the unfortunate pair?’
‘My other two sisters.’
‘Your family’s house must be full to the attic with tulips.’
‘It is.’
‘Are they beautiful?’
‘The tulips?’
‘No! Your other two sisters, Miss Linton.’
‘Oh.’ I pondered this for a moment, conjuring up an image of Anne’s and Maria’s faces. Finally, I reluctantly admitted: ‘I suppose so.’
‘With long blonde hair?’
‘Yes.’
‘And shining blue eyes?’ He fluttered his eyelashes in a way a man should not be able to. I just barely managed to stifle a laugh.
‘Um… yes. Both of them.’
‘No wonder poor old Flip was carried away. How long did it take for him to forget they existed?’
‘Err… I think about a week.’
‘You see?’
He rubbed his hands again, as if everything were resolved.
I did indeed begin to see. A part of me did, at least. That part wanted to burst out laughing and hug this strange stranger who had so simply dispelled the doom that had been hovering over my sister and me for weeks. But another part of me still couldn’t believe. Carefully, I sniffed the air. There was no smell of alcohol. Could it be that Captain Carter really was not drunk? That he was telling the truth?
I suddenly remembered Patsy telling me how Wilkins had been pursuing her, even before Anne and Maria. Patsy had blonde hair, even though it was tied in a knot, and her eyes were definitely bright - bright as a blowlamp about to explode.
Could it be true? Maybe…
But of what use was it to me? I realized with a sinking feeling that, even if Sir Philip didn’t mean anything by his attentions, Ella was still very much in danger of losing her honour.
For a moment, my eyes strayed to Edmund, who was glaring at the dancing couple with an intensity that could probably have incinerated the floor, had it been made of wood.
When my eyes went back to Captain Carter, I saw him studying me critically. ‘You still don't believe me,’ he accused me.
‘No, no, it’s not that… I…’ My voice trailed off. How on earth was I supposed to explain things to him? To a complete stranger? Should I even try? Was it right for me to disclose secrets I wasn’t even supposed to know myself?
‘What?’ he asked, and the gentleness in his voice surprised me. ‘Miss Linton, I have no wish to cause pain to you or your sister. If there is some problem…’
‘My sister,’ I said, hurriedly, before I could think better of it. ‘She doesn't want to marry Sir Philip.’
‘Well, where’s the problem in that?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Why doesn't she just send him packing?’
‘Because,’ I said, feeling angry that I had to explain my sister’s motives to this stranger, ‘she feels it would be her duty to accept him, since our aunt wishes it.’
He blinked, speechless for the moment. But the moment didn’t last very long.
‘That’s silly!’
‘No, it isn’t!’ I snapped, though privately I couldn’t agree more.
‘Oh? So you would do the same?’ he asked, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of his mouth - a place where there often seemed to be one.
I flushed.
‘Well… not exactly.’
‘I didn’t think so.’ The grin grew some more. ‘But to be honest, I still don't see the problem. I told you, Flip won’t propose to your sister. In a week or two, he’ll spot another beautiful fair head, and all will be joy and jubilation.’
Looking around to see if anybody was listening, I took a step closer.
‘I… I’m afraid in a week it might be too late.’
‘Too late?’ The grin on his face didn’t waver. ‘What do you mean, too late?’
‘I mean that my sister might do something rash.’
‘Something more rash than agreeing to marry a man whom she can’t stand?’
‘Yes!’
‘Oh, I see. That’s rash, indeed.’
He didn’t sound nearly serious enough for my liking. I glared at him, and he grinned back, not perturbed in the least.
‘You can’t persuade her to… you know, maybe not be rash?’ he enquired.
‘No!’
‘But as I told you, it’s just a matter of time. Trust me, when Flip comes across the next lovely lady with big blue eyes, he’ll forget all about your sister.’
And what good will that do, if Ella runs away with Edmund tomorrow night? Blast, blast, blast!
‘If it takes a week for him to find one,’ I said, ‘that will be too late.’
‘Hmm.’ Thoughtfully, he stroked his jaunty little triangle of beard. ‘Well, that leaves only one option, then. We'll just have to pick one out for him - immediately.’
I stared at him as if he’d spoken Chinese.
‘What do you