Storm and Silence

48. Woes of Love

Finally, we stopped in front of my uncle's house, and alighted from the coach. Wilkins didn't remain sitting, but got out after us.

"Do you wish to come in for a minute, Sir Philip?" My aunt enquired, sweetly. She was always sweet to prospective nephews-in-law. The rich ones, anyway.

"No, madam. I wouldn't wish to inconvenience you."

"It would be no inconvenience at all, I assure you, Sir."

"That is kind of you, Madam, but I really must be getting home. I just wanted to say good bye to your charming nieces, particularly to Miss Ella." Taking her hand, he bent and placed a long, lingering kiss on it. "Thank you, Miss Ella. Goodbye, for now. I look forward to seeing you soon again. Tonight was the best night of my life. May we spend innumerable nights like it, and may they each be brighter and happier than the one before. That is the deepest desire of my heart."

Ella paled, and my aunt took on an expression of bliss of an opium-addict dancing in a field of poppies. It was almost as good as a proposal. If she'd had a chain and collar on her, my aunt would probably have chained Sir Philip up in the Hallway until he had delivered the real thing. Unfortunately for her, she lacked that equipment, and so could only curtsey and wave after him as he got into his coach and drove away.

While she was busy waving, I made myself scarce. I didn't want to hear any more profusions on the subject of Lord Dalgliesh, or Sir Philip. Besides, I knew now with absolute certainty what my little sister was facing. I needed to take up my post so I was in position when the drama began. Grabbing a book from the library, I sneaked out into the garden and settled down comfortably behind the bushes. Only a few minutes later the back-door creaked open and a white-clad figure stepped out into the garden.

*~*~**~*~*

Regretfully, I put my book aside. It had been a really interesting colonial adventure story, and I had just gotten to the best part – the bit where the hero is tied to a stake and the natives prepare to cook and then eat him. But, I told myself, he was sure to be rescued soon, and then a wonderful story would be ruined. Better to stop now and enjoy the drama that was beginning to enfold in front of me.

Edmund had appeared on the other side of the fence. He didn't look very well: his face was pale, his hair unkempt, and his shirt and waistcoat had seen better days, too. My gaze drifted to Ella, only to observe that she was in no better condition. Her blonde hair was hanging in wild tangles down her back and her dress had obviously been put on in a hurry. Of course she still looked innocent like the new day and stunningly beautiful, but then, she was Ella.

I settled into a comfortable theatre seat provided by a patch of moss from which I could see everything through a gap in the brush. This performance was going to be pivotal for my further plans. On it would hinge everything I would try to do to further Ella's hopes and dreams and smash Sir Philip into smithereens!

The two of them stood there, on either side of the fence, for a long while, just staring at each other with desperate longing, trying to bridge the distance between them with their gazes. Or at least I figured that's what they were doing. With the moon having disappeared behind clouds, it was pretty dark in the garden, so I couldn't actually be sure about the staring-at-each-other-withdesperate-longing-part. They might just have fallen asleep standing.

"Ella, my love," Edmund said in a raw voice.

Ah. Not asleep. So I had been right. And if that wasn't desperate longing in his voice, I didn't know what desperate longing was.

"Edmund, my love," my little sister whispered. Apparently, she was very much awake as well.

"How do things stand?" he demanded.