Within moments, Jack and Vanessa were in the kitchen, commencing preparations long before the event was due to start.
They were not, of course, entirely without assistance—Sil Bernard had personally chosen a select cadre of maids, each trained in the art of preparing meals for nobility, to lend their aid in the labors that lay ahead.
That being said…
Why, then, are so many of them present? Does Sil Bernard truly suppose that I might blunder… or, heaven forbid, abscond, simply because I am expected to manage all unaided?
Jack furrowed his brow, his expression grave as he pondered the thought.
"Pardon me, sir, but we await your instructions to commence preparations for the repast," one of the maids ventured, stepping forward with a slight bow, her tone courteous yet insistent.
Eight maids in total stood before him, Vanessa among them, though she appeared curiously detached from the proceedings.
Jack emitted a low sigh and muttered under his breath, "Ah… it is time already?" as he cleared his throat with a discreet cough.
This ought to prove enjoyable… Yet he wondered, how much time remains for me to…
After a brief pause, he inquired once more, "Pray, how much time remains before the repast is to commence?"
"Not a great deal, sir. Yet, by my reckoning, I should say some thirty minutes, perhaps less," came the reply.
"Thirty minutes, you say? Then we possess a small measure of time ere the meal must be presented," Jack observed, a faint smile touching his lips.
***
"I shall step out for a moment to see if I might recognize any of the guests arriving; you may, in the meantime, proceed with preparations or occupy yourselves with conversation," he remarked.
He moved toward the door, but one of the maids interposed hurriedly, her tone edged with concern, "But, sir, there is scarcely any time to lose. Should the repast be tardy for the nobles, we might find ourselves in some trouble."
Vanessa stepped forward, inclining her head slightly. "Pray, is there some matter of concern?" She inquired, her voice composed yet gently probing.
The maid merely shrugged. "It is naught, madam… save that there is scarcely sufficient time to have all prepared before the repast is called for."
Vanessa blinked, her brow knitting in perplexity. She could scarcely comprehend why Jack should contemplate departing at a moment when time was so short. And yet—why did he maintain such composure, as though the entire repast rested upon naught more than a leisurely promenade beyond the hall?
Jack straightened slightly, holding the bow a moment longer before rising fully.
"If you will kindly excuse me, ladies," he intoned with courteous precision.
"Hm?" Vanessa murmured, regarding him with a faint smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.
"What, pray, do you imagine yourself doing?" she inquired, her voice firm as she stepped nearer, her eyes narrowing slightly. Jack remained poised at the doorway, respectful and composed, prepared to depart the kitchen, yet clearly ensnared by her gaze.
"Nothing. I merely thought it prudent to observe the surroundings for a moment before the proceedings commence, much as you yourself suggested earlier." Jack replied courteously,
lightly tossing them back in her direction. Yet he had overlooked one minor but crucial detail: Vanessa had, in truth, never shown him any of the places to which she had alluded.
Vanessa emitted a soft, amused chuckle, unaware that she was about to be deftly guided by Jack's initiative.
"…You truly think so?" she inquired, inclining her head with a faint air of curiosity.
"Indeed," Jack replied, his voice composed yet imbued with quiet certainty. "If you will permit me," he continued, taking a step backward before turning and departing the kitchen.
All of the maids fixed their gaze upon Vanessa, their expressions a mixture of astonishment and incredulity. They could scarce fathom why she made no effort to urge Jack to remain and assume command as head of the kitchen. The success of the forthcoming repast depended upon him, and without his oversight, they felt with an almost instinctive certainty that all would descend into chaos.
The maid standing behind Vanessa parted her lips as though to speak, then pressed them together again, uncertainty flickering in her eyes as they darted from Vanessa to the floor. Her shoulders stiffened slightly, betraying her apprehension.
For a brief, suspended moment, the kitchen fell silent, every eye upon Vanessa. She bore a serene smile, her posture entirely relaxed, her attention fixed upon the doorway through which Jack had just departed.
"Miss Vee," murmured the maid, her tone tentative, for she knew well that none could resolve their present predicament without the aid of Vanessa's assistance.
"What is it?" Vanessa replied, her smile unwavering, serene as ever.
"Was it wise… to permit him to depart? I mean… what if Master Sil Bernard should visit and find us idle, our attentions fixed solely upon the dishes?"
Vanessa merely shrugged.
She is right… I did not consider that contingency. Yet I am certain that Jack understands his course of action. I trust…
A low sigh escaped her, and she cast a troubled glance at the maid behind her, uncertainty threading through her posture as she pondered how best to proceed.
"We must simply await his return," she said, lifting her shoulders in a small shrug. "He will, I dare say, appear shortly. We must exercise patience."
"If you say so… yet I am far from convinced he shall return within a moment's span. He has only just departed, and what are we to report should the master arrive? I—I mean no discourtesy, Miss Vee, but… why place such trust in him?" The maid's tone carried the faintest edge of wryness.
Vanessa hesitated a moment, then admitted, "I… cannot say for certain. Yet, if I were to hazard a guess, it is perhaps because he carries an air… much like that of Selena." She allowed her smile to falter slightly, straightening her posture in an attempt to sound more assured than she truly felt.
"And fret not for Jack. I shall endeavour to manage matters in the interim," she added.
In truth, she had little notion of how to proceed after so boldly declaring she would 'manage matters.' Collaboration had never been her forte; she was accustomed to overseeing all on her own. Her presence in the kitchen was motivated not by duty, but by a desire to observe a gentleman at his craft—hardly to supervise the maids or direct their labours.
Moments later, Jack proceeded down the narrowing corridor, noting the mansion's intricate layout while casting a discreet glance toward one of the maids who had taken to trailing him ever since he departed the kitchen.
She had lingered near the doorway earlier, polishing a stretch of the wooden floor that appeared scarcely soiled. Perhaps she had truly been attending to her duties, yet the manner in which she continued to shadow him rendered that difficult to credit. Each time Jack dared a glance backward, she would freeze and redirect her gaze, feigning industriousness. And yet, the expression upon her face betrayed her intentions.
She was tall, with black hair cropped close to her head, giving her an almost boyish appearance. Yet the effect was tempered by the prim cut of her maid's uniform and the gentle contours of her figure. Her bright green eyes darted with keen attentiveness, betraying a restlessness beneath her composed exterior.
It is difficult to discern her intentions, Jack pondered. Is she genuinely at a loss, or does she suspect me of impropriety in wandering about her master's abode?
In any case, should that be her aim, she fares poorly as a pursuer…
Shall I instruct her in the proper manner of trailing one, or perhaps leave her to her own devices?
That does not seem half unwise, Jack reflected. Should I leave her to her own devices, she may well reveal to me all the important locations without my lifting so much as a finger.
He slackened his pace ever so slightly, giving the impression that he intended to halt at the next doorway ahead, careful to observe her reaction.
"...Uh-huh?"
The maid, having taken the bait, hastened her pace, as though to remind Jack that any misstep on his part would not escape notice—or so it appeared.
When Jack reached the doorway, he passed it without a backward glance. His hands slipped into his pockets, and a small, satisfied smile curved his lips; the plan was already unfolding precisely as he had intended.
The maid slowed her step and, as she passed the door, cast a swift, puzzled glance upon it, seeking to discern his design. Yet it required only a few moments of observing his posture for her to grasp the truth: she was unwittingly revealing to him the most important chambers of the mansion. She was far from foolish.
She exhaled, relief softening her features, and then inclined her head with quiet determination. Henceforth, she resolved, she would not allow herself to be so easily guided by a man such as Jack, though she knew little of him, save for suspicions that stirred in her mind.
A few minutes hence, it appeared the maid had ceased her pursuit. Casting his gaze about, he found her nowhere to be seen; the mansion, normally alive with the murmur and bustle of its attendants, now seemed almost deserted, enveloped in an uncanny stillness.
Yet Jack had succeeded in securing a vantage most advantageous, a perch from which he might observe the arrival of the guests with the utmost discretion.
It was by no means a concealed perch. Jack stood upon a broad, open balcony projecting from the mansion's upper floor, its polished stone balustrades gleaming in the afternoon sun. From this elevated vantage, the city unfolded beneath him in full view, each road and rooftop clearly discernible. Any passerby might glance upward and note his presence, yet the open air and commanding height afforded him an ideal position from which to observe the guests as they arrived.
Yet he was slightly belated; even from his elevated vantage, he discerned that several guests had already arrived, evidenced by the ornate carriages drawn by horses and the polished conveyances stationed at a distance.
"Indeed… there shall be no shortage of company," he murmured, exhaling softly as his gaze swept over the approaching vehicles below. From what he could ascertain, five had already reached the mansion. If each carriage or vehicle bore two or three occupants, the number of early arrivals scarcely approached double digits.