The rest of the ball went by quickly, mostly because now I had something to occupy my mind with. 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:
1. 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.
2. 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.
3. 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 – blonde 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 exclaimed. "I think it's rather more likely this letter came from a lady than from a gentlemen, 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 on 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 deceleration of war."
The colonel laughed again.
"A deceleration 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 of my aunt on how I was doing better than them 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 leaned forward. His steel-blue eyes bored into mine like 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?
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 ball room..."
"Trust me, I am sure." His Lordship stared at me, keeping his face carefully clean of any emotion. 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 counter-question, 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."
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My Dear Lords, Ladies & Gentlemen,
You were quite correct in your assumptions! ;-) Quite a few among you have already your doubts regarding Mr Ambrose's passion for Miss Hamilton. Now, we finally know for sure that there's something quite different on his mind...
Now only a single question remains: will he finally reveal his real plans and feelings?
And will Lilly be able to come up with plan to get rid of Sir Philip Wilkins before he reveals his? ;-)
Yours Truly
Sir Rob
P.S: For any gay people among my readers, I should perhaps point out that Lilly's incredulity to the possibility of Mr Ambrose's being attracted to a man is natural, considering the time during which she lived. Back in Victorian England, only very few people displayed homosexual tendencies publicly, which was quite understandable, considering the fact that until the year 1861, homosexuality was a capital offence. Fortunately, that particular law has landed on the rubbish heap of history ;-)
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GLOSSARY:
Royal Dragoons: A heavy cavalry regiment in Britain during Victorian times. My advice: not get in their way while they're galloping ;) I've included a Royal Dragoon in full uniform.