‘But if he has not inherited his wealth from them, where did it come from?’
The Duchess smiled. Lowering her voice, she said:
‘That is the shocking part. I have heard,’ she continued lowering her voice even more until it was only a whisper, ‘that he is involved in commerce!’
The two ladies gasped in shock.
‘Surely not!’
‘Unbelievable!’
‘And trade. And he invests in manufacturing and industry. Can you imagine?’
Lady Metcalf began to fan herself. ‘Stop, please, my friend. Or I am going to faint. That anybody should degrade himself so…’
‘You have not heard the worse of it,’ the Duchess said, ominously.
‘My dear, what could be worse than that?’
‘I have heard, from a very reliable source, that during his youth he actually worked for money, that he did manual labour.’
‘Dear me!’
‘Heavens!’
‘Yes,’ the Duchess repeated with glee. ‘He worked for a living! Among common working-class folk! It is hardly creditable, is it not?’
‘Please, have mercy on us, stop!’
‘And not even here in the United Kingdom - but in some wild place in the former colonies!’
‘You don't mean - oh goodness, you don't mean that awful place… what do the people call it again?’
‘The “United States of America”.’
‘God, yes. Please, Duchess, no more. Even the mere thought of that place makes me shudder!’
‘They do not even have a king over there, do they?’
‘Worse, my dear! They do not even take tea in the afternoon.’
I didn’t catch much of the conversation after that. I had to admit, I was too blown away. Well, well, well… a gentleman who once did work for wages and earned his way to the top. What a novel idea. I couldn’t suppress a grin. How very naughty of you, Mr Ambrose, to so flout the traditions of the English upper class.
But then my good mood vanished and I was overtaken by sudden anger. How dare he? How dare he judge me and my attempt to earn a living when he himself had done the same? Yes, I was a girl and he was man, but apparently a gentleman. For a gentleman to work for a living was almost more outlandish than for a female to do it. And how, by the way, had he gotten so stinking rich at it? He couldn’t have worked as a secretary, that much was for sure.
‘'I will find out the truth about you, Mr Ambrose,’ I vowed to myself. ‘And I will make you accept me. You are my ticket to freedom, whether you like it or not.’
*~*~**~*~*
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.