Breathing in deeply, I learned against the closest wall, rubbing my knuckles while I listened to the sound of hurried footsteps fading in the distance. A minute or so later, I heard someone approaching outside. The door was pushed open, and Ella stuck her head inside. 'Is everything all right, Lill?'
'Everything is perfect,' I breathed slowly unclenching my fists and examining my precious engagement ring for damage. Nothing. Good. 'Just peachy.'
'Really? Because I heard a really strange noise from in here, like a beast snarling.'
Well, well. Compliments in the morning are always nice. 'You don't say?'
'Yes, and then three men came running out of here as if the hounds of hell were on their heels.' She glanced around from left to right. 'Do you think it was one of those two big dogs? I'm sure they're really big softies inside, but they do look a bit intimidating, don't they? You don't think those poor men were attacked by them?'
Stepping forward, shook my head. 'I don't really think the dogs will be a problem.' Cracking my knuckles, I walked past her, outside, towards where Mr Ambrose was. Time to get some answers. 'But I have a feeling someone will soon be ravaged by a beast.'
'Oh dear! You think?'
'Yes.'
'What can we do?'
'Nothing. This beast has an iron determination.' My eyes found Mr Rikkard Ambrose and narrowed. 'The victim is already as good as dead.'
'Goodness gracious!'
'Why don't you go fetch a few bandages, Ella?'
'Yes, of course! I'll go and ask the butler right away.'
She dashed off, eager to help. And as for me...
I marched towards Mr Rikkard Ambrose. A few feet away from him, I came to a stop and raised a threatening finger straight at his chest. 'You...you...!'
To his left and right, two low growls began to rise. I looked down at the two beasties standing on either side of him, like a pair of very furry, very long-teethed guardian devils. My eyes narrowed even further.
'Shoo!'
The growling cut off instantly. The two dogs exchanged a look. Then, tucking their tails between their legs, they scampered off after Ella.
Wise decision. I took another step towards Mr Ambrose and, hastily, Karim stepped in my way.
'Sahiba, I don't know what has upset you so, but I am sure the problem can be resolved amicably, without resorting toâ'
I cut him off with a look. Yet still, he stood in my way, blocking my path to Mr Ambrose.
Hm...how to get past him?
Oh well, it couldn't hurt to try, could it?
'Shoo?' I said, experimentally.
An indistinct noise came from the back of Karim's throat. His face darkened, and his eyes almost bugged out of his sockets. To judge by his expression, yes, it could hurt to try. It could hurt a bloody lot once he got over his shock and ripped his sabre from its sheath to extract revenge.
Well, I'd best not stand around and wait, then. Using his distraction, I reached past him and grabbed Mr Rikkard Ambrose by the arm.
'You!' I hissed. 'You're coming with me! And don't even think of resisting!'
I tugged and, amazingly, he followed without a word of protest. I dragged him into the front hall and slammed the front door shut behind us. Gesturing all around at the splendour-filled gigantic home, I pinned him to the spot with a death-glare.
'What is this place?'
He gazed back at me, as innocent as an iceberg about to crash into a passenger ship. And in that regard, I was speaking from experience.
'Pardon me, Miss Linton? What do you mean? This is my home, and soon, I hope it shall be yours forever, so we can lead a happy and peaceful lifeâ'
Just then, a door to the back of the hall opened with a bang and three removal men marched out, carrying a giant box marked 'Chippendale Commode, Mrs. Valeria Gastrell, Northumberland Avenue 17, London.'
I followed them with my eyes until they had vanished through the front door, then re-focused my gaze on Mr Ambrose.
'Try again.'
Silence.
A silence which spoke very, very loudly.
My gaze started to move around the hall, and the gears in my brain started turning. I turned from left to right, for the first time really noticing how much valuable furniture and paintings and statues were scattered throughout the room. Much too much. It was almost as if they were on display, as if...
My gaze flicked back to Mr Rikkard Ambrose.
'No.'
'Pardon, Miss Linton?'
'No. Not even you would do what I think you've done!'
'Indeed?'
I raised an accusing finger and jabbed it into his chest.
'You...you...have you brought me to celebrate my wedding in your furniture warehouse?'
He moved both shoulders exactly half a millimetre up, then down. Rikkard Ambrose's version of a shrug. 'Storage space in the city is expensive.'
A knock came from the door. Just as I whirled around, it opened and a completely strange lady stuck her head in.
'Err...is the shop open?'
I jabbed a finger at her. 'Out!'
Yelping, she retreated and let the door slam shut behind me. I turned back to Mr Ambrose. 'Let me correct myself. Combined warehouse and store. What in the name of your bollocks, which I assume you'd like to keep intact, is this place?' Reaching up, I almost speared his nose with my outstretched finger. 'I. Want. The. Truth!'
Mr Rikkard Ambrose cocked his head, gazing down at my outstretched finger as if it were an annoying fly. 'You summed it up quite admirably, Miss Linton. This is a combined warehouse and store. As I said, real estate in the city is expensive. Also taking into account that most of the affluent people live in the outskirts of the city in any case, I came to the conclusion that the ideal placement for a combined store and show house of luxury furniture would be in the countryside not too far away from London. When an estate became available in the vicinity of the city, it seem like the perfect location.'
Breathing heavily, I stepped closer. 'And then you also concluded that a glorified warehouse would be the perfect location for our wedding.'
He nodded, seeming gratified that I had finally understood. 'Exactly.'
I gazed up at his cold, immovable face, not for the first time asking myself what stupid cupid had bad enough aim to make me fall in love with such a monumental miser. Without knowing why or how, a smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
Damn, Lilly! You just can't help yourself, can you?
Crap! No, I couldn't. I loved him, the ice-cold idiot. I needed him. And, more importantly right now, he needed me. Urgently.
I raised an eyebrow.
'And what do you think Patsy and Adaira will say once the baggage is unloaded, and they come in here and find out the truth about what this place is?'
He considered for a moment. 'They will be impressed by my good sense and thriftiness?'
Reaching up, I patted his cheek. 'Go on dreaming if it makes you happy.'
Stepping towards me, into me, he grabbed my face and bent down until his eyes were level with mine. His voice sank until it was just a low growl. 'I don't care what they say. I don't care what they think. The only woman's opinion that matters to me, Miss Linton, is yours.'
Sliding my arms around his neck, I placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. 'That's both incredibly chauvinistic and incredibly sweet.' Grabbing the hair at the back of his neck, I held fast and bored deep into his eyes with mine. 'But don't you think you'll get out of this with a few smooth words! I am not going to get married in your own personal version of Harrods!'
'You're not?'
'No!'
'Why not, pray?'
'Because...because...'
I opened and closed my mouth once or twice, waiting for a brilliant argument to come. I knew there had to be one. Somewhere, there was an important reason and...and...
And I couldn't think of it.
Blast!
'Because I'm just not! That's it!'
'Ah.'
'Don't give me that look!'
'Look, Miss Linton?'
'That "WARNING! Hysterical female"-look!' Taking a firmer hold of the back of his neck, I dragged him down for a kiss. 'This is too important for you to not take me seriously,' I breathed against his mouth. 'This is our wedding. This is our home.' I gazed up at him with fiery determination. 'Or at least it will be once I am finished with it.'
He looked down at me and I saw weariness flicker in the depths of his cold eyes.
'I know that look. Whatever it is you are planning to do, Miss LintonâI forbid it!'
A broad grin spread over my face.
***
'Ouch!'
The last removal man landed in the gravel in front of the front door, rubbing his maltreated backside. Scrambling to get away, he glared up at me.
'There wasn't no need for that, lady!'
'Agreed.' Nodding, I stepped outside, hammer and nails in hand. 'You could have just left when I asked you the first time, instead of ignoring me.'
'But my orders saidâ'
'And now you have new ones,' I cut him off. Reaching into my purse, I threw the man a shilling. 'For your trouble. Leave.'
He opened his mouth to argueâthen glanced down at the shilling, shrugged, and scampered away. Raising my hammer, I stepped up to the front door and, two nails between my lips, raised the sign Benson the Butler had kindly helped me prepare. With determination, I started hammering. Due to the noise, I didn't notice anyone approach until someone touched my shoulder.
'Ah! Ouch!' Dropping the hammer, I whirled around, sticking my suddenly throbbing thumb in my mouth. 'God, Flora! Warn a girl next time you sneak up on her while she's using a hammer, will you?'
'Err...yes, of course.' Flora's gaze nervously flickered between me, the sign on the door, and the rest of the wedding party, who were still standing around the coaches, chatting and grabbing their luggage. She gestured to the sign.
'Err...is there something I should know?'
I turned to the piece of wood on which, in big black letters, stood the words: CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE!
'Oh.' I waved it away. 'That doesn't apply to you.'
'Ah.' Her shoulders sagged in reliefâthen her brow furrowed. 'Then to whom does itâ'
Hurriedly, I pushed the door open and manoeuvred her inside. 'Go in, will you? I'm sure Benson will find a room for you. I'll see if I can find the rest of the servants to unload the coach. The others have been waiting long enough.'
Gesturing to the others around the coach, I called: 'Please come in and make yourself comfortable in the foyer. Sorry that there are no servants to help you with the luggage. There has been, um...a slight mix-up with the telegram announcing our arrival.' The mix-up being that a certain stone-headed son of a bachelor didn't send a telegram in the first place. 'I'll see what I can do about getting the servants to unload the coach.'
'Servants? Codswallop! Who needs servants? We're women!' Patsy clapped her hands together. 'We can carry our own luggage!' And with that, she tugged two massive trunks from the roof of the coach and, hefting them onto her shoulders, marched towards the house. My aunt and sisters stared after her, eyes wideâand, to my considerable amusement, so did Karim.
'Err...' Flora cleared her throat. 'I think I'd rather wait for the footmen.'
'I'll be right back with them. Don't you worry!'
Marching back inside, I strode across the entrance hall and looked around. Hm...where would be a likely spot for the servants' quarters?
My eyes settled on the simplest, least ostentatious door and I started forward. Behind it, I'd either find the servants quarters, or Mr Rikkard Ambrose's personal chambers. Either way, it would be a win.
'Hello?'
Cautiously, I knocked on the first door. The only response silence.
So, either no one is in, or Mr Ambrose is.
Cracking the door open, I peeked insideâand found nothing but a bare room with a few crates piled up in the corner.
Ah, so it is Mr Rikkard Ambrose's quarters?
Hm. No, probably not. The stench of money in the air was missing.
This definitely looked like a room that would be assigned to a servant. But it looked as if it hadn't been lived in for years. Frowning, I moved onto the next room. It was just as empty, except a scribbled message on the wall, declaring 'Jim loves Macy!', surrounded by a big heart in faded red chalk.
Definitely not Mr Rikkard Ambrose's room.
But...could it be the servants' quarters? I checked several more rooms, but there was no one in sight. Wherever the servants were, it was clear that it was high time someone took this place in hand! It was time to assume my role as lady of the house. After all, I was a modern woman. No one said I couldn't be both a career woman and the terror of the household staff.
Marching back out into the corridor, I walked until I had found a room with a bellpull. Striding up to the thing, I tugged, hard. The bell echoed through the entire house, and I stood, waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Oh dear. When the housekeeper came, I'd have a thing or two to say to her. So far, I was not impressed.
I didn't have to wait for much longer. After a few minutes, sedate footsteps approached, and a door opened to reveal the marvellously stiff-upper-lipped figure of Benson the butler.
'Ah, hello Benson.' I smiled at the butler, apparently the only reliable member of the household staff. No matter how many others I had to fire, I already knew I would keep him on. 'I was expecting the housekeeper. Where is she?'
Benson made a delicate noise in the back of his throat. 'To my utmost regret I must admit that she resigned a while ago, Miss, due to unsatisfactory remuneration.'
It took a few moments for my mental gears to start working and shift and process his Butlerian speech.
Translation: my fiancé is a skinflint.
Oh, well. I suppose I should have expected something like this. This wasn't a normal manor house, after all. Would Mr Ambrose really have kept on a full staff?
'All right. Then may I speak to the cook, please?'
The man cleared his throat again. 'She, um, resigned Miss. Due to unsatisfactory remuneration.'
I felt a tingle at the back of my neck. No. It couldn't be, could it? Not even Mr Rikkard Ambrose would...
'A head footman, then? A chambermaid? A scullery maid, if she's not too busy scrubbing pots?'
'They resigned, Miss, due toâ'
I held up a hand. 'I think I can guess.'
Silence.
A long, meaningful, silence.
'Benson?'
'Yes, My Lady?'
'Is there any staff at all left in this place?'
'Except for the removal men you so eloquently deposited on their posteriors, My Lady? No.'
I felt a strong urge to pull my hair out. Or, better yet, pull Mr Ambrose's hair out. One at a time. And then strap him to a table and torture him with a feather, a bucket full of ice water and a corkscrew. I took a deep breath.
'Why did you stay, then?' I demanded. 'If everyone else left because they didn't get paid, why would the butler stay?'
A bit of red tinged the old gentleman's face.
'I, um...am not the butler, Miss.'
I blinked. 'You're not?'
'No. I, um...was a footman in the service of Lady Magnolia Vincent, at her estate about a dozen miles west of here. But then the lady decided I was too old for being a footman, and she wanted someone young and spry to carry her luggage. So she made use of her prerogative to end my employment, Miss.'
'The old witch!'
'I would perhaps not express it quite as strongly, Miss, but you succinctly expressed my thoughts on the matter.'
'So what happened then?' I asked, eying him with interest.
'Well...I wandered for several miles, without the slightest idea what to do. At my age I was never going to find another position. Then I came across this place, and, well...' The red in his cheeks intensified. It looked rather cute, like a little shrivelled apple still hanging on its tree in fall. 'There were lots of empty rooms, and in one I found an empty butler's uniform. No one seemed to mind my staying as long as I didn't ask for pay. Some of the wealthier ladies and gentlemen who came to buy items of furniture sometimes gave me tips for opening doors or fetching things. I get by. Mr Ambrose has generously permitted my presence.'
'What you mean is that Mr Ambrose has generously permitted you to work for him for free!'
'Well, um...yes, Miss.'
I cracked my knuckles. 'Benson?'
'Yes, Miss?'
'Consider yourself hired! You are now officially declared the butler.'
All the colour that had tinged the old gentleman's cheeks vanished in one swoop.
'B-butler?'
He spoke the word with the same reverence normal people would reserve for 'king', or 'revered sovereign of the universe'. And well...in a way, that wasn't too far off. The butler was the king of the servants, just as the housekeeper was the queen. For me to make him butler meant that every other servant would now have to answer to him.
If there were other servants, that is.
One thing after another, Lilly.
Benson raised a trembling hand. 'I hardly dare ask, Miss,' he whispered. 'I do by no means wish to appear grasping. But, as a butler, shall I receive w...wa...'
'Of course you'll get wages!'
'But what about Mr Ambroâ'
'You,' I cut him off with a grim smile, 'just leave Mr Ambrose to me.'
The old gentleman's hands trembled with excitement as he clutched them together. 'God be praised, a miracle!'
One corner of my mouth quirked up. 'Not quite. Just a Lilly.' Extending my hand, I gave the old gentleman's shoulder a gentle squeeze. 'You, Sir, may now consider yourself the official butler of...of... what is this place called again?'
The colour returned to Benson's cheeks. 'Um, I believe the "Ambrose Emporium for Fine Furniture", Miss.'
The two of us exchanged a look.
'Oh, hell no,' I said.
He nodded gravely. 'I'm afraid so, My Lady.'
'That will have to go. Agreed?'
'Very much so, My Lady.'
'I can already see that you, my friend, will make an excellent butler.'
The newly appointed butler gazed at me with thinly disguised adoration. 'My sincerest gratitude, My Lady. God bless you!' He bowed so deeply he almost keeled over. 'I am at your service.'
'Excellent.' I rubbed my hands together, smiling. So, I had been upgraded from Miss to My Lady, had I? A good omen. 'Because I have lots of services for you to perform.'
'I shall do my utmost, My Lady.' A somewhat pained look flickered on his face for a moment. 'But I'm afraid I'm only one old man.'
'Your very first task,' I told him, 'will take care of that little problem.'
His eyes went wide. 'You don't mean...'
'Yes, Benson. Go out and tell the big fellow in the turban to get the coach ready. We're going to the village!'
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My dear Lords, Ladies, and Gentlemen,
And, do you think this "manor" fits Mr Rikkard Ambrose? You are welcome to visit, and you will only be obliged to spend a few thousand pounds sterling... ;-)
Yours Truly
Sir Rob
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GLOSSARY:
Harrods - One of the oldest and most famous British department stores, founded in the Victorian age and still open and running today.