Storm and Silence (Storm and Silence 1)

‘A… significant change?’ My aunt managed, her eyes gleaming.

‘Oh yes, quite significant. I feel that I cannot go on as I have these past years. I need something that can warm my heart in the coldest of times. My own little sunshine.’

My aunt’s hands were clasped together in eagerness, and at his last words, she almost fainted. ‘Oh, I see, Sir Phillip. I understand perfectly.’

My eyes flicked to Ella. She was leaning against the doorframe, her face ashen. Apparently, she, too, understood perfectly.

‘And when will you be initiating this change?’ my aunt enquired.

‘As soon as possible,’ the accursed Wilkins said with a dreamy look in his eyes. ‘Why postpone something that can bring so much happiness to one’s life?’

‘True, very true.’

Ella was in motion again, then, hurrying towards the door. I didn’t know what she meant to do, run to the coach, or to Edmund, or to Ecuador, but she was too late. Just in that moment, Wilkins turned around and beheld her.

‘Ah! Miss Ella! I have been looking forward to seeing you.’

*~*~**~*~*

It wasn’t long before Aunt Brank shewed us outside and into the coach. No matter how eager she might be for a little love scene between Ella and Sir Philip in the hallway, she was even more eager for Ella to get to the ball and be proposed to. I did my best to insert myself between the couple, using my hoop skirt to great effect, but there was only so much I could do. I could not keep Wilkins from sending my little sister glowing looks and flowery compliments, no matter how much I wanted to punch him in the face.

What the bloody hell am I going to do? If he really proposes to her… How can I stop him?

It was only just as the last of my sisters took her seat in the coach that I glimpsed the possible answer, out in the street. An answer in human form.

By George!

He was standing at the little gate that separated the flowerbeds in front of his parents’ house from the cobblestones. His face looked pale and gaunt in the light of the gas lamps, though I thought it might have looked pale and gaunt tonight in any sort of lighting. Edmund Conway stood erect, like a man about to be summoned to his execution, and stared over at the coach. I knew exactly whom he was looking at: Ella and Wilkins. Judge and Executioner.

All of a sudden, pity welled up inside me for this young man. I had no idea where it was coming from. It certainly wasn’t usual for me to feel pity for any man, much less one who was conducting an illicit affair with my little sister in the back garden. But the feeling was there. And, as is always the case with these blasted feelings I have, it led to an impulsive action.

‘Mr Conway!’ I waved at him energetically, plastering a broad smile on my face. ‘How nice to see you. What brings you out at such a late hour?’

I had called quite loudly, loudly enough so neither he nor anyone else could ignore it. Hesitantly, he detached himself from the garden gate and came towards us.

‘I… was watching the stars,’ he said, his gaze fastening on Ella’s face.

I bet you were. Two particularly bright, blue stars, hmm?

‘What a happy coincidence you’re here,’ I proclaimed, before my aunt, who looked like she’d eaten a wagonload of lemons, could say otherwise. ‘I was just thinking about how we have an empty seat in our coach and how it would be a pity to waste it. We’re all going to a ball tonight. Have you heard about it? A grand affair at Lady Metcalf's. Would you like to come with us?’

I might as well have hit him in the head with an iron cudgel. The effect would have been similar to that of my words. Maybe it would even have been kinder.

The colour drained from his face and

he staggered back a step.

‘C-come with you?’

‘Tosh! Lilly, how can you talk such nonsense?’ my aunt cut in. ‘It is not our coach, it is Sir Phillip's. You cannot simply invite this…’ She regarded Edmund with her nostrils. ‘…this young person into a carriage that does not belong to you.’

Sir Philip smiled brightly. ‘Oh, but I would be delighted to take Mr… What was your name again, Sir? I’m afraid we haven’t been properly introduced.’

‘Mr Conway, may I introduce you to Sir Philip Wilkins, a friend of the family,’ I said before anybody else could open their mouth. ‘Sir Philip, this is Edmund Conway, one of our neighbours.’

‘Delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr Conway.’ Sir Philip gave an awkward sitting bow. The flower in his buttonhole almost dropped out.

‘L-likewise, Sir Philip,’ Edmund mumbled and returned the bow stiffly.