Storm and Silence

78. Competition

"Winter is such a harsh season, don't you think?" Wilkins sighed. "All the little flowers dead and buried under snow. And in the house, too, it produces such a cold atmosphere. You know, I have long been wondering whether there isn't something I could do to counteract that, and I think I have found the solution." He sighed, significantly. "I think it is time of making a permanent change in my home, if you understand what I mean."

My aunt's eyes flew wide open, practically glowing with greed. From one moment to the next, all her attention was on Wilkins. So was mine – and Ella's. We both had frozen in place and were staring at our terrible enemy.

"A... significant change?" My aunt managed, her eyes gleaming.

"Oh yes, quite significant. I feel that I cannot go on as I have these past years. I need something that can warm my heart in the coldest of times. My own little sunshine."

My aunt's hands were clasped together in eagerness, and at his last words, she almost fainted. "Oh, I see, Sir Phillip. I understand perfectly."

My eyes flicked to Ella. She was leaning against the door-frame, her face ashen. Apparently, she, too, understood perfectly.

"And when will you be initiating this change?" my aunt enquired.

"As soon as possible," the accursed Wilkins said with a dreamy look in his eyes. "Why postpone something that can bring so much happiness to your life?"

"True, very true."

Ella was in motion again, then, hurrying towards the door. I didn't know what she meant to do, run to the coach, or to Edmund, or to Ecuador, but she was too late. Just in that moment, Wilkins turned around and beheld her.

"Ah! Miss Ella! I have been looking forward to seeing you."

*~*~**~*~*

It wasn't long before aunt Brank shewed us outside and into the coach. No matter how eager she might be for a little love scene between Ella and Sir Philip in the hallway, she was even more eager for Ella to get to the ball and be proposed to. I did my best to insert myself between the couple, using my hoop skirt to great effect, but there was only so much I could do. I could not keep Wilkins from sending my little sister glowing looks, and flowery compliments, no matter how much I wanted to punch him in the face.

What the bloody hell am I going to do? If he really proposes to her... How can I stop him?

It was only just as the last of my sisters took her seat in the coach that I glimpsed the possible answer, out in the street. An answer in human form.

By George!

He was standing at the little gate which separated the flowerbeds in front of his parent's house from the cobblestones. His face looked pale and gaunt in the light of the gas lamps, though I thought it might have looked pale and gaunt tonight in any sort of lighting. Edmund Conway stood erect, like a man about to be summoned to his execution, and stared over at the coach. I knew exactly who he was looking it: Ella and Wilkins. Judge and Executioner.

All of a sudden, pity welled up inside me for this young man. I had no idea where it was coming from. It certainly wasn't usual for me to feel pity for any man, much less one that was conducting an illicit affair with my little sister in the back garden. But the feeling was there. And, as is always the case with these blasted feelings I have, it led to an impulsive action.

"Mr Conway!" I waved at him energetically, plastering a broad smile on my face. "How nice to see you. What brings you out at such a late hour?"

I had called quite loudly, loud enough so neither he nor anyone else could ignore it. Hesitantly, he detached himself from the garden gate and came towards us.