Storm and Silence

He could not have pleased my aunt more if he had asked whether he should gift her with the largest diamond in his jewel collection. To be introduced into the highest of London’s high society, and by a member of the nobility no less, and with all her six expensive, unwanted and unmarried nieces in tow to show off to the rich bachelors of the metropole - it was every one of her dreams come true at once.

She concealed her rapture well, however, and simply curtsied, saying: ‘It would be my pleasure, Sir Philip.’

‘Excellent! Then follow me, please.’

Accompanied by a swarm of servants, which I soon gave up trying to number, we were led across the ballroom to a large group of people talking and laughing in quiet tones. They were rich, stinking rich, every single one of them. I immediately disliked them. They apparently, on beholding the makeshift ball gowns of my sisters and me, shared that feeling. Wilkins didn’t seem to notice how they looked at us with their aristocratic nostrils instead of their eyes. He rushed forward and launched into a veritable storm of introductions. It wasn’t long till I had forgotten half the names he had mentioned. There were some dukes and duchesses, various lords, and finally an untold number of misters and madams. None of them particularly aroused my interest, except for an older woman whom Wilkins introduced as Lady Metcalf. I tried to remember where I had heard the name before - then I had it!

‘We have a mutual acquaintance, your Ladyship,’ I said, curtsying.

‘Do we really?’ She stared at me with her nostrils like all the other ones - only in her case the nostrils were particularly impressive: large, weathered and with little hairs sticking out at the bottom that vibrated whenever she sniffed in disdain. As she did now.

‘Yes, we do,’ I replied, plastering a huge smile on my face. ‘Miss Patsy Cusack. She told me about your very encouraging reaction to her organization of the women’s rights movement. Have you received Patsy’s answer yet?’

Lady Metcalf turned puce - whether from embarrassment, or anger, or simply because she liked to do that now and again, I didn’t know. I was putting my money on the second option, though. Before she could say anything, Sir Philip had whisked us off to meet the next Mr Somethingorother.

I was beginning to dread that he planned to introduce us to every last person in the ballroom, just to have the opportunity to be by Ella’s side for another minute or two. The way he looked at her left no doubt as to how he was feeling. As to her feelings, I wasn’t quite so sure. She said little and blushed a lot - but then, she always did that. It was impossible to determine what she thought of him and his elephant ears.

Anne and Maria’s feelings, on the other hand, were quite easily discernible. They had arrived here fully expecting to bask in Sir Philip’s admiration for the entire evening, only to be upstaged by their little sister. They looked ready to devour Ella alive. And she, sweet thing that she was, didn’t even notice.

‘… and this is Colonel Remington. Colonel Remington, may I introduce-’

Just as the Colonel bowed stiffly, his waxed upturned moustache making him look like he was trying to impale something on a fork, a gong sounded from the other side of the room and Sir Philip clapped his hands.

‘Ah! The musicians have arrived. That was the signal from my master of ceremonies. The first dance will begin soon.’

Oops! Quickly I retreated a few steps, to the very back on the group. Luckily, my aunt didn’t notice. I had to suppress the urge to turn and run. Dancing was most definitely not my forte. Not that the idea of rhythmically moving to music was so uncongenial to me, no, that wasn’t it. It was this business about having to dance in pairs - with a man, whom you were supposed to follow! That was not how I envisioned spending my evenings, thank you very much.

Now if one could discuss the way to move during a dance beforehand, on an equal footing with your partner, then democratically decide on a certain pattern, and then execute it, that would be a different matter entirely. But apparently nobody had ever thought of creating a dance like that.

I positioned myself out of sight, behind the bulk of a conveniently fat duchess. From my vantage point I could just see Wilkins bowing to Ella.

‘Miss Ella,’ he said, his lips pulling into what he probably thought was an enchanting smile. ‘Will you do me the honour of granting me your hand for the first dance?’

This was simply too much for Maria to bear.

‘I am not sure whether that would be congenial to my dear sister,’ she said, sourly. ‘This is her first night out, you see, Sir Philip, and she might not be prepared to take such a big step as opening the ball.’

‘Her first night out?’ Sir Philip brightened. ‘All the more reason to make it a special night for her! If you have no objections, Miss Ella?’

Ella, who would not in her wildest dreams have dared to object to anything proposed by a knight of the British Empire, gave a shaky little nod and placed her hand in Sir Philip's. They went off, leaving a fuming pair of twins behind them.

I grinned and quickly ducked down behind the fat duchess when my aunt turned her head in my direction, her eyes searching.

‘Lillian? Lillian, where are you?’

Thinking it unwise to respond to her question, I made my way instead to the side of the room where, behind a few extravagant tropical plants in pots, refreshment tables had been set up and chairs placed. Flopping down on one, I sighed and congratulated myself on my lucky escape. The music for the first dance had already begun to play. For now, I was saved from the mating rituals of high society.

My eyes floated to the refreshment table next to me and saw there something very agreeable - a plate of, if I was not mistaken, the same curious solid chocolate substance that Eve had brought along with her the other day in the park. What had she called it again? Ah yes, a chocolate bar. I took one and bit off a piece.

Aaaaah. This stuff was bliss. It seemed to fill me with peace and shoo all my worries away for a little while. The fellow who invented this should really be included in the next year’s honours list. It showed that men were good for something after all.

Chewing my chocolate bar, I watched the dances from the shadow of the potted plants. Ella seemed to be doing well, if only because, unlike me, she had no problems being steered around by a man. Anne and Maria were dancing considerably less elegantly, watching their little sister with envy instead of their own feet with care. My aunt was happy in the arms of a portly admiral. Even when the first dance ended, she didn’t come to look for me, preferring rather to watch Ella and Sir Philip. It looked like for the moment I was safe. Maybe I wouldn’t need to stab anyone with a fan after all.