Gold & Gunpowder (HIATUS)

4: The Appointment That Never Came To Be

That Thursday, I waited. And waited. And waited.

And he never came.

Frankly, I wasn't disappointed in Captain Carter, the man that he was. No, I was disappointed in myself. Gentleman or otherwise, I should have known better than to trust in one of the upholders of the patriarchy! One of the oppressors of womanhood! One of the vilest, most despicable, chauvinistic members of an astoundingly unreasonable societal order and system!

But instead of wallowing dramatically in my misfortune like one of the most blasted, lash-batting, swooning damsels I hated, I decided to boldly take action. I recalled Captain Carter's words to me when I had last seen him. He had had an appointment with Rikkard Ambrose at a tavern... had he said which tavern? No.

But Rikkard Ambrose might not be there anyways—he had radiated an aura of importance, and such a man would surely have people gossiping about him, wouldn't he? And I knew just who I could turn to when I needed gossip.

I marched home at the speed of light—or rather, at the even faster speed of my Aunt Brank when she heard the words suitors, ball, or money. When I arrived, I threw open the door and searched frantically for Anne, Maria, or Lisbeth. Fortunately, I didn't have to search for very long—all of my sisters were in the sitting room, doing embroidery. My aunt scowled when she saw me interrupting.

"First you stay out all day in the sun, without a bonnet or fan or parasol, and now you decide to join us when we have an esteemed guest?" She asked angrily, dragging me by the ear out of the sitting room.

"Ouch! Let go!" The pain distracted me from the only interesting part of her tirade: a guest?

The hag otherwise known as my aunt did not release me. Instead, with a grip as tight as a crab's pincers and a voice as shrill as ten thousand fingernails on a thousand blackboards, she continued mutilating my poor ear. "The very honourable Captain has decided to pay us a visit, and has asked after you for reasons only God knows of. Now, while your much more ladylike sisters are entertaining him, go get changed into something more appropriate."

When I hesitated at the word Captain, she released me. "Go!"

I scrambled upstairs to get dressed in a nicer gown, my thoughts just as frenzied as my movements. Captain? What if it was Captain Carter? But then again, he didn't seem the type of man to break promises. Or was he? He certainly wasn't a gentleman, that much was certain.

Though... many of the gentlemen I had known had no honour, and never kept their word. So it was most likely for the best that Captain Carter didn't consider himself one. Although that conclusion didn't answer my question: was Captain Carter downstairs right now, in the sitting room with my sisters and aunt? And if he was, why had he missed our rendezvous in the park?

There was no time for further rumination; I rushed down the stairs and into the sitting room, earning me a dirty look from aunt Brank. A lady never hurried or acted ungracefully, but was I really that much of a lady?

No. I was a feminist, a suffragette! And I would walk as quickly or as slowly as I wanted to. Although, the look on my aunt's face made me try to be a little more graceful. It also seemed capable of bringing about Armageddon.

"Miss Lillian Linton, this is Captain Evans," she introduced me.

No patch of beard or scruffy brown hair or slightly-lunatic gleam in his eyes; this Captain possessed instead a rail-thin figure and a red mustachio to match his balding hair.  He bowed low over my hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Linton. Indeed, you are the Linton I have been waiting to meet."

What? Was he attempting to win my hand?

He must have caught sight of the panicked expression in my eye, because he hastily straightened and explained. "I was sent by my acquaintance, Captain James carter. Do you know of him?"

My heart sank in my chest. It sank all the way to my sore feet as I replied. "Yes, I do. Are you bringing me news of him?"

My sisters and Aunt Brank all leaned forwards in their seats. Clearly, they didn't suspect me capable of making acquaintance with any man, let alone two of them. Frankly, I didn't think it possible myself.

"Actually, Miss Linton, I was wondering if you had news of him. He told me the two of you had a meeting this morning, and afterward the regiment was meant to congregate at the train station. But we all waited for him, and he never made an appearance."

"He never appeared at the park, either," I said quietly, aware of the multiple sets of female eyes on us. "Do you believe he has gone missing?"

"The last time I saw him was yesterday when he told me he was going to meet a Mister Rikkard Ambrose."

Rikkard Ambrose?

Holy Moses and macaroons!

I tried to picture him in my mind—and with an infuriating ease, an image of the tall, dark, hand- I mean, relatively attractive man made itself known. I recalled the coldness in his arctic, sea-coloured eyes. The coldness of a man who was capable of murder?

Had the man killed Captain Carter?

Captain Evans noticed my anxiety as well—to be perfectly candid, the man was far too observant for his own good. "I'm sure it's nothing. Now, I hate to cut this visit short, but I have to leave with the rest of my regiment."

Before he walked out the door, I called after him. "Wait! Where does this Mr. Rikkard Ambrose work?"

"Market Street, Miss Linton. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I simply thought I might pay the man a little visit, is all."

Dear Fellow ifrits,

Rikkard should be scared. Very scared.

Sorry for the late update!