Silence Is Golden (Storm and Silence 3)
‘Tell me, girl - why is your aunt here?’
‘Because Your Ladyship invited her.’
She gave me a piercing stare.
‘And,’ I added, ‘because she wants to marry me off. The man she has her eye on is here tonight.’
‘Indeed?’ That seemed to catch her ladyship’s interest. ‘Who is it?’
‘A Mister Fitzgerald.’
Lady Abercrombie’s eyes widened. ‘Morton Marmeduke Fitzgerald?’
‘How many Fitzgeralds are here tonight?’
‘Two. But the other one is a ninety-year-old.’
‘That’s not him.’
‘Good God!’ Lady Abercrombie smiled. ‘Morton Marmeduke as Romeo. I wouldn’t have thought it of him!’
‘If it is all right with you,’ I murmured with a shudder, ‘I would prefer not to think of him that way, either. So, if we could please talk about something else…?’
‘Ah. That way, is it?’
‘Yes. It is.’
‘I can’t really say I’m surprised. Morton is a nice enough fellow, but…well.’
‘Exactly, Your Ladyship.’
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a familiar figure approaching. Instinctively, I took a step backwards.
‘Your Ladyship…this place doesn’t happen to have a back exit, does it?’
Following my gaze, she spotted the round-cheeked, smiling man approaching us, and shook her head. ‘Sorry, girl. You’re going to have to fight this one out on your own.’
My hands clenched into fists. ‘I thought so.’
‘But I’ll be watching.’ The old lady winked at me, and started away. ‘It’ll be interesting to see who emerges as the victor.’
I took another step back. But it was too late. He was already upon me.
‘Miss Linton!’ There was a radiant smile on Morton Marmeduke Fitzgerald’s face as he beamed up at me. Yes, up at me. Have I neglected to mention that, besides being round and balding, he’s about half a head shorter than me? And he was smiling as if I were Father Christmas, the Easter bunny and Venus the love goddess all rolled into one. ‘I’m so happy to see you were able to come!’
Before I could tell him ‘Well, I’m not’, he grasped my hand and bowed deeply. ‘May I ask you for the honour of the next dance?’
I was just about to tell him to go bugger himself, when, over his head, I caught a glimpse of my aunt giving me one of her special looks. I cleared my throat.
‘Um…of course, Mr Fitzgerald. I’d be delighted.’
What was one dance, after all? I could use it to demonstrate exactly why he would not like to marry me. Experimentally, I clacked my heels against the ballroom floor. As luck would have it, I was wearing good, stout shoes. Exactly the wrong kind of shoes for dancing. Excellent!
‘Thank you, Miss Linton!’ Beaming like a cherub on cloud nine, he took a tighter hold of my hand and led me onto the dance floor. The musicians struck up the tones of a waltz. ‘These,’ he told me, his round face shining, ‘will be the happiest minutes of my life.’
Oh, Mister…You’ve got that so wrong. Just wait and see. Or rather - feel.
Tam-ta-tam, tam-ta-tam…