Chapter 8: 08. Budget Badgering

At precisely two hours, fourteen minutes and fifty-nine seconds after noon the next day, a knock sounded at my uncle's front door.

Leadfield poked his aged head out of the pantry.

'Miss, do you wish me to get the front doo—'

He cut off when I scampered past him. 'Don't worry! I'm already on the way.'

'Miss! You're a young lady of the house. This is highly irregular.'

'I know.' I threw him a grin. 'But if he's got to wait until you are at the door, he'll have a coronary.'

I reached the door. With a sweeping curtsy, I pulled it open. 'Welcome to our humble home, Mr Ambrose.'

'Miss Linton.' Giving me a curt nod, he stepped inside. 'Where will I find the opposing party?'

I buried my elbow in his ribs. 'That's my sister and my friend you're talking about!'

'Exactly. Shall we go? I have a feeling that these negotiations will be difficult, and I would like to finish them as quickly as possible.'

'Why in such a hurry? This a family gathering, not business.'

His little finger twitched back and forth, as if shuddering. 'Exactly.'

I rammed an elbow into his side, harder—then winced, and rubbed my stinging elbow. 'Behave yourself, will you? My little sister is a gentle creature.'

'She is? Excellent. Then she will be easy to manipulate.'

'You know...normal people would refrain from saying such a thing aloud.'

'Which is presumably why you are marrying me.'

Damn him if he wasn't right. There were many things to fear about Mr Ambrose. But deep down I knew that he would always tell the blunt, honest truth. Which was why I was simultaneously looking forward to and feeling scared shitless of this little meeting.

'Please follow me.' With a smile, I directed him down the corridor. The sound of doors flying open came from the other end.

'Is he here?' Ella's excited squeak came from down the hall. 'Is he here?'

'What is that noise?' Mr Ambrose enquired. 'Your pet squirrel?'

I gave him a look. 'My little sister.'

'Ah.'

'He's here! Everyone, he's here!'

A white-golden blur came rushing down the corridor, and, a moment later, something frilly and sisterly slammed into Mr Ambrose—and bounced off. Stumbling back, Ella almost landed on her delicate derrière. I reached out to grab her—but she grabbed hold of Mr Ambrose instead. Grabbed him and hugged him.

Mr Ambrose stiffened.

'Oh, I'm so, so glad to finally meet you! Welcome to the family.'

Mr Ambrose responded with eloquently icy silence. Instead of letting go, Ella just squeezed him harder. Then again, maybe he had frozen her solid with his glare. It was entirely possible.

'Oh, I'm so glad I'll finally have a brother! May I call you Rick?'

More silence. Silence so arctic I looked around for a snowdrift in the corridor. Finally, one word came, falling like an executioner's axe. 'No.'

'Thank you, Rick! I'm so glad to know you!'

I had to admit, I was quite impressed at my little sister's selective deafness. It was a useful skill I should try and emulate.

'What's this mayhem?' came a voice from another room. 'I heard—oh holy moly! He's here, isn't he? He's heeeeere!'

Another female cannonball came shooting out of the drawing room and crashed into Ella and Mr Ambrose, who stayed infuriatingly upright.

'OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod! I can't believe I finally get to meet the man who stole my best friend's heart! Come, come, we have to introduce you to everyone! But then again, to introduce you, I'd first have to know your name yourself...'

She let the sentence trail off suggestively, waiting for his response. Unfortunately, Mr Rikkard Ambrose was completely immune to suggestive trail-offs.

Silence.

'Well, anyway, I'm Eve! I'm Lilly's very best friend! Well, maybe not the very best, but the best that wouldn't stab you with a parasol on sight. If you ever see a big girl coming towards you, about this tall, with a face like a bulldog and fists like a professional boxer, run for your life.'

More silence. A very poignant silence. Cocking his head, Mr Ambrose gazed at her, a wordless challenge in his dark eyes. Eve swallowed.

'Err...Or maybe don't.'

Mr Ambrose nodded.

'Hm. It might be interesting to see who comes out alive.' Suddenly, she frowned, cocking her head. 'Your face looks familiar, somehow. Have we met before?'

I quickly snatched up a nearby newspaper and hid behind its pages. They hadn't met before. Not officially. Not unless you counted Eve and my other friends trying to stage a suffragette demo in Hyde Park, and being summarily shot down by Mr Rikkard Ambrose.

Please, Eve! I prayed. Please be as flighty, easily distracted and forgetful as always!

Mr Ambrose regarded her from cool heights. 'No.'

'Are you sure? I could swear we have been introduced somewhere...'

'No.'

'Oh, forget it, Eve!' Ella clapped her hands excitedly. 'It doesn't matter now, does it? Not now that we're soon to become family! What's your name again? Lilly told me, but I forgot. It was something funny, like Richard Fenrose, or Eckard Amuse, or...'

I dived into my sleeve to stifle a snort. Mr Ambrose fixed her with a glare that should, by all the laws of physics, have turned her into the world's prettiest icicle. A glare that was intended to shrivel her where she stood. 'My name,' he told her, snowflakes dripping from every word, 'is Rikkard Ambrose.'

'Oh, how wonderful!' Once again, she threw her arms around him and gave him a warm, welcoming, sisterly hug. I could hardly keep myself from bursting out laughing at the look of agonized constipation that Mr Ambrose just about managed to keep from his face. 'I'm so happy we're going to be family! But I said that already, didn't I?'

'Indeed. Multiple times.'

'There you go, that just goes to show how happy I am!' She beamed up at him. 'I'm overjoyed my sister has found someone who loves her as much as I do. You do love her, don't you, Mr Ambrose?'

Silence.

A very, very long moment of silence—finally broken by the clearing of the Ambrosian throat.

'I do feel...certain feelings that approach amorous affection towards your sibling, yes.'

'Oh!' Eve cooed in the corner. 'Isn't he cute?'

I nearly choked. And, to judge by the death-stare in Mr Ambrose's eyes, that's what he wished would happen to Eve, too.

'I have not come to exchange banter,' he stated, coolly surveying the two of them. 'I am here to discuss certain matters of importance pertaining to the approaching marriage to be contracted between me and Miss Lillian Linton.'

'Don't you just love the way he talks?' Eve whispered to Ella behind her hand at a perfectly audible level.

Ella nodded vigorously. 'So distinguished. So self-possessed.'

Mr Ambrose's eyes narrowed infinitesimally. 'Three,' he said.

'The way he says that!' Eve shivered. 'No wonder she fell for him! Do you think they've got any more like him where they made him?'

Ella jabbed Eve in the ribs. 'Eve! Control yourself.'

'Yes, yes, I know, but...' Eve gave a dreamy sigh.

'Two,' Mr Ambrose said.

'Why is he counting down?' Eve whispered.

'No idea. Maybe we should ask and—'

'One.'

Without waiting for any reaction, Mr Ambrose marched past the two startled ladies.

'W-where is he going?' Eve demanded.

I glanced after him, a loving smile playing around my lips. 'I assume he's gone in search of someone who can communicate in short sentences composed mainly of monosyllabic words to plan the wedding with.'

'But...but the only person like that in this house is Uncle Bufford!'

'Yes.'

Ella paled, abject horror written all over her face.

'He's going to try to plan your wedding together with Uncle Bufford?'

'Apparently.'

'Move!' Grabbing Eve and me by the hands, Ella dashed after Mr Ambrose. 'This is an emergency! Mr Ambrose! Mr Ambrose, don't go! I've got things to discuss with you!'

He was already halfway up the stairs by the time she caught up with him. Leaping forward, she clung to his arm like a limpet.

'Won't you come down into the drawing room, Mr Ambrose? You can sit down there and make yourself comfortable and...'

'No.'

'Well, you can also stand, of course, if you prefer. Just come away from those drafty stairs. There's nothing interesting up there. Nothing whatsoever.'

'No?'

'No! Definitely not. Come. Down this way.'

She tugged at him with all her might—and he didn't move an inch. Instead, he turned his head and sent a look my way.

I nodded, and sent an encouraging smile his way.

He responded with an icy stare. Poor man!

With a long-suffering lack of expression on his face, he let himself be led into the drawing room. When Ella tried to pull him to a comfortable sofa, however, he freed himself from her grip and took up a position in a corner of the room, his back to the wall, his intense eyes focused on the two girls eyeing him apprehensively. I could understand their feelings. Seeing him like this, this powerful, beautiful man, there was some small part of me that couldn't help but whisper: Is he really mine? Is this all a dream?

Of course, there was also that other, more prominent part of me, which went: Whoopee! Yes, yes, yessssss! I've got him!

Ella cleared her throat.

'Well. Ehem. Mr...Mr Ambrose. Or may I call you Rick after all, since we're going to be family?'

She gave him a puppy-dog look.

'No.'

'Oh. Um...Ricky?'

'No.'

'Rickard?'

'No.'

'Dick?'

He sent her a look that could kill, skin and deep-freeze all in one go. 'No.'

'Oh. Um. Well...' Ella glanced from left to right, as if she expected help from the stuffy furniture. Then she remembered why we all were here, and brightened again. 'Well, Mr Ambrose, thank you so much for coming. I'm sure Lilly has already told you all about our plans for the wedding. She probably talks about it constantly.'

'No.'

'Oh. Well...do you like what you've been told so far?'

'No.'

'Err...well...' Desperately, Ella looked around for help again. The furniture still wasn't forthcoming, so she threw a desperate look at Eve.

'Can you say anything other than "no"?' my always helpful friend enquired.

Mr Ambrose contemplated this for a long, silent moment. And another. Finally...

'No.'

'Well, that's going to be kind of a problem when you're in front of the altar.'

Silence.

Ella cast me an imploring glance. 'Lilly! You know Mr Ambrose better than any of us. Tell us, what are his thoughts on flowers, lace and church hymns?'

The corners of my mouth twitched. Sauntering over to the closest armchair that offered a good view of the whole performance, I sank down and relaxed. Who knew that wedding planning could be this much fun?

'I can state with a hundred percent certainty that he doesn't have any.'

'Oh.' My sister looked crestfallen.

'Why don't you tell him about all of your ideas?' I suggested, my eyes twinkling innocently. 'I'm sure he'll love them. And if he does have an objection here and there, I'm sure he'll tell you.'

She beamed. 'That's a wonderful idea! What do you say, Mr Ambrose. Would you like to hear our ideas?'

Mr Ambrose opened his mouth. 'N—'

I kicked his shin with loving care.

'—nnyes.'

'Ah!' Eve clapped her hands in delight. 'Wonderful! Fabulous. Now, about the wedding. We were thinking of holding the whole thing in Westminster Abbey—'

'No.'

'—which will be the perfect place, I assure you! If you're concerned about the wedding party, don't be. Of course, only the main part of the wedding will be held at Westminster. For the party, we will rent out a small hotel and—'

'No, you won't.'

'—you're right! We should rent a big one. After all, this will be the wedding of the year! All of London's high society will be there—'

'No!'

'—oh, so you think we should invite people from abroad, too? Spiffing! You're such a generous man! This will be the most fabulous event of the season!'

'No. It won't be.'

'It...won't?' My poor sister looked as shocked as a bunny who found out there wouldn't be any grass in spring.

'No. I have different plans for the wedding.'

Hope flickered to light in my little sister's eyes. If I didn't have to put so much effort into keeping from laughing, I would have felt a stirring of pity.

'You have? You've already planned something particularly romantic?'

'Yes.'

'Aww!' Pressing the tips of her fingers to her cheeks, Ella was hardly able to contain herself. 'That is so sweet! Usually men aren't interested in wedding plans at all. But you've been thinking about it all this time?' She gave the two of us a dreamy look that told me she was already counting nieces and nephews. 'Tell us!'

'Yes, tell us everything!' Eve urged, clapping excitedly. 'Where are you planning to hold the wedding? Scotland? France? Some fancy palace?'

'No. Costerwood Street.'

Ella blinked.

Eve frowned.

They both seemed to be replaying his statement in their heads, checking whether, when they arranged the words in a different order, they could possibly make them sound more romantic. Neither of them seemed to be having much success.

'Err...Costerwood Street? Is that a street in some city?'

'Yes. Here in London.'

'Is there a cathedral there?' Ella enquired hopefully, not quite willing yet to give up her faith in humanity. Poor dear. She was so adorable.

'No. But there is a chapel that, in spite of the street's name, is built out of solid stone and remarkably inexpensive to rent. What's more, a vicar comes along with the chapel. The gentleman seemed to be delighted to perform a service free of charge.'

'But...but...' Ella was ringing her hands now. 'We can't hold the wedding in a chapel! The guests can't possibly fit in there!'

Mr Ambrose flicked his hand dismissively. 'Oh, I'm quite sure that, if we squeeze together, you two will both fit in there.'

'Two? But...but...'

'As for the wedding party, I'm sure you can bring some sandwiches. That will save us a lot of hassle along with the costs of the catering.'

'S-sandwiches...'

Eve stared at him incredulously. Ella looked about ready to faint. I jumped up, preparing to catch her—but she didn't faint. Instead, she did something far, far better. Something I'd never have expected.

She exploded.

'You...you...disgraceful person! You heartless villain! I can't believe I welcomed you into the family!' Blue eyes sparkling with a fire I had never seen before, she marched forward, waving a slender finger in Mr Rikkard Ambrose's stony face. 'A chapel? You are a disgrace to men everywhere in the world! How could you even contemplate doing such a thing to my sister? I thought you loved her! How could you hurt her like that?'

Cocking his head, Mr Ambrose pointed a finger towards where I was standing, grinning like a Cheshire cat. 'Does she look particularly hurt?'

'I don't damn well care what she bloody looks like! She's hurt! Or at least she bloody well ought to be! I've been working my ar— my posterior off to plan the best wedding in the world! And I'm not going to let you march in and ruin everything just because your purse is suffering from constipation!'

Mr Ambrose's eyes narrowed infinitesimally.

'My purse is perfectly fine. I am merely limiting unnecessary expenditures.'

'Unnecessary...' Ella jammed her hands onto her hips. Hell, she was on fire! Suddenly, I was regretting not accepting a few offers of marriage in the past. If she got like this every time I was about to get hitched, I could have gotten some hilarious entertainment over the years! 'Are you even listening to yourself? Unnecessary expenditures! This will be the most important day in her life!'

'No, it won't.'

'What?' Ella's eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets.

'Logically, the most important day of her life must be the day on which she was born. After all, without it, she wouldn't have one.'

'Oh! You...you...man!'

'Thank you for the compliment.'

Eyes blazing, Ella whirled towards me. 'Lilly? Are you sure you want to marry this git?'

I thought about it for a moment. 'Pretty sure,' I finally admitted.

'You could do so much better!'

I sighed. 'I know. But I pity him, you know? He couldn't get on without me. Why, just this morning, he had to dictate several letters to me because he couldn't write them himself.'

'What?' Whirling back towards Mr Ambrose, Ella sent him a look of utter disbelief. 'You can't even read and write? Lilly, what are you doing with this loser?'

'Love,' I sighed with a helpless little shrug. 'You can't escape it, no matter how much you might want to.'

Mr Ambrose sent me a look. One of his special 'you're-going-to-pay-for-that-later' looks.

I winked and sent him back a look back that enquired 'Will I get a discount'?

'Are you sure?' Ella demanded, eyeing Mr Ambrose like a Prince Charming who had just been permanently turned back into a particularly ugly toad. Every single one of her disappointed hopes were clearly visible in her eyes. 'I'm sure Edmund has some very nice gentlemen friends, who would be only too happy to—'

Mr Rikkard Ambrose stepped forward, murder flickering in his eyes.

'That,' he said, every word an icicle, 'will not be necessary.'

'Says you!' Ella shot back. 'I think we should let my sister decide the matter, don't you?'

'No. We should not.'

'What? You...you insolent...!' Fuming, she glanced over at me. 'Did you hear that, Lilly? He wants to order you around!'

'Ah, yes.' I nodded, philosophically. 'He does that all the time.'

'And you let him?'

She stared at me as if I had grown two extra heads. Non-feminist ones.

I shrugged. 'As long as he pays me enough.'

'What?'

'Miss Linton is only jesting.' Hurriedly stepping over towards me, Mr Ambrose's hand closed tightly around my wrist, squeezing. 'I would never pay her!'

'Well, not much,' I allowed, ignoring when he squeezed more tightly. 'He's abominably stingy.'

'Ha, ha, ha.' Mr Ambrose ground out between clenched teeth. 'What a wonderful sense of humour you have, darling.'

I beamed. 'Yes, I do, don't I?' Batting my eyelashes up at him, I patted his cheek with my free hand. Good God, this was funny! Too bad I could only ever plan one wedding in my life. Or...perhaps we could do it a few times more, just for fun?

'So...it was a joke?' Ella enquired, hope shimmering in her eyes again. 'That all was a joke?'

'Oh yes.'

'Thank God!' She breathed a deep sigh of relief. 'I thought he honestly meant to host the wedding in a tiny, run-down chapel in the worst neighbourhood of London.'

'Oh no, he was serious about that,' I hurriedly clarified. 'Just the last bit was a joke.'

'What?'

'No need to be so loud, Ella. I don't really care how big my wedding is, you know. The main thing is that he's there, and I'm there, and you and my friends to share in my special day. That's all I need.'

'But...but...' Ella was wringing her hands now. 'This isn't how your wedding is supposed to happen! You're marrying one of the richest people in Great Britain, and—'

'The richest,' Mr Ambrose was kind enough to correct her. To judge by the look on her face, Ella didn't appreciate his correction. Turning towards me, she fixed a pleading gaze on me, as if begging me to understand.

'Please! Lilly, don't let this happen! You'll regret it later on, I promise!'

'Err...' I scratched my chin. 'Sorry, I'm not exactly sure how to break this to you gently, but...I really do want to marry him.'

'Not that!' She made a dismissive gesture, as if whether or not I married Mr Rikkard Ambrose wasn't even worth thinking about. 'Although I definitely think you could do better. No, I mean don't let that blighter ruin your wedding day!'

'Blighter?' Mr Ambrose enquired, his voice frosty. 'Miss, I don't know whom you think you're talking to, but I'm not in the habit of letting people—'

'Oh, shut up, you!'

He was so taken aback that, against all odds, he actually did. Without wasting another glance on him, Ella turned back towards me and fixed me with that same intense, pleading look.

'I don't care whom you marry tomorrow! Wait, no, of course I care. What I mean is...as long as you're happy with him, I'm happy. It doesn't matter to me if I can't stand him, or if he's a stingy block of ice with the manners of a grumpy walrus! I just want you to be happy with your choice. But the wedding...' She shook her head. 'A wedding is supposed to be special! It's supposed to be the most memorable day in a woman's life!'

'Oh, I'm sure it'll be memorable.'

'I meant memorable because it's beautiful, you nitwit, not because the chapel roof leaks and street gangs are fighting outside in the nearest alley!'

'Oh. You should have clarified.'

'Lilly!' Taking me by both shoulders, Ella shook me. Holy moly, did that girl have some strength in her. 'Don't you understand? This is your wedding. Your wedding!'

'Err...yes, You mentioned that a couple of times already.'

'She's right, you know.' Eve appeared on my other side, her eyes big and sincere. 'If you don't make this day special, you're going to regret it for the rest of your life.'

'You know, I really don't think I will. I don't need much, you know. I—'

'Lilly Linton! I'm one of your best friends, and if I'm going to tell you to regret something for the rest of your life, you had better go and regret it, understand?'

Mr Ambrose chose that moment to intervene. 'Miss Linton is an intelligent, independent young woman. If she does not believe she needs a fancy, expensive wedding, I don't see why—'

'You...!' Whirling around, Ella nearly stabbed him with a finger. 'Don't you ever shut up?'

'Oh, he does,' I told her. 'Frequently.'

'But not now,' Mr Ambrose continued, coolly. 'Not when you are bent on blowing the small matter of formalizing matrimonial relations between me and Miss Linton so wholly out of proportion.'

'Small matter of formalizing matrimonial relations? God! You are impossible! I wish there were someone who could put you in your place!'

As if summoned by magic, a knock came from the door. A moment later, the door swung open, and Leadfield, our arthritic butler, limped into the room.

'Miss Lillian? There are two ladies at the front door who say that you—'

'Yoohoo!' The face of a broadly grinning young woman appeared over the butler's shoulders. She had jet-black hair, forceful features, and a pair of very familiar sea-coloured eyes. 'What is all this shouting about? Is my brother making an arse of himself again?'

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My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

The wedding throng is gathering!

With the apex of this series slowly but surely approaching, I am starting to consider what kind of story to write next. One of the things I've noticed that you, my dear readers, repeatedly mentioned about my writing is that you like my including little historical tidbits. So, I was wondering, should I:

A) write another historical story (maybe in another era), continuing that tradition.

B) do something similar, but with myths in a fantasy story, a bit similar to what Rick Riordan did with Greek myths.

C) go for something completely different. (Please leave suggestions, by all means!)

I anxiously await your feedback :)

Yours Truly

Sir Rob