My mouth was already open, but that didn’t prevent my chin from dropping down farther. Images flashed past my inner eye - images of Rikkard Ambrose having his ‘wicked way’ with me, whatever that meant exactly. They were highly illicit images not suitable for a young lady at all.
‘Or… or someone has abducted her! To demand ransom!’
My eyebrows shot up. Demand ransom? From Uncle Bufford? Well, if something like that ever happened, the kidnappers would have another thing coming. But I had to admire Ella’s imagination, at least.
‘Or she’s been killed by a serial killer! Oh, Lill! No! Please! Please come back alive and well!’
I felt this was the right time to announce my presence.
‘Of course,’ I told her, striding forward and patting her on the shoulder. ‘Always happy to oblige.’
Ella stiffened. Then, very, very, very, very slowly, she turned around to look at me. I smiled at her. ‘Hello, little sister? How have you been?’
Ella screamed. It was a high-pitched scream, almost worthy of a prima donna. Then the picture of yours truly slipped out of her fingers, and she fainted, falling back onto my bed. The bed I had been planning to use within the not too distant future!
I heaved a sigh. Really, did nobody in this house know how to give you a proper welcome home?
*~*~**~*~*
Apparently, my aunt did. Only, she had her own ideas of what constituted a ‘proper welcome home’. It seemed that about two minutes after she had found out I was back, she had hurried over to Mrs Fields, the wife of a rich merchant who often did business with Uncle Bufford, and told her some tale of how I had returned home after a long journey abroad. It only took a little skilful prodding to make Mrs Fields suggest: ‘Why, we should give a ball to welcome her back home!’
My aunt reluctantly let herself be persuaded, and before you could say Jack Robinson, the invitations for a surprise ball the very next night had been sent out. A ball! In my honour! Torture like that should be prohibited by law!
‘Don’t you dare try to worm your way out of this,’ my aunt hissed into my ear as she tightened the straps of my corset, caging me in as if she were putting full-body manacles on me. ‘You promised!’
‘I know,’ I wheezed.
That in itself wouldn’t have stopped me. I was really talented at breaking promises I had never meant to keep. But my aunt watched me with the eyes of a hawk and the determination of a starved hyena. If I managed to disappear, it would be a miracle.
‘You will go to this ball, and you will spend your evening smiling and dancing if I have to drag you to it!’
‘Yes, Aunt.’
‘The coach is outside! You get into it right now, and don’t stir from your seat unless I tell you too.’
‘Yes, Aunt.’
‘That goes for you, too,’ my aunt snapped at Ella, who was helping to tie Elsebeth’s laces. ‘I want all of you out there in five minutes. It took a great deal of effort to arrange a ball at such short notice, and I won’t have you being late!’
She rushed out, and I managed, in spite of my suffocatingly tight corset, to bend far enough down to pick up my dress from the bed.
‘Here. Let me help you with that.’ Slender white hands took the dress out of my rounder, tanned ones and slipped it over my head. When my head came free of the linen, I saw Ella, smiling a smile at me that was full of sisterly affection.
So, my little sister had finally forgiven me - ‘I was so worried!’ - and decided that - ‘I thought you were dead!’ - she no longer needed to pelt me with recriminations - ‘You could have given me some warning at least!’ - every single minute of the day, had she? I did a quick calculation in my head. It had taken her nine full hours to forgive me. For her angelic nature, that was the equivalent of a yearlong, festering grudge.
‘You’re talking to me again, I see?’
Ella’s cheeks turned red. The look I had given her wasn’t really that reproving, but Ella blushed at any and every opportunity she got.
‘I never stopped talking to you!’
‘Talking to me without trying to bite my head off, I mean.’
Ella’s blush deepened, and she mumbled something about not knowing what I could possibly mean. With a wink and a sigh, I took her by the arm.
‘We’d better go! If we aren’t in the coach soon, Aunt Brank will have our heads on spikes.’
The coach ride to the ballroom Mrs Fields had rented for the night was quiet and uncomfortable. Being about as miserly as my uncle, her desire to save money only matched by her desire to gain social status, my aunt had rented a coach in which all seven of us would just about fit - if we were stacked on top of each other and holding our breath. By the time we reached our destination, I was already grumbling mutinously.
‘Come on,’ Ella said encouragingly, gently manoeuvring me towards the entrance. ‘Let’s go in. Who knows, it might even be fun.’
They were waiting for us at the door. The moment Ella and I stepped into the ballroom, three figures sprang out at us, barring my way. They were my best friends, Patsy, Flora and Eve. Though from the thunderous expression on Patsy’s brick wall of a face, you might not have guessed the ‘best friends’ part.
‘Where were you?’ she demanded, waving a sausage-thick finger in my face. ‘We don’t see you for seven days, and then, out of the blue, Mrs Fields brings us the invitation to this ball and says it’s to celebrate your safe return! What the devil have you been doing this last week?’
‘Were you off on a Caribbean island, having a romantic adventure with some handsome, dashing hero?’ Flora sighed.
For a moment I was tempted to say ‘No, the island was on the French coast, actually’ - then I remembered that as much as I might want to, I couldn’t tell them anything about what had happened. Besides, even if I did have adventures, they were most certainly not romantic, and Mr Ambrose was neither handsome nor heroic! Not in the least, the blasted, beautiful son of a bachelor!
‘Tell us right now,’ Patsy growled, ‘or I’ll go through the ballroom telling every single gentleman here what a wonderful dancing partner and charming young lady you are!’
‘You wouldn’t!’
‘Try me!’
I met Ella’s eyes. ‘Yes, I see what you mean,’ I told her, my voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘This will be very great fun indeed.’
Patsy was true to her threats. Two hours later, I had danced with more men than I cared to remember, and my feet felt about ready to fall off. Plus, I was aching all over from the tightly laced corset. I should never have let my aunt lace me up! My only consolation was that all the men I had danced with were surely nursing their wounded feet right now, suffering just as much pain as yours truly. I had made good use of the heels on my shoes in an honest attempt to produce a ballroom full of foot-puree. But that didn’t stop new men from pestering me with invitations to dance.
Finally, I found a hidden spot behind some floor-length window curtains. As long as the bulge in the curtains, caused by my rather generous derriere, didn’t betray my presence, no passing gentlemen suffering from sudden bouts of dancing mania could find me here. Taking a deep breath, I leaned against the wall.
‘Finally!’ I muttered. ‘Safe!’
The words had hardly left my mouth when the curtain on the other side of the window jerked aside, revealing a man who had been hiding there, just like me, gazing out into the night. He stood there, staring at me. I stared back, in startled recognition.
‘Miss Linton! Is that you?’
Oh Gentle Lady, Spare my Feet…
‘Captain Carter?’ I blinked up at the tall man with the mane of mahogany hair and perky little speck of a beard on his strong, otherwise clean-shaven chin. ‘Is that really you?’
‘In the flesh.’ He swept me a bow just as snappy as the one I remembered from our first meeting. ‘And blood and bones and earwax and other disgusting things I’d rather not mention, in fact.’
‘I see you haven’t become much more sensi
ble since our last encounter,’ I commented, a corner of my mouth involuntarily twitching.
‘And you not much more ladylike. Isn’t it wonderful how old friends never seem to change?’
‘Old friends? We only met once before.’
‘And you didn’t try to strangle me, Miss Linton. That makes you an old friend in my book.’
The corner of my mouth twitched again. Captain James Carter was one of the few men whose company I could tolerate - maybe because most of the time, he didn’t behave like a man, but like a naughty poltergeist trapped in the body of a British Army captain.
‘I heard this ball was being given as a sort of welcome home to a Miss Linton.’ He cocked his head. ‘Is that you? Or one of your sisters?’
‘Me, actually.’
‘Ah! So you’ve been on holiday! Tell all. Which sunny shore has been graced by the radiance of your presence and your exquisite feminine essence?’
‘Oh, shut up!’ I mumbled, my ears glowing.
‘I can’t help it.’ Theatrically, he placed a hand on his chest. ‘In my chest, there beats a poet’s heart! And my food is digested by a poet’s stomach, and my drinking is dealt with by a poet’s liver. So, where have you been?’
‘France.’
What?! Why the heck did you just tell him the truth?
‘La France,’ he sighed. ‘Did they try to feed you frogs and snails?’
‘No. They shot at me.’
‘The famed hospitality of the French!’ He smiled at me, obviously not taking me seriously. Thank God! ‘So, you’re back now. Are you here with your aunt and sisters?’
‘Yes. They’re all here, dancing somewhere. And you? Did you come alone or-’ I froze. A possibility had just occurred to me. ‘Blimey! You didn’t come here with your friend, Sir Philip, did you?’
‘With Flip? No. Why?’
‘Why? You ask why? Did you perhaps forget that he happened to fall madly in love with my sister Ella? A love which she, I might add, did not return in the least?’
He waved my concerns away. ‘Ah, yes, but I told you, Flip falls madly in love with another woman every week. That’s his thing, being madly in love. That, and flowers.’
‘I remember,’ I said in a dull voice, shuddering at the memory of the mountains of sunflowers, roses and carnations under which Sir Philip Wilkins had attempted to bury my little sister. He was a nice enough fellow, really, and quite harmless, but not the kind of person you wanted to fall in love with you or your little sister.
‘I swear,’ Captain Carter proclaimed, placing one hand on his poet’s heart again, ‘that Flip is not with me here tonight. And besides, he is currently madly in love with a Miss Eugenia Ficklestone from western Derbyshire. He is probably bombarding her with bouquets as we speak. So you see, your sister is perfectly safe.’
‘Thank the Lord!’ I hugged the curtain to me in relief. ‘Not that I’ve got anything against your friend, mind, but…’
‘You can’t think of marriage and him in the same sentence without wanting to puke. I quite understand. I wouldn’t like to marry him either.’
My elbow found his ribs and dug in. ‘You! Why do you have to make a joke of everything?’
‘Because life’s much more fun that way,’ he gasped, clutching his midriff. ‘You have admirably sharp elbows, Miss Linton! Have you ever thought of a life as a professional tavern brawler?’
I harrumphed. ‘You find the most curious things about women worthy of admiration!’
He shrugged. ‘Any woman can have a pretty face. But with sharp elbows, you have to know how to use them. That takes talent. You are a dangerous young lady.’
‘Lillian!’ I suddenly heard a sharp voice from beyond the curtain. ‘Lillian, where are you?’
‘Speaking of dangerous women,’ I whispered, ‘here’s one coming. Be warned! Hold on to your bachelordom with both hands!’
‘What?’ He blinked at me in surprise, but before I could elaborate, the curtain was ripped aside and there stood my aunt, thunder and death written all over her face.
‘Lillian Linton! Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you! There are several young men who want to ask you to dance, and-’
It was only then that she spotted Captain Carter. Captain Carter, who, I now realized, had been standing in a secluded spot behind the curtains, rather close to my sweet little self. My aunt took in all six feet of his manliness, resplendent in his deep red dress uniform. The scowl was shoved off her face, and a smile sprang in its place.
‘Captain Carter! How nice to see you! I didn’t know Mrs Fields was going to invite you to this little festivity of ours!’
‘It is my pleasure to see you again, Madam.’ James Carter bowed, deeply. He could be perfectly well mannered when he wanted to. He just didn’t want to very often. ‘I was just having a nice chat with your lovely niece.’ He winked. ‘You understand?’
My elbow found his ribs again, but this time, the captain didn’t even wince. He continued to smile brightly at my aunt, who returned the radiant expression, golden coins twinkling in her eyes.
‘Of course I do! So you two know each other quite well, do you?’
‘Sometimes,’ he sighed, ‘it feels as if I have known her all my life!’
My elbow lashed out again. ‘We met for the first time no more than two weeks ago!’ I growled under my breath.
‘Really? It seems like an eternity to me.’
I was just about to shoot something back when suddenly, I heard the music of the dance around us change. Where before the stately tones of a quadrille had drilled their way into my ears, now, a frisky tune swept over the guests. It became faster and faster, and louder, too. All people over thirty hurriedly left the dance floor. The rest looked at each other with excited grins.
‘Good gracious!’ my aunt exclaimed. ‘What is that they are playing?’
‘A galop,’ Captain Carter informed her. ‘I hear it’s all the rage in Europe.’
‘Well, we are not Europe! Isn’t that what the Channel is for?’
Ignoring her, the captain turned towards me and extended an arm. ‘Would you do me the honour of dancing with me, Miss Linton?’
I hesitated. Dancing with Captain Carter was considerably less horrific than dancing with other people. Still, my feet hadn’t yet stopped aching, and maybe I should refuse as a matter of principle. I didn’t approve of the idea of having a man steer me across the dance floor.
‘Well, I…’
‘What?’ my aunt interrupted. ‘Dance to this frantic hick-hack? Surely, you are not serious, Captain Carter? My niece jumping about in an unseemly fashion? I forbid it! Do you hear me, Lillian? I forbid it!’
I heard her loud and clear. My hand shot forward and grabbed the surprised Captain Carter by the arm. My eyes flashed.
‘Come along, Captain! You want to dance a galop? Let us dance a galop!’
‘But Miss Linton, your aunt said-’
He didn’t get another word out. In a flash, I had dragged him onto the dance floor and held him in a firm grip. He suddenly didn’t look as if he wanted to escape anymore.
‘So… how do you dance this?’ I demanded.
His eyes widened. ‘You don’t know?’
‘Of course not!’
‘Then… blast! What are we going to do?’
‘We’ll just have to improvise.’
‘And pray to God we don’t crash into any of the other couples! Blimey… all right. Take your skirt in one hand and pull it up.’
‘I get to pull my skirt up?’ Grinning like a loon, I obeyed. ‘Good God, my aunt will be furious!’
‘Not that far! You don’t want to show your unmentionables[4] to the entire ballroom!’
‘How do you know I don’t?’
‘Well, maybe you do, but you shouldn’t! Let your skirt down again, or I’ll have to make you!’
I bowed my head in my best pseudo-ladylike submission. ‘Like that?’
‘Yes. Admirable.’
; ‘Now, I’ll put my arm around your waist, and take your hand with the other…’
‘Seems like any other dance to me. What are the steps?’
‘There are no steps. We don’t step, we jump.’
The grin on my face widened. ‘Now that’s not like any other dance. How high?’
‘As high as you want.’ Seeing the gleam in my eyes, he added, hurriedly: ‘Be gentle with me! I don’t want to break a leg.’
‘Can I start? Can I start? Please, please?’
‘Wait for the music, will you? There we go. One, two, three, four… one, two, three, four… Now!’
The next few minutes passed in an ecstasy of stomping feet and flying skirts. I hardly felt my aching feet or my too-tight corset. Not once did I stamp on Captain Carter’s feet. True, he was a man, but a sort of special case. There was no real reason to break his toes - not while I was having so much fun.
After the first galop, the musicians wanted to start on a quadrille again - but they were interrupted by the storm of mixed protest and applause from their audience.
‘Bravo!’ A girl from the crowd shouted. ‘Da capo!’
‘Don’t you dare play that stupid, sluggish muck!’ I shouted. ‘Or I’ll come over there and ram your flute down your throat!’
Perhaps not so complimentary or diplomatic, but certainly effective. The musicians struck up another galop, and after that, another. Only when my feet would no longer support me did I allow Captain Carter to escort me to a chair in the corner. For the first time in my life, I didn’t mind a man holding my arm to support me. He didn’t seem to mind my having to support him right back, either. We were both a bit unsteady.
‘My aunt was right!’ I sank down into a chair, panting. ‘This isn’t dancing! It’s wild jumping about!’
For a moment, Captain Carter looked concerned.
A broad grin spread over my face. ‘Very wild jumping about. I must say, I rather enjoyed it.’
His answering grin was brilliant. ‘So, may I expect that you will do some more jumping about with me later tonight, Miss Linton?’
‘With you, I’d even make cartwheels and jump about on one leg!’