Storm and Silence (Storm and Silence #1) - Robert Thier Page 0,60

say, and Anne, Maria and Lisbeth, the only ones probably disposed to agree with Aunt Brank, were too green with envy to open their mouths.

Not bothered by this lack of enthusiasm, my aunt happily prattled on about her expectations while the rest of us consumed our porridge in silence, until finally somebody felt compelled to open her mouth.

‘To me,’ remarked Gertrude quietly, ‘the gentleman’s behaviour is not so delightful, my dear aunt. There seems something too rash in his manner. A gentleman must somehow show a lady admiration, that is true, but it is not quite right to be lavishing such expensive attentions on Ella so soon after showing interest in another.’ Her gaze strayed to Maria and Anne, not quite sure on which to settle. They both stared daggers at her.

‘Nonsense,’ replied my aunt, who did not know the meaning of the words 'too rash' and who would happily have seen three or more of her nieces married to Sir Philip Wilkins if English law had but allowed it. ‘The more attentions the better. It makes it more likely that we will be able secure him.’

‘Secure him?’ inquired Ella. ‘For what, pray?’

‘Is it not time to end your play-acting?’ hissed Anne. ‘You’ve gotten what you wanted, you can boast of it now.’

Ella blinked at her, dumbfounded.

Her aunt smiled at her sweetly. ‘That’s right dear, you go on being modest. It very well becomes you. No need to be so indelicate as to openly discuss the state of affairs until Sir Philip has acted on his resolve.’

That, I was sure, was a clue big enough that not even Ella could overlook it - but I was mistaken. My little sister appeared just as nonplussed as before. With a shake of the head, I turned from her puzzled countenance and concentrated on my porridge. It was an interesting question how, considering she was so modest as to not be able to see why anybody would want to marry her, she had managed to acquire a lover.

I would have to ask her that sometime. Or maybe I would find out soon enough by listening. I had already chosen the book I wanted to read that evening, when I would go into the garden again. Maybe I wouldn’t even need it, if the exchange at the fence turned out to be interesting enough.

The doorbell rang. Leadfield went to answer it and returned with another bouquet, for which my aunt indicated he should find a vase. More flowers arrived for Ella during the course of breakfast.

I was a liberal-minded person myself, but even I began to find this a bit excessive. Our house was in a fair way to be paved and wallpapered with flowers.

Now and again, I saw Ella glance at the flowers apprehensively. Every time a new flowery message arrived, she looked more puzzled, but I was sure she would not have been worried about them if not for the words of a certain gentleman.

Edmund Conway. Every time my thoughts turned to Ella now, my thoughts couldn’t help but turn to him also. It nettled me that my little sister’s happiness depended on a man. Anybody with sense would seek happiness in yourself rather than in another, because yourself you could always rely upon. But then, Ella, for all her loveliness and amiability, had never had much sense.

It was my job to make up for that. And I would see her happy, or that tradesman’s brat would rue the day he ever thought to play with my little sister’s feelings!

Still deep in thought, I didn’t look up as Leadfield came in, wheezing under the weight of the latest flowery message that, no doubt, promised marriage bells.

‘Another bouquet from Sir Philip Wilkins for Miss Ella,’ he breathed, as expected, and then added: ‘And one from another gentleman, for you, Miss Lillian.’

I nearly bit my spoon in half.

Return to the Game

‘W-what?’ I gasped.

‘And one from another gentleman, for you, Miss Lillian,’ Leadfield repeated stoically.

‘I heard you the first time! But when? Why? And in God’s name, from whom?’

‘Err… they arrived just now, Miss. As to why…’ the old butler blushed a little. ‘Well, I couldn’t say. And from whom… I think I saw a card with the bouquet, but I did not read it.’

Frantically I sprang up and rushed to Leadfield, desperate to know the name of my hidden enemy. I ripped the card out of the bouquet, unfolded it and read:

‘In memory of the first ball where we did NOT dance together. I