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‘Hm.’ Rising to his feet, Mr Ambrose tugged on his tailcoat. ‘This is taking too long. I shall see what is the matter!’
And he strode out of the room.
The door closed behind him.
I started counting in my head.
Three.
Two.
O—
‘What the everloving figs!? Lilly, what the heck is going on here?’
My sisters Anne and Maria appeared in front of me, like fallen angels of vengeance. All that was missing were the tails and pitchforks. Although at least the flames of hell in their eyes were there.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked, batting my eyelashes like a professional cricket player.
‘Don’t give us that innocent routine! What is this charade supposed to be? What the heck is your connection to…to that man? How…why…what…?’
‘I believe he already stated it, didn’t he?’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘We’re getting married.’
‘How can this be?’ she growled. I heard the unspoken part at the end. How can it be you lowly little insect, and not me? ‘It’s impossible! This is a fake! It’s impossible for something like this to happen without any of us knowing!’
‘Oh,’ Ella picked that moment to say in an innocent and sublimely effective tone I couldn’t hope to match, ‘I knew.’
Maria nearly swallowed her own tongue.
I knew there was a reason why Ella was my favourite sister.
‘You what?’
Instantly, everyone’s attention turned to Ella. My dear, innocent little sister sat there, sipping her tea with her little finger sticking out, the perfect image of a lady. I, personally, always mixed up my little finger with my middle finger.
‘You didn’t?’ Ella’s eyebrows rose oh-so-innocently. ‘Wasn’t it so obvious? I’ve seen the sign for. oh…about four years.’
Impressive! Since that’s before I actually met him.
My dear little sister had impressive hidden skills. Lying like a rug apparently being one of them.
‘Four years?’
My dear sisters’ eyes were almost popping out of their heads.
‘Oh yes. He sent her love letters all the time.’ She gave a meaningful sigh. ‘I still remember that one he sent from Paris…such touching words of love!’
Ah yes. The one that said ‘stop wasting ink’.
By this point, Anne and Maria’s heads were nearly ready to explode. Taking turns and helping each other as all good sisters should, they manged to simultaneously glare at me and Ella. ‘From Paris? He sent her love letters from Paris?’
‘Oh yes.’ Ella took another sip of tea. ‘Just before she went to visit him there and he proposed.’
This year, I decided, I was going to have to get Ella something really spectacular for her birthday.
‘P-proposed? In Paris?’
‘Oh yes. Where was it again, Lilly?’
