Mr Ambrose's intertwined fingers clenched hard.
"We?" His cool voice had a dangerous undertone – and overtone and middle tone, if I was being absolutely honest. "We have not found anything nor will we find anything, because in we, a you would be included, Mr Linton. And you will have no further part in the search for the missing documents. I thought I already made that abundantly clear."
This was what I had been afraid of.
"Not clear enough for me," I shot back, matching his cold tone with fire. "Why shouldn't I help?"
"Because you will only be a liability. Keep to office work, Mr Linton, and leave the darker parts of this life to real men."
The words hit me like a fist in the stomach. I didn't know exactly why – I mean, he was right, of course, that underneath the trousers I was still absolutely female. It wasn't the words so much as the way he said them – real men, as if men were something special, something stronger, something better than women.
So this was how things stood. Nothing had changed. He was prepared to keep me, to let me work for him, but not as he would let another work for him. He was being charitable to the poor, mad girl who wanted to earn a living. Rage welled up inside of me!
"There is no need to concern yourself in any case," he continued. "Clues have been discovered as to the whereabouts of the mastermind behind the theft. Warren and his men are out on the streets searching for his hideout as we speak. They will soon discover it and this will be taken care of."
"Why won't you let me help?" I demanded. "You did last time, in the search for Simmons."
"That was different."
"Different how?"
His eyes took on a whole different level of coldness. They seemed to be staring off into icy distances, over the endless expanse of the Arctic, or some similarly desolate place I couldn't even imagine.
"That, Mr Linton, was before I found out who is behind this."
"Well, who is it then? Who is this mystery man you are so scared of?"
His eyes snapped back from the distance onto me, flashing.
"I am not scared, Mr Linton. I am cautions. There is a difference."
I bit back a comment. Men and their egos. "Very well, then. Who is this man you are so cautious of?"
Silence.
"Why won't you tell me?" My voice grew louder as my anger rose.
Silence.
"Will you at least tell me what's in this file that is worth killing for?"
Silence.
"Will you tell me anything at all?"
Silence.
He sat there, glowering, and I stood in front of him, fuming. How quickly things had turned from a relatively companionable work mood into a fierce battle.
"Um... excuse me?"
Both our heads jerked towards the door. We had been so consumed by our argument that neither of us had noticed how Mr Stone had poked his head into the room. He was nervously playing with bow tie, his eyes flicking from one of us to the other.
"I am deeply sorry to disturb you, Mr Ambrose," he hastened to assure his employer, "only I needed to deliver this memorandum." He held up a piece of paper. "I knocked twice, but you probably did not hear me over all the... err... shouting."
"Well, don't just stand there like an ape, man, give it to me!" Mr Ambrose snapped, his voice not so devoid of emotion as usual. Mr Stone rushed forward, deposited the memorandum on his master's desk and got out of the danger zone as quickly as possible. The door fell shut behind him.
"Why can't you accept me?" Strangely, my voice was soft now. Soft and muted. "Why can't you let me do the work that needs to be done, whether harmless or dangerous?"
He met my eyes without flinching.
"You know why."
"Because I am a lady?"
Silence.
"Talk to me!"
Silence.
"The search for the file..." I began again, but a raised hand from Mr Ambrose stopped me in mid-sentence.
"You want to work for me?" he snapped. "Really, seriously work for me? All right. If it's work you want, it's work you're going to get. Bring me file 38XI201."
"The search..."
"I said bring me file 38XI201!"
What could I do? He was my employer, it was his prerogative to tell me what to do. Honestly, I wondered as I went searching for the appropriate box, maybe Ella and I should just move into the workhouse voluntarily. Surely, the tyranny of the workhouse foreman and the tyranny of Mr Ambrose would be much the same?
Well, I was wrong about that. As I was about to find out, the tyranny of Mr Rikkard Ambrose could be much, much worse.
*~*~**~*~*
"Bring me file 38XI205! Take this note to stone! Hurry! Here, the safe key! Go and fetch the steam engine model from the safe. No, not that one, the one with two pistons and the larger exhaust outlet. Move faster! If you dawdle so much you'll never get your work done. Where is that file?"
That's how it went on all day. He harried me like a pack of vengeful harpies, chasing me to this task to that and when that was done to these and those and numerous others. It wasn't long until my feet began to ache and I had numerous papercuts on my fingers from hastily leafing through files. When I got bloodstains on one of them, he accused me of wilfully damaging company material and ordered me to stop bleeding.
"How about if I bandage my finger?" I hissed at him.
"Too time-consuming. Just stop bleeding, and that's the end of it!"
I could see exactly what he was doing, but I wasn't giving in. No matter how much he hounded me, I wouldn't collapse and admit it was too much, or he was being unfair!. I would give him no leverage, no reason to throw me out!
Without pause, I worked as long as I could, but at some point came the time when I had to step up to his desk and say: "Um... Mr Ambrose? I have to powder my nose again."
"You nose looks fine. Continue working."
"Mr Ambrose, do we have to have another talk about euphemisms?"
He hesitated for a moment.
"Oh. That kind of nose-powdering?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Fine!" he snapped. Motioning with his hand to the door of his private bathroom, he gave me a curt nod. "Go. But be quick about it!"
"I shall do my very best, Sir," I answered, sardonically.
The rest of the day continued pretty much the same. About mid-day, when he had sent me into the file section to retrieve a box, I devoured a sandwich I had brought with me for lunch. It wasn't much, but it kept me going until the sun finally began to sink and the moment was approaching when I could finally stop this torture and go home
The moment arrived, and went away. Mr Ambrose gave no indication of wanting to stop. I heard Mr Stone outside in the hall pack up and leave, but Mr Ambrose stayed behind his desk, shooting orders at me in rapid succession.
The storm clouds of my temper rumbled dangerously. He had no right to do this! I had worked the whole day, in fact, three hours longer than I was supposed to, and he was still making me work overtime for no reason.
Well, that wasn't exactly true. He had a reason: wanting to get rid of me. It just wasn't a very nice one.
Finally, when, over an hour after Mr Stone had left, he still showed no sign of wanting to leave, I snapped. Marching up to his desk, I dumped the last box of files onto it with an earth-shattering thump.
"This isn't going to work, you know!" I announced, glaring at him in defiance. "No matter how much work you heap on me, you can't make me quit!"
He looked up, regarding my angry face over the top of the box.
"Yes, I can see that."
"So are you going to give up?" I demanded.
His eyes glittered dangerously. Rising from his desk, he slowly leaned forward, until our faces were only inches apart, and this dark, sea-coloured eyes became pools beckoning me to drown myself in them.
"Give up?" he breathed. "Hardly. I shall simply have to find another method to... persuade you."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My Dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,
I sincerely hope you liked the newest chapter of my story? By the way, I have spiffing news for all of you: The next chapter of "Up and Down", the spin-off of "Storm & Silence" that I am also currently writing, will be posted here on Wattpad in the near future, and in addition to that I'm right now also working hard on an additional Easter surprise for you, my fabulous fans! :-)
Your multi-tasking Victorian Author ;-)
Sir Rob