Narrative: "Meanwhile, at Mitchell Manor..."

  (The Players for this evening's narrative at the Lord Mitchell's residence....)

(Lord Michael Mitchell)

(Lady Lynn Mitchell)

The Time: Evening.

The Location: Mitchell Manor.

Lord Mitchell: (tugging at his cuffs, pacing near the hearth)

“Well, Lynn, it is as I feared. The wharf was alive with gossip and gawking today. Half the town stood about like cattle while that Spaniard paraded her trunks and furniture as if she were establishing dominion over the town and the island itself. Dark wood, heavy as a coffin—fit for some cathedral, not a colonial home. And now she settles herself but a stone’s throw from our gates. Hmph! Mark me, I do not like it.”  He shook his head and muttered. "I do not like it all!"

Lady Mitchell: (seated with her embroidery in her lap, her eyes keen and sharp)

“Nor do I, Michael. The woman comes with a caravan fit for a queen, and the fools of Port Dominion treat her like a gift from Heaven rather than a foreign intruder. Did you see the jewelry she wore? That ruby pendant—almost vulgar in its ostentation. She knows well enough the effect she makes, striding ashore in her scarlet gown like some goddess out of Rome. It is designed to unsettle.”

Lord Mitchell: (snorts, pouring himself a measure of brandy)

“Unsettle? It will do more than that. It will stir ambition, envy, and all manner of nonsense in this town. Whitehall will be forced to take her measure, and his Lady Eleanor will have her claws out by week’s end, I wager. And as for Winthrop, he’ll fret about Spanish agents hiding in her trunks. Bah. Trouble—nothing but trouble. And trouble interferes with business and profits!"

Lady Mitchell: (archly)

“Yet we must not show our distaste too plainly, husband. The Governor will expect his leading families to treat her with courtesy, however grudging. Besides, if I may be frank—better a Spanish Contessa with her silks and wines than another shipload of Irish clogging the lanes and taverns. At least she brings something of substance, even if it is foreign and suspect.”

Lord Mitchell: (grumbles, staring into his glass)

“You are ever pragmatic, my dear. Still, her presence offends me. A Spaniard, here, in the heart of an English colony. A woman, no less, commanding such attention and station. It upsets the order of things.” He muttered to himself once again, "And it's not good for business or money-making!" He paused for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. "And another thing...this niece of yours. She is already sopped with admiration for this Spanish socialite! You should read what she has scribbled in that diary of hers! Such poppycock!"

Lady Mitchell: (sets down her embroidery, her tone crisp)

“The order of things is ever threatened in these waters, Michael. Today it is a Contessa, tomorrow perhaps a Dutch merchant prince or a French envoy. We cannot bar the tide, but we may at least direct it to our advantage. If she is to stay, then we must learn what she wants, whom she favors, and where her weaknesses lie. Knowledge, my husband, will give us mastery over her.”  She waited a moment before changing subject. "We know that Amelia is a dreamy girl with her head in the clouds. She has always been that way. We can only hope that my sister returns back from England with a new husband in hand very soon."

Lord Mitchell: (softens, nodding slowly)

“I agree with you completely about your sister. For now, we must tolerate the girls bunkum.  And as for the Contessa, you speak wisely, as always. Still, I’ll not soon warm to her. A red gown and a smile do not change the blood in her veins nor the banner she once knelt to."

Lady Mitchell: (with a faint, cool smile)

“No, but they may yet reveal how such a banner may be turned—or at least bent—to serve us. Let the Governor wring his hands, and let the Reverends preach their sermons. You and I shall watch, and wait, and learn. Then, when the Contessa shows her true hand, we shall be ready.”

Lord Mitchell: (raises his glass, grudgingly approving)

“Very well. To watchfulness, then. May this Spanish lady find she has come to a place not so easily swayed by smiles and silks.”

Lady Mitchell: (lifting her chin)

“And may she find that Port Dominion already has a Lady with a sharper eye than her mirrors will ever show her.”