Storm and Silence(120)

Silly, of course. It wasn’t a betrayal - it was only a ruddy flower! But there it was.

‘I… feel honoured-’ she began haltingly.

‘But then,’ Sir Philip interrupted her, ‘I reconsidered. I thought that maybe this flower would fit the colour of your hair better!’ And letting go of the white rose, he pulled out a sunflower as big as my palm. Ella’s eyes widened.

‘And then, Miss Ella, I again thought, no. Nobody would see it. We need contrast to show off your beauty in the best light, it is what you deserve. So I brought this.’ And he pulled out a red rose. With an uncertain smile, he looked at Ella. ‘I simply cannot choose; they are all so beautiful! Could you perhaps pick one for me? Or maybe just wear them all? That would be the simplest solution. We could put the sunflower here, and the roses-’

I had heard enough.

‘My sister is a lady and not a flower-arrangement,’ I cut him off briskly. ‘You forget, Sir, that she has to dance, and those beautiful flowers might fall out of her hair and get trampled underfoot. We wouldn’t want that, now, would we?’

‘Oh… oh, I suppose you’re right.’ The knight looked crestfallen, like a little puppy that had been denied his stick to play with, and for a moment I almost felt something like pity. Then he perked up. ‘But she could always wear them after the dance, or maybe…’

I pulled Ella out of the carriage before he could finish the sentence. The others were already out there, enjoying the attentions of servants who were bowing, taking coats and opening doors, something which in our house happened very seldom.

‘Quickly, quickly, take my coat!’

‘You there! Open the door!’

I sighed, trying to shut out my twin sisters’ voices. At home, if you wanted to wait until Leadfield had opened a door for you, you’d probably die of old age, and if you wanted him to take your coat, he’d collapse under the weight. So this was a very welcome change, especially for Anne and Maria.

The swarm of buzzing servants escorted us to the ball room, where Lady Metcalf was already awaiting us. I looked around anxiously. But the lean, dark figure I feared to see was nowhere in sight. Just Lady Metcalf.

‘Ah! Mrs Brank! Miss Linton, Miss Linton, Miss Linton, Miss Linton, Miss Linton and Miss Linton! Thank you very much for coming. I am delighted that you could make it.’

I must say, I was impressed. Lady Metcalf’s smile was even more fake than mine, and she lied like a professional politician. But then, her father had been Foreign Secretary, so maybe it ran in the family.

‘Lady Metcalf,’ my aunt trilled. ‘I was so excited when we received your invitation. It was very nice of you, considering you have never before deigned to include us in one of your festivities.’

Ouch! I could see where this was leading. Poisonous fumes already hung heavily in the air between the two older ladies.

‘I simply could not resist,’ Lady Metcalf purred. ‘Sir Philip was so… enthusiastic. And I simply had to invite the young lady who has been so fortunate as to attract the affection of one of London’s finest young men, despite her… err… regrettable social position.’

If looks could kill, Lady Metcalf would have been a red blot on the wall right then, and my aunt would be hauled off to Codbath Fields Prison faster than you could say Jack Robinson. Unluckily, though, looks couldn’t kill, and my aunt remained a free woman.

‘Remember,’ she hissed at me while curtsying to Lady Metcalf. ‘Behave yourself!’

This was going to be a very long night. And he would be there!

*~*~**~*~*

The young man approached me with vigour in his step. He wore a bright waistcoat, a carnation in his buttonhole, and a bright, confident smile on his handsome face. I disliked him immediately.

‘Miss Linton?’ He bowed deeply. ‘Will you do me the honour of granting me your hand for this dance?’

I smiled back at him one hundred times as brightly. ‘Why certainly! How could I refuse to dance with you, Sir?’

Now if I could only remember your name, so I could put you on my list of murder victims…

‘Thank you, Miss.’

Stretching out his fingers, he clasped them around mine. Blast! I knew I had agreed to dance with him, but did that mean he actually had to touch me? Working hard to keep my fake smile on my face, I let myself be led onto the dance floor. From the edge of the crowd I could see Anne and Maria ogling me with incredulity. I smiled at them, too. Tonight was smiley night! Argh!

As the first notes of the quadrille[36] began, the young man put his arms around me and began to shove me across the dance floor. I believe officially it is called steering, but that word implies that the steerer actually knows what he is doing, whereas my dancing partner evidently did not.