Puss's Boots - Chapter 2

“How truly beautiful she is, Master Cat!” Exclaimed the pleased Master Detective that afternoon as she gazed upon Dione’s likeness. “Why, Cat, if she is half as intelligent and kind as her portrait is handsome, I have half a mind to beg her hand on the very spot of our meeting.”

“Ah, M’lady, she is kind enough to feed a strange, and rather obviously hungry, cat from her own hand so that it might continue to live.”

“But,” the lady countered cunningly, “could it not also be a sign of great stupidity, to feed a strange, possibly vicious – no offence meant, Master Cat – animal out of her own hand?”

“If it were anyone but her, yes. Mistress was so discomforted by the thought of a creature in pain that she was blind to any consequences. As for her intelligence, my mistress often spends her days reading so that, upon her brother’s arrival home, she can adequately debate with him and amuse him with witty conversation.”

“A woman with a mind.”

“A woman who fears not to use her mind,” countered Puss, the master debater, for he knew that intelligence and a willingness to use her mind for more than just gossip was the surest way to impress a woman titled the kingdom’s Master Detective.

On these points Lady Heightmyer thought deeply and for a great length of time. At long last, around the final moments of sunlight, she decided to meet the woman who was both intelligent and kind, not to mention beautiful. She awoke Puss, who had found a delicious patch of sunlight and had curled up on the window seat to nap, and informed him that a meeting between herself and Lord Gloria was to be in order. Puss of course agreed whole-heartedly and promised to beg his master and mistress to come immediately. All he asked Lady Heightmyer for was to borrow his coach, for the Glorias’ had had to be abandoned in mud miles away from the winter estate.

Scurrying back, again Puss reached the estate within seconds of leaving Heightmyer’s, and, once there, he immediately informed Orlando and Dione of the lady’s interest in their family. For the two scared, lonely twins, this came as a great relief. The Master Detective had a stern but fair reputation, but she was also known for her unique and remote beauty. Dione had heard even back in their hometown about her great intellect and cleverness and also of the handsome face of the Lady Heightmyer, and she was only too happy to be courted by her.

Of course, Orlando was pleased that such a strong and powerful lady would show interest in his sister, but to lose all of your family save one and then to hear that she might just abandon you for a wife in the same season was just news too bitter for him to take. After congratulating his sister and twice being asked if he was well, Orlando escaped to the garden to mourn his losses in private. It was there that he once again saw the strange man.

He was older than the twins, and strong and well-muscled, dressed in fine, if simple, lawn and leathers. His hair was pure spun-gold with eyes the colour of the a stormy sky; he was a stark contrast to Orlando’s own darker colouring. The stranger’s skin was tanned lightly and his hair cut shorter then fashionable, but it was kept long enough that a slight wave could be seen in it. He was dressed simply, again contrasted by Orlando’s borrowed finery. When he spoke, his voice flowed like a thick honey, rich and sweet. And now, that voice and those grey eyes were turned on the younger man.

“Ah, the young Lord Gloria, out for a moonlight stroll, are we?” A knowing, flirtatious wink accompanied his silky words, and, at once, Orlando found himself blushing, as he always seemed to do in this man’s company. Granted, he had only seen the man twice before, once when his horse had gone limp in front of the siblings’ secret spot, and, the second time, the man had been in the company of his father. Orlando had just assumed that the stranger had been a business associate of his father’s, but never before had he had been able to muster up the courage he desperately needed to speak even the tiniest sentence to this Apollo of men who even the barest glimpse of made him blush and his heart beat wildly in his breast.

He must speak now, Orlando belatedly realized as they were finally alone, and the man had addressed him directly. So he took a slow, deep breath and averted his eyes from the soft grey ones in front of him. Then Orlando spoke so softly that the stranger had to lean close to hear him. It was an exceptionally intimate scene to any passerby who might have been lurking in the gardens, but, fortunately and with regard to the hour, the gardens were empty tonight.

“You of all people would know, Stranger, that I am no foreign lord come to visit.”

“Ah, so the statue does know how to speak; oh, don’t colour so, Orlando. It is just that you have never spoken to me before tonight. As for your not being a true lord… Well, that I care not for, nor will I speak to the detective of it. I do have a request in return to ask of you though.”

“Anything.” Orlando breathed, his heart beat faster at the mere mention of a request from the breathtaking stranger.

“Anything that I want?” The man teased, watching the boy’s face as he blushed. Then, taking pity on the young man, he named his request, requests, actually. “All I desire is for your happiness, yours and, of course, Dione’s. Caoimhe is a good woman; she will make Dione a good wife. Follow my advice and allow the match. As for myself, all I ask is for your handkerchief there – the one in your hand. This only; this and that you shed no more tears tonight. You must set a brave example, Orlando, for your sister looks to you for guidance. It is hard, yes, but the rewards are great indeed.”

With those honey-coated words spoken, the stranger took Orlando’s hand, the one that held the handkerchief he had requested, kissed the back of it, and took the embroidered, tear-stained piece of linen. Standing up gracefully and with a short bow, he was gone again before Orlando could blink.