After the silence (A Storm And Silence Fanfiction)

Chapter 1

'Miss Linton, may I ask you for the honour of the next dance?' Mr Abercrombie asked.

No, of course not but Aunt Brank's scorching look didn't allow me to refuse.

'Of course, Mr Abercrombie. I'd be honoured to dance with you'

What harm can one dance do? Right?

Wrong. I want to kill him. Actually, I will kill him. This thing has been going on for months. Okay, so maybe that's exaggerating a bit. But, three dances certainly feel like months to me. Why is this man not stopping? I have done everything I could so that this fellow would leave me alone. I have stomped on his feet at least fifteen times. I even poked him with my elbow when I got the chance. When the third song came to an end and Mr Abercrombie still wouldn't let me go, I did what any sane woman would do. I took out my fan and accidently jabbed it in his face. And then ran out of there to look for solitude.

Blast him, blast him to hell. And blast Aunt Brank for always making me dance with annoying 'potential' suitors. And blast Gertrude for getting married. And blast Captain Ficklestone for asking Gertrude's hand in marriage and throwing this reception party. Wasn't getting married enough? Blast everyone to hell.

I made my way towards the refreshment tables and popped a few pieces of solid chocolate in my mouth. I took some chocolate pieces to keep me company while in my solitude and then made my way towards the side of the room where a lot of plants were kept and behind those plants were curtains. That seems like the perfect place to hide from my aunt and those bloody suitors.

Just as I popped another piece of that blissful heaven in my mouth, I heard 'Ella, my love.'

Oh no. I knew that Edmund's family was invited but are Edmund and Ella stupid enough to talk secretly while the reception is going on? Oh, they must be. Do they want to get caught? First, dancing with each other the whole night and then talking in secret! I have to make sure that they don't get caught. Oh, the things you do for your loved ones.

'Oh Edmund, my love!'

'My love, you have no idea how happy you have made me today.'

'Oh Edmund, so have you. But what have I done to make you this happy?'

'Oh Ella, you have fulfilled my heart's desire by dancing with me so many times.'

'Oh my dearest Edmund, you are the most wonderful dancer I have ever had the pleasure of dancing with.'

'No, you are the most wonderful dancer in the world, my love.'

Ew! What are they doing? Can't they do this in the garden as always? And why say the same thing over and over again daily?

'Oh Ella, my sunshine I don't want to part from you ever.'

'Oh Edmund, neither do I.'

'Oh Ella, my moonpie, your beauty is ethereal.'

'Oh Edmund, my love, you are being partial towards me. There are so many beautiful ladies present today.'

'It might be so my love, but none of them is as beautiful as you are.'

Did Edmund just call my sister a moonpie? What even is that? Imagine Mr Ambrose calling me that. What? Where did that thought come from? And I think Mr Ambrose will die than call someone his moonpie. And I am a bloody feminist. I don't want any chauvinist pig calling me moonpie. I had rather be called an ifrit. Where are these thoughts coming from?

Mr Ambrose didn't even come to the wedding. I actually gave him the invite in his hands. And do you know what I got in response?

No. Not silence. What I got was a chilling look and 'You know I don't waste my time coming to these stupid events, Mr Linton.'

'Yes, Sir', and that was the end of it.

But what if he had come? Would he have danced with me like he danced with me the first time he came to a ball, or would he have ignored me like he generally does whenever we come back from our adventures?

It's so frustrating. Whenever we land in London, it feels like we have never shared those passionate nights. At times, I think I am even jealous of Ella and Edmund's relationship. At least, she knows what Edmund is thinking. That's more than what I can say for Mr Ambrose. All I ever get from him is silence, icy cold silence. Not that I want to him to court me. Of course not. Because I am a feminist. And I don't like any chauvinist pig, not even someone like Mr Ambrose whose kisses make me forget everything.

'Oh Ella, my love, don't you think it's time that we tell your family about us? If I ask for your hand in marriage and your aunt sees how much we love each other, maybe she will be convinced and allow us to marry each other.'

Wait, what? Marriage? Was I this lost in my thoughts that I just missed their entire conversation and also the sound of the footsteps which were about to bring doom in all of our lives.

Because those footsteps were of my dear Aunt. Aunt Brank stood in front of me raising a perfect eyebrow, asking me what I was doing here without using words.