Storm and Silence (Storm and Silence #1) - Robert Thier Page 0,57

figure in the shadows? I asked myself. You’ve just discovered that your little sister, whom you thought pure as the driven snow, is in fact head over heels in love with some man and is conducting a secret romance in your own back garden! What are you going to do about it?

The first thing that popped into my mind was telling my aunt. That would put an end to Edmund’s nefarious activities, and my little sister would be out of danger.

But then… I never told my aunt anything out of principle, and so far it had worked fine for me. Maybe I should be guided by my experience in this case.

Besides, looking at the expressions on the two lovers’ faces as they stared at each other… it somehow made me feel guilty for even considering to bring an end to their nocturnal meetings. Me, feeling guilty! I never felt guilty! Even when I did something for which I probably should feel guilty. And in this case I wasn’t, was I? I was only trying to protect my little sister.

‘Psht.’ Edmund stepped nearer to her. His hands closed around the iron poles, too. Their fingers were only inches apart now. ‘Do not be haunted by such dark thoughts, my love. No one is listening. Our secret is safe.’

Hmm… Was it?

‘We should be talking of happier matters,’ Edmund continued, smiling at Ella in that mushy way that made me want to find a bucket to stick my head into. ‘We have so little time together - I want to know about your day. You had a big day, today, didn’t you? Your first ball.’

‘Oh how I wished you could have been there,’ Ella sighed, her voice so revoltingly infused with soppiness that it gave me an intense wish for a bucket and a quiet corner. ‘I would have loved to dance with you.’

‘So would I, believe me, my love. But tell me how it was. Were you much admired? I wager all the other ladies were green with envy at your beauty.’

‘No, of course not!’ Ella blushed, though actually Edmund wasn’t so far from the truth. ‘Both the gentlemen and the ladies were very considerate, particularly our host.’

She began to tell of the ball: of how they had been welcomed, of how grand everything had been, of how Sir Philip himself had been so condescending as to dance with her. At first Edmund smiled, but every time she told of how Sir Philip had come back for another dance, his smile waned a little.

‘This… this Sir Philip sounds like the most attentive host I have ever met.’

‘Yes indeed.’ Ella smiled sweetly. ‘Only think, Edmund, his attentions still continued when I had left his house. He sent me a bouquet of flowers.’

Those words, however, did not have the positive effect on her lover my sister obviously expected them to have. He paled and took a step back.

‘Flowers?’ he gasped. ‘To your house on the same evening?’

‘Yes Edmund. But my love, my dearest love, what is the matter? You are suddenly so pale. Tell me, are you ill? What ails you, my love? What is the matter?’

Looking at Edmund’s face, I knew exactly what was the matter. Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t knock him out with my parasol after all. It looked as if he’d already been dealt a blow far deadlier than I could deliver - struck down by a bouquet of flowers.

‘Oh God, no,’ he whispered, and I could hear he understood what the flowers meant.

Ella was staring at the young man, deep concern and longing such as I had never seen before etched into every lovely line of my little sister’s face. It occurred to me that while to me this whole matter of the back garden romance seemed the most ridiculous thing ever, Ella didn’t share that opinion. This was life and death to her.

I suddenly knew what I had to do.

‘What is it that is wrong?’ My little sister repeated with rising desperation. ‘Why are you so deathly pale, my love?’

‘Because…’ Edmund’s voice broke, and he had to start again. ‘Because I think Sir Philip Wilkins might…’

He shook his head, unable to complete the sentence.

‘Oh, I may be over-interpreting things. But Ella, love, you must tell me immediately if he should send you any more flowers.’

An actress would have given her right arm for the perfect expression of puzzled innocence on Ella’s face at that moment. But the problem was: this expression wasn’t fake.

‘Flowers? Edmund, what can be so