are.’

  Blast!

  My head whipped around. There he was - Sir Philip Wilkins, the evil one. Why had I let my guard down? Why had I let my thoughts wander? Now he had discovered us.

  I started forward, to place myself before my sister. But then, something else started, quicker than I was: the music.

  With a few steps, Wilkins was in front of my sister, and bowed.

  ‘My dear Miss Ella. May I ask for the honour of your hand for the first dance?’

  Was it only I who thought there had been a slight pause before the words ‘for the first dance?’

  Ella shivered like an aspen.

  ‘Y-yes, Sir Philip. Of course.’

  There was a thump and a muttered curse from the left. If I was not very mistaken, Edmund had just tried to punch through the wall.

  Wilkins, oblivious to both him and me, took Ella’s shivering hand and led her off onto the dance floor, as the first notes of a quadrille floated through the ballroom. Ella threw a look over her shoulder, a last, long, desperate look, in answer to which I could do nothing but look back, helplessly.

  Then Wilkins spoke to her, and she looked away from me.

  Rage thundering within me, I stared after the fiend as he led my poor little sister off to her doom. Why hadn’t I thought of this before? I could protect her while we just standing around, put myself as a barrier between him and her - but as soon as the dancing started, that was over. I couldn’t interfere on the dance floor, not without making a scandal that would ruin my little sister’s reputation.

  Was he going to propose now? Could you propose while dancing with a lady? You had to kneel down to propose, didn’t you? I had to admit, I had little experience in the matter. Any man who had ever dared to fancy me had been chased away long before he got that far. Could you kneel down while dancing, or would the other dancers trip over you?

  Such questions and a million more assaulted me as I tried to burn a hole into blasted Wilkins’ back with the sheer force of my gaze. This man was going to ruin the life of my beloved sister! Oh, if only this weren’t a ballroom. If only I were alone with him, and had a parasol with a nicely sharpened tip in my hands, I would…!

  ‘Excuse me?’ I heard a man’s voice from behind me. ‘Are you intending to murder him in a dark alley later on? If so, I’m afraid I will have to stop you.’

  A Waist of Tigers

  I whirled around, my heart pounding.

  ‘What? Who said that?’

  Behind me, or rather in front of me now that I was facing him, stood a tall young man with long, curly dark brown hair. He wore an easy smile on his face and a triangular patch of beard on his chin that wasn’t really a beard, just a statement: look, I can grow hair here, if I want to.

  ‘W-what did you mean? Who… who do you think I was looking at?’

  ‘Old Flip over there.’ He nodded towards where Sir Philip and Ella were dancing. Did he mean Sir Philip? But I could have sworn that wasn’t what he said.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Flip. Well, Sir Philip to you, probably. Are you planning to assassinate him? You looked like you were. So I thought I’d ask. I’m his friend, you see, and friends usually try to prevent that sort of thing - their friends getting assassinated, that is. Always such a messy business, and funeral costs are steep these days.’

  I shook my head, having no clue what to say to that - particularly considering I wasn’t even supposed to talk to this man. You weren’t supposed to talk to anybody unless you knew them, and had been introduced to them. That’s how society worked.

  ‘Who… who are you?’ I finally managed.

  ‘Oh, I am so sorry.’ His smile widened and he gave a snappy bow that made his mahogany locks fly. ‘My name is Carter, Captain James Carter to be precise. I apologize for accosting you thus without being formerly introduced, but when there is something important at stake, like the impending violent slaughter of a close friend, I tend to forget social niceties.’

  I looked back and forth between Wilkins on the dance floor and this fine specimen of military manhood in front of me.

  ‘You are a friend of Sir Philip's?’

  ‘I believed I already mentioned that, yes.’

  My eyes, which had been fixed on his face before, wandered down to take in the rest of him. He didn’t look like the average man, exactly. For starters, he wasn’t wearing a uniform - very strange for military men, who generally used their shiny red coats to attract silly girls like flies. Instead, he was wearing a dark blue tailcoat and beneath it a waistcoat decorated with…

  Wait a minute!

  ‘Your waistcoat has tigers on it,’ I said. ‘Golden tigers.’

  ‘Ah, yes!’ His smile widened, as if I could not have hit upon a subject that suited him more. ‘Do you like it?’

  ‘Um… it’s nice. The tigers look very… shiny.’

  He thrust out his chest. ‘Fabulous, aren’t they? I’ve had a French dressmaker stitch one on for every tiger I killed on safari.’

  My eyes snapped up to his face again, narrowed. ‘Really?’

  ‘No, not really. It’s just some story I tell people when I first meet them, to see whether they fall for it.’

  ‘And do they?’

  ‘Generally, no.’ He sighed. ‘I have no idea why. After all, I am the image of a fierce tiger hunter.’

  ‘Excuse me, Sir, but…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Are you drunk?’

  ‘Not yet. But I hope will change as the evening progresses.’ Relaxing his posture, he rubbed his hands together. ‘Now, back to business. We were talking about your plans to assassinate my friend.’

  I took a step back. Either this man was drunk in spite of denial or, the more worrying possibility, he was absolutely sober. In which case he was probably stark raving mad.

  ‘I don't have any plans to assassinate your friend!’

  ‘Don’t you? So, that look that said you’d like to ram a knife into his back, you give that to everybody?’

  I promptly gave it to him, which seemed to amuse him to no end. He lifted his hand to his face to hide a chuckle.

  ‘I see. May I have the honour of learning your name, Miss, so I can denounce you at Scotland Yard when the deed is done?’

  ‘I,’ I said, with as much disdain as I could pack into my voice, ‘am Miss Lillian Linton.’ Unfortunately, there wasn’t as much disdain in my voice as I’d hoped, which probably came from the fact that some part of me was rather amused by the stranger and his waist full of tigers. ‘And I assure you, I have no intention of murdering Sir Philip. Why would I? He is courting my sister.’

  ‘Well, that alone would be a good reason,’ Captain Carter said cheerfully.

  My mouth dropped open.

  ‘I- I thought he was your friend!’

  ‘He is. He’s also the biggest nincompoop between here and Yorkshire. I pity the lady who links her life with his. But fortunately, that’s not going to happen any time soon.’

  At that, my face suddenly became deadly serious again. For a moment, this strange man had distracted me, but now it all came rushing back - Ella, Wilkins, the approaching proposal.

  ‘Did I say something wrong?’ Captain Carter enquired, obviously noticing my dark mood.

  ‘Not as such,’ I mumbled. ‘It’s just that I think you’re wrong.’

  ‘Wrong? Wrong in what way?’

  ‘In supposing that your friend wo
uld not marry for a long time.’

  ‘Why? Has he finally found a victim?’

  I scowled at him. His amused, cavalier attitude made my blood boil. ‘Of course! Didn’t I just say he was courting my sister? He wants to marry her!’

  ‘You said he was courting her, all right,’ he agreed. ‘But the one doesn't necessarily imply the other. Not with him, anyway.’

  I blinked, taken aback, the anger going out of me. ‘What the heck is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘That’s supposed to mean that if old Flip had married every woman he’d ever courted, he’d have a harem to rival that of King Tamba of Benares.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘King Tamba of Benares. He was a 6th century king in India, and, according to some of the Hindu legends, he had a city of sixteen thousand women available to fulfil his every-’

  Hastily, I interrupted him before he could go into any more detail. ‘I don't care about any King Tamba! Are you seriously suggesting that Sir Philip Wilkins does not intend to marry my sister, after courting her for several weeks?’

  ‘Certainly.’

  ‘But he has come to her house practically every day!’

  ‘A man has to spend his time in some way, doesn't he?’

  ‘He sent her flowers! Masses of flowers!’

  ‘He is a passionate botanist. Maybe you have noticed he likes flowers in general?’

  ‘Likes is not the word I would have chosen, Captain Carter.’

  His lips twitched. Apparently, he really did know Sir Philip. At least well enough to know his interests.

  ‘Quite. Well, it didn’t take him long to discover that men don't tend to share his passion. He tried presenting a few men with flowers, and they either stared at him coldly or threw him out of the house. Women, on the other hand, are always delighted when he gives them flowers. Poor chap, I haven’t brought myself to disillusion him about the reason. Better let him think that England is full of botanically-interested ladies.’

  I shook my head. This just couldn’t be. After all the worry, all the scheming, hope, despair… no. It just couldn’t be!

  ‘But he is in love with her!’ I blurted out. What was I doing? One never was supposed to be this blunt with a new acquaintance - not even I. But I couldn’t seem to stop myself. ‘He told me as much! He told me he loved her.’

  ‘Oh, he probably does.’ Captain Carter waved his hand airily, as if this were of no great concern. ‘He is rather fond of being in love, particularly if the lady in question has bright blue eyes. But after a week or two, he’ll meet a new lady, and fall in love again, just as he’ll find a new flower to interest him.’

  My mouth popped open.

  ‘That’s why we - his old university friends, I mean - call him Sir Flip,’ Captain Carter added with a nostalgic smile. ‘We came up with the nickname when we were at Oxford together, and he used to turn his eyes on a different lady every five days or so. It was rather amusing to watch, though it could get a little confusing at times.’

  ‘That… that is horrible!’

  ‘No,’ the Captain disagreed, cheerfully. ‘It would be, if he were as stunningly handsome as my good self. But being such a colossal guffin, it’s not really something to worry about. I mean, can you see any lady he falls in love with actually returning the favour? Be honest.’

  I threw a dubious look at Sir Philip, and cleared my throat. ‘It… it still isn’t right!’

  ‘Well, it’s not as if he does it on purpose, Miss Linton. I assure you, he’s perfectly convinced each time that he’s found the woman of his dreams.’ He shrugged. ‘And then he wakes up. As I said, since he’s not exactly a Don Juan, it’s not really something to worry about.’

  Again, I didn’t know what to say. I stared aimlessly at the tigers on the waistcoat and thought: For nothing. All my worry has been for nothing.

  Or had it? This was all so insane. It couldn’t really be true, could it?

  ‘Unless…’ Captain Carter’s voice was hesitant now, and not amused anymore. ‘Unless your sister really does have true affection for my friend. In that case, Miss Linton, I’m afraid that your sister will have to prepare herself…’

  ‘No!’ Before I knew what had happened, my head had started to shake itself. ‘No. No, no, no, no, and no again. She doesn't. Never has, never will. Not in this life or the next.’

  He breathed out a sigh of relief. ‘Thank the Lord. I’d hate for the old fruitcake to make the front page of the times for breach of promise.’

  ‘Um… forgive me, but you don't speak very highly of your friend.’

  ‘A friend’s prerogative.’ He winked at me, and I wanted to smile in return. Immediately, I clamped down on the feeling. This was no time for smiles!

  ‘But you can’t be serious,’ I repeated my earlier doubts. ‘You can’t really mean that he doesn't mean to marry her.’

  ‘He might, at the moment. But I assure you, the fancy will leave him soon enough.’

  I should have been relieved. I should have been ecstatic. But to be honest, some part of me was actually insulted and disbelieving, not able to take it that anybody would so callously throw aside my little sister, even if being thrown aside was exactly what she wanted.

  ‘No,’ I insisted. ‘No gentleman in his right mind could do such a thing.’

  ‘Well, as to whether old Flip is in his right mind or not, that’s a subject for debate,’ he mused. ‘But regardless, I tell you, he will not marry your sister. Didn’t you see him lose interest in the last girl he bombarded with flowers, before he decided to target her?’

  My mind flashed back a few weeks. Oh dear Lord! Could it be…?

  ‘Well… yes.’

  ‘So he was interested in another girl shortly before?’

  ‘Um… two, in fact.’

  ‘Even better. Who was the unfortunate pair?’

  ‘My other two sisters.’

  ‘Your family’s house must be full to the attic with tulips.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Are they beautiful?’

  ‘The tulips?’

  ‘No! Your other two sisters, Miss Linton.’

  ‘Oh.’ I pondered this for a moment, conjuring up an image of Anne’s and Maria’s faces. Finally, I reluctantly admitted: ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘With long blonde hair?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And shining blue eyes?’ He fluttered his eyelashes in a way a man should not be able to. I just barely managed to stifle a laugh.

  ‘Um… yes. Both of them.’

  ‘No wonder poor old Flip was carried away. How long did it take for him to forget they existed?’

  ‘Err… I think about a week.’

  ‘You see?’

  He rubbed his hands again, as if everything were resolved.

  I did indeed begin to see. A part of me did, at least. That part wanted to burst out laughing and hug this strange stranger who had so simply dispelled the doom that had been hovering over my sister and me for weeks. But another part of me still couldn’t believe. Carefully, I sniffed the air. There was no smell of alcohol. Could it be that Captain Carter really was not drunk? That he was telling the truth?

  I suddenly remembered Patsy telling me how Wilkins had been pursuing her, even before Anne and Maria. Patsy had blonde hair, even though it was tied in a knot, and her eyes were definitely bright - bright as a blowlamp about to explode.

  Could it be true? Maybe…

  But of what use was it to me? I realized with a sinking feeling that, even if Sir Philip didn’t mean anything by his attentions, Ella was still very much in danger of losing her honour.

  For a moment, my eyes strayed to Edmund, who was glaring at the dancing couple with an intensity that could probably have incinerated the floor, had it been made of wood.

  When my eyes went back to Captain Carter, I saw him studying me critically. ‘You still don't believe me,’ he accused me.

  ‘No, no, it’s not that… I…’ My voice trailed off. How on earth was I suppo
sed to explain things to him? To a complete stranger? Should I even try? Was it right for me to disclose secrets I wasn’t even supposed to know myself?

  ‘What?’ he asked, and the gentleness in his voice surprised me. ‘Miss Linton, I have no wish to cause pain to you or your sister. If there is some problem…’

  ‘My sister,’ I said, hurriedly, before I could think better of it. ‘She doesn't want to marry Sir Philip.’

  ‘Well, where’s the problem in that?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Why doesn't she just send him packing?’

  ‘Because,’ I said, feeling angry that I had to explain my sister’s motives to this stranger, ‘she feels it would be her duty to accept him, since our aunt wishes it.’

  He blinked, speechless for the moment. But the moment didn’t last very long.

  ‘That’s silly!’

  ‘No, it isn’t!’ I snapped, though privately I couldn’t agree more.

  ‘Oh? So you would do the same?’ he asked, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of his mouth - a place where there often seemed to be one.

  I flushed.

  ‘Well… not exactly.’

  ‘I didn’t think so.’ The grin grew some more. ‘But to be honest, I still don't see the problem. I told you, Flip won’t propose to your sister. In a week or two, he’ll spot another beautiful fair head, and all will be joy and jubilation.’

  Looking around to see if anybody was listening, I took a step closer.

  ‘I… I’m afraid in a week it might be too late.’

  ‘Too late?’ The grin on his face didn’t waver. ‘What do you mean, too late?’

  ‘I mean that my sister might do something rash.’

  ‘Something more rash than agreeing to marry a man whom she can’t stand?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Oh, I see. That’s rash, indeed.’

  He didn’t sound nearly serious enough for my liking. I glared at him, and he grinned back, not perturbed in the least.

  ‘You can’t persuade her to… you know, maybe not be rash?’ he enquired.

  ‘No!’

  ‘But as I told you, it’s just a matter of time. Trust me, when Flip comes across the next lovely lady with big blue eyes, he’ll forget all about your sister.’