Hunting for Silence (Storm and Silence 5)

Edmund returned, with two tea cups in his hand and a helpless little smile on his face. ‘Um…one lump of sugar, Miss Linton? Two?’

I took a look at his honest smile on his honest face, stuck between his honest ears.

‘Forget what I said,’ I sighed in Ella’s direction. ‘We don’t need to check.’

We all settled down around the little table in the centre of the sitting room.

‘So, Miss Linton.’ Edmund cleared his throat. ‘Am I to gather from your appearance here that you approve of my interest in your sister?’

‘Not really,’ I told him. ‘I think you’re a bit of a wimp, and she could do much better.’

‘Oh.’

Under the table, Ella gave me a kick.

‘But it’s not really my opinion that matters,’ I continued, kicking back and making her yelp. Ha! Take that. No one bests me in a kicking contest! ‘It’s hers.’

‘True.’ Edmund’s expression brightened. ‘So…do you have a plan to help us?’

They both looked at me like starving bunnies at a gardener specializing in lettuce.

‘Yes, I have. Listen closely.’

And I proceeded to explain to them what I had in mind. When I was finished, they gazed at me with eyes widened by admiration. I’m not ashamed to say I preened a little. It wasn’t often I got to bask in unbridled admiration of my genius.

‘Can it really be that simple?’ Edmund whispered.

‘It can be, and it is.’

They glanced at each other. Without a word, they reached to take each other’s hands, and squeezed in silent agreement. The sight sent an unexpected shard of pain through me, as I remembered a hand that had once held mine like that. A hand that was now far, far away.

Soon, I told myself. You’ll just have to wrap up this little matter, and then….

‘All right,’ my thoughts were interrupted by Edmund, who, for once, sounded uncharacteristically determined. ‘I’ll do it.’

‘Very well.’ Rising, I nodded. ‘Just remember to be at my uncle’s house tomorrow afternoon at two. Oh, and also remember, if you break her heart—’

‘…you shall remove, um…certain extremities. I remember.’

‘Good.’ I beamed. ‘I might learn to like you after all. Now, let’s go, Ella, shall we? I’ve got some preparations to make.’

*~*~**~*~*

The next day, my aunt went insane. Well, she was pretty crazy most of the time, but that morning, she went completely off the rocker, down the stairs and into the metaphorical coal cellar to paint pink guinea pigs on the wall, so to speak.

What, you may ask, had her in such a spin?

You’ve got three guesses. But you’ll probably only need one.

‘Hurry, girls, hurry! If you tarry like this, you’ll never be ready in time for the duchess’s ball! Get moving, get moving!’

The duchess’s ball was all she could talk about. She was racing through the house like a rabid vulture, bonnets and trinkets and ribbons in hand. I hadn’t seen so many pretty non-essentials in this house since a package meant for a seamstress three houses down had accidentally been delivered to our house. Aunt had even, bless her stingy, social-climbing little soul, ordered a dressmaker to come to the house to create a special ball gown for Ella, thus bringing the entire number of dresses owned by her to a staggering total of three. Apparently, my dear aunt had high hopes that her niece’s stunning beauty would attract a great catch.

Did I mention I didn’t get a dress? Surprise, surprise.

‘Would the pink ribbons be better, or the blue?’ Aunt Brank demanded, buzzing around Ella with arms full of accessories.

‘Why not the grey?’ Maria suggested sweetly. ‘They match her personality.’