Storm and Silence (Storm and Silence 1)

Then I realized what I had been thinking and scowled. What was wrong with me? I didn’t want them to end up together. Did I? Didn’t I?

‘Please, my love,’ Edmund breathed, leaning closer to the poles separating him from my sister. ‘Just the tips of your fingers, just once. I need to know that you are real, not some apparition from the realms of angels or fairies that has come to beguile me with its loveliness.’

‘No, Edmund, I can’t…’

But apparently, Ella’s hand and her mouth weren’t quite in agreement about the matter: for while her lips denied him, her small ivory hand reached out, nearing the space between two of the iron poles. Edmund watched it, breathless, and I must admit I was pretty engrossed, too. This was better than the opera. Who knew romance could be this interesting?

Finally Ella’s fingers slipped between the iron poles, and Edmund’s hands flew forward, taking hold of them.

‘Ella,’ he breathed.

‘Just a swift touch, Edmund, you promised,’ she said, still with tears in her eyes.

‘And I shall keep my word. One touch.’ He led her fingers to his chest, to the left side where his heart was beating, and pressed them to the cloth of his tailcoat.[21] ‘Here. Feel it, Ella, for it is yours. Now and forever.’

She gave a shaky nod, not having the words to reply. He let go of her hand, and she withdrew it, turning towards the house and hurrying away like a frightened doe.

*~*~**~*~*

I wandered back into the house some time later, deep in thought.

Well, well, well. My innocent little sister conducting a secret romance behind everybody’s back. In retrospect I felt like slapping myself for not noticing it earlier. I remembered very well that odd stare Edmund Conway had given me last evening as we had met in the street: yet he hadn’t really been looking at me, I realized now, but rather at Ella, who had been standing right behind me.

And I had asked Ella what that had been about, and she had lied.

Ella, lying! The little vixen! A grin spread over my face. I suppose I should have been upset about my own sister lying to me, but to be honest I was delighted to discover she had a share of deviousness. It meant we had something more in common than simply the same parents.

Now that I thought about it, I remembered, too, that morning when I had first gone to work, and Ella had immediately jumped to the conclusion that I was going off to see some young man. The joy in her face back then - it was the joy of somebody who had her own personal attachment, who knew what it was to love a man and find joy in it.

I shook my head. Some people really had strange tastes.

Luckily I wouldn’t have to deal with any men seeking my hand any time soon. The only man I would have to deal with again soon enough would be Mr Rikkard Ambrose, and for that particular relationship I would rather need my own pair of trousers and nerves like steel than flowery bouquets and compliments.

That night I went to bed with my head full of expectations and designs for the future, both mine and my sister's. I knew they would be very different futures, but as I looked over at the peacefully sleeping form of my little sister, I vowed that we would both be happy and successful even if I had to twist the arm of fate to achieve it!

*~*~**~*~*

The next morning we were awakened by a vehement knock on the door. Before either Ella or I had the time to rub the sleep out of our eyes, much less call 'enter', the door was thrown open and a mountain of flowers stumbled in, which on closer inspection revealed itself to be our aunt, carrying a cartload of bouquets and trying to conceal a triumphant smile. She did not do a very good job of the latter.

‘There! There, you see, Ella?’ she exclaimed, dumping her entire load at the foot of my little sister’s bed. ‘I knew it! I knew your beauty could not fail to capture his attention. You are almost as beautiful as I was at your age.’

Ella blinked, sleepily - then her eyes widened as she beheld the pile of flora at the foot of her bed.

‘What are these?’ she asked.

‘Flowers from Sir Philip, of course. Get dressed, girls. It is time for breakfast.’

She rushed out and we did as she had ordered. However, I dressed with even less care than usual. It was rather superfluous, really. It was a weekday. Soon enough I would be exchanging my dress for a pair of trousers.

I felt a slight tremor run through me at the thought of encountering him again. Fear? No, it couldn’t be fear. I was never afraid.

We went down and sat down to breakfast. For a change, my aunt was not in a sour mood over my uncle’s absence. Her mind was more pleasantly engaged.

‘Only look!’ she proclaimed, pointing at a particularly extravagant bouquet of large roses. She had ordered Leadfield to place them all around the room in various vases. How she owned that many vases was a mystery to me, since she never would have spared one penny to buy flowers herself. ‘Such beautiful flowers. This bodes well, don't you think girls?’

If she expected a reply to that, she was disappointed. Personally I didn’t think it boded well at all for Ella. Ella, for her part, didn’t seem to think it boded anything at all. Gertrude never spoke unless she had something serious to say, and Anne, Maria and Lisbeth, the only ones probably disposed to agree with Aunt Brank, were too green with envy to open their mouths.

Not bothered by this lack of enthusiasm, my aunt happily prattled on about her expectations while the rest of us consumed our porridge in silence, until finally somebody felt compelled to open her mouth.