When I woke the next morning, I fervently hoped that last night had been a nightmare. But when I saw Ella's red-rimmed eyes, I knew that was wishful thinking.
Last night had been true. My sister was going to elope â and not even with a romantic rake of a Scottish Laird, or something similarly adventurous, but with the tradesman's son next door. I wasn't sure what trade his father actually practised. I thought I had heard somewhere that he was a piano tuner.
Sadly, I shook my head. Constantly going around making sure that everywhere you went things sounded the same had to be about the dullest occupation there was. His son didn't seem a lot more exciting to me, generally speaking. All right, he was a nice enough fellow, for a man, but still, nothing to write home about. And it was the man my sister would loose her honour for.
Now, don't get the wrong impression â I wasn't all too keen on honour and virtue myself. If you're willing to walk around in men's clothes to work for a living you have to be able to bend a few social norms and customs. I myself wouldn't mind getting a few stains on my non-existent good reputation. But I knew that Ella would mind. Very much so, in fact.
Maybe she loved this man enough to run away with him and be happy. But she also would be sad, on a deeper level, a level she wouldn't let anybody see. It would break her heart to disappoint her aunt, silly, compassionate soul that she was. This solution would make Edmund happy â but it would save Ella from one misery only to plunge her into another.
Unless, that is, I could prevent it.
Full of purpose, I jumped out of bed. This was no time to dawdle! My sister's happiness was at stake, and I only had one day to do anything before I had to go back to slave for Mr Ambrose. Quickly, I dressed â or as quickly as I could, considering the multitude of petticoats I had to put on â and slipped out of the house without anybody noticing. It was Sunday, and after the tiring dance the other night, the others were sure to sleep long, and not notice my absence.
As I ran down the street, the beginnings of various plans were already forming in my mind. Somehow, I had to get rid of Wilkins. That was the heart of the matter. No Wilkins meant no threat of marriage, no threat of marriage meant no elopement, no elopement meant no unhappy Ella.
For a moment, I considered carrying out Edmund's plan â getting hold of a pistol and just shooting the blasted Wilkins. Yet I discounted that for various reasons. Firstly, wanting to marry my sister was, according to the laws of England, not yet a crime that deserved the death penalty; secondly, I didn't have money for a gun; and thirdly, even if I did, I would most likely miss.
Hmm... That last bit will have to be rectified in the not-too-distant future. Now that you are regularly running around in men's clothes you might as well claim male privileges, such as shooting anybody whose face you didn't like.
Back to planning... how to get rid of Wilkins without shooting him?
By the time I had reached Green Park I had hit on quite a promising idea.
I needed only to find out something, something strange or disreputable or otherwise horrible about Wilkins, which could be revealed to my aunt. With her snobbish ways, she would cut off the connection faster than you could say Jack Robinson. I had no doubt there was something to Sir Philip's detriment that could be discovered. An over-romanticised, flower-fanatical guffin like he was bound to have some skeletons hidden in his closet.
And I knew exactly who could help me find some of those.
I raced through Green Park, people right and left throwing me disapproving looks. I was running far too fast than was seemly for a young lady, that I could read clearly on their faces. But in the distance I could see three figures who did not look disapproving. On the contrary, they looked delighted to see me, waving at me energetically. One of them nearly brained a passing gentleman with her parasol.
Unable to stifle a grin, in spite of how worried I was, I picked up my pace. It had been ages since I last saw all my friends together, and now I needed them more than ever. They would be my company of spies, who would help me find a chink in Sir Philip's armour. They would help me save Ella.
And in spite of my private troubles, I had not forgotten the original reason because of which I had called them together: the anti-suffragist meeting which was soon to take place here in London. With these two topics, we were sure to have more than enough to talk about.
I came to a stop only a few yards away from them, gasping for breath.
"Listen," I said. "I... I have something really important to tell you. I have-"
"So it's true?" Eve demanded, skipping forward eagerly. "You do have a lover?"
I blinked at her, taken aback.
"What?"
"I knew it I knew it I knew it I knew it!" Eve started a little dance around me that would have been more fitting for a Cherokee medicine man than for a proper young English lady. Some part of my mind wondered how the heck she was managing those acrobatics with a hoop-skirt on. Most of my mind, however, was wondering what the heck she had been talking about.
"I knew it was true the minute Patsy told us what Ella had told her," she babbled, and it all became clear to me.
The ball. Patsy grilling Ella for information, and Ella spouting out the ridiculous excuses I had told her.
No. Oh please, God, no! Don't let Patsy have told everyone!
As usual, God didn't listen.
"Flora didn't believe it, but I knew right away it was true. You were away all the time last week and not one of us had the slightest idea where you had disappeared to and oh isn't this exciting, girls? Lilly has found herself a man! You must tell us all about him!"
"Well, really I came to talk about something el..." I began, but that was about as far as I got.
"Is he tall?" Eve demanded. She had stopped dancing around me and was now bobbing up and down in front of me like an overexcited puppy. "Is he handsome? Is he rich? Will you marry him and go live on a vast estate in the country somewhere?"
"Eve!" I said, shocked. "Where's your pride as an independent woman?"
"Right here," she said, indicating her head. "Now will you tell me whether he's rich and handsome?"
"Look," I said, crossing my arms defiantly, "this isn't what I came here to talk about!"
"Too bad." Patsy grinned at me over tiny Eve's head. "Because it's apparently what you're going to have to talk about."
"But..."
"What's his name?" Even interrupted me eagerly. "Does he live in London? Well of course he does, or you wouldn't have been gone all that time. You were with him, weren't you? Were you two up to anything, you know... special?"
She winked, and then winked a couple of times more in case I had gotten it. I had, and so apparently had everybody else in the vicinity. The looks from passers-by had gotten a good deal more disapproving.
I would have to stop this. Ella I could deal with, but these three were of another calibre entirely. I would have to placate them somehow. Inspiration struck me!
"I haven't got a lover, all right?" I hissed. "Now stop it, you're making people stare."
"Oh." Eve stopped bobbing up and down, obviously deflated. "But... but Patsy said..."
"Patsy said what Ella told her."
"And what you told Ella wasn't one-hundred percent true?" Patsy guessed, her grin having widened, after a momentary flicker.
"Actually," I corrected, "It's not even one per cent true. But I couldn't correct Ella at the time. She mustn't know."
"So what is it you have been up to these last few weeks?" Patsy sounded quite demanding, and when Patsy Cusack demanded, you didn't deny her. She might be inclined to back up her demands with a swipe of her mighty parasol, the destroyer of worlds.
"You mustn't tell a soul," I whispered, grabbing two of them by the arms and dragging them away from the people in the park that were still muttering about loose morals in this modern age and unladylike behaviour. "Especially not Ella. She mustn't know what I'm doing."
We ended up by the same bench behind the discreet clump of bushes where we had sat before. It was our favourite spot. Nobody ever bothered us there.
"So it has something to do with Ella?" Eve enquired eagerly, sitting down beside me, her disappointment at my lack of romantic entanglements already forgotten. "What you've been doing all this time, I mean?"
"Yes, very much so. She's in danger."
All their faces became more serious instantly, especially Flora's. They all liked Ella, and Flora recognized in her something like a kindred spirit, somebody so gentle and meek she made a dove look like a hunting hawk in comparison.
"Explain," she said in a quiet voice, regarding me with large eyes full of worry.
"Well..." I bit my lip, thinking. "I'm not quite sure how to explain. Um... do you know a Sir Philip Wilkins?"
Patsy snorted. "What? That flower-obsessed nincompoop?"
Surprised, I turned towards her. I hadn't actually expected any of my friends to know him. Just like me, they weren't all that fond of male society.
"You know him, Patsy?"
"Sure I do! About a year back, I met him at a ball. He started showering me with flowers and calling me stuff like 'Delight of my heart' and 'Summer Rose' and worse things I wouldn't want to repeat with Ladies present. I made it quite clear that I didn't appreciate such behaviour."
For a moment I wondered how Patsy had made herself 'quite clear'. Then, looking at her big, meaty fists I thought it best to stop wondering.
"Well," I continued, "It's him that Ella is in danger from."
Patsy stared at me, her face blank.
"You're joking."
"No, I'm not."
"What has he done? Threatened her with a bouquet of tulips or something?"
"Worse. He wants to marry her."
Patsy barked a laugh. "So he's up to his old tricks again. Well, what a terrible danger!"
She stopped laughing when she saw the look on mine and Flora's faces.
"I'm sorry," she said, pulling her face into the best imitation of contriteness that was possible for Patsy. "He's really after her?"
"With a vengeance," I affirmed. "And tons of green stuff."
"But I really don't see the problem," Patsy mused, frowning. "He's after her. So what? Why doesn't she just say no?" I opened my mouth to answer, but she had already held up her hand, understanding flashing in her eyes. "Don't bother, forget I said that. I forgot it was Ella we were talking about."
"It... it isn't always easy to say 'no' when people want something from you," Flora interposed. "Especially men."
"I beg to differ," Patsy said, firmly. "It's very easy indeed. But I admit there are those unfortunates who don't seem to have understood that fact yet."
"So if she won't say no to him what happens now?" Eve asked. "Will that mean she'll have to marry him and have a whole lot of babies and grow fat and mopy because she really wanted to do something else with her life but she never said it out loud and so she'll die a tragic death from sadness and nobody will know why?"
"Well..." I said, carefully, "I was hoping to avoid that kind of thing. I spent the last few weeks trying to find a way out for her."
"Daft of you not to ask us," Patsy said with her typical talent for delicacy. "It's always better to have help."
"I didn't want to burden you with my problems." I lowered my head. That much was actually true.
"That's what friends are for, you dolt! You have to burden them with all kinds of problems, so they can unload their misery on you in return."
Looking up again, I gave them a tentative smile. "I'll remember that in future, Patsy. Will you still help me?"
They all nodded â Eve about three times as fast as the others and Flora rather hesitantly, but they all nodded.
"So what should we do?" Patsy lifted her parasol and let it smack several times into her palm. A thug with an iron crowbar could not have looked more threatening. "Do you think I should have a talk with this Sir Philip Wilkins? Just him, and me, and my parasol?"
If only things could be so simple. Shaking my head regretfully, I said: "I'm afraid that wouldn't be a good solution. Wilkins always has heaps of servants around him wherever he goes, except in ballrooms. And you can't just haul off and let him have it in the middle of a ballroom. Besides, I think your mother got suspicious after that last incident with Mr Wright last summer. I don't think she entirely believed your story about your parasol having been chewed up by a rabid spaniel."
Patsy shrugged. "Yes, but the man lived. So even if she had found out, it wouldn't have been that serious."
"But don't you see," I insisted, "In this case, in Ella's case, nobody must even suspect, let alone find out for certain, that I had a hand in this matter. Either my aunt or Wilkins must drop the acquaintance of the other of their own accord. If we were involved in the matter, Ella would feel mortified to find out what you were doing, and might marry the fellow just to prove it wasn't necessary, and what a good, sweet girl she is."
Slowly, Patsy nodded, though she still looked regretfully at her parasol.
"I see what you mean. If anybody could be that silly, she could."
With indignation, I crossed my arms in front of my chest. "My sister is not silly!"
Patsy gave me a searching gaze. I relented.
"Well, maybe a tiny little bit. But it's not nice to say it."
"I'm not known for being nice. That's why I'll never have to worry about an unwanted matrimonial arrangement." She thought for a moment. "So what are you going to do if you're not going to act directly?" she finally inquired.
"Well, I had an idea. Listen."
I explained. At first, they looked doubtful, but by the time I was finished, Patsy was nodding, thoughtfully.
"It's not a bad idea. A fellow like Wilkins has got to have something about him that would make him an undesirable son in law. And your aunt is the biggest snob in the world."
"Thank you very much."
"You're welcome. So, where do we start?"
I gestured beyond the bushes.
"I thought we could start by talking to the people in the park. People here do nothing but talk all day. That's why they come out here: to hear the latest gossip, and make up some more."
"Some of them come here to walk and feed the cute little ducks in the pond," Flora pointed out, shyly.
"Those are the worst," was Patsy's reply. "Have you ever listened to these old ladies that stand around feeding ducks? They chatter worse than the ducks do."
I smiled. They were on the wagon. "Which will suit our purpose excellently, my dear friend."
"Quite right, Lilly. So, let's go."
They were already standing from the bench and about to embark on their secret spying mission, when I waved them back.
"Wait! There's something else I've got to tell you."
"What?" Patsy raised an eyebrow. "Does Ella have another suitor? Dear me, that girl is busy these days."
"No, no! It hasn't got anything to do with Ella."
In concise words, I explained to them about the Anti-Suffragist meeting. When I was finished, they were all smiling. Patsy might even have had a demonic glint in her eyes.
"So they don't want anybody to show up, do they?" She asked. "Are afraid of opposition, are they?"
"So it seems," I confirmed, smirking.
"I wonder..." Eve said. "Maybe we should do something about that. What do you think?"
We looked at each other â and smiled again.
"This is getting better and better," Patsy grinned. "Looks like we're going to have a busy morning."
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And.... NEXT CHAPTER: (drumroll) MR RIKKARD AMBROSE!!!
Excited?
Yours Truly
Sir Rob