Hunting for Silence by Robert Thier

Knock, Knock

It took a few days before we could return to London. Mr Ambrose had insisted on dispatching one of his not-so-merry men to the city to check if the epidemic was passed before he would let me within fifty miles of the capital. Explaining to my friends and family why exactly they had to wait for word from a man they didn’t know existed, employed by another man whose name they didn’t yet know, wasn’t easy, but, accomplished truth-bender that I was, I managed.

One thing was noticeable, however: with the exception of Ella, nearly everyone suddenly treated me differently. Edmund was almost worshipfully grateful for all I’d done for his beloved. He would have put his coat down for me to walk on over puddles if the weather hadn’t been so consistently sunny and dry. Lisbeth and Gertrude as well as Edmund’s parents looked at me with a sort of shocked awe, probably caused by the reverence of the hotel staff and the fact that somehow, inexplicably, I suddenly seemed to be in charge of everything. Patsy was angry as hell. Not at me so much as at the fact that she couldn’t bring herself to hate my prospective suitor. I had shared with her the little detail that he’d been instrumental in saving Ella’s life, and she had looked at me as if she’d swallowed a lemon.

‘Really? Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘So…I shouldn’t whack him over the head with my parasol, or push him into a duck pond?’

‘No.’

‘Damn!’

Eve was constantly peppering me with questions, and Flora had caught the wedding fever and was doing her best to plan a wedding for me, or maybe two or three in one go while she was at it. Only Anne and Maria were truly reliable. They hated my guts just like before. Only a lot, lot, more. Relatives you can truly depend on are such a comfort, aren’t they?

Finally, the day of departure arrived.

‘Are you sure you’re well enough? We could wait another few days and—’

‘Stop fussing, Edmund,’ Ella ordered with a smile that said she’d like nothing better than for him to continue. ‘I’m fine. And besides…’ She glanced at me. ‘We should get home. We’ve got things to take care of.’

I squeezed her hand. It was warm and smooth, nothing like the paper-dry skeleton fingers of only a week or so ago.

‘Well, let’s go then.’ Nodding to Karim, I strode toward the door—which he promptly held open for me. Mr and Mrs Conway exchanged looks. Anne and Maria exchanged scowls.

‘You came with two coaches, didn’t you?’ Patsy asked. ‘Will we all fit, or should I hire an extra?’

‘Oh, I think we’ll fit.’ I grinned. ‘And if not, you can always sit next to Karim on the box. I’m sure he’d love the company.’

Before either of the two could dismember me with their looks, I slipped into the nearest coach.

Under the stern eyes of Karim, it didn’t take long for the hotel staff to load our luggage onto the coaches. Soon, he swung himself onto the box—of the coach Patsy was sitting in, as it happened. Trying not to smile, I leaned back into the plush seat.

‘Gee-up!’

The coach jerked and started rolling forward. Smoothly, we slid along the palatial façades of Bath. As soon as we reached the outskirts of the town, riders appeared on both sides of the coaches—plain-dressed men in black and grey, with sharp eyes and forgettable faces.

Maria glanced out of the window, shifting nervously. ‘Who’re they?’

I smiled. ‘Insurance.’

The others exchanged looks, but none of them knew quite what to say.

Around mid-day, I knocked against the coach roof with my parasol.

‘Stop, please!’

The coachman veered off to the side and brought the coach to a halt at the side of the road. Pushing open the door, I slid out. One of the riders galloped up and brought his mount to a stop right beside me.

‘What is it, Miss?’

‘This.’ Raising my parasol, I pointed at a picturesque little inn beside the road. ‘It’s time for lunch, don’t you think?’

The rider cleared his throat. ‘We have instructions to proceed with all deliberate speed, Miss.’

‘And that we are,’ I told him with a smile, ‘to the nearest inn, in order to have lunch. Please help the other ladies out of the coach.’

The man hesitated, glancing back, then forward again, as if looking for some invisible authority.

‘He’s not here,’ I informed him with a cool smile. ‘I am.’

The rider made a decision. ‘Yes. Lunch, Miss. Immediately, as you say.’

‘Thank you.’

Still smiling, I turned back towards the coach—only to find every single occupant staring at me with eyes wide open.

‘Who do those men think you are?’ Anne demanded. ‘The Queen of England?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ I waved her away. ‘The Queen isn’t nearly as pretty as I am.’

And I strode towards the inn.

*~*~**~*~*

The inn was a charming little place. As soon as I stepped in, the innkeeper greeted us with a big smile.

‘Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, welcome! What brings you out onto the road on such a fine morning?’

‘We’re returning from a little holiday in Bath,’ I said, thinking it best I didn’t mention the word ‘cholera’.

‘How nice. Won’t you take a seat?’

He pulled back a chair, and I was just about to say ‘Yes, thank you,’ when a big shape filled the doorway. The smile slipped from the innkeeper’s face.

‘I’m sorry miss, but we don’t allow his kind in here.’

I turned to see Karim standing in the doorway, gazing at the innkeeper with narrowed eyes.

‘Don’t allow…’ I repeated.

‘He’d put all my customers off their food. You can go and eat with the servants out back. Go on.’ The innkeeper waved a hand at the bodyguard. ‘Off with you.’

The bigoted son of a….!

Reflexively, my whole body stiffened. So did Karim’s hand around the grip of his sabre. The innkeeper didn’t seem to notice. Ah. So the man wasn’t just bigoted, he also was blind and stupid.

Karim took a step forward—but I raised a hand and stepped between him and the landlord. I wouldn’t allow Karim to behead the man. After all, why should he have all the fun?

‘You don’t allow “his kind” here, do you?’ I repeated slowly.

‘Nay.’ The innkeeper spat out of an open window, oblivious to the warning lights flashing in my eyes. ‘Those damn towelheads can go to where they come from!’

Rage welled up inside me. That was it! Karim might be a grumpy, irritating son of bolder, but in his own, bearded, heavily armed way, he was as much part of my family as Ella, Eve or Patsy. Nobody got to give him insulting nicknames except me!

‘Sir?’ I said, smiling and taking a step forward. ‘Do you perchance have a room where we could talk privately for a bit? Five minutes would do.’

‘Hm. Well, we could step into the back room if you insist. But I don’t think—’

‘Just five minutes, Sir. That’s all I’ll need.’

‘All right. If you must. Follow me.’

‘Oh, and just one thing?’

‘Yes?’

‘How thick are the walls in this place? Can one usually hear what’s going on in the next room?’

The innkeeper tugged up his apron. ‘Do you mean to insult me, Miss? My inn is built solidly, and I’ll ask you not to imply anything different.’

‘Excellent. After you, Sir.’

I stepped into the room. The door closed behind us.

Four minutes and thirty-seven seconds later, the door opened again and I stepped out, followed by a pale, somewhat unsteady innkeeper.

‘Y-you can stay,’ he mumbled in the direction of Karim’s shiny shoes.

‘And…?’ I suggested.

‘A-and I’m sorry about what I called you earlier. I shouldn’t have said it, and I apologize, and…and…’

I nodded encouragingly. The innkeeper made a face. ‘And all your meals will be on the house as my personal apology.’

Picking up a menu, Karim perused the prices. He didn’t thank me. He didn’t say anything about what had just happened. For a long moment, silence hung between us. Then, glancing up, he raised one bushy eyebrow. ‘Maybe you are the right one for him after all.’

Everybody else exchanged confused glances. I didn’t care. I grinned from ear to ear, so broadly it nearly split my head in two.

Eve tugged at my sleeve. ‘What the heck is he rambling on about?’

My grin broadened even more. ‘You’ll understand soon. Come. Let’s sit down and eat.’

It was one of the best meals of my life, not least because it was completely free and eaten in the company of my friends and family, who were, thank goodness, all safe and healthy. But the food itself was excellent, too. Just goes to show: you can be an arrogant, prejudicial asshole and still be a good cook.

‘Another helping of pie, Miss?’ the innkeeper asked, stepping up to the table with a gloomy expression on his face.

‘Yes, thank you. How very kind.’

‘For me as well,’ Karim said with a smile that showed all his teeth. ‘It really is excellent.’

‘How wonderful,’ the innkeeper groaned and trudged off.

Once again, the others at the table—except Edmund and Ella, who were in their own private, pink little world—gave me those strange looks that I’d been getting a lot recently Was it really so strange to them to see me taking charge?

You’ve grown, Lilly, I realized. Ever since that moment when you first stepped into the office of a certain business magnate in London, you’ve done a whole lot of growing.

Grinning, I stabbed my fork into a piece of roast beef. After all, a growing girl needed her food.

After dinner, Ella looked more than a little drowsy. So I ordered for the horses to be stabled, and Edmund and I helped her up to a comfy bedchamber, where soon she was snoring the day away. I had to admit, I was feeling more than a little sleepy myself. I hadn’t quite realized how much caring for Ella day after day after day had taken out of me. I had just enough strength left to find myself a bed before I collapsed and sank into warm, wonderfully downy darkness.

When I awoke, warm, red light filtered in through the windows. Yawning, I stretched. Dear me. I had slept half the day away. And that with Mr Ambrose waiting for me back in London. Hopefully he’d been patient and—

‘Well rested?’ came a cool voice from behind me.

Mr Ambrose patient?

Yep. I should probably have known better.

I turned to see a familiar tall, dark figure leaning against the door.

‘Oh. Um.’ I cleared my throat. ‘Yes, thank you.’

‘I cannot exactly say the same.’ Eyes glittering with a frost that would have sent sane people running, but only made me want to grab him and never let go, he stepped towards me. ‘I was already in London, preparing a speech for my first encounter with your guardians. Imagine my surprise when one of my men arrived to inform me that my bride-to-be and her retinue were merrily feasting at a countryside inn, still several dozen miles from the city.’

‘It was lunchtime,’ I pointed out.

Mr Ambrose waved that argument away with the supreme confidence of a man who survived on money fumes alone.

‘I was waiting for you,’ he told me, his gaze burrowing into me with heart-wrenching intensity. I had to swallow to be able to speak.

‘I wasn’t about to starve myself and my family! Especially not my sister who, incidentally, is still recuperating from cholera. I may be in love, but I’m not daft. Unlike some people, I can distinguish between the two.’

‘You…you…!’

Without the slightest warning, he pounced. His arms came around me, pulling me up against him in a crushing embrace.

‘I love you!’

‘For being late?’ I whispered against his lips. ‘Dang! I wish I’d known that earlier. That would have been useful to know on work days during the last two years.’

He gave me a look telling me what exactly he thought of my humour—then kissed me again, long and hard.

‘You shouldn’t be here,’ I gasped.

‘Correct,’ he agreed. ‘We should both be in London.’

‘That’s not what I meant! I thought we agreed that we’d talk to my uncle and aunt before….’

‘We did. I came in the back way.’

‘What for?’

Stormy, sea-coloured eyes captured mine. ‘To remind you of what’s waiting for you. And for this.’

One last time, he kissed me. Then he let go and pushed open the door, revealing a red-faced Karim standing guard outside.

‘Don’t leave me waiting too long, Miss Linton. Knowledge is power is time is money.’

And with that, he was gone.

*~*~**~*~*

Our coaches rolled into good old London town early next morning. A strange sense of déjà vu overtook me as we rattled over the cobblestones towards my uncle’s house. I half expected the door to be answered by my sister, giving me the news of Ella’s sickness, although she was sitting right beside me, smiling brightly at Edmund. It felt just like it had back then, with the eerie quiet, and the—

‘Lillian Linton! What in God’s name are you up to? Taking off like that, and then dragging the whole family away from home for one of your hair-brained schemes? Get into the house this instant, young lady, before I come out and drag you inside by the ear!’

I winced.

Ah. Not so eerily quiet after all. Though, perhaps, the deadly silence of an epidemic would have been preferable.

‘Coming, my dear Aunty!’ I called and forced a smile onto my face. Showtime. I nodded to the others in the coach. ‘Wish me luck.’

Ella squeezed my hands. ‘Good luck.’

Eve nodded. ‘Break a leg.’

‘No.’ Anne smirked. ‘Break both legs.’

‘And both arms,’ Maria added.

‘Thanks so much,’ I shot back. ‘Dislocate your shoulder and crack your skull at the next opportunity, won’t you?’

Sliding out of the coach before she could fire back—or before I could let my fear get the better of me and make me run away back to France—I started towards the house. My aunt, the fiery dragon of doom, was awaiting me at the front door.

I raised a hand and waved. ‘Hello there.’

To judge by the expression on my aunt’s face, she was not impressed with my good manners.

‘Into the house, straight away! I’ve got a few things to say to you, young lady!’

I cleared my throat. ‘I’m sure you do. But before you do, could I have a word with Uncle Bufford? I’ve got something to tell him that—’

‘Inside! Now!’

Hm. That went well, didn’t it?

Behind me, I heard the giggles of Anne and Maria.

Just you wait, you two. Just you wait until today is over…

Ducking my head just in case my aunt was equipped with her trusted carpet-and-niece beater, I slunk into the house. She hadn’t used that thing since I’d turned fourteen and big enough to wrestle with her, but right now, I wouldn’t put it past her.

Inside the house, I tried to turn. ‘Listen, Aunt, there are a few things you should probably know—’

‘Move! Into the drawing room with you, you disobedient chit!’

Something prodded me in the back. The end of the carpet beater? Or had my aunt gotten herself a bayonet complete with firing squad?

‘But I have to tell you that I’m—’

‘You’re a good-for-nothing runaway, that’s what you are! Drawing room! Now!’

For once in my life, I did as ordered. Once I had reached the drawing room, I turned around. My sisters had assembled in the entryway, in front of the front door that Ella, thank the Lord, had closed behind her. It was bad enough that my whole family apparently intended to stay to witness my evisceration. It wasn’t exactly necessary for our entire street of neighbours to listen in, as well.

‘Now, Aunt.’ Straightening, I took a step towards her. ‘Listen here—’

‘No! You listen, you miserable excuse for a proper young lady!’ Oh boy, she was on full steam. I nearly could see it coming out of her ears. Her eyes were blazing, and…yes. There it was. Mr Carpet Beater. Hello. So nice to see you after all this time. How have you been? Feeling lonely without my derrière?

‘You…you….’ Arms, shaking, Aunt Brank raised the carpet beater. I was too well-mannered to point out that, in her excitement, she was holding it the wrong way round. ‘You are a disgrace to the family!’

I raised an eyebrow about half a millimetre. ‘Indeed?’

‘You…you…insufferable little…!’

Ah. So it’s just as annoying for other people as it is for me. Good to know.

‘Your uncle and I did all we could for you! We took you in, clothed you, fed you—’

‘…with cold potatoes and unsalted porridge.’

‘Silence! We clothed you, fed you, instilled in you the good manners and virtues a true lady should possess, and tried to teach you all the accomplishments you would need to succeed in life—’

‘…like handling a carpet beater?’

‘Like proper decorum!’ Aunt Brank screeched, waving her carpet beater through the air like a madwoman and sending a nearby vase crashing to the ground. ‘Like composure! Like good manners!’

‘Ah. Those,’ I said and cautiously stepped away from the shards of the shattered vase.

‘All we asked for in return was for you to make an good match. With all the advantages we gave you, it should have been easy to find someone to marry. But did you do it? No! Did you even try? No!’

‘Aunt, before you go on, I think I should tell you that—’

‘Silence! Don’t you dare disrespect your elders, girl! It’s past time you behaved like a proper lady!’ my aunt screeched and stomped on the shards of broken porcelain, scattering them all through the living room.

I just nodded. Normally, I wouldn’t have been eager to listen, but my aunt had never tried to teach me this kind of proper lady behaviour before. I had to admit, it was a pleasant change, and I was willing to listen and find out how vase-smashing and foot-stamping would be valuable lessons for my future.

‘We took you to ball after ball! We introduced you to countless gentlemen! But you never even tried! Instead, you ran off doing God only knows what and put the entire family’s reputation at risk! And was once enough for you? Oh no, you had to do it again, and again, and again over Christmas of all times, and you even dragged your uncle into this, somehow getting his permission for your hair-brained schemes and ventures! And now, apparently, it’s not enough for you to run off alone anymore, is it? No, you take along the whole family, dragging them into whatever it is you’re up to!’

‘Aunt—’ Ella began behind her, probably to mention a few little things like, oh, I don’t know, perhaps the cholera epidemic? But Aunt Brank raised a hand, silencing her instantly. Probably because it was the hand holding the carpet beater.

‘So you’ve dragged more of the family onto your side with your madness, have you?’ My aunt’s beady little eyes pierced me where I stood, pinning me to the spot. ‘Well, you can’t play that game with me, young lady! I won’t tolerate your shenanigans any longer. We’re going to put an end to this once and for all! You’re going to do what you should have done years ago—marry! And this time, there won’t be any balls and choices for you, Lillian Linton! No more officers and knights vying for your hand! I don’t give a darn who it is I hand you over to, as long as you’re out of the house! You’re going to marry the next darn man who knocks at the door, no matter if it’s the greengrocer, the shoeblack, or a bloody beggar, do you hear?’

I opened my mouth to reply—when a knock came from the door.

All heads turned.

‘Who could that be?’ Lisbeth asked, frowning.

Aunt Brank didn’t waste time with asking question. Carpet beater still in hand, she whirled around, marched towards the door and ripped it open.

‘Yes?’

There was a moment of silence. Very cool, very familiar silence. Mr Ambrose’s icy gaze rested for a moment on the carpet beater, then slowly rose to my aunt’s face.

She dropped the carpet beater.

He inclined his head about a millimetre.

‘W-who are you?’ she demanded, raising her chin to glare at him. ‘What do you want?’

‘My name,’ he said, sending back an arctic stare that had her retreating down the hall, ‘is Rikkard Ambrose.’ Removing his top hat and gloves, he stepped into the house without bothering to wait for an invitation and surveyed the small, sparse entryway with the supreme confidence of a general entering newly conquered territory. ‘I think it’s time you and I had a little talk.’

THE END