‘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.’
‘True, very true. A pity that is. If they could, they would be perfect.’
Ella sneaked a quick glance at Edmund, who was looking out of the window. ‘Nothing in this world is perfect,’ she said in a sad, quiet voice.
I thought she had hit the nail on the head with that. But Wilkins, the blasted son of a bachelor, leant forward, took her hand and pressed a light kiss on the back of it.
‘Apart from your beauty, fair lady,’ he said with a wink.
From the corner where Edmund sat, I heard a gagging noise. I was beginning to ask myself whether bringing him along had really been such an ingenious idea.
But when we drew up in front of Lady Metcalf’s house and climbed out of the carriage, and I saw Ella looking at him as if there was no other man in the world, I knew I couldn’t not have brought him along. From inside the house, I could hear the musicians try the first notes of music. On Ella’s face, I could read her emotions as plainly as if they were written in a book: she was at a ball, and Edmund was with her. If only he could come to her, take her in his arms and dance till the night turned into morning…