I had called quite loudly, loudly enough so neither he nor anyone else could ignore it. Hesitantly, he detached himself from the garden gate and came towards us.
‘I… was watching the stars,’ he said, his gaze fastening on Ella’s face.
I bet you were. Two particularly bright, blue stars, hmm?
‘What a happy coincidence you’re here,’ I proclaimed, before my aunt, who looked like she’d eaten a wagonload of lemons, could say otherwise. ‘I was just thinking about how we have an empty seat in our coach and how it would be a pity to waste it. We’re all going to a ball tonight. Have you heard about it? A grand affair at Lady Metcalf's. Would you like to come with us?’
I might as well have hit him in the head with an iron cudgel. The effect would have been similar to that of my words. Maybe it would even have been kinder.
The colour drained from his face and he staggered back a step.
‘C-come with you?’
‘Tosh! Lilly, how can you talk such nonsense?’ my aunt cut in. ‘It is not our coach, it is Sir Phillip's. You cannot simply invite this…’ She regarded Edmund with her nostrils. ‘…this young person into a carriage that does not belong to you.’
Sir Philip smiled brightly. ‘Oh, but I would be delighted to take Mr… What was your name again, Sir? I’m afraid we haven’t been properly introduced.’
‘Mr Conway, may I introduce you to Sir Philip Wilkins, a friend of the family,’ I said before anybody else could open their mouth. ‘Sir Philip, this is Edmund Conway, one of our neighbours.’
‘Delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr Conway.’ Sir Philip gave an awkward sitting bow. The flower in his buttonhole almost dropped out.
‘L-likewise, Sir Philip,’ Edmund mumbled and returned the bow stiffly.
‘As I was about to say,’ Sir Philip said to my aunt and me, smiling broadly, ‘I would be delighted to take Mr Conway. Lady Metcalf said I could bring as many friends as I wished, and such a charming young man would make an excellent addition to our party, don't you think?’
My aunt would have rather swallowed broken glass than admit that the son of a humble piano tuner could be charming company. But she also was not about to disagree with the only member of the nobility who was a potential nephew-in-law.
‘Mhm,’ she said, which left things pretty much open to interpretation.
‘What do you think, Miss Ella?’ Wilkins said, directing his smile at my little sister. ‘Don’t you think our friend here seems like charming company?’
Ella swallowed, hard. Her eyes met those of Edmund.
‘Yes,’ she whispered.
That was all.
Just the one word - but it was sufficient.
Sir Philip clapped his hands. ‘Excellent. Get in, Mr Conway.’
‘But… but I…’
‘You don't have other plans, do you?’
‘No, I…’
‘Well, then, what are you waiting for? Let’s go and enjoy ourselves!’
*~*~**~*~*
Let me say right now that on the ride to Lady Metcalf’s residence, Edmund didn’t look as though he were enjoying himself. He had mentioned once that it was one of his heart’s deepest desires to attend a ball with Ella, his love - but I guess in none of his fantasies had his rival, Ella’s probable future husband, sat with them in the coach.
I’m not an expert on romance, but I suppose something like that dampens the ardour of even the most determined Casanova.
‘Tell me, Mr Conway,’ Wilkins, who was completely oblivious to the icy silence in the coach, asked with a bright smile. ‘Where are your family’s estates?’
If he had wanted to pick a question to make the other young man despise him even more, he could not have chosen better.
‘My family does not have any estates,’ he said stiffly. ‘My father practices a trade.’
‘A trade? How interesting.’ Wilkins’ smile didn’t waver. ‘What kind of trade, exactly?’
‘My father is a piano tuner.’
A snort could be heard from the corner in which Maria sat. And for the first time in my life, I saw my sweet little sister Ella throw somebody a murderous look. Wilkins, for his part, continued his babbling, completely unaware of the icy stares he received. He seemed to be fascinated by the whole subject of piano tuning. Apparently, before tonight he had thought pianos just sounded the same all the time by themselves.
‘One never ceases to learn,’ he remarked. ‘Pianos seem to be like flowers, in a way. Flowers have to be taken care of regularly, too, or they shrivel.’
‘But, unlike pianos,’ Edmund pointed out, ‘flowers cannot make music.’