Deep Curiosity

II. The Primary Crisis

The sun had set three hours ago and the sky was already full of stars. She glanced out of her cabin watched the night sky. The soft gushing of the waves was softly lulling her to sleep and the gentle rocking of the ship was quite inviting, too. She sighed and closed the book she was reading by the small light of a lamp before. This was it. That was where she was going to start her journey.

Clara looked around the cabin suite which was reserved for her course, especially by the man’s father. It sure entailed extravagance, regarding the fact that the room is the largest room of the entire ship. Her current predicament made her wonder just what kind of man is she going to marry. Is he some sick spoiled runt or a generous young nobleman? Is he someone as insensitive as far as to brag and as lazy as far as to have his father do the arrangements for him? Or is he someone who just wants the best for everything? As for that moment, it wasn’t her position to judge. Besides, she has every right to cancel the arrangement if he happened to be a scoundrel, after all.

Three knocks ended her reverie. She stared at the door, wondering who on earth would want to visit a lady this late. She remained frozen at the edge of her bed to feign her presence. Another batch of knocks and her lungs started to constrict her body’s air passage. Whatever lies behind the door will surely decide whatever—

               “Forgive my insolence, m’lady, but my master wants to talk to you.”

She exhaled the air she was unconsciously holding. She quickly rose to her feet and reluctantly opened the door. A young girl of her early teens greeted her with utmost courtesy, “Good evening, Lady du Monte. Lord Myr Rustom requests you presence. Please, follow me.” With that, she was left to wonder if he’s in some way related to the man she’s going to marry.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lord Myr, apparently, is an old man with smiling eyes. He appeared to be thrice her age and is related to whom she’s going to get married to at the second degree. He introduced himself as the royal adviser of the throne. If anything, he’s someone important that I can’t just shrug off. He’s currently talking about how beautiful her grandmother was and how it was such a waste that she rejected his marriage proposal.

                “You actually look like her lots, if it wasn’t for your hazel eyes, my dear.”

Clara smiled. Her eyes are the only assets she inherited from her father. Cyril has her mother’s eyes, which are golden brown orbs. “My brother has her eyes, my lord.” The man smiled warmly, “Ahh… Cyril, isn’t it? He was such a charming young lad almost nineteen years ago. Is he still charming now?” She smiled. So, we did meet before. “Counting, we were still three years old that time, sir. He’s still the same charming boy. He did cry on my departure.” Lord Myr’s laughter filled the room, “Boy, is he? You both are exactly who your gracious grandmother described in the last letter she wrote me. A clever young lady… and a softie with a hard covering young man. Your father must be so proud of you.”

                “Thank you, sir.”

She looked at him with warm eyes. He seemed very close to her grandmother. “Oh, boy. Frances is truly fortunate to have you as his betrothed, Clara. Though, you might see him as weird. Don’t worry, he does have his perks but let me just tell you that he’s not that agreeable. A beautiful man, he is. He even has his own line of suitors. That boy, how shameful.” He let out a loud laughter as she gaped at his revelation. Own line of suitors? “That’s preposterous! He—“she cleared her throat, “—can’t be…”

                “Oh, boy, he does. With those manly charms and skills, who wouldn’t line up for him?”

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------