When I woke the next morning, I fervently hoped that last night had been a nightmare. But when I saw Ella’s red-rimmed eyes, I knew that was wishful thinking.

Last night had been true. My sister was going to elope - and not even with a romantic rake of a Scottish laird or something similarly adventurous, but with the tradesman’s son next door. I wasn’t sure what trade his father actually practised. I thought I had heard somewhere that he was a piano tuner.

Sadly, I shook my head. Constantly going around making sure that everywhere you went things sounded the same had to be about the dullest occupation there was. His son didn’t seem a lot more exciting to me, generally speaking. All right, he was a nice enough fellow, for a man, but still, nothing to write home about. And he was the man for whom my sister would lose her honour.

Now don't get the wrong impression - I wasn’t all too keen on honour and virtue myself. If you’re willing to walk around in men’s clothes to work for a living, you have to be able to bend a few social norms and customs. I myself wouldn’t mind getting a few stains on my non-existent good reputation. But I knew that Ella would mind. Very much so, in fact.

Maybe she loved this man enough to run away with him and be happy. But she also would be sad on a deeper level, a level she wouldn’t let anybody see. It would break her heart to disappoint her aunt, silly, compassionate soul that my little sister was. This solution would make Edmund happy - but it would save Ella from one misery only to plunge her into another.

Unless, that is, I could prevent it.

Full of purpose I jumped out of bed. This was no time to dawdle! My sister’s happiness was at stake, and I only had one day to take action before I had to go back to slave for Mr Ambrose. Quickly, I dressed - or as quickly as I could, considering the multitude of petticoats I had to put on - and slipped out of the house without anybody noticing. It was Sunday, and after the tiring dance the other night, the household was sure to sleep long and not notice my absence.

As I ran down the street, the beginnings of various plans were already forming in my mind. Somehow I had to get rid of Wilkins. That was the heart of the matter. No Wilkins meant no threat of marriage, no threat of marriage meant no elopement, no elopement meant no unhappy Ella.

For a moment I considered carrying out Edmund’s plan - getting hold of a pistol and just shooting the blasted Wilkins. Yet I discounted that for various reasons. Firstly, wanting to marry my sister was, according to the laws of England, not yet a crime that deserved the death penalty; secondly, I didn’t have money for a gun; and thirdly, even if I did, I would most likely miss.

Hmm… That last bit will have to be rectified in the not-too-distant future. Now that you are regularly running around in men’s clothes you might as well claim male privileges, such as shooting anybody whose face you didn’t like.

Back to planning… how to get rid of Wilkins without shooting him?

By the time I had reached Green Park I had hit on quite a promising idea.

I needed only to find out something, something strange or disreputable or otherwise horrible about Wilkins, which could be revealed to my aunt. With her snobbish ways, she would cut off the connection faster than you could say Jack Robinson. I had no doubt there was something to Sir Philip’s detriment that could be discovered. An over-romanticised, flower-fanatical guffin like he was bound to have some skeletons hidden in his closet.

And I knew exactly who could help me find some of those.

I raced through Green Park, people right and left throwing me disapproving looks. I was running far faster than was seemly for a young lady; that was clear for all the world to read on their faces. But in the distance I could see three figures who did not look disapproving. On the contrary, they looked delighted to see me, waving at me energetically. One of them nearly brained a passing gentleman with her parasol.

Unable to stifle a grin in spite of how worried I was, I picked up my pace. It had been ages since I last saw all my friends together, and now I needed them more than ever. They would be my company of spies, who would help me find a chink in Sir Philip’s armour. They would help me save Ella.

And in spite of my private troubles, I had not forgotten the original reason because of which I had called them together: the anti-suffragist meeting which was soon to take place here in London. With these two topics, we were sure to have more than enough to talk about.

I came to a stop only a few yards away from them, gasping for breath.

‘Listen,’ I said. ‘I… I have something really important to tell you. I have-’

‘So it’s true?’ Eve demanded, skipping forward eagerly. ‘You do have a lover?’

I blinked at her, taken aback.

‘What?’

‘I knew it I knew it I knew it I knew it!’ Eve started a little dance around me that would have been more fitting for a Cherokee medicine man than for a proper young English lady. Some part of my mind wondered how the heck she was managing those acrobatics with a hoop skirt on. Most of my mind, however, was wondering what the heck she had been talking about.

‘I knew it was true the minute Patsy told us what Ella had told her,’ she babbled, and it all became clear to me.

The ball. Patsy grilling Ella for information, and Ella spouting out the ridiculous excuses I had told her.

No. Oh please, God, no! Don’t let Patsy have told everyone!

As usual, God didn’t listen.

‘Flora didn’t believe it, but I knew right away it was true. You were away all the time last week and not one of us had the slightest idea where you had disappeared to and oh isn’t this exciting, girls? Lilly has found herself a man! You must tell us all about him!’

‘Well, really I came to talk about something el-’ I began, but that was about as far as I got.

‘Is he tall?’ Eve demanded. She had stopped dancing around me and was now bobbing up and down in front of me like an overexcited puppy. ‘Is he handsome? Is he rich? Will you marry him and go live on a vast estate in the country somewhere?’

‘Eve!’ I said, shocked. ‘Where’s your pride as an independent woman?’

‘Right here,’ she said, indicating her head. ‘Now will you tell me whether he’s rich and handsome?’

‘Look,’ I said, crossing my arms defiantly, ‘this isn’t what I came here to talk about!’

‘Too bad.’ Patsy grinned at me over tiny Eve’s head. ‘Because it’s apparently what you’re going to have to talk about.’

‘But-’

‘What’s his name?’ Eve interrupted me eagerly. ‘Does he live in London? Well of course he does, or you wouldn’t have been gone all that time. You were with him, weren’t you? Were you two up to anything, you know… special?’

She winked, and then winked a couple of times more in case I hadn’t gotten it. I had, and so apparently had everybody else in the vicinity. The looks from passers-by had become a good deal more disapproving.

I would have to stop this. Ella I could deal with, but these three were of another calibre entirely. I would have to placate them somehow. Inspiration struck me!

‘I haven’t got a lover, all right?’ I hissed. ‘Now stop it, you’re making people stare.’

‘Oh.’ Eve stopped bobbing up and down, obviously deflated. ‘But… but Patsy said…’

‘Patsy said what Ella told her.’

‘And what you told Ella wasn’t one hundred per cent true?’ Patsy guessed, her grin having widened after a momentary flicker.

‘Actually,’ I corrected, ‘it’s not even one per cent true. But I couldn’t correct Ella at the time. She mustn’t know.’

‘So what is it you have been up to these last few weeks?’ Patsy sounded quite demanding, and when Patsy Cusack demanded, you didn’t deny her. She might be inclined to back up her demands with a swipe of her mighty parasol, the destroyer of worlds.

‘You mustn’t tell a soul,’ I whispered, grabbing the three of them by the arms and dragging them away from the people in the park, who were still muttering about loose morals in this modern age and unladylike behaviour. ‘Especially not Ella. She mustn’t know what I’m doing.’

We ended up by the same bench behind the discreet clump of bushes where we had sat before. It was our favourite spot. Nobody ever bothered us there.

‘So it has something to do with Ella?’ Eve enquired eagerly, sitting down beside me, her disappointment at my lack of romantic entanglements already forgotten. ‘What you’ve been doing all this time, I mean?’

‘Yes, very much so. She’s in danger.’

All their faces became more serious instantly, especially Flora's. They all liked Ella, and Flora recognized in her something like a kindred spirit, somebody so gentle and meek she made a dove look like a hunting hawk in comparison.

‘Explain,’ she said in a quiet voice, regarding me with large eyes full of worry.

‘Well…’ I bit my lip, thinking. ‘I’m not quite sure how to explain. Um… do you know a Sir Philip Wilkins?’

Patsy snorted. ‘What? That flower-obsessed nincompoop?’

Surprised, I turned towards her. I hadn’t actually expected any of my friends to know him. Just like me, they weren’t all that fond of male society.

‘You know him, Patsy?’

‘Sure I do! About a year back I met him at a ball. He started showering me with flowers and calling me stuff like “Delight of my heart” and “Summer Rose” and worse things I wouldn’t want to repeat with ladies present. I made it quite clear that I didn’t appreciate such behaviour.’

For a moment I wondered how Patsy had made herself 'quite clear'. Then, looking at her big, meaty fists I thought it best to stop wondering.

‘Well,’ I continued, ‘it’s him that Ella is in danger from.’

Patsy stared at me, her face blank.

‘You’re joking.’

‘No, I’m not.’

‘What has he done? Threatened her with a bouquet of tulips or something?’

‘Worse. He wants to marry her.’

Patsy barked a laugh. ‘So he’s up to his old tricks again. Well, what a terrible danger!’

She stopped laughing when she saw the look on mine and Flora’s faces.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, pulling her face into the best imitation of contriteness that was possible for Patsy. ‘He’s really after her?’

‘With a vengeance,’ I affirmed. ‘And tons of green stuff.’

‘But I really don't see the problem,’ Patsy mused, frowning. ‘He’s after her. So what? Why doesn't she just say no?’ I opened my mouth to answer, but she had already held up her hand, understanding flashing in her eyes. ‘Don’t bother, forget I said that. I forgot it was Ella we were talking about.’

‘It… it isn’t always easy to say “no” when people want something from you,’ Flora interposed. ‘Especially men.’

‘I beg to differ,’ Patsy said, firmly. ‘It’s very easy indeed. But I admit there are those unfortunates who don't seem to have understood that fact yet.’

‘So if she won’t say no to him what happens now?’ Eve asked. ‘Will that mean she’ll have to marry him and have a whole lot of babies and grow fat and mopy because she really wanted to do something else with her life but she never said it out loud and so she’ll die a tragic death from sadness and nobody will know why?’

‘Well…’ I said, carefully, ‘I was hoping to avoid that kind of thing. I spent the last few weeks trying to find a way out for her.’

‘Daft of you not to ask us,’ Patsy said with her typical talent for delicacy. ‘It’s always better to have help.’

‘I didn’t want to burden you with my problems.’ I lowered my head. That much was actually true.

‘That’s what friends are for, you dolt! You have to burden them with all kinds of problems, so they can unload their misery on you in return.’

Looking up again, I gave them a tentative smile. ‘I’ll remember that in future, Patsy. Will you still help me?’

They all nodded - Eve about three times as fast as the others and Flora rather hesitantly, but they all nodded.

‘So what should we do?’ Patsy lifted her parasol and let it smack several times into her palm. A thug with an iron crowbar could not have looked more threatening. ‘Do you think I should have a talk with this Sir Philip Wilkins? Just him and me and my parasol?’

If only things could be so simple. Shaking my head regretfully, I said: ‘I’m afraid that wouldn’t be a good solution. Wilkins always has heaps of servants around him wherever he goes, except in ballrooms. And you can’t just haul off and let him have it in the middle of a ballroom. Besides, I think your mother got suspicious after that incident with Mr Wright last summer. I don't think she entirely believed your story about your parasol having been chewed up by a rabid spaniel.’

Patsy shrugged. ‘Yes, but the man lived. So even if she had found out, it wouldn’t have been that serious.’

‘But don't you see,’ I insisted, ‘in this case, in Ella’s case, nobody must even suspect, let alone find out for certain, that I had a hand in this matter. Either my aunt or Wilkins must drop the acquaintance of the other of their own accord. If we were involved in the matter, Ella would feel mortified to find out what you were doing! She might marry the fellow just to prove it wasn’t necessary and show everyone what a good, sweet girl she is.’

Slowly, Patsy nodded, though she still looked regretfully at her parasol.

‘I see what you mean. If anybody could be that silly, she could.’

With indignation I crossed my arms in front of my chest. ‘My sister is not silly!’

Patsy gave me a searching gaze. I relented.

‘Well, maybe a tiny little bit. But it’s not nice to say it.’

‘I’m not known for being nice. That’s why I’ll never have to worry about an unwanted matrimonial arrangement.’ She thought for a moment. ‘So what are you going to do if you’re not going to act directly?’ she finally enquired.

‘Well, I had an idea. Listen.’

I explained. At first they looked doubtful, but by the time I was finished Patsy was nodding thoughtfully.

‘It’s not a bad idea. A fellow like Wilkins has got to have something about him that would make him an undesirable son-in-law. And your aunt is the biggest snob in the world.’

‘Thank you very much.’

‘You’re welcome. So, where do we start?’

I gestured beyond the bushes.

‘I thought we could start by talking to the people in the park. People here do nothing but talk all day. That’s why they come out here: to hear the latest gossip and make up some more.’

‘Some of them come here to walk and feed the cute little ducks in the pond,’ Flora pointed out shyly.

‘Those are the worst,’ was Patsy’s reply. ‘Have you ever listened to those old ladies who stand around feeding ducks? They chatter worse than the ducks do.’

I smiled. They were on the wagon. ‘Which will suit our purpose excellently, my dear friend.’

‘Quite right, Lilly. So, let’s go!’

They were already standing from the bench and about to embark on their secret spying mission when I waved them back.

‘Wait! There’s something else I’ve got to tell you.’

‘What?’ Patsy raised an eyebrow. ‘Does Ella have another suitor? Dear me, that girl is busy these days.’

‘No, no! It hasn't got anything to do with Ella.’

In concise words, I explained to them about the anti-suffragist meeting. By the time I was finished they were all smiling. Patsy might even have had a demonic glint in her eyes.

‘So they don't want anybody to show up, do they?’ she asked. ‘Afraid of opposition, are they?’

‘So it seems,’ I confirmed, smirking.

‘I wonder…’ Eve said. ‘Maybe we should do something about that. What do you think?’

We looked at each other - and smiled again.

‘This is getting better and better,’ Patsy grinned. ‘Looks like we’re going to have a busy morning.’

*~*~**~*~*

My spies on their secret mission were less successful than I had hoped.

‘Nothing!’ Frustrated, Patsy stamped towards me, one hand on her hip, one stabbing her parasol into the air as if she could stab the unobliging passers-by who hadn’t been able to offer any useful gossip about Sir Philip. ‘They told me nothing! And I bet they knew at least something about him worth knowing, something really bad. They looked frightened when I brought the subject up and kept looking from left to right in a very shifty way.’

‘That might have been because you stared at them like an inquisitor in a hoop skirt,’ Eve pointed out. ‘You should have been more relaxed and easy-going, and everything would have been worked wonderfully! I met some people who were quite eager to talk, actually, and we conversed about him for a long time.’

‘Really? And what did you learn?’ I asked eagerly.

‘That… he is rich, has a long nose and is fond of flowers.’

‘What blasted good will that do? We already knew that!’

‘Yes, well… I suppose we did.’

‘Let’s face it, girls,’ Patsy said gloomily, slumping down on the bench again. ‘The chap has a clean slate. An abnormally long nose and a flower fixation are hardly grounds on which one can convince an aunt to reject an affluent nephew-in-law.’

‘So what does that mean, Patsy?’ Eve wanted to know.

Patsy shrugged miserably. ‘It means that Ella is doomed to a life of matrimonial misery, doesn't it, Lilly?’

When I didn’t answer, all of them looked up at me. They had all settled on the bench again by now. Only I was still standing, looking down at their inquiring faces.

‘Doesn’t it?’ Patsy repeated.

I thought of Ella on her knees in the garden, weeping, accepting Edmund’s proposition to run away.

‘Actually, it means something much worse,’ I said, darkly.

‘Oh my God!’ Eve clapped a hand over her mouth and stared at me wide-eyed. ‘She’s not going to poison him, is she? Arsenic in his bacon and eggs, right after the marriage?’

‘Eve!’

‘Sorry! Sorry, I forgot. Ella would never do such a thing.’ She looked down, and for a moment I thought she was actually ashamed of her outburst. Then she looked up again. ‘So you are going to poison him, then?’

‘You read a great deal too much Edgar Allan Poe, Eve,’ I said, pulling a face. ‘Nobody is going to poison anybody.’

‘But then what did you mean?’

For a moment I hesitated. Should I? They looked so eager, so helpful. But I couldn’t. Deep inside I knew Ella would have died rather than have this particular secret revealed to anybody. I myself could listen in - that was all right, after all, I was her big sister and had absolutely altruistic motives. But I couldn’t tell a soul.

‘Sorry.’ I shook my head. ‘I can’t tell you.’

I saw the hurt on their faces even before all the words were out of my mouth. ‘It’s not because I don't trust you,’ I assured them. ‘I would trust you with my life! It’s just… well, this is not my secret to share.’

They exchanged looks with another. Finally, Patsy nodded. ‘All right… Let’s file that under “very mysterious”.’

I jumped. The word 'file' made me edgy these days, evoking the urge to jump up and run for the nearest shelf full of boxes. Fortunately, none of them noticed.

‘The question isn’t really why Ella needs to get out of this so desperately,’ I reminded them. ‘You know she does. We have to figure out how to do it.’

‘So what’s our next step?’ Eve asked. ‘If poisoning is out of the question, which I still think is not…’

‘Think,’ Patsy said firmly. ‘We go home and think. We’re exhausted from running around all morning. We need a good meal and rest. After all, this Sir Philip hasn't proposed to her yet, and even if he did, there’s still the time of the engagement before things become final. We have time to figure out a plan, and now we have four brains to do it instead of one.’

‘I could ask around in the neighbourhood if people know anything,’ Eve suggested. The rest of us exchanged a look. Eve lived in a rich neighbourhood and had a virtual army of acquaintances among her neighbours' daughters. If gossip was to be found anywhere, it was there.

‘I could re-read a few of my romantic novels,’ Flora offered timidly. ‘Maybe there is something in there not only about how people get engaged and married, but also about how they could avoid it.’

‘Great idea.’ Patsy nodded. ‘And just in case that doesn't work, I’ll go and buy an especially hard and spiky parasol.’

*~*~**~*~*

We discussed our plans for the anti-suffragist meeting and then disbanded not long after. I arrived home late for dinner, but so many flowers from Sir Philip had arrived in my absence that my aunt didn’t even make a sharp comment. She was in heaven. When Ella sprang up after dinner, I was ready and followed like the watchdog I was.

Our Romeo on duty was waiting just beyond the fence, an incandescent smile on his face, his arms held out at his sides as if to catch Ella when she would come rushing towards him. Only when she had crossed about half the distance did he seem to realize that because of the metal barrier in the way, that wouldn’t be quite possible, and he lowered his arms.

His smile didn’t become any less incandescent, though.

‘Ella, my love!’ He breathed, gripping the poles of the fence with both hands.

‘Edmund, my love,’ she breathed back. ‘Finally! I’ve nearly been driven to distraction, waiting all day! Not knowing what will happen and when is pure torture! When will we leave?’

I leant forward as far as I could. This was the question I had come to hear the answer to, the question the answer to which would determine whether I could work on a plan to get rid of Wilkins or whether I would have to take Patsy up on her offer of parasolical violence. My heart started to pound faster in my chest as I stared at Edmund, the man who held my sister’s fate in his hands.

Why wasn’t he saying anything?

Why was he just standing there?

Finally, he took a deep breath and leant forward until his lips were almost at her ear - and whispered something in a low voice I couldn’t hear!

I couldn’t believe it! He had whispered! The whole evening they had conducted their secret affair in the back garden in perfectly audible voices, and now, when it would actually had been useful for something to be audible for a change, that son of a bachelor decided to whisper!

Ella’s eyes went wide.

‘So soon?’

Soon? What does that mean, soon? Tomorrow? The day after?

Or did she have a different conception of ‘soon’? Could it be weeks still? Edmund had said it would take time to procure a marriage license, so it couldn’t just be a few days, could it? But then why had she said 'soon'?

The anxiety tortured me. I wanted to run over to the man who wanted to steal my sister away from her family and shake the truth out of him, but that would kind of have given the game away. So I stayed put and tried to take deep, calming breaths.

‘It’s not really that soon,’ Edmund replied.

Wait? What’s that supposed to mean? Is it soon or isn’t it?

‘I think it’s quite soon,’ Ella said. ‘I have to pack, remember?’

‘Yes, but remember, we will travel light, my love. We have to, in order to get away quickly.’

She bit her lip. ‘You’re right. Yes, if I don't have to pack too much, it’s not that soon. I think I can manage.’

Argh! This is maddening!

‘If I could, I would leave tonight with you,’ Edmund whispered. ‘I’ve done the best I can, but it still will take so long to get a marriage license. I only hope Sir Philip does not make his intentions clear before then. If he does, if all our hopes and dreams are smashed…’

‘Hush!’ Ella raised her slender hand, gently touching his lips with her forefinger and silencing him. ‘Everything will go well. I have no doubt. I trust you, my love.’

His answering smile was melancholic.

‘I only wish I had that much faith in myself.’

‘And do you know the exact time of day when we will leave?’ Ella asked, clearly in an effort to distract him from his dark mood.

I perked up. This was something! Maybe I’d know this much at least! Maybe I could lie in wait every day and make sure they didn’t get away without me noticing!

Edmund shook his head. ‘No, my love, I’m sorry. It depends on when I can get an inconspicuous coach to bring us out of town.’

This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t!

‘So how will I know when it’s time to leave, Edmund, my darling?’

‘That is the very best part of my plan,’ he whispered conspiratorially. ‘When the time is upon us to flee, I shall change the curtains in the window of my room.’

He pointed up to a small rectangular window in his parents’ house that pointed towards their back garden. ‘You see that now they are white? I shall change them to red curtains when the time for our elopement has arrived.’

‘Oh Edmund! You are so clever!’

‘Well… actually I got the idea from a book…’

‘Clever and well-read! My dream man!’

‘Am I really?’

‘Of course you are! Let me show you. Come closer, my love.’

‘Oh, my love! Only if you do, too.’

After that, the conversation was pretty much over. I turned discreetly away and, listening to the noises coming from the fence, did my best not to vomit into the rosebushes. It wasn’t easy. This was my sister we were talking of, after all.

Well, those were the burdens you had to carry when you were trying to save your sister from disgrace. Once this was over, I would really deserve a medal for my efforts.

Not that I had actually discovered a way to save her yet. And this problem had now abruptly become even more urgent than before. I had no idea how much time was still left before our piano-tuning pseudo-Casanova carried my sister off to parts unknown. The thought sickened me. Despite her brave speech from earlier, I knew she would be devastated to disappoint my aunt. She wasn’t like me, she was considerate of other people’s feelings. Some people were mad like that.

But what could I do? What could anyone do to prevent this disastrous turn of events? There didn’t seem to be anything that could make my aunt dislike Wilkins, and as for scaring him off in some way, I hardly believed it would be possible. His infatuations with Maria, Anne and even Patsy seemed to have been just passing fancies, but he appeared pretty stuck on Ella.

The question was now - how to unstick him in time. Was that even a verb, unstick? I would have to look that up in a dictionary. After I had saved my sister’s honour and reputation, of course.

I remained quite a while behind the bushes while Ella and Edmund exchanged sweet nothings at the fence. Fortunately, I had brought a book with me: one of my favourites, a historical retelling of the story of Jeanne d’Arc, the woman who had almost single-handedly thrown the English out of France during the Hundred Years' War. I did my best to plunge myself into the narrative. I admired Jeanne d'Arc deeply and felt a deep spiritual connection to her - not because I was secretly French, but because I, too, often felt the urge to chase after English men with a sharp sword in my hand. If I were Jeanne d’Arc and had a sword of my own, I wouldn’t have any problems with disposing of Wilkins!

Finally, the two lovebirds at the fence seemed to remember that there was such a thing as sleep, which was usually accomplished at nighttime, and parted from one another with many apologies and promises to see each other again soon. I waited until Ella had passed my hiding place, shut the book upon my heroine’s story with a regretful sigh, and followed Ella into the house. When I entered our bedroom upstairs, Ella had already curled into a tight ball under her blankets.

I lay down in my own bed and recapitulated my to-do list for tomorrow:

- bring back two books to the lending library

- refine plans to foil the masculine plot to undermine women’s suffrage

- save Ella from eternal shame and dishonour

I frowned. Hadn’t I forgotten something? Something I had to do tomorrow?

Then the memory dropped back into my mind like a red-hot piece of coal. Of course. Tomorrow was Monday. And on Monday I had to go back to the office. To Mr Ambrose.

Other memories returned. Mr Ambrose entering the ballroom, Mr Ambrose whirling me around and around on the dance floor with the grace and precision of a clockwork dancing master, strong and contained. Mr Ambrose staring at Miss Hamilton with an intensity with which he had never looked at me…

Wait just a second! Where had that thought come from? Why would you want Mr Ambrose to look at you? You want him to employ you, and that’s it! Looking at you has nothing to do with it!

Only, maybe it had. If he couldn’t even bring himself to look at me, how could he bring himself to accept me as a female and one of his employees? Yes. I wanted his acceptance as an independent lady, that was all.

Angrily, I punched my cushion and turned onto my other side. Damn the man! Why did he have to pop into my head now? My mind belonged on saving Ella, and maybe also on saving the future suffrage of women from men’s chauvinism, but not on him. Most certainly not on him.

So why was it that as I drifted off to sleep, all I could think of was the feel of his arms around me as he danced with me at yesterday’s ball?

*~*~**~*~*

The fact that I had still not discovered the answer to the question by next morning didn’t exactly improve my mood. I got up at an unearthly hour, went through the routine of switching clothes and left the house. I needed to clear my head, and the cold morning air was just the way to do it.

Besides, maybe I could force Mr Ambrose to look at me at least once by turning up three hours early.

I turned into Leadenhall Street and marched towards my destination. This early in the morning, the foggy streets were pretty much empty of people. Thus, the two huge shapes that dominated the street were even more overpowering than usual: On the left, the stark, towering Empire House; on the right the broad, elegant façade of East India House. The two buildings facing off over the street like that reminded me of Mr Ambrose and Lord Dalgliesh shaking hands in the ballroom. Just as they had back then, this confrontational stance looked almost… threatening.

Shaking my head, I looked away from East India House and started up the stairs of my workplace. I was being fanciful.

Only when I reached the door of Empire House did it occur to me to wonder how I might get into the building. As yet, it seemed to be deserted. The door was firmly locked, and when I peered in through one of the high, narrow windows, I couldn’t see a soul inside. I couldn’t even see somebody without a soul inside - a condition, I was sure, that applied to many of the men who normally occupied its bustling halls, especially the one who paid all the others.

As I walked back from the window to the front door, something clinked in my pocket. Of course! The ring of keys Mr Ambrose had given me. How could I have not thought of it before?

Well, if I thought about it, it wasn’t that surprising. There surely wouldn’t be a key to the front door on the ring, not after the defection of Mr Ambrose’s last secretary and considering the fact that I didn’t have the right gender. He wouldn’t trust me in a million years!

But it can’t hurt to try, right? After all, you’re already here.

I stuck the first key into the keyhole, although I had already seen that it was much too small. Of course, it didn’t fit. Neither did the second, nor the third, although they seemed to be of more appropriate shape. I shoved another one into the keyhole, knowing already that this, too, wouldn’t work, although it looked deceptively fitting. I tried to turn it.

There was a click, and the lock snapped open.

I stared at the door in disbelief.

Cautiously, I stretched out a hand and pushed against it. It swung open a few inches with an eerie squeak, then stopped. I pushed again, and it opened far enough for a human being to enter. Maybe I was hallucinating? Maybe the door had already been unlocked? Quickly, I slipped inside and faced a vast hall of empty silence. No Sallow-face behind the desk, no multitude of clerks hurrying about, doing Mammon only knows what. I hadn’t been mistaken: the door had been firmly locked.

The key had worked. Could it actually be that Mr Ambrose trusted me?

Not letting myself think about this too deeply just now, I turned around, pulled the door shut hurriedly and locked it after me. Then I began the long ascent to my office, my stomach churning all the way. How would Mr Ambrose treat me after what had happened at the ball? What would he think of me? Did he think even less of me now, because he had seen me in a dress and been reminded of the fact that I was female?

My hands balled into fists at the very thought. It just wasn’t fair that he would stare at this Miss Hamilton like she was the most precious thing on earth to him, while treating me like a piece of dirt! She was just as female as I was! In fact, a darn sight more obviously female, considering the rather revealing nature of her dress. Just because I wanted to be independent and earn my living, I wasn’t supposed to be entitled to the same treatment as she? I wouldn’t allow that! I would force him to respect me. And I would start by giving him a nice surprise.

Since you’re so early… How about waiting in his office and, when he arrives, making some very smart remark about him being a bit late for work?

I grinned. That would nettle him to no end, I was sure!

With light steps I crossed the length of the hallway and stuck the right key into the keyhole when I reached the door to his office. I couldn’t wait to see his face when he arrived and I was already there, waiting for him.

The door swung open - revealing a Mr Rikkard Ambrose, sitting straight as a ruler behind his dark wood desk, studying papers. He glanced up briefly from the papers he was reading, his cool expression not altering in the slightest.

‘Ah, Mr Linton. You are here, finally.’