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‘Hm.’ Mr Ambrose lowered his gaze to the paper again. ‘I see, Mr Linton.’
He was just finishing the last paragraph when footsteps sounded outside in the hallway. A moment later, a knock came at the door.
‘Enter!’
At Mr Ambrose’s cool command, the door opened, and a willowy young man with glasses on his nose and a folder under his arm stuck his head inside. ‘Um, please forgive the disturbance, Sir, but I thought you would like to know. A messenger from Miss Brand, the palace maid, just arrived, and it appears that-’
It was just then that the young man caught sight of me and nearly swallowed his tongue. He coughed. ‘Sorry, Sir. I didn’t know you had company. What I meant to say is that so far, operation RWN is progressing satisfactorily.’
‘RWN?’ I enquired, eyebrows raised.
The young man reddened, and desperately looked from Mr Ambrose to me and back again. Mr Ambrose waved a hand. ‘Tell him. Mr Linton is my private secretary, and knows all about RWN.’
The young man cleared his throat. ‘Royal wedding night,’ he explained with a sheepish look on his face. ‘Um…I’ve just remembered, there’s somewhere I should be.’
‘Take this.’ Mr Ambrose handed him my paper with suggestions. ‘Have Plaskett write it up in appropriately elegant handwriting and send it up for me to sign.’
‘Yes, Sir.’ The young man bowed hurriedly. I wasn’t looking at him, though. I was staring at Mr Ambrose, my mouth agape.
The door closed with a click behind the young man, and I was still staring.
‘Operation RWN?’ I demanded, my voice sounding a little bit weaker than I would have liked.
Mr Ambrose cocked his head and gave me a look. One of those looks. ‘Do you still wonder how I knew about the clothes in your garden shed?’
Royal Example
When I got home that evening, I was still thinking about Mr Ambrose’s report on operation RWN. That’s the only way I can explain my not noticing the calculating looks my aunt threw me all through dinner. Only when my sister Ella nudged me and whispered: ‘Why is Aunt Brank looking at you like that?’ did I glance up and see her.
Hurriedly, she looked away, trying to make it appear as if there were nothing more interesting in the world to her than the plate of mushy boiled potatoes in front of her. But it was too late. I had already seen the look on her face: concentrated, cool and calculating - as if she were judging a slice of beef in the meat market. I knew that look all too well.
‘Bloody hell, no!’ I groaned.
‘Lill!’ Ella gasped. ‘Watch your language!’
‘Sorry.’
‘What is the matter? What has upset you?’
‘Upset me? You want to know what has upset me?’ Leaning closer, I jabbed my fork in my aunt’s direction, and whispered: ‘She’s found another you-know-what for me!’
‘No!’ Ella covered her mouth with one delicate pale hand. ‘Surely not!’
‘Surely yes! I know that look on her face. You can bet on it.’
‘But…so soon?’
‘Yes.’
‘After you, um, grabbed the last one by the…err….and did…that thing to him?’
‘Yes.’
‘How would she be able to find someone willing?’
‘Trust me, Aunt can get inventive when she wants something. And she wants us out of the house, married to the richest men she can lay her greedy paws on.’
‘Now, really, Lill!’ Ella shook her head. ‘I can’t believe that. Aunt may be a bit, well, forceful in trying to find matrimonial arrangements for us, but I’m sure she only wants our happiness.’
