February 02, 2005
(III)
I moved into the sitting room prepared for another evening of boring conversation over my Mother's prize potatoes and succulent roast lamb. The guest was male, tall and well dressed. He was introduced to me as, "Lord Erasmo Cortez Asa Mao." I did the appropriate curtsey as I was taught to do, made a polite enquiry as to his health this evening. He gave a bewildering response, which caused my brow to furrow and my eyes to lift to his, taking a bit more of an interest in the man which at first appeared simply another one of my father's boring colleagues.
My Mother looked anxious, perhaps even worried. She exchanged glances with my Father and I felt like there was something I was missing. Some piece of the puzzle that they all seemed to understand and that I did not.
I was not left in the dark much longer.
"Ya Father 'as been lucky enough--" She pauses to glance in the direction of Lord Erasmo Cortez Asa Mao before continuing, "We 'ave been honoured with Lord Erasmo's distinguished presence tonight and further more.." Without the upbringing my Father had, my Mother was struggling to impress our guest with her command of our language, and my thoughts wandered to many of the arguments they had had over the years. It was not till the latter half of what she was saying was repeated that it sunk in. "A mutual partnership...." This was my Father speaking now. "... Lord Erasmo's ties, our financial backing..." Preposterous. The notion of it was absurd. My Father ushered my Mother from the room to leave myself and my apparent betrothed to become acquainted whilst they finalised the preparations for the celebrating supper.
My mouth was still hanging open at the shock of the announcement when the door closed behind them. I took another look at him. Longer, more examining than previous. At least he was not old, his pallid skin had a sort of youthful appearance with small fine lines creasing the corners of his eyes. His lips were a hard firm line, and remained drawn like that - never forming either a warm reassuring smile, or a disapproving frown. It was impossible to read him and guess what thoughts went on in his head. His dark inky hair was long (not red...? foreign then?) and drawn back into a tie at the nape of his neck.
He did not look the sort to be concerned in business or anything that my Father would be interested in. But certainly my Father in him and his title. Several minutes passed before I realised that neither of us had spoken yet. And so I did, "I didna know 'bout this."
He did not look surprised. In fact, he did not look much of anything as he stepped towards me. I took a step backwards to match his steps forward and soon I was standing with my rear against a decorative wooden sideboard. The rest happened in such a short space of time, and yet every detail I can recall accurately as if it occurred over hours not mere seconds.