Chapter 11 #2
His hair was brown and cut in the latest style, his clothes elegant but not flamboyant.
She tried and failed to come up with anything in her memory that she had heard about him.
Like her, he had just always been there at society gatherings.
They’d attended the same events, but their paths had rarely crossed.
But now it did indeed seem as if he was showing an interest in her, which seemed odd, considering they’d been in society together since she came out four years ago.
“Very much, Mr. Howard.”
“I have just finished The Vampire by John William Polidori,” he said.
“I have not read that. Did you enjoy it, sir?” Tilly had it on her list of books to read.
“I wonder if you know it was taken from the story told by Lord Byron, Miss Wilson, and that it was written as part of a contest among Polidori, Mary Shelley, Lord Byron, and Percy Shelly?”
“I did know that, Mr. Howard, as I have read Frankenstein, which was part of that contest.”
He smiled, and it made his face change. The pleasant facade had a boyish charm now. Another face slid into her head, but she pushed it aside. Ambrose could never be anything more than her best friend’s brother, even if they had shared kisses.
“Well then, we must discuss this further when I take you driving, but for now, let me escort you back inside, as I believe the recital is about to start, and Lady Crisp was correct in that you shouldn’t be out here alone with me.”
“I would enjoy that, thank you, Mr. Howard,” Tilly said as she stepped through the door and back into the room.
A tingling feeling down her spine had her looking to the left as she walked with Mr. Howard to where the seats had been set up, and she met a pair of narrowed green eyes. Nodding to Lord Talbot, Tilly continued to where her parents sat.
“Tilly!”
Looking at the seated guests, she found Violet waving to her. Beside her sat Charles and the rest of the Nightingale family. “There is a spare seat here!”
“I will bid you good evening, Miss Wilson. I hope you enjoy the show,” Mr. Howard said, leaving her with another bow.
Tilly moved past the other guests to the seat beside Violet.
“Well, now I am happy. The man I love on my right and my best friend, whom I also love, on my left.”
“I love you, too, darling,” Charles said, kissing his wife’s cheek.
Being in love, Tilly had observed, was an all-encompassing thing. The happiness of the person you loved was linked to your own. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, being an independent type, but thought it could be uncomfortable at times.
“Good evening, Charles,” Tilly said.
“Good evening, Tilly. I’ve wanted to chat with you about writing an article for The Tuba,” he said. “Violet told me you are excellent at writing.”
“Oh, well, I would not say that, but I like to write things—”
“That poem you wrote was excellent,” Violet said.
“It was one poem, hardly a long and arduous piece,” Tilly protested.
“I want an article on the trials of opening a women’s club,” Charles continued. “The ups and downs.”
“There are plenty of those,” Tilly said.
“Excellent. Give it some thought, then.”
She did while he and Violet talked about the paper. Could she really write something like that?
“Why were you walking in from outside with Mr. Howard?” The deep words were said into her ear.
Turning slightly, she looked at Ambrose who had taken the seat behind hers.
“And what business is that of yours?”
“I am watching out for your reputation,” he replied.
“I don’t need you doing that. I am more than capable of watching out for myself. Plus, my parents are here.” She turned away from his all-seeing gaze and looked at the stage that had been set up for the night’s entertainment.
“Dear Lord, is that Lady Sybil’s daughter?” Ambrose groaned. “We are doomed.”
“Stick your fingers in your ears, then,” Tilly turned to hiss at him. “And don’t be rude. She will try her best, I am sure.”
If he did not feel awkward in her company, she would not be so either. In fact, arguing with him would get her through further encounters. But she would ensure never to let him kiss her again.
“I think you should be up there singing or playing, Tilly, you are a great deal better,” Violet said.
“Is she? I’ve never heard her sing or play,” Charles said.
“I have no wish to play in front of so many people. I perform for my enjoyment and that of my parents. Besides, you are my equal, Vi.”
“Hardly that,” her friend scoffed. “Ambrose is quite a good singer actually. Perhaps you could play piano and he could sing.”
“Absolutely not,” both Ambrose and Tilly said in unison.
Two rows ahead, Mr. Howard took his seat, giving her a smile before he did so.
“What was that?” Violet demanded.
“What was what?”
“That smile from Mr. Howard.”
“He has asked to take me driving.”
“Really? Well, that’s exciting,” Violet said, clapping her hands together.
“Is it?”
“Of course, but I will ask Charles what he knows about the man on your behalf, and then we will have a better idea of his character.”
“I’m right here, you could ask me now,” her husband drawled.
“Violet—”
“Do you like him?” she asked.
“Would you like to ask that question in a louder voice? I’m quite sure there is someone at the rear of the room who did not hear,” Tilly hissed, very aware of the man seated behind her who was no doubt listening to every word they spoke.
“But—”
“There is nothing to add, Vi. I don’t know how I feel about him, and I have no wish to discuss this further, so no more questions, please.”
“As if that will stop her,” Charles said, winking at his wife.
“We are not done, only for now,” Violet added.
Tilly tried to relax in her chair after those ominous words, but she could feel Ambrose behind her. The man had a presence about him, and she was always aware of where he was. It was extremely vexing.
“Stop fidgeting and watch the performance.” The deep words were drawled into her ear.
“Go to hell,” she hissed back so only he could hear.
The first performer began to the soft chuckle of laughter over her right shoulder.
“I’m sorry about what occurred at 11 Crabbett Close,” he whispered. “It will not happen again.”
She nodded at those words in total agreement, even as the thought of never having him kiss her again made her sad.
“We will speak on it no more,” she said, turning to meet his eyes. He replied with a solemn nod.
“Tell me you have stayed out of that room below the stairs,” Ambrose then whispered as she faced the musicians once more.
“Have you?”
“Yes, but I can defend myself should I need to, and you cannot.”
“What are you two discussing?” Violet hissed.
“The music,” Tilly replied.
“I think it is some kind of cult,” she said to Ambrose. “Something sinister.”
“You could be right, but I’m unsure we will ever know if no one returns. It could have disbanded.”
Tilly didn’t think so. She believed that whoever had been congregating down there still did and that whatever they got up to was dangerous and evil. But she kept that thought to herself.
“Do not go back down there, Tilly. I must have your promise on this,” Ambrose whispered.
She didn’t reply, and he could do little in a room full of people to make her promise.
“I’m watching you, Miss Wilson,” he warned.
Why those words made her shiver, she had no idea, as she’d been threatened before many times.
“I fail to see how you can,” she said in a tight voice, “seeing as you can’t even keep up with your sisters.”
She refused to speak to him again, even when he whispered, “This is not a game,” into her ear.