Chapter 28: 28. The Wonderful Virtues of Women

'Sahib? Sahib? I heard shouts from up here! What is—?' The door flew open, and Karim stormed inside—only to come to an abrupt halt and cover his eyes with both hands. 'Kuthay da puthar!'

'Actually, I'm a human female,' I said, pulling a blanket over me. 'Which, by the way, should have been pretty much evident. I'm not that badly endowed, thank you very much.'

'I humbly beg your pardon, Sahib!' Karim groaned, his eyes still covered, and bowed deeply to the bedside table. 'May my eyes burn! I would never have...if I'd known...!'

'You beg his pardon?' My eyes narrowed. 'Excuse me! Whose bits exactly were you gawking at? Does my dear fiancé have anatomic attributes I haven't noticed so far?'

'Pardon granted, Karim,' Mr Ambrose answered, completely ignoring me. A familiar muscle in his cheek was twitching. 'These are...special circumstances.'

'Yes, Sahib. I heard shouting from upstairs and thought...' He turned his head left and right, apparently convinced he'd be able to detect villainous intruders merely with his finely tuned bodyguard ears. 'Is something wrong?'

'That depends.' Mr Ambrose sent me a look that made me wish for a thicker blanket. Or maybe a rock or two to hide under? 'Would you call the woman you are intending to bind yourself to for life stabbing you in the back "wrong"?'

'Oh, get over yourself!' I waved his words away. 'I was going to tell you. I was just going to wait until you had gotten over the, um...well...'

'...gaggle of prostitutes invading my home?'

'Ah, yes. That.'

'Three prostitutes that you plan to have as your bridesmaids?'

'Um...yes.'

Karim's arms fell limp to his side.

'Three what as what?'

I turned to smile at him. 'Oh yes, I forgot. I believe you already know Carol and Jenny.'

'What? How dare you insinuate such infamy, woman! I would never associate with—'

'Try thinking back a few weeks ago. You know, that time I went to an establishment in the East End and you insisted on coming with me for some reason?'

For someone whose face was as dark as tropical wood and covered eighty per cent in bristly hair, Karim did an impressive job of blushing like a maiden on her wedding night.

'I accompanied you solely to protect you!'

'I'm sure.' I winked at him. 'That's why you ended with those three lovely young ladies. They probably were a danger to me.'

'Sahib!'

'Yes, Karim?'

'Permission to strangle?'

'Not quite yet, Karim.'

I sent the bodyguard a magnificent smile. 'Did I mention that Carol and Jenny will both be needing a date to the wedding?'

Karim's face swiftly changed colour again.

'Enough of this!' Mr Ambrose's cool voice cut through the air. 'We have a much more pressing matter to discuss. Dalgliesh.'

Karim's head jerked around. 'Dalgliesh is here? Allah be prai— um, I mean, horrific! Terrible! What has he done, Sahib?'

'He—'

Mr Ambrose hadn't gotten out more than that one word when a knock came from the door. Roughly half a second later, it popped open, and Amy stuck her head inside.

'Hello, Lilly, I—oh!' A grin spread across her face. The kind of grin only Amy was capable of. 'So sorry to interrupt. I was lookin' for my friend Lilly. I didn't know this was the threesome suite.'

A croak came from Karim's direction.

Sending a meaningful glare Amy's way, I started buttoning up my dress and slipped out of bed. Grabbing his shirt up off the floor, Mr Ambrose followed my example, dressing himself with swift, economical movements.

Amy wiggled her eyebrows. 'Ye needn't do dat on my account. Ye know, ye could make a pretty penny if you ever decided to—'

I moved so fast I probably appeared blurred to any onlooker. My foot came down on hers.

'Not another word!' I hissed. 'The last thing I need is for my future husband to learn about that particular way of making money.'

She dared to send a smirk my way, the dirty little devil! I sincerely pitied any and all gentlemen whom she happened to stumble across on her visit here.

Except for one.

One who could very well take care of himself.

Buttoning the last few buttons of his shirt with a menace that was far too deadly for little bits of metal meant to fasten clothing, Mr Rikkard Ambrose turned towards her and speared her with his gaze. In spite of herself, Amy took a step backwards.

Without turning her head, she asked out of the corner of her mouth, 'Does 'e look at ye like that, too?'

'All the time.'

'And ye're sure ye wanna marry 'im?'

I grinned. 'Quite sure.'

Amy took another precautionary step backwards. 'Oh well. It's your head.'

Mr Rikkard Ambrose stepped forward. 'Miss Weston. I may not have been clear on this point when you first arrived, so let me rectify this right now: where you come from, it may be acceptable to barge into people's private quarters without warning, but here, such behaviour is not acceptable. You may have been invited here by my bride-to-be, but you are staying at my sufferance. So, tell me, Miss Weston—who or what exactly gave you the idea that you may barge into my personal chambers without suffering the consequences?'

Behind Amy, the door creaked open a bit farther, and Adaira stuck her head into the room. 'Oh, that was me.'

'Adaira!'

'Oh, don't give me that look, big brother. I came into your room all the time when you were eight or nine, and trust me, you don't look any more interesting now.'

I discreetly cleared my throat. 'I beg to differ.'

Adaira slipped all the way into the room and grabbed me by the hand. 'Oh, you'll be begging all right—but I think it'll be for mercy, by the end of the day. The vicar is downstairs to discuss the seating order at the wedding. And Mrs Ingleby, Mrs Ritson and Mrs Geoffries just happened to be passing this way on their way to the grocer's which is in the completely opposite direction. Mr Benson has some staff matters to discuss, and—'

'That will have to wait!' Mr Ambrose cut her off. 'We have to discuss plans to—'

All female eyes in the room moved to stare at him. Abruptly, he snapped his mouth shut.

'Plans?' Adaira frowned. 'Since when are you interested in seating plans?'

Mr Ambrose opened his mouth, about to explain to his little sister in clear, precise words all about the dangerous maniac attempting to ruin her best friend's wedding via blackmail—until I stepped on his foot.

'He isn't. Not in the least.' I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively. 'We had some plans of our own, if you understand what I mean.'

'I don't. Or at least I really, really don't want to.' Adaira shuddered. 'You couldn't perchance marry my brother and become my sister without doing any of that with him in the process, could you?'

'Sorry. No chance.'

'Ugh!' She gave another shudder. 'Well, I suppose I'll have to live with it.' Grabbing me by the hand, she started to tug me towards the door. 'But not right now.'

'Adaira!' Stepping forward, Mr Ambrose reached out. 'You can't go out there. Not while...while...'

Our eyes met—his hard, mine pleading. This was our time. Not just mine. Not just his. Ella's. His family's. Even, though the grumpy bristly beard would die a torturous death before admitting it, Karim's. In a way, we all were family. Dalgliesh had no right to intrude on us, no right to throw a shadow over this happy time. Besides...

I was not the kind of woman to let others solve her problems.

Taking one swift step towards me, Mr Rikkard Ambrose grabbed my free hand, and grasped it so tightly not Adaira, not Amy, not anyone had a chance to tear me away. By pure coincidence, the hand he was holding was the one on which I wore my ring.

'Take care.' His voice was as hard as ever—but for once, not cold at all. 'Don't let anything or anyone get in our way.'

His hand squeezed mine, once.

Well...perhaps I would rethink my position. Perhaps, just perhaps, now my problems were our problems.

Warmth spread through my insides. For the very first time I had something I could rely on. Oh, of course, I'd always had Ella. But unfortunately, my little sister's way of dealing with trouble was fainting and hoping the trouble would take pity on her and call for someone with smelling salts before discreetly going away. Not the most efficient way to deal with a megalomaniac tyrant with three whole armies at his command. Mr Rikkard Ambrose on the other hand...

I only had to look into his eyes to know that he would stand by me against anybody.

'Come on, let's go, Lilly! And you there, let go of my sister-in-law-to-be, or I'll tell her about that time when you were seven and a frog hopped into your bathtub.'

Ah. Anybody except his little sister, apparently. Mr Ambrose let go as if my hand were on fire.

'Let's go! The others are waiting. We girls are going to have so much fun! Amy's friends, Jenny and Cora, are so funny!'

She tugged me towards the door. Mr Ambrose looked from me to the door, and then to the window. To the outside, where Dalgliesh was waiting.

'Karim?'

The bodyguard took a step backwards. 'Sahib. You can't mean....'

'Yes.'

'No, please! Sahib, I implore you! By all the merciful—'

His eyes hard and merciless as ice, Mr Rikkard Ambrose gave the order. 'Go with them. Keep watch.'

Karim, face wooden, posture stiff, inclined his head, accepting his doom with the staunch bravery of a true warrior. As Adaira and Amy tugged me out of the room, chattering, he marched after us, striding like a soldier to the guillotine, valiantly facing his fate—until he caught sight of Jenny and Cora at the bottom of the stairs, at which point he jumped behind the nearest column.

'Lilly!'

Patsy beamed up at me. Behind her, Ella, Eve, Flora, Cora and Jenny were waiting. I cocked an eyebrow. 'Are we planning to invade a country?'

Patsy waved my words away. 'Ah, you already you own this place anyway. We'll just have to take care of the occupation and repel any invading armies.'

It said a lot about Patsy that I wasn't entirely sure if she was joking.

The vicar awaited us at the door with a friendly smile. Bowing deeply, he greeted me with an avuncular smile—well, probably. I wasn't quite sure. I supposed, in order to know for certain, I would have had to have an uncle who actually smiled.

'Miss Linton! So nice to see you again. And more of your friends have arrived, apparently?'

'Oh, yes. Reverend, please allow me to introduce you. This is Miss Amy Weston, a dear friend of mine from London, and her friends, Jenny and Cora.

The vicar beamed. 'Delighted to make your acquaintance, ladies!'

Amy blinked. Cora and Jenny took a precautionary step back, as if they expected any moment to be pelted with Bible verses on the whore of Babylon.

''Err...ye are?'

'Of course! Any friends of Miss Linton's are more than welcome in my parish and my church.'

A little elbow-nudge in the ribs sent Amy stumbling forward. 'Amy is going to be my maid of honour,' I informed the vicar with a smile.

Beaming, the vicar clapped his hands. 'How wonderful! We'll have to sit down sometime soon and discuss the details of the wedding. I have a wonderful sermon on marital love prepared, and would love to hear your opinion.'

Amy almost choked on her own spittle. 'I, um...well...'

'She'd be delighted!' Jenny piped up, grinning wickedly.

'Oh yes,' I nodded, deciding I really liked Amy's friends. 'Absolutely delighted.'

A frown spread across Adaira's face. 'But...why would you need her to come by later to discuss the wedding? Isn't that what you're here to do? Benson told me...'

'I, um...' The vicar cleared his throat, his cheeks turning as red as his rose garden. 'I may have been guilty of a slight untruth there.'

Adaira's eyebrows shot up. Amy leaned forward, a grin spreading over her face. 'Ye don't mean to say...ye lied?'

A pained expression spread across the vicar's face. 'That is an extreme way of putting it, but, essentially...yes.'

Amy's grin widened. 'I think I like dis one after all. I might have missed somethin' all these years not going to church.'

The poor reverend coughed, hard. 'Years of not....Miss! You cannot seriously mean...'

'So,' I enquired, stepping on my dear maid of honour's foot. 'If the wedding isn't the true reason why you've come, why exactly are you here?' Worry started to grow in me. Right now, I could imagine only one reason why things might go wrong. A reason with a mane of blonde hair, a steely smile, and lots of muscle at his command. 'What's going on?'

'Well...' The vicar cleared his throat. 'Are you aware of the duties of a vicar, Miss Linton?'

He looked solemn. I considered the question earnestly.

'You are responsible for the spiritual well-being of your congregation and for official events such as marriages, deaths and christenings.'

'Well, err...yes.' The poor man was shifting and wriggling like a worm caught in the claws of a bird of prey. What was the matter? I wasn't that intimidating, was I? 'That and...in the spirit of Christianity, the clergy is responsible for the welfare of the poor, and for, um...reminding the more wealthy members of society of their charitable duties as Christians.'

Slowly, things started to come together. A grin spread over my face. This had nothing to do with Dalgliesh. This was a hundred times worse, and a million times better.

'Oh, of course! You've come to see my husband-to-be and ask him for a charitable contribution. Very commendable. Let me call Benson to show you up to Mr Ambrose and—'

'No!' I had never in my life seen anyone shake his head so fast without it toppling off in the process. 'So kind of you to offer, but, no. I, err....I'm afraid I have already attempted to approach Lord Ambrose regarding this matter once since he arrived, and...' The clergyman shuddered. 'Let's just say it did not go as I hoped.'

Oh dear. I exchanged a quick look with Adaira. 'What did he say?'

'He did not say anything, Miss Linton. Having announced the reason for my visit to the butler, I did not get any farther than the hallway. But Lord Ambrose sent down a message for me. A rather...forceful message.'

Delivered by a certain bearded heathen, most likely. I could hardly keep myself from grinning. 'I bet he did.'

'Pardon my asking, but...your future husband is not a very fervent supporter of good causes, is he?'

'Of course he is!'

'He is?' The vicar's face brightened.

'Oh yes. He just has a slightly definition of what constitutes a "good cause"—i.e., anything that fattens his wallet.'

'Ah. Um.' He cleared his throat. 'That is regrettable. I had hoped...that is...There are some sections of the village, especially the outlying tenant cottages belonging to the estate, that are in severe disrepair. I've been writing to London for years, trying to get the attention of the lord of the manor and draw his attention to the problems on his property, but...'

'Let me guess. You never received a reply.'

'Err, yes I did. Once. Someone sent back an invoice for seven pounds twelve shillings, for administrative fees.'

He looked around, as if expecting incredulity.

'Lucky you.' Adaira patted his shoulder. 'You got off cheaply.'

The vicar looked pained. 'So, you see, Miss Linton, if I were to go up there now and renew my request for charitable donations...'

'You will be swiftly donated out of the window.'

'Quite possibly. But...but...' The poor man was ringing his hands by now. 'That would mean that...that...' Lowering his voice, he leaned closer. '...that Mr Ambrose is not a charitable man!'

Adaira and I exchanged a look.

'Yes?' We both said at about the same time.

'Surely, that cannot be true!' His imploring eyes turned to me. 'Surely, as the woman who loves him, you must know that deep down underneath his, um, rather cool exterior beats a heart of gold, right?'

His voice was filled with desperate hope.

'A heart of gold? Err...well, yes. One in a cast-iron safe, guarded by a platoon of bank guards and man-eating hounds.'

The reverend gazed around at us one after the other, waiting for someone to start laughing at my joke. When nobody did, he pulled himself to his full height of about five feet.

'No. No, I just can't believe that. Deep down, I'm sure Lord Ambrose has a generous, giving heart, like all good Christian folk.'

I had a sudden, violent coughing fit. For some reason, it sounded a bit similar to laughter.

'Miss Linton! Miss Linton. Are you all right?'

'Ehem. Yes. Yes.'

While the vicar patted me on the back, Adaira leaned over towards me and whispered, 'Just checking—to your knowledge, when was the last time my brother entered a church?'

'You mean for a purpose other than to collect rent from God?'

'Yes.'

'My long-term memory isn't quite that long.'

'Thought as much.'

'Are you all right again, Miss Linton?' The vicar stopped patting my back and gazed at me solicitously.

I cleared my throat. 'Yes, thank you.'

'Well, then I'll be on my way upstairs.' The vicar gave me a weak smile and his shoulders slumped. 'I just wanted to ask, do you have any suggestions on how best to approach Mr Ambrose about a charity request?'

Adaira and I exchanged another look. My hand shot out, fastening around the vicar's wrist, the very moment that Adaira grabbed hold of his other arm. Some people just had to be stopped from committing suicide.

'Err...how about this, Reverend. Why don't you come with me into the village and show me what is amiss?'

The clergyman's face brightened. 'Really? You would do that?'

'Of course!'

'God bless you, Miss Linton! You are a true Christian.'

'Err...thanks.'

'But...' He hesitated. 'I'm not sure whether I can take advantage of you like this. The areas we would have to visit...well, let's just say, they have been neglected for some time. I wouldn't be comfortable with a lady entering those places, with only my feeble self for protection. Perhaps I should speak to your fiancé after all—'

'She won't be alone.' At the feeling of a parasol poking him in the back, the vicar yelped and whirled around—only see Patsy looking at him with a look of determination. 'We'll be with her.'

'As will I,' said a familiar voice from behind me. Whirling back around, the vicar came face to beard with Karim.

'Oh. Um...it's you, Sir. How, errr...reassuring.'

'Well, hello there.' Narrowing her eyes, Patsy took a step forward, her gaze fixed on Karim. 'We meet again.'

Karim raised an eyebrow. 'To meet someone, they would have to be worthy of your notice.' Without waiting for an answer, he turned back to the vicar and grabbed him by the collar. 'I have heard all that you said, priest!'

'Y-yes?'

'You conspired to rob the Sahib of his wealth, and now you intend to put the Sahiba in harm's way.'

'Let me assure you, Mr...Sir...'

'Karim,' I supplied, feeling helpful. But not helpful enough to detach Karim's big fist from the man's collar.

'Let me assure you, Mr Karim—'

'No. Let me assure you.' Leaning forward, Karim brought his face on one level with the vicar's. 'If any of the disreputable characters you are in contact with harms so much as one hair on the Sahiba's head, you will regret it for the rest of your very short life. I will make you wish you'd never had been born.'

Pushing him aside—or at least trying to—Patsy stepped forward. 'Don't get your turban in a twist, big fellow. We'll be there. We'll protect her.' She threw a glance at her suffragette squad. 'Right, ladies?'

Everyone was quick to assure her that they would defend me to the death from thieves, robbers, murderers and cutthroats.

'Cutthroats?' The vicar's eyes widened. 'Ladies, ladies! You have a totally wrong impression of where I am taking you! There are no murderers among my congregation?'

Amy's eyes narrowed. 'So what are we dealin' with, den? Pimps 'n' rapists?'

The poor vicar's legs gave out from under him.

'Come on, Vicar!' Grabbing him by the arm, Adaira pulled him up, and Ella grabbed the other side with considerably more gentleness. 'Let's go do some good deeds.'

'And kick some pimp arse!' Amy added.

The poor reverend shook his head. 'I must be dreaming. I must have fallen asleep in the curricle on the way to the manor and must be having a nightmare.'

'Don't you worry.' Patsy patted his hand. 'We'll protect you, too.'

'And we,' Amy purred, sidling up behind Karim with a wicked grin, 'will protect ye.'

Making a desperate noise, Karim tried to evade to the left—only to have his other arm be grabbed by Jenny. 'Indeed we will.'

Patting the squirming bodyguard on the back, I pushed open the door, revealing the way to the village.

'Let's go do some charity, shall we?'

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My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

I beg your pardon for the slightly belated chapter today. I'm afraid I overslept, and am currently very glad I do not work for Mr Ambrose or I would be fired like an exploding volcano right now ;)

Yours Truly

Sir Rob

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GLOSSARY:

Kuthay da puthar - Son of a dog.