Page 35 of Storm of Bells
‘Then think again. You’ll be footing thebill, for sure. And regardless of who pays, some matters will haveto be discussed. So, tomorrow, we’ll be calling it a day at 2 pm,and going home for a wedding planning conference.’
‘Wedding planning?’
He pronounced the words as if they were asynonym for ‘poisonous snail slime’. Or, worse, for ‘taxcollector’.
I shrugged. ‘Well, yes. You know… thedifferent options for flowers, bridal gowns, decorations, hiringcaterers, preparing the guest list, and so on.’ I grinned,malevolent glee dancing in my eyes. ‘From what I’ve heard, Ella andEve are especially eager to hear your opinion on how long the lacetrain should be. Eve is for six yards, Ella for eight.’
Mr Ambrose’s left little finger twitched.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Mr Linton. Trains aremade of steel, not lace! Lace would never be able to withstand theheat of the steam engine. And what on earth do you need a trainfor? We can go there by foot!’
I coughed. ‘Oh dear. I, um, can already seethis is going to be an interesting meeting. I look forward totomorrow.’
‘Wait a minute! You can’t just…!’ Cool,composed, unapproachable Mr Ambrose looked around desperately, asif searching for someone to save him. His eyes landed on Karim.
Hurriedly, the bodyguard took a stepbackwards, holding up both hands.
‘No,Sahib. No, no, no.’
‘You swore to obey me!’
‘I shall brave storms, poisoned daggers andcannon fire for you, but wedding preparations…’ The big Mohammedanshuddered.
Mr Ambrose pierced him with an icy glare.‘This is mutiny, Karim!’
‘Yes,Sahib. Inflict any punishmentyou deem necessary.’
‘Hm.’ Whirling back to face me, Mr Ambrosepierced me with an arctic glare.Adequately played, his eyessaid. ‘You may expect me at two fifteen tomorrow.’
I couldn’t resist the smile spreading over myface. ‘I shall look forward to it, Sir.’
Understatement of the year.
***
I arrived home a quarter of an hour later,whistling and skipping along the pavement. When I opened the door,I immediately noticed a difference. It took me a moment to figureout what that difference was, though.
Silence.
No shouting. No arguing. No crashingcrockery.
Had the battle of the bride claimed its firsttwo casualties already? Carefully, I tiptoed towards the drawingroom, where Ella and Eve usually had their little discussions—butso far without killing each other. Maybe they had decided it wastime to take the room’s name a little too literally, and hadstarted drawing swords?
Pushing open the door, I peeked around thecorner. Nothing. Not even one little bloodstain on the floor. Theroom appeared to be empty.
Then, suddenly, I heard a groan from behindthe door. Heck! And I thought I had been joking! Were they actuallyinjured?
Dashing around the door, I found Evestretched out on a sofa, and Ella collapsed in an armchair, bothwith wet cloths on their foreheads.
‘Heavens! What happened to the two ofyou?’
‘I have no idea!’ Ella groaned. ‘I feelawful! Do you know anything that could make you feel as if yourhead will explode and as if you have a beaver’s tail for atongue?’
‘Err…yes. Plonk.’
Half-opening one eye, Ella squinted up at me.‘Pardon?’
‘Plonk. Booze. Whiskey.’
