already stored. Servants number four, five and six, who suddenly appeared out of nowhere, began to help my sisters and aunt out of their outer garments, which apparently everybody thought they were either unable or unwilling to do themselves. Chauvinism. Pure chauvinism.
Then, servant number one bowed once more and gestured down the hall.
‘This way, please, Madam. Sir Phillip is awaiting you.’
Anne and Maria exchanged significant looks, which said as clear as day I’m sure he is. But which one, damn you? They, along with my aunt, were the first to follow servant one down the hall. After them came Lisbeth, nearly bursting with excitement, Gertrude, quiet and demure, Ella, pale, anxious and shy, and finally me, trying my best to remain invisible to any mate-seeking men in the vicinity.
At the end of the hall waited another open door. From inside the large room beyond, I could hear laughter and chatter. Servant number one placed himself beside the door and, as we entered, called:
‘Mrs Brank and nieces.’
Not far from the door stood a tall, fair-haired young man. His hair was just about everything about him that could be called fair. His lips were too thin and his ears would have fit well on an elephant’s head. The nose, however, any elephant would have rejected, pointing out that his conk was already large enough and he didn’t need a monster like that messing up his or her perfection of elephantine beauty. An uncertain smile that quivered as if subjected to a continuous facial earthquake didn’t do anything to improve the picture.
His clothes, admittedly, were posh enough: he was impeccably dressed in a black tail coat, black trousers, white shirt and, best of all, a brilliantly colourful waistcoat showing off an elaborate pattern of red and green brocade with golden embroidery. But… you know that saying, the one about the clothes making the man? Whoever came up with that saying hadn’t seen this man, or his ears or nose.
Still, in his fine clothes he looked much richer than Mr Rikkard Ambrose with his simple black attire.
And why the blazes was I suddenly thinking of him?
I shook my head, trying to shake off the unwanted image of a familiar cold face in my mind, as the young man came towards us and bowed.
‘Mrs Brank? I am Sir Philip Wilkins. Please allow me to welcome you and your lovely nieces to my humble home.’
‘You are so kind, Sir Philip,’ simpered my aunt. I wouldn’t have thought she had that much honey in her pantry, let alone on her tongue. ‘I must say you have a truly charming house, and such attentive staff.’
‘I only have the best of everything,’ he replied, his gaze wandering dreamily over Anne and Maria. I had a sudden desire to find a bucket to be sick in.
‘That I can believe,’ my aunt told him, her normally steely voice still coated in sugar.
‘But… I do not see Mr Brank here, Madam. Is something the matter?’
Over the aunt’s face passed a cloud of sadness that was so convincing it almost fooled even me. ‘Ah, yes. Mr Brank regrets so very much that he could not attend, but he has been taken by a sudden illness and his doctor said he was not well enough to leave the house. I am to convey his sincerest apologies to you, Sir Philip.’
Sir Philip’s ears drooped. ‘Oh, I am grieved to hear about his condition. Please convey my wishes for his immediate recovery.’
Dear me. If they weren’t finished soon I’d be smothered by an excess of good manners.
Well, time to start ignoring them and survey the battlefield for the evening…
The large ballroom was even more extravagantly decorated than the waistcoat of its owner. The floor was polished dark wood, the walls a maze of gilded floral patterns. Large windows reflected the light of the enormous sparkly chandeliers, which hung from a ceiling painted with chubby little naked boys with wings on. I supposed they were cherubs - the boys, not the chandeliers.
And the people. Oh the people. They were everywhere. At least a three hundred of them filled the vast room, conversing, bowing and curtsying to one another. And at least a hundred and fifty of them were men. One, sweet, single little me against one hundred and fifty! Now were those supposed to be fair odds?
Suspiciously I eyed the masculine beasts and wondered which of those my aunt would try to marry me off to. None of them looked particularly nice. Especially compared to somebody very