Silence Is Golden (Storm and Silence 3)

Carefully and distinctly, I drew the fan across my cheek.

I-H-A-T-E-Y-O-U-I-H-A-T-E-Y-O-U-I-R-E-A-L-L-Y-H-A-T-E-Y-O-U!

With a snap, I let the fan slam shut, opened it again, and repeated the motion.

P-I-S-S-O-F-F-Y-O-U-B-A-S-T-A-R-D-P-I-S-S-O-F-F-Y-O-U-B-A-S-T-A-R-D-P-I-S-S-O-F-F-N-O-W!

And, just to be absolutely sure I brought my message across, I placed the handle of the fan to my lips.

Y-O-U-A-R-E-T-H-E-S-P-A-W-N-O-F-A-W-A-R-T-H-O-G!-A-R-E-A-L-L-Y-U-G-L-Y-W-A-R-T-H-O-G!-G-E-T-A-W-A-Y-F-R-O-M-M-E-O-R-I-L-L-D-U-M-P-A-B-U-C-K-E-T-O-F-C-R-A-P-O-V-E-R-Y-O-U-R-H-E-A-D!

Well, the last message hadn’t been listed exactly like this in Mrs Flower’s Guide to the Fan Langua

ge for Proper Young Ladies. I might have had to improvise a bit, but still, I had surely gotten the message across.

Mr Fitzgerald held my gaze for a moment - then nodded. Ah! Thank God! He had gotten the message. Sighing with relief, I turned away, and went in search of a waiter. I needed some stress relief. I headed towards the first man with a tray of canapés I spotted and tapped him on the shoulder.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Yes, Miss?’

‘Do you have solid chocolate?’

Five minutes later, I was leaning against a column, my eyes closed and my mouth filled with the ambrosia and nectar that was solid chocolate melting slowly, when someone cleared his throat right in front of me. Unwilling to descend from my own personal heaven, I opened my eyes, and there, right in front of me, stood Morton Marmeduke Fitzgerald, his round face full of emotion.

‘Miss Linton?’

‘Yuff?’ I managed. Then I hurriedly swallowed, coughed, and repeated, in a tone that conveyed how not happy I was about having had to swallow my solid chocolate early: ‘Yes? What do you want?’

‘I saw your charming display of the fan language earlier.’ Mr Fitzgerald’s round eyes were shimmering. Were those tears threatening to spill over? Actual tears? ‘And I just wanted to say: I feel exactly the same!’

‘You do?’

Then why are you standing right here in front of me instead of at the opposite end of the ballroom? Or better yet, at the opposite end of England?

‘Yes. When you drew your fan over your cheek so delicately, with such exquisite feminine grace, signalling to me that there are feelings of love for me burgeoning inside your heart…’

Whoa! Hold your horses! Have what burgeoning inside what?

‘…it touched something deep inside me, Miss Linton. It really did. I did not have the courage before to approach you, but when you made your feelings known to me, it changed everything.’

I made my feelings known to you all right, you moron! I told you I hate your guts, and the rest of you, too!

Or…was that actually signalled by drawing the fan across the cheek? Wasn’t it by drawing it through the hand?

No! It was the cheek! I’m sure!

Well…almost.

Mr Fitzgerald took a step closer, his eyes now definitely shining with tears. ‘At first I wasn’t sure. At first I couldn’t imagine how a girl like you could love a man like me, who is so obviously not worthy of her-’

You got that right, Mister!

‘…but then I thought: Love crosses all boundaries!’

What? No it doesn’t! Definitely not the very definite boundaries between you and me!

‘Still, I remained in doubt. Had I really seen what I’d thought I’d seen? Had you really sent me the signal I had hoped for? It was agonising, not knowing for certain. But then I saw your next gesture.’