Ella blinked.
And blinked again.
And a third time.
'Err...Lill?'
'Yes?'
'Why do you have a curtain ring around your finger?'
I glared at her. She might be my favourite sister and about as near to death as a person could get outside of a mausoleum, but nobody insulted my engagement ring! It took a moment or two for the truth to dawn on her. When it finally did, her eyes went wide as wagon wheels.
'You...no! You don't mean that you...'
'Yes.'
'Lill! You...you...'
'...you'll get better?' I finished, giving her a stern look.
'Yes! Yes, of course I will.'
'And you won't fool around with Edmund before the wedding? I need a maid of honour.'
'Lill!'
I grinned. 'Just making sure. Although I guess you could always be my vixen of honour. Has an interesting ring to it.'
Ella blushed up to the roots of her hair, and the sight warmed me. She still had life in her! She still had fight in her! And I would make sure she didn't give up.
'Here.' Grabbing the water cup from the nightstand, I held it up to her lips. 'Drink.'
For just a moment, she hesitated—then our eyes met. We looked at each other for a long, long moment. Her eyes filled with warmth and one lone, single little tear spilled out of her eye and ran down her parched cheek.
'I'm so happy for you, Lill.'
And she started to drink.
It was by no means over. The cholera burned as hot in Ella's poor body as ever, turning it into a desert that soaked up every drop of water and spat out things I'd rather not think about, let alone smell. But the light was back in her eyes, and the fight back in her body. She drank whenever I told her to, and once her throat was greased, the questions started.
'Who is he, Lill?'
I raised an eyebrow. 'Who?'
She glared at me. Or at least tried to. It was quite adorable watching my sweet little sister try and glare.
'You know perfectly well who I mean! You haven't shown a jot of interest in a single man since you've been tall enough to not need Leadfield to get you books from the upper shelves in the library! And now you tell me you're engaged to be married? Who is he? What kind of man would catch your interest?'
Even though she didn't say it, I heard the part she thought: and what kind of man would be that suicidal?
I grinned.
'Well, you'll just have to get well again to find out, won't you?'
'What?'
'You heard me, little sister.'
'This is cruel and unusual punishment!'
'No. This is effective therapy. The bridesmaids' dresses I have in mind for Anne and Maria will be cruel and unusual punishment.'
'Just tell me! Please!'
'Open your mouth, will you? It's time to drink. One gulp for Lilly, one gulp for the mysterious bridegroom, another gulp for Lilly, another gulp for the mysterious bridegroom...'
'Lill!'
'Yes?'
'Just a little hint! Please! I'm dying here!'
I grinned. Because even though she'd spoken the words I most feared to hear in the world, for the very first time, she didn't really sound as if she meant them.
'All right.' I nodded graciously. 'One little hint.'
'Yes? Yes?'
I considered carefully. What could I tell her about Mr Rikkard Ambrose without giving away who he was?
'His tailcoat is ten years old,' I told her.
Ella looked at me, aghast. 'Ten ears? Good Lord, the poor man must be destitute!'
I snorted into my sleeve. Ella, God bless her, mistook it for a sob.
'There, there.' Lifting a trembling hand, she patted my arm. 'The money isn't what matters. No matter how poor he is, if he loves you, he must be a good man. I'm sure the two of you will be happy together. If Uncle Bufford gives his consent, that is. I don't think he'll be very enthusiastic when he hears you intend to marry a man in such circumstances.'
'Oh, I don't know. He might surprise you.'
She gave me a warm smile. 'Bless you, Lill. It's good of you to think so well of him.' The smile melted into a frown of worry. 'But you really should be on your guard. Don't spring the news on him. It might come as a shock.'
'Oh, I'm quite certain it will.'
She patted my arm again. 'Don't worry. I'll be there to help. Together we'll convince him. And I'll talk to your man, too. I'll tell him that even if he hasn't got two pennies to rub together, I will always love him like a brother.'
'I'm sure he will be delighted to hear that. Here, take another swallow, will you?'
'Only if you tell me more about him. Where is he from? How did the two of you meet?'
'Later. Once you're better.'
She opened her mouth to protest and, not being one to waste an opportunity, I put the glass to her lips and started pouring before she could say a word. Reluctantly, she started to swallow, glaring at me over the top of her glass.
I smiled. Curiosity. Not the most typical of cures, but so what? Ella was my sister after all. It definitely would have worked on me.
The last drops of water vanished between Ella's lips. I lowered the glass, and quickly, she opened her mouth to speak.
'Here,' I said and shoved a piece of carrot between her lips. 'Bon appetit.'
'Mmph! Mm mph gmph!'
'Yes, delicious, aren't they?'
Reaching over to the nightstand, I let my hand hover over the bowl of carrots for a moment—then shifted to the left and reached into the bowl full of ham sandwiches instead. Edmund really was such a loving, caring man. He would make a good husband for Ella. I'd have to visit them for lunch once they were settled.
Over the next few days, Ella slowly but surely began to improve. More and more often, she was able to keep down her food. Her skin ceased to resemble dried old parchment, and life came back into her eyes. As for the amount of merde I had to smuggle out of her room on a regular basis—that was still considerable. More than once, I wished I had Mr Ambrose's talent for waste disposal. Still, as Ella's general condition improved, those symptoms also slowly started to abate.
'Miss Linton?'
I looked up. I had just come out of Ella's room with a bag of...well, smelly things that I'd rather not think about, when Edmund came around the corner and strode toward me, a broad smile on his face, hiding something behind his back.
'I've found one, Miss Linton! It took me really long, but I've finally found one!'
'Um...one what?' I enquired, trying to hide the crappy bag behind my back.
'This!'
With a triumphant grin, he held out his hands, presenting me with—
'Rrrrng! What the heck is that?' I hadn't thought it possible for there to be anything that smelled worse than the bag I was currently carrying. I had been wrong. The mouldy piece of wood Edmund was holding out to me smelled as if a whale had used it as a privy. It looked like it, too. Squashed and cracked in multiple places, it was covered with cracked shells, grime, tar, and other delightful things you come across if you go for a nice swim in a dirty harbour basin.
'A ship plank!' Edmund was beaming as if he was one of Father Christmas's elves. 'Mouldy and rotten, too, just as you ordered. It wasn't easy to find. You won't believe how many ship captains object to your chopping off a piece of their ship, even if it's just a tiny small one.'
'Oh, I think I might believe that.'
'Well, anyway, I finally found one who allowed me to take this for a fee.' He lifted the plank proudly. 'Will you put it under Ella's bed, Miss Linton?'
I gazed at him and his hopeful puppy dog expression.
'Right away,' I lied and took the plank. Why not? My hands would need to be scrubbed with bleach anyway.
'Thank you. Thank you, Miss Linton. What would I do without you?'
Stick mouldy planks under your fiancée's bed, probably?
I really would have to drop in on them occasionally once they were married, just to check whether someone had tried to sell the poor fellow some all-healing snake oil or get him to invest in an expedition to rediscover a lost ancient south-African silver mine.
'I'll bring her this right away,' I lied.
'How is she?'
Anxiety was written all over his face with letters so big even a blind analphabetic bat could have read it.
'Much better,' I assured him, grateful that this time it was the absolute truth. 'The carrots helped a lot.'
'Really?' he perked up. 'Should I bring more?'
'Um...I think more ham sandwiches would be better. They were even more effective.'
He nodded earnestly. 'I'll go make some straight away.'
'Bless you. You're a good man, Edmund. And...'
'Yes?'
'Never buy anything from a salesman, or invest in anything before asking Ella.'
He blinked—then nodded. 'Err...all right. I'll see you later, Miss. Later.'
'Till then.'
I watched him recede down the corridor, then looked down at the two objects in my hand. I might be able to sneak out with the sack, in spite of the odour. But the mouldy ship plank? I didn't think I should try to march through the lobby with that. Not unless I wanted to visit the local loony bin. But there was always more than one way to solve a problem. One: solve it yourself. Two, and far better: unload it on someone else.
Turning around, I strode back into the room. From her bed, Ella blinked as she saw me striding by with my new load.
'Err...am I hallucinating?'
'Unfortunately no.'
'Are you sure?' She eyed the plank dubiously. A bit of seaweed was still dangling off the edge. 'I could be having a relapse.'
'Trust me,' I huffed, pushing up the window and leaning out, 'you aren't.'
Outside, the air was moderately fresher than in the room. Still, the odour of the seaweed, combined with the exquisite perfume of l'eau de la merde issuing from the sack, managed to make even the fresh morning air smell like a big pile of horse shit. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about.
Slipping two fingers between my lips, I whistled. Karim, who was standing guard a little farther down the wall, turned and glanced up at me.
'Yes?'
'Catch!'
The big Mohammedan ducked just in time to avoid being brained by a mouldy ship plank. His hands shot out to grab the thing, and, stumbling, he tumbled into the nearest flower bed. Yellow tulips. How fitting.
'Have a care, Prince Fragrant Yellow Flower!' I called down to him, grinning broadly. With a little bow, I let the sack drop, too, and it landed with an unappetizing noise next to the flower bed. 'We would not want you to injure your majestic royal self.'
Karim sent me up a look that could kill at twenty paces. Luckily, I was at least twenty-five away.
'What,' he enquired, raising the plank, 'is that?'
'Oh, just a little present.'
'A present? A mouldy ship plank?'
'Oh yes. Some people say they're very good for your health.'
He gave me a long, long look—the kind of look you give a person when you decide how best to chop their head off. 'Is your brand of madness hereditary, woman? Because if so, I shall advise the Sahib to reconsider his marriage offer.'
'Don't worry.' I grinned down at him. 'My madness is undoubtedly and uniquely me.'
With that, I leant back into the room and shut the window. When I turned, Ella was staring at me, eyes wide.
'There's a prince outside my window?'
I sighed. Edmund and Ella really were meant for each other.
*~*~**~*~*
With every passing day, Ella improved. My hope soared, and along with it, Ella's ravenous desire for answers. While she had still been weak, I'd been able to placate her. But now that she was able to sit on her own again and wasn't spending half the day producing masses of merde, there was no stopping her.
'It's that army fellow, isn't it? Captain Carter?'
I shook my head.
'No.'
'Are you sure?' Ella sent me a suspicious look over the top of her glass. 'He didn't ask you?'
'Oh, he asked me. I turned him down.'
She spat her water all over her covers. 'You what?'
'Turned him down. You know, down, the opposite of up?'
'When was this?'
'Last year, shortly before Christmas.'
'But...but he...he's...' Raising her hands, she indicated the captain's impressive measurements. 'Half of the girls I know would kill to get his hands on him.'
'They might just have to. He's on another continent fighting rebels right now.'
'Oh.'
She considered my words. Then she glanced up at me out of the corner of her eyes. 'You really must love this other man.'
I held her eyes. 'I do.'
'How is he doing? Are his money troubles bad?'
My darling little sister. Even with curiosity eating her up from the inside, she still thought of others before herself. It was an admirable trait. It was also pretty darn funny in this case.
'I think he's doing all right,' I said, trying not to start giggling like a headcase.
'I see. But...' Slipping a hand under her pillow, she pulled out her purse and fished out a coin. 'Give him this when you next see him, will you? With my best wishes for his future.'
'You have no idea how much this means to us,' I told her with a totally one hundred percent straight face. 'You are the best sister I could wish for.'
'Oh, Lill!' Throwing her arms around me, she hugged me close. 'I'm just so happy that you've finally found someone.'
'Me too.' I squeezed back. 'Me too.'
'There's only one thing that's missing to make everything perfect,' she sighed.
'And that is?'
'His name!'
Grinning, I slipped out of her embrace and reached for the mug.
'I think it's time for another cup to drink, don't you? We wouldn't want the doctor to get angry.'
She sent me another glare. Over the last few days, my little sister had gotten surprisingly good at glaring. Maybe, if I kept up the suspense, she'd even let a curse slip eventually. Hope springs eternal, as Alexander Pope used to say.
But, actually, was there a reason to still keep it from her? In the beginning I had refused to tell her, clinging to my irrational relief that anything, even curiosity, might help keep her alive. But she was well on her way back to health by now. There was no reason not to tell her about Mr Ambrose. After all, she had never met him and would have no preconceived notions. It wasn't like with my best friend, Patsy, who had encountered him one day in Green Park at a women's rights demonstration and...
Well, the less said about that meeting, the better.
So, one day, after I'd let her dangle for a few more days just for the fun of it, I drew up a chair next to her bed, sat myself down and took her hand.
'Ella?'
'Yes? It's not time to drink again, is it? Honestly, Lil, I'm full! I feel like a blowfish.'
'No, you've drunk enough for now, as the vicar said to the bishop barking at the moon on the tavern roof. I'm not here about that.'
'No? Then what is it?'
'Well...' I gave her an innocent smile. 'I remember you wanting to know the identity of a certain someone...'
Instantly, her hand latched onto me like a kraken's tentacle. 'Yes? Tell me!'
'Very well, if you insist.' Sitting up straight, I took a deep breath. 'You might have heard of him before, so it might come as a little bit of a surprise. Just don't get overexcited, will you? No one else knows yet, and I would like to refrain from telling them until we're back in London.'
'Yes, yes! Now tell me already!'
'All right. The man I'm engaged to is—'
Behind me, the door to the room flew open. In the mirror beside the bed, I could see three formidable figures standing in the doorway, armed with parasols. Eve, Flora, and in the front, looking as if someone had just waved a red flag in front of her and her bull-instincts were kicking in, stood my best friend, Patsy.
'Engaged? Who is engaged?'
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My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,
Oh dear, Lilly is in deep merde, as the French would say, don't you think? ;)
The phrase 'hope springs eternal' comes from the poem An Essay on Man by 18th-century poet Alexander Pope. The part of the poem around the quotation goes like this:
Hope springs eternal in the human breast;
Man never is, but always to be blessed:
The soul, uneasy and confined from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
Notice the "man" standing as a synonym for "humanity" - apparently, even poems back then were chauvinistic.
Yours Truly
Sir Rob