Secret Plans and Politics

There's no reason to be angry! No reason to be upset! I told myself, chewing savagely on a bar of solid chocolate I had found at one of the refreshment tables. Not in the least! It is typical male behaviour, valuing a pretty doll in a ball gown more than a girl who actually chose to go out into the world and do something with her life. And there's no reason why that should make you angry! Not in the least!

It didn't help. The chocolate did to some extent, soothing my nerves a bit, but I was still fuming when I reached a table with free chairs and slumped down onto the nearest one.

And do you want to know what the most infuriating part was?

I couldn't even figure out why exactly I was so angry! I mean, it wasn't as though I were entitled attract Mr Ambrose's attention or even had any reason to wish it. I was his secretary, no more and no less.

It's the inequality of the thing, I finally decided. It wouldn't bother you at all if Miss Hamilton were a sensible female who actually worked for a living and stood up to men and their unjust laws. It is the suffragist in you that has taken a justified dislike to her, that is all.

Satisfied with my findings, and very happy about my noble disposition which wouldn't stoop to something such as petty jealousy, I took another bite of chocolate and moaned as the piece melted in my mouth.

Ohhh…

The chap who invented this was surely the only decent man living! A true genius and benefactor to the whole world. The solid chocolate did wonders for consoling me. I sat at the table, slowly finding my calmer self again and wondering what step I should take next regarding Ella and her unwanted admirer. Maybe if I just pestered him a little more…

‘Lilly, my dear!'

I froze. The voice that had come from behind me was unmistakable. It was the chief fury of hell! Turning, I saw my aunt rush towards me. But for once, she wore no angry scowl directed at me. Instead, her arms were wide open and there might have been actual tears of joy in her eyes.

‘Come into my arms, most beloved niece of mine!' Before I could run for the hills, she had enfolded me in her arms and was pressing me to her meagre bosom. Startled, I hugged back reflexively. What was this? Could it be that this wasn't my aunt, but her not-so-evil twin? Or a moving wax replica? Those were the only explanations for the abnormally chummy behaviour of the being in front of me which I could come up with.

‘I saw you dancing with Lord Dalgliesh!' she exclaimed, and suddenly everything became clear to me. This was still my aunt, as she lived and breathed. ‘What did you talk about? Did he seem interested in you? Will you see him again? Oh, Lillian, don"t just stand there saying nothing. You are always so quiet, girl! You will never get anywhere if you do not learn how to properly express yourself!'

‘We didn't talk about important things really,' I murmured, choosing my words with care. I was well aware that I was walking a mine-field here. ‘We just talked about, um… mutual acquaintances, that is all.'

‘Wonderful! Wonderful! You have made a great start with him. Now don"t lose sight of him, do you hear me? If you can secure him… Good God! That would probably be the most eligible match in all of England!'

I waited with bated breath, wondering if she would make any remark about my dance with Mr Ambrose, too. But she was so full of my dance with Lord Dalgliesh that she apparently hadn't even noticed what I had done once that had been over. I had to admit that after a while her profusions on the subject got a bit boring. Not that I had anything against Lord Dalgliesh - no more than against any other person in trousers on this planet - but I definitely did not entertain the thought of marrying him! Instinctively I knew that to him, I was no more than a marionette, just like all the other people in this room and all the people of his company. No more than an instrument to be directed according to his will. That was definitely not the kind of person I wanted to be linked with for the rest of my life.

My aunt was just in the middle of a hymn of praise on Lord Dalgliesh's taste in dressing, when I had had enough. Rising, I told her with a more than convincingly faked smile:

‘Forgive me, Madam, but I think I am tired of sitting. I will look about and maybe find a pleasant partner to dance with.'

‘Oh yes, my darling, do that, do that! And let it be the right one!'

‘You mean the richest one?'

‘Finally! Finally, you understand my concerns! Oh, Lillian, that I would live to see this day…' She seemed about to succumb to tears of happiness again. But then, with great restraint, she collected herself and waved me off. ‘Go, go! The next dance is starting, don't miss your chance, my dear!'

‘Certainly, Madam.'

As quickly as possible, I made my escape. In a corner of the room I spied a nice, big potted plant.

Wonderful! Just what you need to hide behind and take a few minutes' break before you have to face the ballroom crowd again!

Moving inconspicuously towards my target, I looked left and right to make sure no one was watching and then slid behind the large, dark green plant - only to discover that somebody else had apparently had the same idea.

Ella stumbled back against the wall, giving a little shriek, which immediately cut off when she recognized me.

‘Oh Lilly, thank God it's you,' she whispered, leaning against the wall and closing her eyes. ‘He isn't lurking somewhere, is he?'

I took a peek around the potted plant. Wilkins was nowhere in sight.

‘No. At least I don"t see him.'

‘Thank God,' she repeated. ‘I swear to you, if he tries to stick another flower in my hair, I will collapse.'

‘Oh?' I raised an eyebrow. ‘I thought you told me… what was it again? Yes, that was it! You told me it was an honour to be courted by such a great noble, didn't you?'

She blushed. ‘Of course it is! I only meant… I mean… I am very honoured, very honoured indeed. He is paying me an enormous compliment, singling me out like this, and I really, and I… I really am flattered that I among all the ladies should be chosen to be the object of his-'

‘Put a sock in it,' I told her with a goodly dose of sisterly affection. Ella hung her head, still blushing.

‘You… I…'

‘You don"t have to pretend. Not where I'm concerned. Tell me honestly: do you want to marry Sir Philip Wilkins?'

She squirmed. ‘Well… maybe not very much?'

‘So you want to marry him just a little, do you? Maybe just his ring finger and his left foot, and the rest of him can stay a bachelor?'

Ella suddenly seemed to have an intense desire to inspect her feet. She looked down, avoiding my eyes.

‘Um… if you put it that way… no. I don"t think I do.'

‘And what about the rest of him?'

She made a minute movement. Among immovable pillars of salt, it might have passed for a headshake.

‘Say it,' I encouraged her. ‘Do you want to marry Wilkins?'

‘N… n…'

‘Go on! You can do it! Do you want to marry him?'

‘No!'

‘Bravo!' I rubbed my hands, grinning from ear to ear. ‘Excellent!'

‘Excellent?' Ella looked up at me, desperation in her face ‘What's excellent about it? Aunt Brank wants me to marry him!'

‘I mean it's excellent you have admitted it to yourself. You normally don"t do that. It's the first step to problem-solving.'

‘Err… and the next one is?'

I waved my hand dismissively. ‘We"ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Just at the moment you look like you need something to restore your nerves.'

‘To be absolutely honest… I think that's true.'

‘Well then, my dear little sister…' I put an arm around her and steered her from behind the potted plant. I already felt better. It had always been that way for me. When I was busy solving Ella's problems, my own suddenly didn't seem as important any more. ‘I have just the thing for you. It's called solid chocolate. Let's see how you like it, shall we?'

*~*~**~*~*

Ella accompanied me willingly. We were about half the way towards the refreshment tables when somebody roughly grabbed me by the arm and whirled me around. When I saw who it was, I gasped in surprise.

‘There you are, strange lady!'

‘Patsy!' I exclaimed, and then was swept up in a vice-like hug, ten times more forceful than my aunt's had been. With complete disregard for our hoop skirts, which should have kept us at a respectful distance, Patsy crushed me to her, and from the region of my legs, I heard whalebones[38] groan and crunch.

‘Patsy,' I gasped again, pushing her back and looking at her solid figure, her broad, gruff, oh-so-reliable face. For the moment all dark thoughts about Mr Ambrose were forgotten. ‘Is it really you? What are you doing here? How did you manage to get invited? I thought old Lady Metcalf can't stand you and your modern ways!'

Patsy grinned.

‘Well, she can't, actually, but she is an old friend of my mother's and has to pretend to like me. More to the point, what are you doing here?'

‘Well you know how my aunt is, she always drags me to balls…'

‘Not here at the ball, silly! I mean what are you doing here in London, here in England even? I thought you had emigrated to Timbuktu or something! I haven't seen you in ages! And don"t tell me you've been driving around the park presenting yourself to the eyes of eligible bachelors. I know that's what you've told your aunt, because I came by your house to visit when you were out. But I and the other girls have been in the park often enough and haven't seen hide nor hair of you! What are you up to?'

I bit my lip.

Hell's Whiskers, what to tell her?

I couldn't tell her that I was working for a living, could I? Not that Patsy would have anything against it. On the contrary. I was certain she would wholeheartedly approve. But if I told her about my work, I would also have to tell her about Mr Ambrose. And for some reason I didn't want to do that. I didn't want to do that at all.

I opened my mouth, not knowing what I was going to say. Maybe a clever explanation would have come to me at the last moment. Yet before I could say anything, the decision was taken out of my hand by a very simple, very common event:

Beside me, Ella blushed.

‘Aha!'

Patsy pounced on her.

‘You know something, don"t you? Out with it, Ella! Go on!'

Ella's eyes flickered from side to side like those of a frightened deer. I sighed. Ella was no liar, and under the unconquerable force that was Patsy Cusack, only one result could ensue.

‘Lilly, um… Lilly is…'

‘Yes…?' Patsy encouraged.

‘Lilly is seeing somebody. But don"t tell anybody. It's supposed to be a secret.'

‘Yes, a secret,' I confirmed throwing a dirty look at her. ‘That's why I asked you to keep it secret, by which I meant not tell it to anybody.'

With those adorable blue damsel-in-distress eyes of hers she threw me an apologetic glance. ‘I'm… I'm sorry Lilly, I just can't… can't lie about…'

My anger was snuffed out like a candle flame under a wet towel. Nobody could stay angry at Ella. Not even the chief of avenging angels.

‘All right,' I grumbled with a shrug. It was to be expected. And it wasn't like it had been the truth in the first place.

Turning my attention away from my little sister, I scrutinised Patsy. She hadn't yet said a word in response to Ella's disclosure. Her mouth stood slightly open, her lips were moving without producing any sound, and her eyes were unfocused. She looked like she had tried solving a complex mathematical equation and had ended up with 1009 = 0.

‘Seeing somebody?' she echoed. ‘As in… a member of the opposite sex? A man?'

‘No, a hippopotamus,' I snapped. ‘Yes, a man! What did you think?'

‘Frankly, I would have thought a hippopotamus would have been more likely!'

My fingers flexed. ‘Do you want me to clobber you with my fan?'

‘No need to get violent. I'm just shocked.' She shook her head, dazed. ‘A man. Fancy that. Lilly Linton going over to the enemy.'

Reflexively, my chin shot out. ‘I'm not "going over to the enemy"!'

‘Really? Hasn't your sweetheart asked you to shed your extremist political views about voting, working women yet? It"ll happen, just you wait. And next you'll get all silly and soppy and start knitting and sewing and saying that a lady's proper place is inside the home.'

She shook her head in mock disgust, smirking.

‘And I had such a promising future in the movement planned for you. You could have gone far, my young friend. Too bad you throw it all away for a simple life of marital bliss.'

I knew that she was joking, of course - but in a way, she wasn't. She really thought I was straying from the path and sacrificing my ideals.

Well, I'd show her!

With no work tomorrow, I would have plenty of time. Leaning towards her so that nobody else could hear me, I whispered: ‘Meet me with the other girls at ten o"clock tomorrow morning in Green Park, and I'll tell you what I think a lady should be doing.'

She looked at me, a smile slowly spreading over her broad face, mingled suspicion and interest twinkling in her eyes.

‘What have you got planned?'

‘My secret for now.' I winked. ‘Suffice it to say that I have overheard something which might be of interest to our little group of suffragists. We have work to do!'

*~*~**~*~*

The rest of the ball went by quickly, mostly because now I had something with which to occupy my mind. What the loose-lipped gentleman had told me about the meeting against the women's suffrage in Hyde Park kept reverberating inside my head. Ideas were fermenting inside my busy bean. Soon they would develop into plans.

I spent the rest of the ball plotting the downfall of mankind and the rise of womankind. Most of my plotting happened together with Ella and Patsy in Lord Dalgliesh's vicinity. This had multiple advantages:

The group around the lord was one of the thickest in the ballroom. Thus, whenever Sir Philip came in sight, we could shove Ella behind a fat duchess or broad-shouldered admiral, and she would be saved from another dance.

Whenever my aunt looked my way and saw me, right there, next to Lord Dalgliesh, she beamed as if it were Christmas and Easter put together. At least she wouldn't be able to say I wasn't trying.

For some reason, Mr Ambrose stayed far away from the group. This I found strange, because earlier he had made such a particular point of greeting Lord Dalgliesh as if they were old friends. But who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth?

By use of this clever method of unpleasant-people-avoidance we were able to keep the nasties out of our hair for quite some time. Everyone else pretty much left us alone, too. I was rather startled when somebody coughed beside me, thinking that it was Wilkins who had seen through our ruse at last - but it was only a servant, who bowed to me politely.

‘Forgive me, Miss? Could you step aside? I have to deliver a message to His Lordship.'

Promptly, I did as he asked, and so did everyone else in the vicinity. I noticed, though, that they didn't step back too far to hear what this mysterious message might be. It consisted of a letter the servant bore on a silver tray.

Arriving at His Lordship's side, the servant gave another discreet cough.

‘I beg Your Lordship's pardon? I have a message for you, My Lord.'

Lord Dalgliesh turned from the group of friends with whom he was laughing and joking and, seeing the tray, picked up the letter and eyed it over his aquiline nose.

‘Who gave this to you?'

‘Another servant, who would not divulge the identity of his master or mistress, My Lord. But he said you would know the identity of the sender once you opened it.'

Lord Dalgliesh's gaze quickly flicked from right to left. Feeling all eyes upon him, intent with curiosity, he snatched up the silver letter-opener on the tray and cut open the envelope. He grabbed whatever was inside and pulled.

Out came not a sheet of paper, nor a card, nor anything else with writing on it. No, out came a lock of hair - blond hair to be precise. For a moment, everything was still around the little group, then discreet chuckles broke out among the gentlemen, and the ladies fanned themselves.

‘By Jove!' a colonel in the Royal Dragoons[39] exclaimed. ‘I think it's rather more likely this letter came from a lady than from a gentleman, don"t you think so, my friends?' This was greeted by affirmations and laughter from all sides. ‘Come on, Dalgliesh, tell us who the lucky lady is!'

For a moment. Lord Dalgliesh stood stock-still, not seeming to see or hear the world around him, concentrating only on the lock in his hand. Then, quick as a flash, he stuck it back into the envelope and stuffed it into his pocket. Turning to the others, he smiled brilliantly and said: ‘Now, now, my friends, you would not want me to compromise a lady's honour, would you? Besides, I assure you. This is far from being a token of affection. You might rather call it a declaration of war.'

The colonel laughed again.

‘A declaration of war, eh? On you? Then whoever sent this must be rather a formidable creature!'

Lord Dalgliesh's smile broadened, yet at the same time I noticed it seemed to harden.

‘You never spoke a truer word, my dear Colonel.'

I shook my head. Somehow, I didn't think the hair came from a woman. It had looked far too short for that. To be honest, I had no idea what to make of it, though I had the strange feeling that I should have been able to. All in all, it was far too strange an occurrence for my personal taste. As charming as he was, I vowed to stay far away from Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh in the future.

Then and there, I didn't know how short a time it would take until that vow would be broken.

*~*~**~*~*

The evening was drawing to a close. Lady Metcalf was standing at the door, curtsying to her dear friends and to people she couldn't stand but had to be polite to anyway. My aunt was in high spirits. She was so pleased about my dance with Lord Dalgliesh that she hadn't even noticed that Ella had only danced three times with Wilkins during the entire evening.

Anne and Maria, on the other hand, were in a very bad mood. They had been forced to listen to a prolonged lecture by my aunt on how I was doing better than they with seeking out prospective husbands. I did not relish the thought of getting in a coach with them but reasoned that there were five other people in the coach, so they could hardly try and beat me to death with their parasols.

I was just about to sneak past Lady Metcalf and get some fresh air before the coach ride when, suddenly, a gentle but firm hand placed itself on my arm and held me in place.

‘A moment, if you please, Miss Linton?'

It was Lord Dalgliesh. Over his shoulder I could see my aunt, making frantic gestures of encouragement. I would have to disappoint her. Somehow I doubted that the enigmatic nobleman wanted to discuss an engagement.

‘What is it, Lord Dalgliesh?' I enquired, letting myself be steered into a small niche, where we were cut off from the view of all others in the room, including my aunt - to her severe disappointment, I was sure. Lord Dalgliesh placed himself between me and the rest of the room so I could not leave without his stepping aside. Suddenly, I felt a tiny twinge of unease. I would have felt more unease if not for the fact that the nobleman's smile was so very reassuring.

‘I wish to ask you something, Miss Linton.'

‘Again?' I raised an eyebrow. ‘You are getting brazen, My Lord. This time you are not even offering to dance with me.'

He smiled brightly, seemingly pleased by my reply.

‘Indeed I am. Yet I have an excuse: the music has stopped, the musicians are gone. Will you still grant me my heart's desire and assuage my curiosity?'

‘That depends on what your question is. Ask, My Lord, and we shall see about the answer.'

‘Very well.' He leant forward. His steel-blue eyes bored into mine with a hypnotic intensity. ‘Whenever I looked up earlier this evening, I knew I was being watched. Watched closely. The name of the one who watched me should be familiar to you, I think. It was one Rikkard Ambrose.'

I almost felt like laughing. He wasn't watching you, I wanted to say. He was watching his dear darling Miss Hamilton.

But then my thoughts screeched to a sudden halt. Had he been watching Miss Hamilton? Whenever I saw them, Lord Dalgliesh and Miss Hamilton had been standing right next to each other. Could it be that Mr Ambrose had been watching the former and not the latter? But why? He couldn't very well be in love with Lord Dalgliesh, now, could he?[40]

A maelstrom of confused thoughts roared in my mind. I tried not to let any of them show, though. Instead I asked: ‘And what has that got to do with me?'

‘Simply this: Whenever Mr Ambrose happened not to watch me, his gaze was drawn to you.'

What?

‘A- are you sure? In such a large room as this ballroom…'

‘Trust me, I am sure.' His Lordship stared at me, keeping his face carefully clean of any emotions. But I could see them in his eyes: mingled curiosity and incredulity. ‘He looked at you more than at any other person in the room, myself excepted.'

I felt a surge of triumph rise inside me and beat it down with everything I had. As nonchalantly as I could, I shrugged.

‘That may well be. I didn't notice.'

His eyes narrowed.

‘Most young ladies notice when Mr Ambrose looks at them.'

‘Perhaps I'm short-sighted.' I stepped to the side, seeking to go past him. But there wasn't enough room. ‘Your question, Lord Dalgliesh? My coach will be leaving soon.'

‘Ah yes, my question.' He nodded. ‘I wish to know: What is Mr Ambrose's interest in you?'

I wet my lips and, forcing my voice to be calm, said: ‘I was not aware that he had an interest in me.'

‘Let me assure you, he does. And I wish to know what it is.' He concealed it well, but I could still read it in his eyes: the part of his sentence he would not speak aloud. Why on earth would one of the richest men of London be interested in somebody like you?

I felt my spine stiffen, and instinctively crossed my arms in front of my chest. ‘Should you not direct that question at Mr Ambrose?'

Ignoring my counterquestion, Lord Dalgliesh stated:

‘He danced with you tonight. He singled you out, in fact. All the other young ladies he danced with were ladies introduced by his host or ladies he could not help dancing with without giving offence. You on the other hand… You danced with him without being introduced. You had to have met before. Where was that? What happened?'

‘I do not recall. I think I might have met him at some other party or in the street, maybe.'

Damn! Why couldn't I keep my voice steady? Maybe it was the way he was blocking my way out of the niche. It was bloody annoying! More than annoying, actually. It started to be slightly worrying.

‘Most young ladies,' Lord Dalgliesh observed, leaning a little closer, ‘would remember their first meeting with Mr Rikkard Ambrose.'

He still wore his charming smile, and to anyone listening, his questions might have sounded like nothing but idle curiosity. Yet I didn't think that anything about this man was idle. Still he was blocking my way.

‘Well, I have a very bad memory,' I snapped. ‘Especially for people I don"t care to remember! Now step aside, please! My aunt will be leaving, and I have to join her.'

His eyes narrowed. ‘Miss Linton…'

‘Step aside, I said!'

For one moment he hesitated - then stepped back, giving me just enough room to pass.

‘You're an intriguing young lady, Miss Linton.' His eyes were sparkling like moonlight on cold steel. ‘I will look forward to meeting you again.'

Ha! When hell freezes over!

‘Until then, My Lord.'

Keeping my back ramrod-straight so I could always look him in the eye, I gave a quick curtsy. Then I marched away at a measured pace and, using the fact that Lady Metcalf was just saying goodbye to a large group of burly army officers, ducked past her and out of the ball room.

Only when I was in the hallway and he couldn't see me anymore did I start to run. The slaps of my shoes sounded harsh on the marble floor, and servants stared at me as I rushed by, but I didn't care. Some instinct told me to get out of there as quickly as possible.

I stumbled out into the cool night air. Fog from the river Thames was wafting towards me. Yet neither the clammy moisture nor the cold air did anything to clear my mind. A thousand questions where whirling around inside my head. Only they weren't the same ones as a few hours ago, when Mr Ambrose had entered the ballroom, that hag on his arm.

Had Mr Ambrose really been interested in Lord Dalgliesh, not his beautiful partner? What did the lock in the envelope mean? Where did it come from? And why, of all people in the ballroom, should Mr Ambrose have been looking at me?

I hurried over to the coach, which had already been brought to the door by the driver, and hurriedly climbed up the steps. I needed a quiet place, shut off from all the noise of the ballroom. A place where I could think.

I sank onto the seat and breathed a sigh of relief. Alone, finally!

Then I looked up - and saw Wilkins sitting on the opposite bench. A rose and an enormous sunflower were sticking out of his tortured buttonhole, and he had a dreamy expression on his face which I immediately mistrusted.

‘Ah, Miss Lilly,' he said, smiling at me with a smile like a seasick baboon. Or, maybe, like a man in love. It was difficult to tell the difference sometimes. ‘How fortunate that you are the first to arrive. I wonder if I might have a word with you. It is about your sister, Ella.'