Hunting for Silence

08. The Admiral's Operation

'Mr Linton! What a happy surprise! We didn't know you would be travelling to Paris, too.'

Excruciatingly slowly, I raised my eyes until, through the coach window, I gazed into the beaming faces of Miss and Mrs Harse. The sight led me to revise my earlier plans. I wasn't just going to kill Fate. I was going to throw the witch into a deep, dark dungeon and think up some nice tortures for her before ending her misery.

'And I'm here, too.' Stretching up, Mr Edgar Phelps waved at me over the ladies' heads. Winking at me and pointing at Emilia, he mouthed, I think she really likes you. Go for it!

'How fabulous,' I groaned. 'And here was I thinking this was going to be a boring trip.'

Beaming, Mr Phelps slid aside, making room for me between him and Miss Emilia Harse. How nice of him. I wondered, was it legal to shoot people for good manners?

'So,' I said, for lack of anything better to say as I settled in the only free seat. 'I heard correctly? You're travelling to Paris, as well?'

Please say no. Please say no. Even if it means that my hearing was malfunctioning earlier, please say no!

'Yes.' The girl beamed up at me, stars sparkling in her eyes. 'I don't know whether you heard...I...well...'

A blush rose to her cheek.

'Heard what?' I enquired, curious against my better judgement.

'My singing,' she said with downcast eyes. 'I was singing in my room the other day.'

'Oh, that.' I nodded, a painful grimace flicking over my face. 'Trust me, I heard.' And so did half of Dover, probably.

'Well...' Taking a deep breath, she raised her eyes again, and suddenly there was fire in her gaze and steel in her backbone. I blinked, taken slightly aback. I hadn't seen this side of her before. 'I love to sing. Especially opera. It's my dream to become a prima donna and sing on the great stages in the city of love. To perform The Marriage of Figaro or Fidelio in front of all of Paris...'

She gave a dreamy sigh.

I considered her words carefully.

'You want to become a famous singer? In France?'

She nodded earnestly. 'The French operas are the best.'

'And, um....' How to put this? She obviously had not yet considered the repercussions. 'You don't think there will be any problems when a French gentleman steps onto the stage and announces that Miss Emilia Harse will be singing for them next?'

She was still looking at me, complete innocence in her eyes. 'Problems? What problems?'

Oh my God. The poor girl had no idea.

'Err...none. None whatsoever.' Clearing my throat, I struggled mightily not to burst out laughing. Had she ever heard a French accent before? Probably not. Oh the poor, poor, girl. Still, who was I to ruin her dream?

I patted her shoulder encouragingly.

'Go to Paris.' I told her with a smile. 'Sing to your heart's content. Every girl should live her dream.'

Her eyes lit up with joy and...crap! More than just joy. Lots more. 'You really think that?'

Crap, crap, crap! Why couldn't I keep my trap shut? I was supposed to be an arsehole! An overbearing, arrogant, dictatorial male asshole! I couldn't suddenly start being nice and reasonable to females. To judge by the look she was directing at me...crap!