Storm and Silence(47)

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The ball ended about three months later. Well, it felt like that to me, anyway, although it probably only was a few hours. We were conducted outside not only by servants number one, two, three, four, seven, eleven and twenty-five, but also by an enthusiastic Sir Philip Wilkins, who kept flashing meaningful smiles at Ella and waggling his over-large ears. Though I rather think he didn’t do the latter intentionally. Outside, he personally called one of his carriages to convey us home - and not the same carriage either, but an even larger and more luxurious version.

Our sitting arrangement on the way home was rather different from before. Now, a glowering Anne and Maria had taken their seats on one side, keeping everyone at bay with the bad mood radiating off them, while the rest of us were comfortably placed opposite them. Unlike on the way over, our aunt didn’t give the twins a second glance. She was too busy contemplating Ella’s matrimonial prospects.

‘…three times he danced with you, Ella, just think! Three times. Not to speak of the compliments he made you,’ she purred. I could almost see the twinkle of gold in her eyes as she contemplated the wealth of her future nephew-in-law.

Ella nodded, slightly puzzled. ‘He was indeed most attentive. It is no wonder that so many fine ladies were at his ball, considering how well he behaves to all his guests.’

My aunt laughed. It sounded a little like a choking vulture.

‘Oh, my dear. I doubt he would have paid so much attention to any of the other ladies.’

‘But, Aunt… what special interest could he have in me?’

This made my aunt laugh again, then wink at her niece. She was about as talented at winking as she was at laughing.

‘Of course, of course, my dear. You are very wise to be discreet.’

By this Ella seemed only more puzzled. Anne and Maria were staring daggers at her, choosing rather to believe her insincere than to believe anyone could actually be so innocent. I could hardly believe it myself - but unfortunately I knew it to be true. This was Ella we were talking about. I resolved to give my little sister a lecture about men once we were safely upstairs in our room.

When we got home, though, it looked like it would take some time before we could get to bed. First my aunt had to rush up to my uncle and tell him everything that had happened at the ball. Then she had to rush down and tell us how delighted he had been about everything that had happened at the ball, most of which she had to make up because my uncle probably didn’t utter more than two words in response to her jubilation.

And then…

Well, then the flowers arrived. We had just managed to calm my aunt down to a certain extent, when the doorbell rang. We were all so curious to know who could be calling at this late hour that we all gathered at the entrance to the hallway to catch a peek of the front door as Leadfield shuffled down the hall.

It took him a while to manoeuvre himself into a position in which he could open the door without losing his balance and falling over, but finally he managed. The door opened, and outside a young man in livery stood, carrying something colourful and enormous.

‘For Miss Ella Linton,’ he said, thrusting the big thing at Leadfield, who swayed under the weight.

‘Th-thank you,’ he said, managing a half-bow. ‘I shall deliver it directly.’

Leadfield had hardly closed the door when we all rushed out into the hallway. My aunt was leading the charge.

‘Well, Ella?’ she demanded of my little sister, who was holding herself in the background. ‘See if there is a card! See who it is from. Hurry, hurry!’

Cautiously, Ella stepped forward and took the enormous bouquet - for that’s what it was - from the swaying Leadfield. I supposed if one liked flowers and things, it was quite impressive. Some yellow flowers, dozens of white ones, and at the very top one of those red thorny things which were supposed to be so romantic. What were they called again? Ah yes, roses! Right beside the rose, a card peeked out of the bouquet.

While just managing to hold the massive flower arrangement with one hand, Ella took the card with the other, opened it, and read:

‘For the most wonderful dance ever. Sir Philip.’

‘Aww!’ My aunt clapped her hands, her eyes glowing with triumph and the promise of untold riches. ‘I knew it! I knew they had to be from him. Such beautiful flowers! And on the same evening, Ella, only imagine! I rather expected him to send a little something tomorrow, but on the same evening… That is promising, promising indeed.’

‘Promising for what, Aunt?’ Ella asked.

But my aunt only winked again and hurried off, muttering to herself: ‘Saint Paul’s Cathedral! Yes, nothing less will do. It must and will happen at Saint Paul’s Cathedral. And all my old friends will be there. Oh, I can see Mrs Gullifer’s face now, green with envy she’ll be…’