Chapter 16: 16. Happy Family Reunion

'Oh, my goodness! Look, Miss, look!'

Leaning forward, I glanced out of the window, following the pointing finger of my new lady's maid, trembling with excitement.

'Oh. Um...yes. A cow. Eating grass.'

'Ain't this exciting?' Vinnie sighed, pressing her hands against her chest as if she were about to faint. 'And—oh! There's another! And another! Three 'ole cows!'

'Vinnie?'

'Yes, Miss?'

'You haven't ever been out of London before, have you?'

''ow did ye know?'

'Just a guess.'

Settling back in my seat, I let my gaze drift around the coach. To be honest, I could hardly contain my own disbelief and excitement. My heart was pounding in my throat, threatening to jump out at any moment. But my excitement wasn't directed at the three cows peacefully munching grass.

It's going to happen. It's really, actually going to happen.

Reaching down, I touched the engagement ring on three of my biggest fingers, just to be sure.

I'm going to get married. I'm going to get married to Mr Rikkard Ambrose.

Looking up, I glanced over to the corner where Mr Ambrose was sitting, his knees bent at a perfect ninety-degree angle, his back ramrod straight, stoic suffering at the merriment that surrounded him shining through the icy mask that was his face.

And then I'm going to make his life a blissfully chaotic hell.

Smiling, I glanced down at my copy of the Lady Gwyneth B. Patterson's Guide for Young Married Ladies. It had proven a really helpful book. Between it's thick pages, it was easy to conceal the bright brochure I had been working on. The Women's Foundation for Suffrage and Equal Rights, founded by Lady Lillian Ambrose. Stand up and live your dream! Hm...not a bad slogan. Apparently, my brief stint in advertising hadn't been a wasted effort.

'Aww! You're already putting effort into preparing yourself?'

Leaning over, Lady Samantha beamed at me.

Snapping the book shut just in time to conceal the draft of the 'Self-defense for beginners' section, I gave her back a wide smile.

'Err, um...yes, definitely!'

Lady Samantha's smile widened even more. Reaching over, she squeezed my hand.

'Such a lovely girl you are. I'm so happy to know you're going to be part of the family, dear,' she said, as her eyes screamed: Relieved! I'm bloody relieved! I thought he'd end up as a hermit! May I kiss your feet in thanks and put up statues in your honour?

'So am I.' I gave her a one-armed hug, while with the other hand shoving the book under my seat. 'I couldn't imagine a family I'd rather belong to.'

'I was so sorry to hear that your brother couldn't make it,' Lady Samantha sighed, then threw her son a disapproving look. 'If only someone didn't send him off on some supposedly urgent business.'

Mr Ambrose sent his mother a cool stare.

'It was business with the Bank of England, Mother.'

'And that's supposed to be more important than his own sister's wedding?' She sniffed. 'It'll be your fault if he cannot walk his sister down the aisle.'

'Somehow,' Mr Ambrose said, his icy gaze swinging to me, pinning me to the seat while I tried to look very, very female indeed, 'I highly doubt that.'

'Who knows...' A devil dancing in her eyes, Adaira leaned forward. 'He might make it after all. Wouldn't that be fun?'

'No!' Mr Ambrose bit out.

'Rikkard Ambrose!' Lady Samantha gazed at her son like a wounded mama bear. 'How could you say such a thing? Are you completely devoid of feeling?'

He considered the question for a moment.

'Yes.'

The marchioness opened her mouth to reply something—then shut it again. Clearly fighting against all her motherly instincts but compelled by duty, she turned to me, a pained expression on her face.

'Lilly, dear...are you sure you want to marry him?'

'Quite sure.'

'Hm' Tugging at her skirts, Lady Samantha sat up straighter and threw her son another look. 'Well, I for my part, as soon as we've arrived wherever it is we're being whisked off to, am going to send a letter to Mister Linton inviting him to come. Keeping him from being at his own sister's wedding—that's just not done! He should be there to walk you down the aisle.'

'Oh yes.' The little devil in Adaira's eyes was now jumping up and down, waving victory flags. 'Wouldn't that be sweet? That's something I'd just love to see.'

Under cover of my voluminous petticoats, I kicked her in the shins.

'Don't worry. I'm sure my uncle Bufford will be happy to oblige.'

'You are?'

'Oh yes.' I grinned. 'He just loves giving things away.'

'I'm so happy to hear he's enthusiastic!'

Oh, I don't know if 'enthusiastic' is the right word...

***

I knocked at the room to Uncle Bufford's combined office and hidden treasure hoard.

'Uncle? May I come in?'

'Depends,' came a familiar gruff voice from inside. 'Do you want something?'

'Yes.'

'Then scram.'

I considered my options for a moment. As far as I could see, there were just two:

1. Tell my uncle that I was going to marry the love of my life and wanted him there beside me on the happiest day of my life.

2. Bribe the old grizzly bear.

I made my decision.

'I've changed my mind,' I called through the door. 'I want to bribe you.'

'Well, why didn't you say so at once, girl? Get in here!'

Uncle Bufford was sitting in his usual massive armchair behind the desk. The only thing that had changed in the room since last I'd been there was that the piles of money had grown considerably bigger.

I held out my hand to my uncle, displaying my engagement ring.

'I'm getting married, Uncle.'

'I heard.' He studied my hand, and one bushy eyebrow rose. 'Is that a curtain ring?'

I should probably have tried to protest the opposite. Instead, I grinned like a Cheshire cat.

'You're the first one to actually ask that question,' I admitted with a snicker. 'All the others just get odd looks on their faces and squint, trying to figure out if something is wrong with their eyes.'

'Hm. So, is it?'

'Yes.'

He gave a nod. 'I knew I liked your man. Smart fellow. No sense in wasting money on a ring you're only going to wear for a few weeks anyway, right? A very smart fellow indeed.'

'A recommendation like that from you should probably send me running in the opposite direction.'

A few bristles of beard lifted somewhere in the mass of grey. A smile? An actual smile?

'Probably.'

There was a moment of silence. Then...

'So, girl, what do you want from me?'

I gave him a look. Uncle Bufford was many things, but stupid he was not. 'It's a wedding, Uncle. Family attendance is customary.'

He considered this. 'There's plenty of family downstairs. I can loan as many of them to you as you want. I won't even charge much.'

'I want you to come.'

'What the...? Have you lost your mind, girl?'

'I want you to give me away.'

'Hm. I guess that answers that question.'

I took a step forward. 'I'm perfectly serious, Uncle.'

His sharp eyes rose from the pile of money he was currently counting to focus on me. 'I can see that. What I can't figure out is why. Why would anyone in their right mind possibly want me at their wedding?'

'Because,' I said and stepped forward. Ignoring every propriety drilled into me since the moment I'd entered this house, I reached across the desk and touched his bristly cheek. He looked down at my hand as if it were a particularly gruesome tarantula. 'Because I want one member of my family besides Ella there who cares about what kind of man I marry, not just how fat his purse or how long his list of titles is.'

Holding my uncle's startled gaze for a long moment, I stood there—then stepped back and grinned. 'And because this might be a great business opportunity for you.'

Clearing his throat, he sat up straight in his chair and sent a glare my way. I lowered my eyes demurely. After all, I clearly deserved his ire. How dare I be nice to him and say friendly things for no good reason? Things like this were simply not done in good old England!

'A great business opportunity, you say? Explain?'

'Well, you know my fiancé...'

'Yes?'

'The one with hundreds of factories, trading routes stretching all over the world, and lots more money than you?'

My dear uncle's eyes narrowed. 'Yes, girl. Get to the point.'

'His wedding won't just be a wedding,' I told him, crossing my fingers behind my back. 'Can you imagine a man like that would pass up an opportunity to invite all his most important business partners and further his interests? Lots of important men from all walks of life will be there.'

If you define 'lots' as one, that is.

'Hm.' Leaning back in his chair, he stroked his beard. 'That's all you have to offer? What was that earlier you said about a bribe?'

Smiling, I leaned forward and put my hands on his desk. 'That is the bribe, dear Uncle. Come to my wedding. Be nice. Or at least pretend for a while. Soon, I'll be the wife of the richest man in the British Empire. I'll have more power and influence than you ever will. I can make life very easy for you—or very difficult, depending on your choice. Choose wisely.'

His eyes narrowing again, he steepled his fingers.

'You,' he said, 'have become a wicked, devious woman.'

Grinning unashamedly, I nodded. 'Yes.'

'Hm. I knew there was a reason I liked you.'

My heart leapt.

'So you'll come?'

'Don't let it go to your head.'

Heedless of the mountainous piles of money in the way, I threw myself forward and hugged the grim old grizzly bear. 'Thank you! Thank you, thank you so much!'

'Release me at once, girl! This is unseemly!'

'Yes! That's why it's so much fun!' I squeezed a little harder and pressed a kiss on his balding head—then let go. Clearing his throat, he straightened his collar and glared up at me.

'When will we be leaving for this wedding of yours? I warn you, my calendar is quite full. I cannot possibly be away from London before the fourteenth of—'

'Today.'

'Pardon me?'

'Right now, to be exact.' I gave him what I hoped was an enchanting smile. 'The coach is waiting downstairs.'

***

'I'm so happy to hear your uncle will be there for you.' Lady Samantha beamed—but then, her face fell. 'But since we're on the subject of relatives, where is your aunt?'

'Oh, she's in the other coach.' I grinned, allowing myself a brief flash of evil glee. 'With my uncle, my twin sisters, and my best friend, Patsy.'

'How sweet! You have the most delightful friends, my dear. Keeping an old lady company out of the goodness of their heart...' She leaned closer, and lowered her voice so as to signal to everybody she was talking about something worth overhearing. 'Are any of them perchance married?'

I felt my grin widen. 'As a matter of fact, no, they aren't.'

'You don't say.' Her eyes gleamed like those of a shark on the hunt. A tiny, older and really pink shark. 'Um...Lilly, dear?'

'Yes?'

'You wouldn't mind my inviting a few young gentlemen acquaintances of mine to your wedding, would you?'

'Yes,' Mr Ambrose cut in, his voice a blade of ice. 'I would.'

I turned to gaze at him, my eyes widened in faux surprise. 'Dear me. I wasn't aware your name was Lilly, too. Thanks for letting me know. It'll come in handy when we exchange wedding vows.'

'You have to have men at your wedding, Rick,' his mother admonished him. 'At least one.'

'No, I don't.'

'Then who will be your best man?'

'Karim.'

Her ladyship looked aghast as only a proper, English marchioness could. 'You can't have your bodyguard be your best man, standing beside you at your wedding!'

'Why not? He's already paid to stand beside me anyway.'

'Well...because...because...'

Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly, without any words coming out.

'I must admit, I sort of like the idea.' I grinned. 'Remember that old tradition where the best man has to stand in, in case something unforeseen happens to the groom? If you get cold feet at the last minute, I'll at least have Karim's horrified facial expression to look forward to. I can hear his screams already. I wonder how fast he'll run.'

Mr Rikkard Ambrose sent me a look across the coach that made heat rise inside me, and made Adaira lean out of the window, pretending to vomit.

'I assure you, Miss Linton, that will not happen. There will be no running—on anybody's part.'

'Dear Mr Ambrose...was that a threat?'

'Yes.'

Sighing, I pressed a hand to my chest. 'You really know how to charm your way into a girl's heart.'

Leaning over, Lady Samantha tugged on my sleeve, whispering out of the corner of her mouth, 'Are you really, really sure?'

I smiled.

'Definitely.'

***

The journey passed in a breeze. The weather was beautiful, the air fresh, and, except for that one disagreeable human icicle in the corner, the company was delightful. The landscape was a sight to behold. We had long left behind simple cows, and now the endless rolling hills outside the window were decorated with grass-nibbling sheep. That wasn't the only beautiful marvel we got to see, either.

"Oh look, Miss! Look there! A hedgehog! A real hedgehog!"

"Yes. Right beside a hedge. How extraordinary."

"Exactly! Oh, Miss, thank you so much for taking me along on this wonderful trip! Thank you so much!"

My new lady's maid turned out to be quite enthusiastic at times. It should probably have started to get on my nerves at some point. But, getting to see Mr Ambrose in the corner, snapping his watch open and shut every five minutes with a new glare at her she didn't even notice, I couldn't help but enjoy the ride to the fullest. Hedgehogs were great! Long live hedgehogs!

However, as we rolled down the road, getting closer to our goal with every passing minute, slowly my joy started to ebb, replaced by growing nervousness. No matter how much I tried to concentrate on the hedgehogs, birds and butterflies, or on Vinnie's endless stream of innocent questions, one question kept pounding in my mind, over and over again.

A manor? He has an actual manor?

I still couldn't quite comprehend it. Mr Rikkard Ambrose owning a house? One not filled with busy worker bees, but actually reserved for such an extravagant activity as living? And not just any old kind of house, but a manor in the middle of a sprawling rural estate?

I just couldn't quite picture it. But then again...

Maybe that was a good thing.

If I really tried to picture the kind of 'manor' that might be in the possession of Mr Rikkard Ambrose, my imaginings wouldn't be, well, ehem...

Ding-Dong...

Good Morning, Miss Linton. Welcome to Mr Ambrose's manor. I'm the butler. Don't worry about my transparency, I died at the ripe age of ninety-two, and Mr Ambrose graciously agreed to keep me on in my previous position if I agreed to forgo my wages. Please, follow me—oh, careful! Don't step on that loose floorboard. It's not all that solid since the rot has settled in. Besides, the creak may wake the ghouls in the cellar. Now, let me show you to your room. They're at the very top of the house, right next to our resident madwoman in the attic...

Yeah. Just like that.

'Oh, Miss, look! Look!'

I was abruptly startled from my thoughts, which, considering where those thoughts were leading, was probably a good thing. Looking up, I saw Vinnie jumping up from her seat and hurling herself forward. It looked like she wanted to throw herself out of the window, but, knowing her, she probably just wanted to have a closer look. Lunging forward, I grabbed hold of the back of her dress, I was just about able to prevent her from nose-diving onto the road. Completely unaware, the young girl gestured at a wooden street sign rapidly rushing closer.

'Look, Miss! There!'

I looked.

'Err... Mr Ambrose?' Pulling Vinnie back into the carriage with me, I glanced at my dear employer. 'What did you say again is the name of the village where your house is built?'

Mr Ambrose sacrificed a precious moment of his time to glance up from the business documents he was studying. 'I didn't say.'

My eyes narrowed. 'And if you were to say?' And be careful with your answer if you don't want to spend your wedding night reading all three volumes of 'The Hunchback of Notre Dame'!

A moment of silence.

'Then, it would be Collundale.'

'Ah.' I nodded. In my chest, my heart was doing a fast tap-dance. 'That's what I thought.'

Swallowing, I glanced out of the window at the sign again.

Collundale – 10 Miles

Ten miles. Just ten miles. So close.

'And, um...this estate of yours...'

'Yes?'

'What state of repair would you say it is in, exactly?'

He considered the question for a moment.

'Adequate.'

I closed my eyes, resisting the urge to punch his nose in. 'Bloody hell!'

'What did you say, Miss Linton?'

'Nothing, nothing.'

Adequate. That was Mr Ambrose's word for everything from stupendous to horrendous. But, let's think about who we are dealing with here, for a moment. This was the kind of man who was so stingy even the rats in the cellar of Empire House had gone on strike and left in protest. What state would his house be in?

I'll give you three guesses.

Follow me up the stairs, Miss, please. Don't mind the holes in the floor. That's how the bats find their way out of the flooded cellar. We wouldn't want the little darlings to be locked in, now would we? Now, this is your room. That charming little compost heap in the corner is your bed. You'll just have to convince the rooster to move.

I cleared my throat. 'How often have you stayed there during recent years, exactly?'

'I stay there quite often, Miss Linton.'

'Ah. And, um...have you ever had to entertain guests there?'

A moment of silence. Then...

'No.'

'Ah.'

And just look at those curtains, will you? Beautiful! Admittedly, the old ones weren't bad either, but after they rotted away, the spiders made ones that are at least twice as decorative. One just has to love that fashionable cobweb pattern, don't you agree, Miss?

No. It couldn't be as bad as that. It just couldn't. For one thing, because Mr Ambrose would have long ago chased the spiders away after they refused to pay rent. Besides...he loved me! He wouldn't stuff me into some hovel with no floor and half a rotten roof, would he?

Instinctively, I looked down at my curtain/engagement-ring.

Darn!

'Oh, look! Look, Miss!' Excitedly, Vinnie jabbed her finger out of the window, pointing at another sign. 'Only three miles left!'

'Really? How...fabulous.'

And, Miss, we have the lovely chapel where you'll be married, built in the neo-gothic rotting-ruin style. We brought in tree trunks to serve as pews, and here's a large log for the altar. Isn't it beautiful? So open and airy, especially ever since the roof collapsed. It really adds to the atmosphere.

'There!' Vinnie shouted. 'There, I can see it through the trees! Any moment now—oh.'

I clapped my hands over my eyes.

'I can't look!' With my free hand, I grabbed Adaira's arm. 'Is it as bad as I think it is? Please! Please tell me!'

'Err...' Adaira's voice sounded strangled. 'Well...'

Her voice died away.

'What is it?'

No answer.

'What is it, darn you?'

Still no answer. My heart pounding, I forced the fingers over my eyes to part and, raising my head, gazed out of the window to take my first look at Mr Rikkard Ambrose's manor, and my future home.

At once, I knew what Vinnie's 'oh' had meant.

This wasn't as bad as I had expected.

It was far, far worse.

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My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

Well, what do you think Mr Ambrose's "manor" looks like? Any suggestions? ;)

Yours Truly

Sir Rob