Edmund opened his mouth again, wanting to protest, but then he looked into Bufford’s eyes and saw implacable resolve there. Ella rushed to him, and together they hurried outside. The door slammed, and I could hear my little sister sobbing from behind the thin wood.
Aunt Brank looked as if she’d just been elevated to Duchess of Somerset. It seemed like the matter was closed. Once it was made up, no one could change Uncle Bufford’s mind.
Well, you’ve always loved trying the impossible, haven’t you, Lilly?
Clearing my throat, I stepped forward. ‘I wonder whether I might have a word with you, Uncle?’
Instantly, all heads in the room turned to me. Aunt Brank narrowed her eyes. ‘Why?’
‘Excuse me, Aunt, but it’s not you I was talking to.’ I looked straight at my uncle, praying I wasn’t wrong about him. ‘Uncle? Alone, please?’
> He hesitated for a moment—then nodded.
‘Bufford!’ Aunt Brank protested. ‘You can’t—´’
He flicked his finger again, and her mouth snapped shut. I really had to get him to teach me how to do that. With a last venomous look from my aunt, and not-too-friendly ones from the twins, everyone filed out of the room. Only Uncle Bufford and I remained.
‘Well, girl? What do you want?’ Steepling his fingers, he regarded me from under his bushy eyebrows. ‘I hope you’re not going to plead or cry or some silly female nonsense like that.’
‘Please don’t insult my intelligence,’ I told him. ‘You’d be about as likely to be moved by tears as a mountain by an ant fart.’
He nodded approvingly. ‘True.’
‘No, I don’t want to cry or plead. I simply want to point out some arguments in favour of Edmund you might not have thought of before.’
‘You mean there are actually arguments in favour of him?’
‘Surprising, I know. But yes, there are.’
‘Pray tell.’
‘Well, to start with, Edmund’s father is quite old. Soon he’ll be too old to work. Young Edmund might not have an income now, but he’s good at what he does. The moment his father retires, he’ll inherit a profitable business that would be more than sufficient to support a family.’
One bushy eyebrow rose, decorating the upper half of Uncle Bufford’s head with a little bit of hair for the first time in decades.
‘Which isn’t much good to him now, is it?’
‘True. But who says Ella needs to marry him right away? She’s young. Besides, many couples choose an extended courtship or a long engagement. A tacit agreement could be formed, without any public announcements, and when Edmund takes over from his father, we could make things official.’
‘True, that would work, girl. But he’d still only be a piano tuner. Ella could do much better.’
‘Ah yes, all those barons and marquesses…’ I smiled. ‘You’ve never married off a female relative, dear Uncle, so you might not be aware of this, but there’s a custom in our fine country called a ‘dowry’. It’s a substantial sum of money paid by the father—or guardian—of the bride to the prospective husband.’
Uncle Bufford’s face turned to stone. His hands clamped around the armrests of his chair.
‘If Ella marries some baron or marquess, or, God forbid, a Duke, he is going to expect a dowry. It could be, oh, I don’t know…’ I let the sentence trail off, suggestively looking around the room at all the heaps of coins and banknotes in view. Uncle Bufford couldn’t suppress a shudder of horror. Inwardly, I smirked. Time for the last strike.
‘Plus, there will be a big wedding—which someone will have to pay for.’
My uncle’s beard twitched. ‘You don’t think that…’
‘Oh yes. I do.’
‘Hrumph.’
‘On the other hand, if Ella were to marry Edmund,’ I continued quickly, ‘I’m sure they’d want a humble, private ceremony. And if there were problems with money, I could help out.’
That caused another eyebrow-elevation.