Storm and Silence Fanfic

The Drama Unfolds

~2 October 1840~

"Mr Linton, how nice of you to arrive." A cool voice greets me. But I don't have time for this. If only he knew... "You are six minutes, twelve-"

"I don't care. I know I'm late. I know, I just..." Don't you dare cry, Lilly. Don't you even think about it.

"M-Mr Linton?" Was there a catch in his voice or was I making something up in my hysteria? "What is the matter?" He gets up from his chair and moves out from behind his desk. I lower my head, really wishing he wouldn't come closer. If he so much as touches me I'm going to lose it. I take a step back, but he just closes the distance. We keep moving until I hit into the wall. "Lillian," he whispers, holding my cheek.

I can't keep it in any longer. The entire time I walked to 322 Leadenhall Street, I told myself to be strong. Women are strong. We can hold our emotions if we want to. But the second he showed that he cared was more than I could take.

"My little Ifrit, what is the matter?" He holds me and rubs small, comforting circles on my back. It just makes me cry harder. I know the second I tell him, he's going to freak out and push me away. All of the walls I was able to break down during our visit to the jungle will be built up in half a second. I take one long, un-feminist second to bask in the comfort I get from touching him, the way his strong hands caress my shoulders tenderly, the way his chin rests on my head, and I fit perfectly in his arms.

"It's terrible." I say, after I'm able to compose myself. He takes my hand and leads me over, gently, to one of the chairs and sits down, pulling me into his lap. I'm shocked. He wraps his arms around me.

"Tell me, and I will make it all go away. Is it a suitor? Did your aunt find you some awful old man to marry?"

"No, worse." I say.

"What could possibly be worse than that?"

I look into his eyes. I know I look horrible, my eyes are puffy and I'm sure there's snot dripping out of my nose in buckets, but to Mr Ambrose, I've always been enough. I wonder if he'll still like me after he finds out.

"I...I'm...It...."

"Yes?"

"I'm pregnant."

Silence.

Am I surprised?

No.

"I see." He says. The cold, calculating look is back in his eyes. I slump back and rest my head on his broad shoulder. He stiffens and that makes me want to cry again, but I know I can't. The worst part is yet to come, but at least now he knows. He's Mr Rikkard Ambrose. He can deal with anything.

      "Whose is it?"

"It's yours, sir." I say, not meeting his eyes. I know the look I'm going to see, so why bother.

"Are you sure?"

Now I look at him. I sit up straight.

"Yes, I'm sure. It's definitely yours." I look down and place my hands on my belly. Right now, there is a child in there. Mr Rikkard Ambrose's child. I'm so nervous I want to puke. I don't know what to do.

"Who else knows?" He asks. He's glaring at a stack of papers on his desk. I don't see icicles on them yet, but if he keeps it up, I'm sure it won't be long before they do appear.

"No one. Just you. I...I didn't know what to do. Will you help me?" I hate having to ask for help, especially from a man like him. I just know he's going to give me that "men-are-superior-so-of-course-it-makes-sense-that-you're-asking-for-my-help-since-I-can-do-everything-because-I'm-a-man-and-you're-an-incapable,-weak-woman" look, but I've run out of options. The entire weekend, I sat under the tree in my aunts garden, trying to think of what to do. I came up with nothing good and decided to tell him. I knew he'd have a plan.

"Good. That will make it easier to get rid of." He pushes me off his knee and stands. In my shock, I fall to the floor, right on my overly generous derriere.

"NO!" I cry, scrambling up. Mr Ambrose stiffens and turns around, fixing me with a glare.

"What did you just say?"

"I am not getting rid of this baby."

"You must. There is no other option for you."

"For us, you mean."

"I do not say things I do not mean." He looks away from me and returns to his desk. "I mean you."

"But...but that means..." He isn't going to help me. He wants me to get rid of it. He doesn't want me, or the baby we created. He doesn't care.

I feel tears prick my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. This bastard has seen me cry once, I won't let him see it again and think I'm weak.

"You have to help me. This is your child too."

"And what proof do you have?" He asks coolly, not even glancing at me. He takes a sheet of paper from the pile and scans it. "You have none. There is nothing tying this to me besides the words from your mouth. If you tell anyone, it will be my word against yours." He finally sees fit to look at me and I really wish he hadn't. His eyes glance over me, cool and uncaring. "And who do you think people will believe? The richest man in all the world? Or some silly little feminist girl who's been arrested twice?" I bite my lip so hard I taste blood. Red frames the edge of my vision. I thought I could trust this man. I actually thought that underneath his miserly ways and cold exterior there was something alive.

"I was wrong about you." I whisper. "I thought I could trust you." I give him one last look, once more chance to change his mind, but he lowers his head to his papers. I turn away and walk to my office.

"Mr Linton?"

My head whirls around at the unexpected sound of his voice. Maybe he's changed his mind.

"I want your resignation papers on my desk before noon."

"I'm not quitting!" I protest. Not now if I'm going to be a single mother, because I have no doubts my aunt is going to kick me out the second she finds out, I need all the money I can get. Uncle Bufford certainly won't take pity on me. No one will.

"Yes you are. Don't you think people will notice when you get fat?" I blush. The bastard. He's really going to make me quit. "You will no longer be working here."

"I was so wrong." One tear spills over my cheek but I don't bother brushing it away. I march into my office and scribble my resignation. It's hardly legible, but I don't give a damn.

I slam the door to his office open and he doesn't flinch or look at me. I throw the paper at him. "Here, you bloody chauvinist bastard. I hope you choke on it." I rush towards the door, desperately needing to leave here. I need to leave and never look back.

"Lillian..." I hear as I slam the door shut. But I don't turn back. I want to, but I can't be disappointed again. I need to move on and figure out how I'm going to survive. I listen for his footsteps following me, but I'm not surprised to hear nothing but the echos of my sobs.

*

Poor Lilly! What do you think Mr Ambrose means by get rid of it? Maybe his love for Lilly will win out in the end?

I want to give a big shout out to everyone who's been reading and commenting. It means a great deal to me to have people who like the story and want to read more. :)

That's all I've got for today, friends. See ya next time.

~Hamilfan123987

(Ps where are my hamiltrash friends? <3 you guys)