I leaned forward, resting my head on my knees. This was good. Better than the theatre, except that I couldn’t throw peanuts at the actors. I doubt Ella would have appreciated that.
‘What is the matter?’ My little sister wrung her hands in sudden desperation. ‘Oh Edmund, reveal to me this terrible secret you are carrying! What is it about those flowers that makes you fear them like death itself?’
‘Worse than death,’ he mutters. ‘A thousand deaths and the tortures of hell.’
Dear me! That fellow had definitely read too many romantic novels. I considered interrupting and telling him he was overdoing it.
But then, on second thoughts, maybe I’d rather not.
‘Tell me, Edmund! Tell me, what are they?’
‘The flowers are a sign of affection,’ said Edmund, his voice as hollow as a drainpipe through which all his hopes were flooding away. ‘Sir Philip wishes to seek your hand in marriage.’
Ella stiffened. All colour drained from her face. I covered my eyes with my hand and let it slip down my face. Good God in heaven, she was actually surprised.
‘No!’
‘Yes, he does.’
‘No, Edmund…’
‘And who can blame him?’ he continued. ‘You are indeed a fair maiden, Miss Linton. Every gentleman in England should be seeking your hand. You…’ his voice broke, and after a moment he continued: ‘You are far too good and beautiful for common folk.’
‘Edmund! What are you saying?’ She cried out.
‘I am saying goodbye, Miss Linton.’
‘Goodbye? Edmund, why do you torture me so? And why so distant? Why call me Miss Linton?’
‘You are right,’ he said in the same hollow voice. ‘I should call you Lady Wilkins. For that is who you soon shall be.’
Apparently, I had been wrong before: Ella had still some colour left to drain from her face. It vanished at Edmund’s words, plummeting towards the earth’s core.
Suddenly not at all amused by the scene, I sat up straight, staring whole arsenals of daggers at Edmund.
What was that bastard doing? Was he so heartless that he could just stand there and hurt my little sister? He should be pulling her into his arms and telling her all would be all right! After climbing over the fence, that is.
‘I will never marry Sir Philip,’ Ella proclaimed. ‘Never!’
‘But why not?’ Edmund asked, his voice still as hollow and dead as an entire graveyard. ‘Is he not a most eligible match?’
‘I do not care how eligible he is,’ sniffled Ella, taking two rapid steps towards the fence. Edmund stepped back hastily as she stuck her hand through the poles, trying to reach him. ‘I… I…’
‘Yes? You?’ he inquired and his voice wasn’t quite as dead as before.
‘I love you, Edmund.’
‘Ah. A platonic love, surely, since you are soon to be married?’
‘No! A lover’s love, Edmund. If I could, I would be thine, to have and to hold.’
‘Oh Ella! Come into my arms!’
What the heck? Just ten seconds ago he was egging her on to marry somebody else, and now he wanted them to snuggle? If all lovers behaved like this, they should be summarily committed to lunatic asylums!
Surely, Ella would be too proud and self-respecting to throw herself at a man who had just scorned her?
‘Oh, Edmund, my love!’
No, apparently she wasn’t.
I watched in mingled horror and fascination as she indeed threw herself into his arms, or at least as well as she could with the fence in the way. I wondered how long it was going to take one of them to think of the ladder leaning against the garden shed. Probably a good long time still.
Anyway, both of them seemed to be much too honourable to just throw themselves at each other. I had expected at least some action and was a tiny bit disappointed when they only took hold of each other’s hands and stared into each other’s eyes. I had seen both of their pairs of eyes before. They weren’t that interesting.
‘So you do not simply feel friendship for me?’ Edmund demanded, his voice deep with emotion. ‘There is more?’
A little colour returned to Ella’s cheeks. ‘You know there is.’
‘Yes, but the delight of hearing you say it…’ He closed his eyes for a moment, sighing blissfully. ‘There is no song of angels that is sweeter to my ears.’
Yes. He really read too many romance novels.
My little sister, not in the least repelled by his sappiness, took one of his hands and lightly pressed it to her cheek. Now we were getting somewhere!
‘I love you, Edmund.’
When Edmund opened his eyes again, they looked a little more interesting than before. Certainly more intense.
‘As I love you, Ella, my heart’s delight.’
‘Oh Edmund. You do not know how long I have been waiting for you to say these words to me.’
‘They have lain ready on my tongue forever.’
He pressed her hands again.
‘So you will be mine?’
Suddenly, the colour left Ella’s cheeks again. The radiant smile that had lit up her features until a moment ago became laced with sadness.
‘Edmund, I…’
‘What? What is this? You said you loved me!’
‘I do! I do! But…’
Now there again were tears in Ella’s eyes. She didn’t seem to be able to continue. So Edmund spoke for her, slowly and gravely:
‘But the objections to our love which you so conscientiously explained to me before, still stand. Nothing has changed. The fact that we love each other does not mean that we can be together.’
Ella gave a shaky little nod.
‘What if you told your aunt that you did not love Sir Philip?’
‘I? Defy my dear, dear aunt? Oh please!’ She clasped her hands in supplication. ‘Please don't even make me think of such a thing!’
‘Then what do we do?’ he asked, sounding lost.
‘I don't know!’
Behind the bushes, I bit my lower lip, deep in thought. Well, I didn’t know either. But I’d be damned if that was going to stop me from doing something! At least I had plenty of time on my hands. My new job with Mr Ambrose was not very demanding. He didn’t seem to want anything from me at all.
Had I only known then how wrong I was about that.
The Discovery
The next day I noticed that I was quite distracted by Ella’s troubles. Do you want to know how I noticed? It wasn’t that I forgot to go to work, oh no. I forgot to change before going to work and almost walked up to Mr Stone’s desk in a long dress and hoop skirt, announcing myself as ‘Mr Linton’.
That would have been a real scandal for Mr Ambrose to worry about!
I noticed my wrong attire just in time and had to hurry back and change in a wild frenzy. By the time I had run back to Empire House it was already nine o'clock. I hurried up the stairs and into my office, only giving Mr Stone a brief nod in passing. My desperate lungs lacked the air for a proper greeting. Wheezing, I collapsed onto my chair and let my head fall onto the table.
Just then, a message container flew out of the tube with a quiet plink. With the one hand I felt capable of moving I picked it up, opened it and unrolled the message. My eyes focused on the words:
Mr Linton
You are 1 minute and 37 seconds late. If that occurs again, you can consider yourself dismissed.
Rikkard Ambrose
This chap really knew how to give you a warm welcome. For a moment I considered telling him about my sister’s romantic troubles, to make an excuse. But then I decided against it. It would be like trying to explain dancing the polka to a rock in the desert. He just wouldn’t get it.
Next I considered going over there and skinning him alive. But that might not be so great an idea either. First of all, it might get me sacked. Secondly, I couldn’t muster the energy to get up. And thirdly, the blasted door was still locked anyway!
A plink announced the arrival of the next message.
It appeared that I had to get up, whether I had the energy or not! The message read:
Mr Linton,
Fetch file S39XX300
Rikkard Ambrose.
Spiffing! Simply Spiffing! Here we go again. Rising, I started towards the rows of shelves. But then I hesitated.
Wait just a moment… file S39XX300?