The preparations continued in a wild whirlwind. With every day, things were better: the winter-blooming flowers in the winter garden opened, more sparkling snow fell, promising a perfectly white Christmas, and Rikkard Ambrose ran all over the place, chasing about tree-decorators and mistletoe-hangers, his jaw muscles now suffering from chronic twitches. In short: life was busy and life was good.
Until, one day…
‘Mr Linton?’
‘Yes?’ Looking up from the mirror I had been inspecting for specs of dust, I saw Lady Samantha hurrying towards me, a stack of newspapers in her arms. The uppermost was open to the social pages, showing the engraving of a beautiful young lady.
Uh-oh…
‘I, um…have been preparing for the other part of the festivities,’ the marchioness whispered, glancing around as if she feared Mr Ambrose might suddenly jump out from behind one of the mirrors on the walls. ‘Can we talk?’
‘Of course, Your Ladyship. Is there somewhere private?’
‘Come with me.’
She led me into a little chamber that had nothing in it but a table, a few chairs, and a lock on the door. The latter the marchioness now locked behind us. Then she went to check the windows and lower the blinds.
‘You remember what I mentioned about the…special possibilities of this occasion?’
‘Oh yes. I remember.’
‘Well…’ Depositing the papers on the table, she started spreading them out. ‘I’ve collected the most recent issues of local papers - especially the social pages, with engravings of various young ladies that made impressions at balls in the vicinity.’ A dreamy gleam entered into her eyes as she gazed down at the table. ‘Look at them! Aren’t they beautiful?’
‘Yes,’ I groaned. ‘They are.’
‘Mr Linton? You sound a little off. Are you feeling quite well?’
‘Yes, yes, thank you. Please continue.’
‘Well, I was going through these, trying to decide whom to invite, and I thought you could advise me. You’ve been such a tremendous help, and such a good friend to my son. Besides, it would be so helpful to get a man’s perspective.’
‘You don’t say.’
‘Yes.’ She pointed down at the spread-out newspapers. ‘So, which of these young ladies do you find most attractive? Which would you be inclined to marry?’
I cleared my throat. ‘Well…that isn’t an easy question to answer.’
‘I know.’ She sighed. ‘They’re all so lovely.’
‘Well, um…yes. Of course. Lovely.’ I cleared my throat again. ‘But aren’t we asking the wrong question? I mean, it is not about what I, a humble secretary, would prefer in a wife. Trust me, you would not want the kind of spouse that I am looking for for your son.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely!’
‘Well… I suppose you are right. Rick is the son of a marquess. The two of you belong to different worlds.’
‘That, and he is a completely different person from me. We need to find the perfect woman for him, specifically.’
‘You’re right, of course.’ She threw me a grateful smile. ‘I’m so glad I have you to advise me.’
‘So am I, Your Ladyship, believe me. So am I.’
‘So…which of these young ladies do you think would make a good wife for my boy? Here are a few I picked out. Have a look and tell me what you think.’
She handed me a couple of newspaper cut-outs with more printed engravings. I looked at the first - and pulled a face.
‘Ugh!’