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‘I said…’ Mr Ambrose hesitated. Then, straightening, he suddenly let go of my hands and glared at me, his cool expression recovered. ‘I said bring me file 35X119.’
He turned on his heel and marched into his office, slamming the door behind him.
Luckily, fetching files is not really an intellectually taxing task. If it had been, I would have had enormous difficulties completing the day’s work.
I was just about to leave my office at the end of the day when the door to Mr Ambrose’s office opened, and I caught a glimpse of his dark, ramrod-straight silhouette in the doorway.
‘Would you mind stepping into my office for a moment, Mr Linton?’
Oh, we are back to ‘Mister,’ are we?
Well, I wasn’t exactly sure I had heard right that time he’d admitted my real gender earlier today, anyway.
‘Yes,’ I said, curtly. ‘I would mind.’
Ha! You see? I can be rude and cold, too; it’s not just you who has that extraordinary ability!
‘Nevertheless,’ he persisted, his dark eyes flashing, ‘I would like it if you came into my office for a moment.’
‘My work hours are over.’
‘Consider it overtime to make up for your tardiness today. Come in. Now!’
From the tone of his voice I knew he would brook no further argument. Sighing, I followed him into his office, where he settled down into his chair and regarded me over top of his steepled fingers.
‘The man who wants to marry you…’ he stated. ‘You don't like him.’
‘Oh boy, I wonder how you figured that out,’ I sighed, rolling my eyes. ‘Sir,’ I tacked on at the end quickly, as his eyes flashed again.
‘You don't want to marry him.’
‘No, I don't, Sir. And?’
‘And nothing.’ He looked down at his papers and waved a hand. ‘You’re dismissed. I hope tomorrow you’ll show a better performance than today. Good day, Mr Linton.’
Bewildered, I left the office. What had that all been about? As hard as I tried, I couldn’t figure out the answer. Neither could I figure out Mr Ambrose himself. Impolite, honourable, ruthless, moral, stingy, randomly considerate - filled with all these contradicting attributes, he was the strangest man I had ever met. Hardly anything like society’s idea of a perfect gentleman, who was supposed to be moderate in all things. And yet, I realized, as I entered the garden through the back door and sneaked into the shed, although he might be the strangest man I had ever met, he was by far not the worst one.
Working for him was certainly not going to be boring. My thoughts strayed to Simmons, locked up in the cellar. Oh no, not boring at all.
Armed with my little clutch purse and parasol, which these days felt more like a disguise than Uncle Bufford’s top hat, I approached the house. To my surprise, my aunt was waiting in the hall, her bony cheeks flushed with excitement.
‘Guess who’s just arrived,’ she whispered so audibly that you could probably hear it three streets away.
Oh no. Not another visit from Lieutenant Ellingham. Please, God! Please let me have at least until tomorrow to recover!
‘Sir Philip!’ She exclaimed, ecstatic with joy, and I had to congratulate God on his ingenuity in giving me what I wanted and still managing to fill the rest of my day with privations to try the soul. ‘He and Ella are in the drawing room[31] right now! I’ve already sent all the others up to their rooms, of course! The two lovebirds must under no circumstances be disturbed.’
‘Certainly,’ I said mechanically. ‘That would be disastrous. After all, it might delay his marriage proposal for another two days or so.’
‘Exactly! That’s exactly my point! So you wouldn’t mind going up to your room now, too, and leaving them undisturbed? For your little sister’s sake?’
‘I’d do anything for my sister,’ I replied, completely truthfully.
‘Good! I have to go now to prepare some snacks in case he stays longer. Be off with you!’
And she hurried into the kitchen.
I sighed. Well, at least I hadn’t been obliged to lie to my aunt again. I would do anything for Ella. Including what I was about to do.
Twirling my parasol like a master swordsman swinging his weapon before a battle, I marched up to the drawing room door and thrust it open.
En Garde,[32] Sir Philip!
Ambrosian Waste Disposal Squad
‘Ah, Sir Philip!’
Both of them looked around as they heard the voice of the unexpected intruder - sweet little me. When Ella realized who it was, I saw startled relief on her face. When Wilkins realized who it was, I saw startled startledness on his face. I marched over to the thin young man with the big ears and more or less shoved my hand into his face, so he was obliged to press a kiss on it.
‘Oh, err… Miss Linton?’
I nodded graciously, and then let him have it.
‘Sir Philip, I’m so delighted to meet you again! I can’t say how happy I am to be able to thank you in person for that wonderful ball you gave the other night! The ballroom looked so beautiful, all those exotic potted plants, and the little table with the exquisite snacks! There was even solid chocolate! Did I tell you that I only had solid chocolate once before? It is one of my favourite things! As I was saying, it was simply wonderful - and I mean the ball, not the chocolate, although that was pretty nice too. Such wonderful decorations, and delightful music, and such incredibly mindless baboons for guests, and the chandeliers glittered so pretty, I thought I might faint!’
Sir Philip stared at me nonplussed. He was probably still trying to figure out how to fit the 'mindless baboons' into the long line of compliments. I wasn’t going to give him enough time for that, though.
‘And the music - It was simply so enchanting! But I already said that, didn’t I? Dear me, my memory sometimes isn’t the best one. You know, Sir Philip, I was particularly impressed with the architecture of your beautiful house. I have always had a passion for architecture,’ I lied smoothly. ‘Can you tell me who was responsible for such a monument to the modern science of building?’
‘I believe a man called Bartley did the main design, Miss…’
‘How wonderful! How interesting. How old is he? Has he designed any other buildings? Where does he live? Does he have any children? Did he design his own home? How long did it take him to build yours? It is so large and majestic, it must have taken him at least five years. I was so impressed by it.’