Las Dos Marias

Chapter 5: The Party

Trinidad found herself face to face with a young gentleman clearly eager to impress.

"My daughter, this is Don Miguel Mendoza, an entrepreneur from Manila," Don Arnulfo introduced.

"Don Arnulfo, it's an honor," Don Miguel replied, his jovial tone grating on Trinidad's nerves. "And, of course, a privilege to meet your beautiful hija."

Trinidad extended her hand, letting him plant a kiss on it. He was older, with a mestizo face—European and Filipino features blended in sharp angles.

"Well, I'll leave the two of you to talk," her father said, walking away.

"Gracias, Señor," Don Miguel called after him, then turned to Trinidad with a bright smile. She forced one in return, her energy drained by the evening's events.

"You are more beautiful than words can describe," he said, breathless. "Your father speaks highly of you, Señorita."

"Gracias, Don Miguel. How long have you been in San Felipe?" she asked, keeping her tone polite.

"Just a couple of months. The people here are quite hospitable."

"Enjoy your stay," she replied, as neutrally as possible.

"Surely, I will," he said, flashing a smile that showed off his straight teeth and defined jawline. Despite his appeal, Trinidad felt no spark.

"I assume you and Papa have discussed a possible marriage between us?" she asked, lightly touching the fabric of a nearby tablecloth. The scent of perfume and sweat hung in the air, mingling with the murmur of conversations.

"Yes," Don Miguel replied, a curious glint in his eyes as he took a sip from his glass.

"I see."

"I hope you'll have no reason to refuse, Señorita. I look forward to marrying you."

A cold wave washed over her. How could she explain her reluctance about this situation? She knew it was bound to happen, but it felt too soon. She wanted to ask her parents—was this the only thing women were valued for? Would it be wrong to want something different for her life, like choosing to settle down with someone she loved, rather than with someone chosen by her parents? The man in front of her seemed decent enough, but why couldn't she feel excited about meeting him like the other girls? Was something wrong with her? Wanting to end the conversation, she made a decision. "Forgive me, Señor," she said, snapping her abaniko shut. "But I'd like to halt any further conversation. I'm quite tired."

"A closed abaniko—a sign of disinterest," he chuckled. "But I understand, Señorita. Perhaps we can talk another time?"

She nodded, not because she wanted to, but to bring the interaction to a close.

"Muy bien," he said with a resigned smile, then excused himself.

With a sigh of relief, Trinidad slipped out of the crowded room and down a quiet hallway toward the kitchen. She planned to sneak into the garden and stay there until everyone was too happy or too drunk to notice her absence.

***

"Por favor, Señorita," the errand boy pleaded, "I need to see your invitation."

Isabela glanced at the bustling house, its windows glowing with light, workers hurrying in every direction. She'd been negotiating with the boy for some time, but he stood firm, no older than twelve yet remarkably stubborn.

"I know you're just doing your job, boy, but I'm doing mine, too."

"Doña Esperanza was clear with her instructions," he replied, tightening his grip on the gate. "I really can't let you in."

"Can you at least ask someone? I need to deliver these to Doña Alma."

The boy hesitated, looking confused.

"Please?" she added, softening her tone.

"But—"

"Go. Now."

Seeing the seriousness in her eyes, he finally scrambled toward the house. Seizing the moment, Isabela slipped through the unattended gate, blending in with the workers who were too busy to notice a stranger.

The scent of lechon filled the air, mingling with laughter and music. She'd been to the Buenavista residence several times before, assisting her mother with services for Doña Alma, but Doña Esperanza always seemed to dislike them. It seemed that this Doña had developed a strong dislike for her, especially, and often chastised her mother for raising her like a carefree child. Even when she was young, this brick house had always felt like a frightening place because of Doña Esperanza. Meanwhile, the little girl her age had been sent to the convent earlier than intended, and her rare visits required traveling around their estates in the countryside. She had never seen the mysterious daughter of the Buenavista couple, but she had heard that the girl possessed an allure only a noble lady could carry.

Brushing the thought aside, Isabela focused on her task. She knew the kitchen had a back door that led to the garden. From there, she could slip inside quietly and make her way to the old lady's room, avoiding any fuss or suspicion.

As she neared the back door, relief washed over her—until she nearly collided with the most graceful and beautiful woman she'd ever seen.

In that narrow space, their eyes met, and Isabela felt her heart race, caught between admiration and curiosity about the lady.