Venice, 1723.
She was exhausted, that's for sure. Catherine has been staring with a dull look at the blank piece of paper under her left hand for a few minutes straight. Should she already go to sleep? It was almost completely dark outside, it meant that the evening was here...
Somebody has entered the room, she looked at them only to see their guest, mister Jack, standing there with a slight smirk on his lips. He was staying with them for a week already and will be leaving in a month. No one knew much about the man, but no one actually cared, he liked to call himself mister Jack, and the family respected his wishes. He called himself 'a lonely American' as well, that was a bit confusing, but she didn't care about it. Catherine slowly stood up and nervously sighed.
"What now?" she blurted in her obviously broken English, it sounded more like "wét nö", but it seemed like Jack has understood her.
"The dinner is ready, will you join us?" he asked with a smirk playing on his lips. He was charming, did she already mention that? Catherine gulped with a smile as they both left the room.
"And, your dearest has mentioned it to me, the Count will be here at any minute. Now, if you will excuse me," Jack said as he quickly walked down the stairs. What a great start of endless evening.
Francois gently touched Catherine's hand as she sat down in front of him for the dinner.
"Are you anxious?" He asked and his wife nodded without looking at Francois.
"We are all looking forward to meet the Count, I can absolutely assure you, my darling, that he will be no treat to our family," Francois said and quickly glanced at Jack that was already standing in front of all the servants giving them 'the look'.
"Catherine, I thought, you should know that the guest is already here waiting at the front door," Jack said as the pair stood up and quickly ran after him to the front door.
Servants were already in line ready to accept the guest. One of them, Francois' valet, opened the door and took a wide step back to reveal the Count of Saint Germain himself at Du Crest' doorstep.
"Oh, what a nice house you live in," he said in French language with a mischievous grin as he came in. Black hair under the dark brown tricorn and white haired wig, dark brown eyes, not too tall, very manly, pale and... Beautiful, that's what Jack thought as he saw the Count. So many jewels, so many expensive rings on his fingers, perfect clothes for the start of 18th century, what an aristocrat he was, indeed. Sleeved waistcoat made of golden silk with patterns of white leaves, black shoes with dark amber jewels on them-
"My dearest Catherine, what a shame we haven't met before," he grabbed her hand and kissed the thumb with a wild look in his eyes. "And, of course, Francois! How are you doing?" They both exchanged the smiles and slightly bowed to each other. As the Count started to look around, he noticed Jack standing a few feet away from the family. Jack slowly breathed in as the Count quickly took a few steps towards his direction.
"And who is this?" he asked with burning eyes.
"Captain Jack Harkness, at your service, but, please, call me Jack," the time traveler answered with a grin in his perfect English.
"Oh! What a fascinating accent! Will you teach me the language of yours? It interests me!" Count was amazed and tried his best to speak in English without French accent.
"And you, my friend, look like you just won the ticket to Titanic, do not be so dramatic," Jack laughed slightly with his hands in the pockets.
"Titanic, you say? I've never heard of such a thing," Count looked genuinely confused as he followed the house keeper and Jack to the dinner table. They both sat down in front of each other in comfortable silence, just right before Catherine and Francois did the same. They were obviously interested in the new guest, but the new guest wasn't interested in them. The two servants were already walking around with the food.
YOU ARE READING
Always There
Ficción históricaCaptain Jack Harkness, "the man from the future that can't die". Comte de Saint Germain, "the man that knows everything and never dies" (Voltaire). They never knew the secrets of each other, they only figured it out a few centuries later (earlier).