#Chapter6

Plink!

Aunt Brank was in a sour mood the next morning. I don't know why she woke me up at an ungodly hour, hissing and glaring at me. She said something about me doing a great job in scaring away suitors. As much as I'm flattered for the compliment, I don't remember sticking up my parasol in someone else's... Or did I?

Nonetheless, she was pissed. I doubt she knows what piss tastes like, but she's pissed. She went on the whole morning, getting annoyed at the tiniest bit. She could look in the mirror, and she'll get irritated. I expected as much. If I were to see that face every morning, I'd rather wish that I look like a potato. Then, she'll prance around the house, mumbling about Captain Carter not paying a visit this morning.

Geez, if she wants Captain Carter that much, they should marry.

Anna and Maria didn't make it any better, glaring at me all the time. They even made sure I get more cold porridge, then smirked at me as if it made my life worse than it is. If only they knew who the chauvinistic tyrant I work for, they'll understand how I'd rather take the cold porridge over those cold, cold eyes. Anytime.

"Didn't I tell you to spend your time with him no matter the cost?" Aunt Brank forcefully forked the poor potatoes. I think the fork even went through the plate.

"I did," I answered, feigning innocence. I did spend my time with Captain Carter; my aching feet, murdered hair and monthly wages are the cost. Geez, I'm not given much credit here.

"I bet he's sick right now, after hours of being with her," Maria mutters as we ate breakfast, "Lilly's face is that awful."

Awfully beautiful was what I think she meant. She's just too shy to admit it. "Why thank you, dearest sister," I said, wanting to fork her face, "I never pegged you for a sweetheart."

Anna shuddered, "It's such a horrendous experience for Captain Carter to be stuck with her," she pointed her fork at me, "He might suffer from cholera!"

I huffed. If Captain Carter can't visit right now, I believe it's because of his injured feet. Not from cholera. He doesn't deserve to go through that much suffering. Now, regarding sufferings and pain, I know someone else who deserves it. I'll give you two hints; the first letter of his name is 'A', followed by 'mbrose'.

Aunt Brank continued talking during breakfast, barking at me with hatred in her eyes. Captain Carter didn't show himself at our doorsteps this morning, and apparently, that's my fault. So aunt made sure to express her utter displeasure at that fact. I try not to notice how burnt my clothes were after thirty minutes of her sending daggers at my direction. I can't help but give her a smile. She's the best aunt I could ever ask for. Or that I know of.

I didn't pay much attention to her blabbering, since I have my own problems to solve. Was I fired from my job? There's only one way to find out. I excused myself, not waiting for my aunt's permission. I did my everyday ritual; changing into my waist coat, tail coat, and trousers. It was yet another wonderful day at work, if ever I was still his private secretary. I didn't pay a coach to reach my destination. Instead, I walked. I was practically stalling in knowing if I just lost my job.

And my freedom.

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Well, apparently, I still have my job. The continuous soft plink! in my office could testify to that. I took file 46XI332, and was about to give it to Mr Ambrose, when another message came. It flew on to my desk with another plink! that I'm starting to loathe hearing. There are approximately twenty plink! sounds every minute, and the next should be here in five, four, three—

Plink!

Well, that one came two seconds early. I really admire Mr Ambrose's punctuality. I rolled my eyes as I looked at all the messages left unopened on my desk. I have no idea how many they were, only that they were more than my fingers and toes combined. I opened one of them, and found the delicate handwriting of my humble employer;

Mr Linton

Bring file 27IX238

Rikkard Ambrose

And then another one;

Mr Linton

Bring file 34VI172

Rikkard Ambrose

And another one. This is my most favorite message among the rest, since it exceeds ten words. It is also the sweetest;

Mr Linton

Bring file 41XV880. Now. The files won't find themselves, will they?

Rikkard Ambrose

And the list of request for files goes on. Believe me, with every message I opened, the more loving and kind he sounded. I huffed as I sent Mr Ambrose the files I found before finding the next one. I was mumbling incoherent words as I worked, and the words has something to do with completing my fantasies of strangling my dear employer.

The requests for files was nonstop, until there was a knock on the door of my office. A second later, it opened, revealing Mr Stone. He have a couple of letters in his arms that I'm assuming was for my darling office tyrant. I went to get them, "Thank you, Mr Stone."

He nodded with a smile as I scanned through the letters. There were from the Bank of England, Mr Carson, some pink letters, Elizabeth Higgins, and the Whitechapel factory. I'll just put the pink letters on a hidden box like the other pink ones and send Mr Ambrose the rest... Hold on a second. Mr Stone turned to leave when I froze, holding a certain letter in my hands.

Elizabeth Higgins?

For a moment there, I feel like I drank some of the piss that Aunt Brank drank this morning. I could almost taste it on my tongue as I remembered who exactly was Elizabeth Higgins.

"Mr Stone?" I called out, and the man turned to look at me with a questioning look on his face, "This letter..."

He looked at the letter from my left hand, the one separated from the letters on my right. Understanding settled in his features, "Ah, Miss Higgins. I doubt she's of any relation to Mr Ambrose, and it was the first time she sent a letter."