Storm and Silence

Well, there was one way to find out. One way to see whether his earlier doubts about me had been laid to rest.

Swallowing my apprehension, I returned to his office and made a little bow, which he didn’t seem to notice.

‘Letter deposited as ordered, Sir.’

‘I see. Then I have another task for you. I-’

‘Sir?’

He looked up, and I might actually have detected a miniscule morsel of surprise on his face. Surprise that anyone, even such a despicable creature as I, dared to interrupt him.

‘Yes, Mr Linton?’

‘I have a question, Sir.’

Carefully he put down his papers and intertwined his fingers, regarding me over them like a sharpshooter taking aim.

‘Indeed? Well, then fire away.’

I swallowed.

‘Have we found out where the stolen file is, yet, Sir? When are we going after it?’

Mr Ambrose’s intertwined fingers clenched hard.

‘We?’ His cool voice had a dangerous undertone - and overtone and middle tone, if I was being absolutely honest. ‘We have not found anything nor will we find anything, because in we, a you would be included, Mr Linton. And you will have no further part in the search for the missing documents. I thought I already made that abundantly clear.’

This was what I had been afraid of.

‘Not clear enough for me,’ I shot back, matching his cold tone with fire. ‘Why shouldn’t I help?’

‘Because you will only be a liability. Keep to office work, Mr Linton, and leave the darker parts of this life to real men.’

The words hit me like a fist in the stomach. I didn’t know exactly why - I mean, he was right, of course, that underneath the trousers I was still absolutely female. It wasn’t the words so much as the way he said them - real men, as if men were something special, something stronger, something better than women.

So this was how things stood. Nothing had changed. He was prepared to keep me, to let me work for him, but not as he would let another work for him. He was being charitable to the poor, mad girl who wanted to earn a living. Rage welled up inside of me!

‘There is no need to concern yourself in any case,’ he continued. ‘Clues have been discovered as to the whereabouts of the mastermind behind the theft. Warren and his men are out on the streets searching for his hideout as we speak. They will soon discover it and this will be taken care of.’

‘Why won’t you let me help?’ I demanded. ‘You did last time, in the search for Simmons.’

‘That was different.’

‘Different how?’

His eyes took on a whole different level of coldness. They seemed to be staring off into icy distances, over the endless expanse of the Arctic, or some similarly desolate place I couldn’t even imagine.

‘That, Mr Linton, was before I found out who is behind this.’

‘Well, who is it then? Who is this mystery man you are so scared of?’

His eyes snapped back from the distance onto me, flashing.

‘I am not scared, Mr Linton. I am cautions. There is a difference.’

I bit back a comment. Men and their egos. ‘Very well, then. Who is this man you are so cautious of?’

Silence.

‘Why won’t you tell me?’ My voice grew louder as my anger rose.

Silence.

‘Will you at least tell me what’s in this file that is worth killing for?’

Silence.

‘Will you tell me anything at all?’

Silence. Really extraordinary silent silence.

He sat there, glowering, and I stood in front of him, fuming. How quickly things had turned from a relatively companionable work mood into a fierce battle.

‘Um… excuse me?’

Both our heads jerked towards the door. We had been so consumed by our argument that neither of us had noticed how Mr Stone had poked his head into the room. He was nervously playing with his bow tie, his eyes flicking from one of us to the other.

‘I am deeply sorry to disturb you, Mr Ambrose,’ he hastened to assure his employer, ‘only I needed to deliver this memorandum.’ He held up a piece of paper. ‘I knocked twice, but you probably did not hear me over all the… err… shouting.’

‘Well, don't just stand there like an ape, man, give it to me!’ Mr Ambrose snapped, his voice not so devoid of emotion as usual. Mr Stone rushed forward, deposited the memorandum on his master’s desk and got out of the danger zone as quickly as possible. The door fell shut behind him.

‘Why can’t you accept me?’ Strangely, my voice was soft now. Soft and muted. ‘Why can’t you let me do the work that needs to be done, whether harmless or dangerous?’

He met my eyes without flinching.

‘You know why.’

‘Because I am a lady?’

Silence.

‘Talk to me!’

Silence.

‘The search for the file…’ I began again, but a raised hand from Mr Ambrose stopped me in mid-sentence.

‘You want to work for me?’ he snapped. ‘Really, seriously work for me? All right. If it’s work you want, it’s work you’re going to get. Bring me file 38XI201.’

‘The search…’

‘I said bring me file 38XI201!’

What could I do? He was my employer, it was his prerogative to tell me what to do. Honestly, I wondered as I went searching for the appropriate box, maybe Ella and I should just move into the workhouse voluntarily. Surely, the tyranny of the workhouse foreman and the tyranny of Mr Ambrose would be much the same?

Well, I was wrong about that. As I was about to find out, the tyranny of Mr Rikkard Ambrose could be much, much worse.

‘Bring me file 38XI205! Take this note to stone! Hurry! Here, the safe key! Go and fetch the steam engine model from the safe. No, not that one, the one with two pistons and the larger exhaust outlet. Move faster! If you dawdle so much you’ll never get your work done. Where is that file?’

That’s how it went on all day. He harried me like a pack of vengeful harpies, chasing me from this task to that, and when that was done to these and those and numerous others. It wasn’t long until my feet began to ache and I had numerous paper cuts on my fingers from hastily leafing through files. When I got bloodstains on one of them, he accused me of wilfully damaging company material and ordered me to stop bleeding.