Episode 2

Continuing…

My father taught me those beautiful words based on the profound love he held for my mother and vice versa.

I've never known a couple who loved each other as much. And it's precisely what I want for myself. Or wanted, before this tragedy so cruelly befell us.

Although I knew and held his words close, there comes a time when hope softens and dreams fade away.

And today, specifically today, I woke up sadder than usual. When I sat down on that couch to embroider, I plunged into a sea of thoughts and memories. Memories of a good time that will not return.

The time when we were the Montanese family, one of the wealthiest and most reputable in Valedouro.

The time I would walk side by side with my father and watch him honored and greeted by everyone we met, and who now shake their heads and sneer, if they don't outright laugh at our misfortune.

What a cruel and materialistic society. I've never accepted this kind of treatment for people who, through carelessness or pure bad luck, lose their scant dignity overnight.

In our case, much was lost.

The time when we would laugh at each other as we tried to find a joke that would make my mother laugh with us. Today, she doesn't smile, and this hurts me so much...

I look with a sigh at her, hands and fingers reddened by the friction with the embroidery needle.

"Excuse me, mother, I'm going to the sewing room to get more red thread."

It was just an excuse so she wouldn't see my tears. We're threatened with eviction. The house, mortgaged with overdue payments, groans for our help. It seems not wanting to let us go. But at any moment, the bank clerk might arrive and force us out.

We'd lose our only family asset.

I cry a little alone, to relieve my heart. And after I compose myself, since there's really no point, I wipe my face and try to muster a smile so as not to let her see me this way, although I know she does the same, many times a day.

And I return to myself.

At that moment, I hear loud knocks on the door.

I rush to the window. But what is this? Who is it?

“No, never! Get away from here right now, you deceitful opportunist!”

I hear my mother shout at the man standing before her. He is tall with broad shoulders and a square jaw, his expression stern.

He's surely over 50 years, and despite his age, he may indeed be considered handsome, with silver hair he doesn't hide underneath his feathered hat. But the expression on his face is that of a remarkable man; his gaze is dark, and his fine clothes indicate his social standing. A wealthy plantation owner, likely in coffee.

Judging by the harsh way she spoke to the gentleman, she certainly knows him, as she would never address a stranger in such a manner.

And then, looking more closely, I recognize familial traits. Traits of my father, that unmistakable thick eyebrow.

I arrive in the living room and she pulls me behind her, a sense of protection.

His eyes light up when he sees me enter, and I can see the satisfaction wash over his previously tense face because of my mother's burst of anger.

"So, this is Adele... Adelaide, I presume."

I lean close to her ear and ask with a chill in my veins.

"Who is this man, mother, and what does he want?”

“Good morning, Milady, I am your father's cousin. Otto Montanese, at your service. And I've come to save you from total ruin."

I step out from behind her.

"Father's cousin?"

"Yes." He steps forward and extends his hand for me to do the same so he could greet me with a mere brush of lips, as is custom.

I'm without gloves, so his lips cannot touch my hand.

I hesitate a moment, but proper manners compel me to reciprocate his gesture. My mother, however, steps between us once more and pulls me back.

"May we sit to talk?"

“I've already said that you're not welcome here. Therefore, my husband never called upon you. How did you learn of his death?”

The man elegantly seats himself on our sofa, pushing aside the embroidery with disgusted hands, as if those fine fabrics were something foul.

That gesture alone was enough to make me repel him, too.

Ciri quickly gathers our sewing, and then he settles in, confident and self-assured.

"News travels, Marta. And, a few months ago, he wrote to me, I suppose a few weeks before the misfortune that took him from this world. And, as I preemptively mentioned, he made a special request. Though we didn't communicate much recently, blood is blood. And I would never leave you in the lurch, especially now, with the confirmation of what I already suspected about your daughter."

"What are you talking about, Mr. Otto?”

"The undeniable beauty and grace she possesses.”

"We do not need your help. If he wrote, it was in a moment of weakness. We're managing well here, and... your initial idea of helping us, forget it, it will never happen."

He shakes his head and flashes a broad grin from ear to ear.

"Well, I've already surveyed your situation and... it's not good. I'm the only living relative, and... as a man, I have the right to claim what's left of my cousin. It's all mine. Even you two."

"Excuse me, Your Excellency..." – I say, eyes cast down.

"Otto," he corrects sternly – "Speak, Miss Adelaide."

"There isn't much left for you to... take possession of as you say. All we have is this mortgaged house. And many debts to pay."

"I know. I've already spoken with the bank. And, unless you allow me to intervene, soon you'll lose this house and end up living... well, it's not pleasant to say but, you know. On the street. And I can help."

"Not in exchange for what you desire. Your Excellency, distinguished cousin of my husband."

My mother remains firm again; it seems she truly intends to drive away what seems to be our only possible savior.

In the year we live in, 1880, women alone and without money have few chances of maintaining a decent life in that town.

"May I know what you desire in return for aiding us?"

My mother beseeches him with her eyes to keep silent.

"I'll be direct in my words. For time is money. I am in need of a wife, and... as the closest kin to your father, I may choose to marry either you or your mother to honor his name. As she," he gestures to my mother, "is out of the question for reasons you are already aware of, I choose you. Younger, prettier, who fits precisely what I need at the moment."

What? Marry my... uncle? Besides everything else, he's older and as he has already shown in various ways, a first-class arrogant.

"Sir, you are my... uncle..."

"Not exactly. I'm your father's fourth cousin. Besides, we barely share a bloodline, and even if we did, it wouldn't be an impediment."

A slight nausea hits me; it's inconceivable. I've heard of relatives marrying, but I never quite accepted that notion. And he's correct concerning the laws of kinship. He can lay claim to me as a wife, to honor my father's name.

Because with my mother, it seems he truly intends no bargain.

"And what will it be, Mrs. Marta?”

His question fills my mother with fury.

"I'm asking you to leave my house right now."

The tall man, with the elegance and demeanor of nobility, rises and snaps his fingers. Several servants enter the house, bearing enormous baskets filled with fruits, vegetables, and an abundance of fine foods and grains.

"I want nothing from you, Mr. Otto."

"Still, I will leave it here. And, I shall be generous. I am in town on business until next week. I am staying at the Milton hostel. If you change your mind, you can find me there. You know I am well within my rights, Mrs. Marta, but I want to do this in the best way possible, without being seen as an opportunist, even though the beautiful opportunity," he looks at me, "makes me very tempted to consent to this."

He makes a small bow to me.

"Milady..."

I respond with my eyes only and watch him leave through the door before my mother collapses in the chair beside her.

"Despicable opportunist, he will not get what he wants, not with you. I won't allow it. I have no idea what your father was thinking when he sent that message to this sly man, but I am still your mother, and rather than having to beg, he will not take you from here."

She breaks down in tears, and I crouch beside her, stroking her tousled hair from the commotion.

She is vain, but lately, she has become a bit sloppy due to our current situation, as the housework has been split between the few servants we have left.

Although when we go out, we still maintain the presence of society women.

From the polished and elegant woman of before, very little is left. Just appearances.

It's sad, but it's our reality.

I don't even know what to say. Because I know he's right. Without help, we will indeed soon beg, and if he does not take me as his wife, who will?

Bankrupt, ragged, and indebted... Although beautiful, status means a lot here.

Ciri brings a glass of water to calm her.

"Drink, ma'am, it will help you."

"Thank you, Ciri."

She drinks then gazes at me with tender eyes.

"I'm so sorry to put you through this, darling, but if it's up to me, you won't marry this man."

"And if there's no other way out, mother?"

Her already tearful eyes become redder.

"You have no idea who this man is, darling. That's why your father never turned to him. And now he arrives, acting the nice guy, wanting to help us... never. He only wants you."

I stand up from beside her and take a good look around, assessing our options.

Few or none.

Then I firmly face my mother, and she understands, standing up and shaking her head no.

"If there's no other way, I'll do it, mother. What I won't accept is for you to have to go humble yourself before the snobbish rich of this town."

She grabs me firmly by the shoulders.

"You will not marry him, do you understand, Adele?"

My mother's eyes are as fierce as I've never seen them before. I can't understand why she's acting like this when, as is well-known in our society, marriages of convenience are more than normal. Although it was never my personal desire, I always knew it could happen. He is older yes, perhaps, but I have witnessed marriages far more sordid than this. Girls even younger than me with older and less appealing men.

I don't respond instead I affectionately kiss her cheek.

I love my mother and will do whatever it takes to see her well.

I ask Ciri to help me stock our nearly empty pantry with the generous help from that strange cousin of my father.

Otto Montanese.

I make a little face; I can't really see myself married to him. But if this is the price for our survival and honor, I will do it.

That day we would have a decent meal, something we haven't had in a long time.

And for that, I would be thankful.

I awaken groggy as Ciri shakes me in bed.

"Miss, wake up, something's wrong."

"What... Ciri, what happened?"

I rub my eyes.

"There are strange men in the house. They're taking everything valuable."

I leap up alarmed. What? Taking our things?

I throw on a thick coat, as I'm only in a nightgown, and Ciri does the same. I light the candle that brightens the room which, in the semi-darkness, only had the timid moonlight coming through the window.

And as we reach the living room, my mother stands in a corner merely watching the burly men carry our fine furniture and family heirlooms out the door and onto large carts waiting in front of the house. It's still early, but due to the commotion, the attention of the neighbors is inevitable.

Our neighborhood is quiet but always buzzing with gossip.

We approach her and embrace her; Ciri seems frightened.

"What's happening, mother?"

She doesn't answer, only points to one of the creditors and the bank representative entering with some papers in hand.

“Mrs. Marta Montanese?”

"Yes?"

He hands my mother several sheets of paper.

"I am here on behalf of the city bank whose owner is seizing your property until the overdue mortgage of two years is paid off. After many attempts at negotiation failing, the law compels you and your family to vacate the premises within three days, or we will have to enforce your removal with police force, if necessary. Do you understand the content of these documents?"

She doesn't say anything, just lets a tear fall down her face, takes the pen, and signs the acknowledgment without resistance, knowing that arguing with this man wouldn't help. We've done it several times already, and his last visit made it clear that when they came, they would take this action.

She leaves the room as they carry out the rest of the furniture which once served as the backdrop for a complete and happy family.

Oh father, why did you have to leave us like this?

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