Page 65 of Storm of Bells
‘Mr Linton?’
I stopped and glanced around. I had just beenabout to leave for the evening—but now there was Mr Ambrose,standing in the door to my office, gazing at me intensely, as if Iwere about to dare to leave five seconds early. Glancing down at mypocket watch, I saw that, no, that was not the case. I was notcommitting the grievous sin of slacking off. So why was he staringat me like that?
Well, it wasn’t exactly an accusing stare. Itwas more…more like he was trying to figure out a puzzle.
‘Yes, Sir?’ I inclined my head.
‘Why do you want to work for me?’
I frowned. ‘I thought we already discussedthis. I want to work.’
‘Yes, but…’ He was silent for a moment ortwo. But it wasn’t his usual silence. Not one of cold, hard,distance. This was a silence of deep thought. ‘But it isn’t as ifyou would be idle as head of my household. There would be plenty ofwork to do.’
‘With you living in the house?’ One corner ofmy mouth quirked up. ‘Imagine that. I would never havesuspected.’
‘Be serious, Mr Linton!’
Stepping towards him, I reached up to placeone gentle hand on his cheek. ‘I am,’ I told him, my eyes wide openand unguarded. ‘I imagine you will be a lot of work. But I alsoknow you’re worth it.’
A strong, masculine hand came to rest overmine.
‘Then why do you persist in this? Why do youfeel the need to work here?’
‘Besides being able to have your back againstcompetitors and nefarious lords, and wanting my independence?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well…’ I bit my lip. ‘I just feel this isthe kind of work I’m better suited to, you know. I’ve never beengood at staying home to mend clothes, do the wash, scrub theceiling, polish the chimney and whatever else a housewife would getup to. Don’t misunderstand me, it’s not that I don’t understand thework has value. Wives and mothers…’ I couldn’t help but swallow asan indistinct image flickered in front of my mind. A woman I hadnearly forgotten—and yet, somehow, would always remember. ‘Theyperform wonders every day, a fact all the more clear to me since Ihad to make do with Aunt Brank for a substitute. Personally, I’d belost without my little sister to get stains out of my clothes! Butit’s just…not for me, you know? I’ve always wanted to go out thereand do things that affect the world—not just the little world of myown four walls.’
‘Hm…’ Considering, Mr Ambrose stroked hischin—then nodded. ‘I see. Thank you for explaining.’
I blinked. ‘You…you understand?’
He inclined his head. ‘Indeed I do.’
‘And you’re not angry?’
‘How could I be angry for you being truthfulwith me? For sharing something about the woman I love?’
I could hardly believe my ears. Reaching uparound his neck, I instinctively pulled myself up and planted ahot, passionate kiss on his lips.
‘Thank you,’ I whispered.
We had done it! We’d had the first honest,open conversation of our relationship. If this was an omen, itpromised nothing but good things for our marriage.
It wasn’t until the next day that I realizedhow wrong I was. It hadn’t been an open, honest conversation. Ithad been an open, honest interrogation.
***
When I entered my office the next morning,everything seemed just as always. The walls were bare, the bin wasempty, and the chirographer was resting on my desk, waiting for meto start work. Just another day at the office.
From inside the wall, I heard the whizz ofpneumatic tubes. Hurrying over to my desk, I settled myself downjust in time to catch the tiny capsule as it shot out of the holein the wall. What would be on the schedule today? A letter to bedictated? Pulling it open, I unfolded the message.
Darling,
Please be so kind as to fetch me a cup oftea.
Thank you.
