‘I hired you under the misapprehension that you were a man.’
‘I never said I was. In fact, I specifically told you that I wasn’t the man for the job.’
He seemed stunned for just a moment. Then, taking in a deep breath, he admitted: ‘So you did. Still, you can’t have the position.’
‘Why? Has the position already been filled?’
He hesitated for a second, then said in a slightly grudging voice: ‘No.’
‘Has anyone better qualified than I applied?’
‘Anyone would be better than you.’
My face hardened. ‘How so?’
He placed his hands on the desktop, as if trying to suck up calm from the even surface.
‘A girl working as a secretary?’ he growled. ‘It is impossible! If the city were to get wind of this it would be the biggest scandal in years! Besides, females do not have the orderly mind that is required for this kind of work.’
‘Of course they do! We have been kept down for centuries, but you’ll see, one day women will conquer their rightful place in the world! One day, there will be hundreds, maybe thousands of women working as secretaries. We will be so good at it that we will put the men out of their jobs, and just about every secretary will be female!’
He shook his head derisively.
‘That speech only shows that you have no intellect and grasp of reality. Thousands of women working as secretaries all over the world? The thought is ridiculous.’
‘All I want is the chance to prove you wrong.’
‘And I said no. You are a girl. I cannot have a girl in my office. I would be the laughing stock of the city of London, of the entire country even.’
‘I’m sure the city and country will find funnier things to laugh about than you,’ I said, regarding his stony face, not able to entirely keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
He gave me a stare from those cold, dark eyes that could have frozen lava.
‘I don't appreciate being made fun of, Miss Linton.’
‘I can see that, Mr Ambrose. And I do not appreciate my questions not being given full and honest replies.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Has anyone better qualified than I applied for the position of your private secretary?’
A few seconds hesitation again. Then: ‘No.’
‘Well then.’ Taking a deep breath, I unfolded my arms and rubbed my hands. ‘When may I begin with my new duties?’
His hostile stare intensified to a force that almost knocked me off my chair and made the muscles in my stomach tighten with fear.
‘I-need-a-man,’ he said very slowly, enunciating each word. ‘A man, Miss Linton. Not a girl who will run off screaming at the things she will see where my kind of business takes me.’
‘I hold you to your word,’ I replied, glaring just as stubbornly, though maybe not quite so impressively, back at him. ‘I ask you: Are you a gentleman or a liar? You told me to come and work for you. I didn’t ask you. And now you want to back out?’
He stared at me. And stared. And stared.
Half a minute.
An entire minute.
After two minutes, I was getting fidgety and wanted to blink, but didn’t. I was not backing down on this. He would have to keep his word or throw me out into the street himself!
Three whole minutes he looked at me like this. Then, towards the end of the third minute, something seemed to spark in his dark eyes, and though his facial expression didn’t really change, he somehow suddenly seemed… satisfied. Victorious. Oh no. He had decided to forget about honour and throw me out! I knew it! I just knew it!
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘The position is yours.’
My jaw dropped. What? Had I heard correctly?
‘It… it is?’ I stammered, unable to contain my surprise.
‘Yes,’ he said, his voice as cool and calm as ever. ‘I gave my word, and my honour is at stake here. Naturally, a gentleman must keep his word. The position of private secretary belongs to you.’
My heart started hammering wildly. Was this really it? Finally? My independence? My chance to build a career as a free woman?
But there was something that wasn’t quite right. Mr Ambrose didn’t look resigned. In spite of the fact that this should be nettling him to no end, he looked… pleased with himself. Darn pleased with himself. Though of course he didn’t go so far as to actually allow a smile to appear on his stony features, I could feel it. Self-satisfaction radiated off him. Like a sleek black cat that doesn’t need to smile, only show its claws to prove to the world how superior it is.
‘You will, of course, be wearing the proper uniform,’ he said, looking down at the papers on his desk again.
I frowned.
‘Uniform?’ I hadn’t seen anyone in his office so far who wore a uniform. What was he talking about?
‘Certainly,’ he replied, still not looking up. ‘The same uniform you wore on the day I first had the pleasure to meet you, Mister Linton.’
It took a moment or two, then the penny dropped. I jumped up from my chair as if it had bit me in the arse.
‘You expect me to come and work for you dressed up as a man?’ I gasped.
He looked up, sharply. ‘I expect you to come to work dressed exactly the same as on the day I acquired your services, Mister Linton. I want exactly what I bought, and I am going to get it. Do you understand that, Mister Linton?’
‘I won’t do it!’
He was out of his chair and around the desk in a heartbeat.
‘It is your choice,’ he said, stepping so close to me that our lips were almost touching. ‘Either do what I say - or get another job.’
For a moment, my heart stood still as I gazed up into his deep, dark, dangerous eyes. Then I tore myself away from the sight, turned on my heels and angrily stomped towards the door. I threw it open and rushed past the bewildered Mr Stone.
‘Good day, Miss Linton,’ he called after me, hardly concealed triumph in his voice.
Well, I thought to myself, We'll just see about that! He wants war? He can have it!
File Fight
‘Excuse me?’
Mr Stone looked up from his desk and his eyes widened.
‘I would like to see Mr Ambrose, please. I have an appointment.’
Mr Stone blinked, sat motionless for a few seconds, and blinked again. Only then did he recover from his astonishment. ‘Oh, err… I’m so sorry, Sir. Of course, of course. I was only distracted for a moment because just half an hour ago there was a young lady here, also asking for Mr Ambrose, and you and she…’ He trailed off, gazing in amazement at the small young man with longish brown hair standing in front of him.
I tried to force a smile on my face. ‘That was my sister.’
‘Oh, that explains it,’ said Mr Stone, a bright smile ousting the puzzled expression from his face. ‘May I say, Sir, that you and she share the most amazing family resemblance?’
‘I’ve often thought so myself.’
‘Even your hairstyles are rather similar. It is truly intriguing.’
‘Thank you.’
‘And what is your name, Sir?’
‘Li-’ I bit my tongue. Darn! In my haste to get home, change and return, I had completely forgotten that as a man, I could hardly go by the name of Lillian. My mind was as blank as the walls of Mr Ambrose’s office as I tried to think of a name, any name that I could tell Mr Stone. Finally, my thoughts landed on the royal family.
‘Victor!’ I blurted out. ‘Victor Linton.’
Thank God. When all else failed, one could still rely on the queen of England.[13]
‘Very well, Mr Linton. Wait a moment please, while I see if Mr Ambrose is ready to receive you.’
He took up the metal horn from the desk and spoke into it.
‘Mr Ambrose? A Mr Linton to see you.’
In response, there came only silence from the other end.
‘Err… Mr Ambrose? Are you there?’
Now there did come a noise from the other end. It sounded like something between a moan from a medieval torture chamber and the growl of a wounded Siberian tiger.
‘Mr Ambrose, Sir? Are you all right?’