Hunting for Silence by Robert Thier

The Price of Love

‘Go away!’ came his jovial greeting from inside.

‘But Uncle,’ Ella dared to protest. ‘We need to speak with you.’

‘Then especially go away. I don’t have the time to bother with women’s problems.’

‘There, you see?’ Aunt Brank raised her chin triumphantly. ‘He doesn’t want to be bothered. It seems I shall have to be the one to decide the matter after all.’

‘Let me try,’ I suggested with a brilliant smile. Stepping forward, I knocked against the door. ‘Uncle? It’s about money.’

There was a momentary pause from within, then…

‘Come in.’

Sometimes, I truly loved my uncle.

We stepped inside. The room was as dingy as I remembered. Although it was a bright spring day outside, only slim slivers of light fell into Uncle Bufford’s study, due to the heavy curtains that covered most of the windows. Coins, receipts and bank notes in bundles still covered every available surface. The piles seemed to have grown about two inches since my last visit. Uncle Bufford sat, as he always did, behind his massive wooden desk, most of his face, apart from his sharp little eyes, concealed behind a ginormous beard. The instant we entered, those eyes focused with unerring speed on Edmund.

‘You. I know you. You’re the Conways’ boy.’

Edmund swallowed. ‘Yes, Sir.’

‘Are you the one who wants money from me?’

‘No, Sir.’

‘Then what do you want?’

‘Um, well…’

‘What are you waiting for? Speak up, young man!’

‘I, um, came to ask for your niece’s hand.’

‘Which one? There are so many running around here I can hardly keep track.’

‘Ella, Sir.’

‘Ella? Hm, hm. Ella.’

‘And I, of course, said no!’ Aunt Brank cut in. ‘Ella is a charming young girl, who, with a bit of luck, could marry into any of the highest families of the land! To give her to a half-baked, piano playing nobody—’

‘Tuning,’ Edmund corrected.

‘What?’

‘Tuning, Ma’am. I tune pianos, I do not play them.’

My aunt gave him a look that suggested where he could stick his well-tuned pianos. ‘As I was saying, to give her to this nobody of a nincompoop would be beyond ridiculous. It would be the height of folly!’

‘B-but Aunt!’ Ella stepped forward, wet her lips and, with a blush taken straight out of a gothic romance, whispered, ‘I love him.’

My aunt stared at her. My uncle stared at her. I stared at her. For Ella, this was rebellion. For Ella, this was dancing naked on the rooftop while the house burned down. She had actually voiced her own opinion—and not while hiding in a broom closet. Just goes to show: wonders never cease.

Uncle Bufford sent me a grumpy glare. I knew what that glare meant.

You’ve lured me into this under false pretences, young lady! You said we would be talking about money. And now I have to deal with marriage, and love, and other kinds of mushy female matters that make me want to hurl. Just you wait. This will have consequences.

I gave him a bright smile.

Oh yes, it will. Just you wait, you old buzzard.

‘Well?’ Aunt Brank demanded. ‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’

‘Why would I?’ her loving husband replied. ‘You talk enough for both of us.’

But he turned once more towards Edmund and scrutinised him from under his bushy eyebrows. The young Romeo paled under the old man’s scrutiny, but didn’t back down.

‘So, you want to marry my niece Ella, young man?’

‘Yes, Sir.’

‘How long have you known her?’

‘What does it matter?’ Aunt Brank cut in. ‘He’s obviously unsuitable—’

Uncle Bufford raised a finger—and Aunt Brank shut up. I blinked at my uncle, flabbergasted. How had he been able to keep this secret from me all the while? My uncle had superhuman powers in his index finger!

Uncle Bufford returned his attention to Edmund. ‘Well? How long?’

‘I’ve known her casually ever since we moved in. But we’ve…grown closer over the last three years, Sir.’

Turning to Ella, Uncle Bufford lifted an eyebrow. She nodded, quickly.

‘It’s true, Sir. We’ve had an attachment for quite some time.’

‘I see.’ Leaning forward, my uncle focused on Edmund again, and his face grew serious. ‘Are you serious in your wish to marry my niece, young man? Have you thought about what it would mean? Can you support her?’

‘Support her? I, well…um…’

There was a moment of silence. Then…

‘I don’t know, Sir.’

‘Let me put it this way, young man—do you have an income of your own?’

‘Not yet, but—’

‘Do you have steady work? Some occupation that could support my niece? Or, if it comes to that, a family?’

Edmund opened his mouth—then hung his head. ‘No.’

Uncle Bufford closed his eyes for a moment, and nodded. ‘Then there’s your answer.’

Edmund opened his mouth again, wanting to protest, but then he looked into Bufford’s eyes and saw implacable resolve there. Ella rushed to him, and together they hurried outside. The door slammed, and I could hear my little sister sobbing from behind the thin wood.

Aunt Brank looked as if she’d just been elevated to Duchess of Somerset. It seemed like the matter was closed. Once it was made up, no one could change Uncle Bufford’s mind.

Well, you’ve always loved trying the impossible, haven’t you, Lilly?

Clearing my throat, I stepped forward. ‘I wonder whether I might have a word with you, Uncle?’

Instantly, all heads in the room turned to me. Aunt Brank narrowed her eyes. ‘Why?’

‘Excuse me, Aunt, but it’s not you I was talking to.’ I looked straight at my uncle, praying I wasn’t wrong about him. ‘Uncle? Alone, please?’

He hesitated for a moment—then nodded.

‘Bufford!’ Aunt Brank protested. ‘You can’t—´’

He flicked his finger again, and her mouth snapped shut. I really had to get him to teach me how to do that. With a last venomous look from my aunt, and not-too-friendly ones from the twins, everyone filed out of the room. Only Uncle Bufford and I remained.

‘Well, girl? What do you want?’ Steepling his fingers, he regarded me from under his bushy eyebrows. ‘I hope you’re not going to plead or cry or some silly female nonsense like that.’

‘Please don’t insult my intelligence,’ I told him. ‘You’d be about as likely to be moved by tears as a mountain by an ant fart.’

He nodded approvingly. ‘True.’

‘No, I don’t want to cry or plead. I simply want to point out some arguments in favour of Edmund you might not have thought of before.’

‘You mean there are actually arguments in favour of him?’

‘Surprising, I know. But yes, there are.’

‘Pray tell.’

‘Well, to start with, Edmund’s father is quite old. Soon he’ll be too old to work. Young Edmund might not have an income now, but he’s good at what he does. The moment his father retires, he’ll inherit a profitable business that would be more than sufficient to support a family.’

One bushy eyebrow rose, decorating the upper half of Uncle Bufford’s head with a little bit of hair for the first time in decades.

‘Which isn’t much good to him now, is it?’

‘True. But who says Ella needs to marry him right away? She’s young. Besides, many couples choose an extended courtship or a long engagement. A tacit agreement could be formed, without any public announcements, and when Edmund takes over from his father, we could make things official.’

‘True, that would work, girl. But he’d still only be a piano tuner. Ella could do much better.’

‘Ah yes, all those barons and marquesses…’ I smiled. ‘You’ve never married off a female relative, dear Uncle, so you might not be aware of this, but there’s a custom in our fine country called a ‘dowry’. It’s a substantial sum of money paid by the father—or guardian—of the bride to the prospective husband.’

Uncle Bufford’s face turned to stone. His hands clamped around the armrests of his chair.

‘If Ella marries some baron or marquess, or, God forbid, a Duke, he is going to expect a dowry. It could be, oh, I don’t know…’ I let the sentence trail off, suggestively looking around the room at all the heaps of coins and banknotes in view. Uncle Bufford couldn’t suppress a shudder of horror. Inwardly, I smirked. Time for the last strike.

‘Plus, there will be a big wedding—which someone will have to pay for.’

My uncle’s beard twitched. ‘You don’t think that…’

‘Oh yes. I do.’

‘Hrumph.’

‘On the other hand, if Ella were to marry Edmund,’ I continued quickly, ‘I’m sure they’d want a humble, private ceremony. And if there were problems with money, I could help out.’

That caused another eyebrow-elevation.

‘Help? How?’

‘With money. I have…some funds of my own.’

‘Do you, now?’ He stared at me for a moment, as if trying to penetrate my secrets. Finally, he asked, ‘Is that all?’

I thought hard for a moment. Wasn’t that enough? I had done my very best. What else could I do? What on earth could convince him that this was the best, the only choice for Ella?

Finally, inspiration hit.

‘I also,’ I added, with a big smile, ‘would like to make you a small present of, um…ten shillings to thank you for being such a kind, considerate uncle who always thinks of his nieces before himself.’

He cocked his head. ‘Ten?’

‘Err…fifteen?’

‘Thirty.’

‘Twenty-five. My last offer.’

‘Done.’ Uncle Bufford nodded. ‘I do love being a kind, considerate uncle.’

Not betraying a hint of how my heart was hammering in my chest, I stepped toward the door with a little curtsey. Done. I had done it! I had saved my little sister. And for half as much as I’d expected to pay. Mr Ambrose would be proud.

‘A pleasure doing business with you, Uncle.’

Turning, I slipped outside, closed the door behind me and walked until I was out of hearing distance—then I leapt up and punched the air. ‘Yay! I did it! I did it!’

Leaning against the corridor a bit farther down, I noticed a picture of misery that was quite a convincing portrait of my little sister.

‘Cheer up!’ I told her, thumping her on the back.

‘Lill!’ She sent me an accusing gaze. ‘How can you smile at a time like this?’

‘The question is, how can you not?’ My grin broadened. ‘Or don’t you want to marry your piano-tuner anymore?’

Ella blinked. ‘Marry? Marry Edmund? But Uncle Bufford said….’

‘He changed his mind.’

‘But how…?’

‘I appealed to his generous nature.’

It told you a lot about my little sister, practically everything you needed to know, that she swallowed this lie hook, line and sinker. A beatific smile spread across her face, and the tears on her face sparkled like diamonds, making her only look more beautiful than ever.

‘His generous nature? Oh, that dear, dear old man. I’ve got to thank him! I could weep at his feet in gratitude all day!’

‘Don’t,’ I advised. ‘We don’t want him to change his mind again.’

‘But Lill—’

‘Besides,’ I added, ‘shouldn’t you go tell Edmund? He’s probably languishing in horrible heartache or something silly like that right now.’

‘Oh my goodness, you’re right!’ Clapping her hand over her mouth, Ella whirled and rushed towards the stairs. ‘I must go to him at once! Oh, poor, poor Edmund!’

I had a feeling poor, poor Edmund wasn’t going to feel so poor anymore in a few minutes. Smiling, I gazed after Ella as she rushed off to meet her future. Now it was time for me to go find mine.

*~*~**~*~*

When Aunt Brank heard that Uncle Bufford had changed his mind about Ella’s marriage, she immediately got it into her head that it was my fault. I thought this quite unfair. Of course it was my fault, totally and completely, but she couldn’t know that, could she? Where would we be if a suspected criminal could be thrown in jail even if his crime wasn’t proven, just because he happened to be guilty?

‘Just you wait!’ she hissed when she settled herself down next to me at dinner that evening. ‘I’m going to get you for this. You’re going to rue the day you were born.’

I didn’t dignify that with a response, but I decided I would have to look up what ‘rue’ means in a dictionary. I wasn’t really worried. I mean, what could she try to do to me that she hadn’t done before?

The next evening, I got my answer. We were preparing for the Duchess of Bedford’s ball. Edmund had arrived to escort a beaming Ella, and I was just about to go upstairs and fetch my one and only ball gown, when my aunt appeared behind me like the spectre of doom and held something out towards me.

‘Oh no, my dear,’ she simpered. ‘We wouldn’t want you to wear that ugly old thing now, would we? Take this.’

‘But that’s—’

‘Ella’s new gown, yes. I thought the matter over and came to the conclusion she won’t really need it anymore, now, will she?’ Her eyes flashed with venom. ‘After all, she’s soon to be engaged. So I had it altered to fit you. I’m sure with such a beautiful dress, you’ll attract plenty of attention from gentlemen looking for a bride.’

You had to give it to her—she was a master at being nasty. Genghis Khan couldn’t hold a candle to her. I put on the dress, and it fit me disturbingly well.

‘At this ball,’ she whispered to me when I left my room, dressed and prepared, ‘we are going to find a husband for you. I don’t care if it’s the bastard brat of the Duchess’s second gardener. In fact, that would be just what you deserve. I’m going to make sure you get what’s coming to you.’

It was very, very hard not to smile. Poor Aunt. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that all her malevolent schemes would be futile in the end. The time when I feared her was long past. And besides—in this case, I didn’t even have a reason to. I wouldn’t be around to be caught in her trap.

That evening, we all got in the coach that had been rented for the occasion and drove off towards the duchess’s town house. Nobody noticed that I had my largest purse with me, which appeared rather fuller than usual. They were all too busy staring at Ella and Edmund, who sat in a corner, gazing into each other’s eyes as if they could read a riveting novel there. Gertrude and Lisbeth seemed happy for them. Anne and Maria looked torn between derision (because Ella was going to marry a man without money or a title) and envy (because in spite of her misfortune, she had the audacity to be happy). And Aunt Brank…well, she looked like Aunt Brank, which was bad enough in itself.

We arrived at the ball just as a big, fancy coach deposited several gentlemen and drove away to find a parking spot. The sight seemed to fan the flames of my aunt’s rage. Gentlemen. Probably wealthy and respected gentlemen, whom Ella now would never get to marry. She threw me another look promising vengeance, and I returned a smile. She had no idea what was coming.

At the door, we were greeted by a swarm of scurrying servants who escorted us inside. There, at the door of the ballroom, the duchess awaited us, greeted us as if we were old friends, and very elegantly glossed over the fact that she didn’t know our names. I didn’t take it personally. To judge by the droves of people already milling around the ballroom, half of London had been invited.

‘Well, well…’ My aunt gave me a smile that, a year or two ago, would have sent a shiver of fear down my back. ‘Looks like there are plenty of eligible bachelors here, my dear Lillian. Why don’t you go and mingle? We would hate for you to miss this opportunity, now, wouldn’t we?’

‘Yes, quite so,’ I agreed merrily. ‘I’ll just go powder my nose before I venture into the thick of things, all right? I wish to look my best for the gentlemen. After all, I might find my man tonight.’

‘Do that, dear.’ Her eyes sparkled with suspicion. ‘I’ll wait here in front of the door, so you don’t accidentally lose your way and leave. That would be too bad.’

Like an army sergeant, she took up her post in front of the door as I slipped inside. I had expected no less. No matter. Quickly, I walked past the room intended for gentlemen, farther down the corridor, and entered the powder room reserved for ladies.

There was only one other lady inside, and she seemed eager to get back to the dance floor. She didn’t seem to notice I took rather longer to powder my nose than usual and rushed out with pink cheeks and an excited shine in her eyes.

The instant she had left, I opened my purse and pulled out a nice, big, floppy hat. It was the work of a moment to slip out of my dress and reveal the tailcoat and trousers I wore underneath. Quickly, I put on the hat and pulled it as deep into my face as it would go. Stepping out of the powder room, I strode down the corridor.

For one moment, I hesitated in front of the gents’ room. Hm…in all my time as Mr Victor Linton, I had never set foot in one of these. Should I? It would make a nice story to share with Amy. And with Ella, if I ever wanted to make her faint on the spot.

Shaking my head, I strode on. Maybe another time. Tonight, I had more important things to do.

Pushing open the door, I stepped out into the ballroom and tipped my hat to Mrs Hester Mahulda Brank. She didn’t even glance at the stranger with the floppy hat. Trying my best not to burst out laughing, I marched past several ladies, taking care to bow politely every time. I was a gentleman, after all. And I was quite a success with the ladies. Several of them smiled at me and waved their fans.

Outside, no coaches were standing around at the moment. What was standing around, however, was a big, bearded mountain of a bodyguard with a turban on his head. Good God! Had he followed me all the way here on foot?

Of course he had. Ambrose Sahib had commanded it, after all.

Thanking my lucky stars that I’d been clever enough to buy a new tailcoat and hat for this little subterfuge, I headed towards Karim. Why oh why did he have to be just there, in my way? I couldn’t get down the street without going past him.

Please don’t let him recognise me! Please don’t let him recognise me! Please!

If Karim noticed it was me, the game would be up. He would never allow me to go against the order of our dear employer. For some reason, he laboured under the strange delusion that orders from employers had to be obeyed.

I was approaching the corner. Soon. Soon, I would be out of sight and out of danger. Only ten steps.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two

O—

‘Lilliiaaaan!’

Crap!

The harpy’s screech from inside the duchess’s residence froze my bone marrow—but, thank the Lord, not my feet!

‘Hey, you there!’ I heard Karim’s growl behind me. ‘You there with the ridiculous hat! Stop!’

I broke into a run.