Obvio is Latin for, "to encounter; meet".
Chapter Two: Obvio
That evening, she escorted Mrs. Harper for a "light" dinner in the main dining hall located in the lobby. Of the many choices the resort was known for, Madam had chosen the most tradition and old fashioned of restaurants to dine in. Madam was a traditionalist at heart and she found she admired that in her. For herself, she was of a like mind, who far preferred the old then the trendy and new. In that way, she and her employer were in harmony. Sadly, that was only one of a small handful of similarities they had. They had been seated indoors when there was such a lovely view of the city due to Madam's "delicate health" and only the choicest table inside would do. For most of the meal, she had almost wished she could sink into the chair. Mrs. Harper, to her own decree, was a food connoisseur and therefore was quite vocal in her opinions on everything. The bread within the basket was not warm. The dish containing her spinach salad had not been nearly cold enough to keep the leaves crisp. The seasoning of her fish was too spicy for her delicate tongue. The vegetables were "abominably soggy" and the dessert's "only saving grace" had been the fresh berries that had only been decorative and not really meant for consumption.
With each passing course, she had wanted to sink deeper and deeper into her chair, hoping that a black hole would swallow her up each time the server had to return something else to the kitchens. When Mrs. Harper noticed her slouch, she had snapped at her to straighten up and relayed to her the importance of good posture. When each dish was returned with Mrs. Harper's strict specifications, she found herself eying it, wondering whether it was really suitable to be eaten now after so much of a fuss. It made her feel even worse that the wait staff had been nothing but polite and accommodating in response to the horrible manner in which Mrs. Harper 'humbly critiqued' the meal.
When she had tried to give the Maitre di' an apologetic smile, Madam had berated her about encouraging such unacceptable cooking from the chef. Still, she could not be rude to their efforts to please and she had given a murmured compliment about how the food had really tasted delicious. Then was treated to a disapproved clucking of a tongue. Then given a refresher course on why she would not be able to tell the difference between fine dining and simple fare. Her low birth heritage and orphan status was always brought up, even indirectly, at every possible moment.
Finally, they had retired from the dining hall and were situated in one of the plush couches located in the elegant living room next door. It afforded a prime view of those coming and going from the lobby, which Madam wanted to peruse in order to see if there were any known personalities staying here as well. As her keen eye, roamed hungrily over each person that passed, she let herself sit back and try to relax a bit. All while half listening while Madam despaired at the bad choice of coming to such an exclusive resort during the off season.
"The tea is cold!" hisses Mrs. Harper, almost spitting out the sip that had just entered her mouth, setting her cup upon the saucer with a loud clink. "Fetch that stupid waiter for another pot."
Quick to oblige, she raises her hand to gain the waiter's attention when Mrs. Harper lets out a gleeful cry.
"Why! That's the crown Prince!"
The Prince? She thought, feeling the color drain from her face as a small bit of excitement and anxiety filled her. She really had no desire to meet royalty, let alone the Prince!
Then the color rushed right back into her cheeks when she looked up to get a look at the Prince.
"Your Highness!" Mrs. Harper all but screeched in her excitement. She raises herself with all the flourish that she boasted of in greeting, her thick body not quite making it a convincing picture, as the Prince approached the couch in which they were reclining.
She manages to lock her knees in order to stand as he got close enough for politeness sake.
The Prince. The Prince! There he was again. Just as dark and dangerous as he had been earlier, only he seemed even more of each with his excellently tailored dinner jacket and slacks. He wore no neck garment, which made him appear more roguish and looking just as rebellious as his reputation had claimed him to be. His eyes were watching her and she knew he was recalling their earlier interlude. The floor was cruel that it could not open to swallow her before he relayed to Madam what had happened this afternoon. Though he does nothing more than flicker his eyes towards Madam in acknowledgment before settling them back on her.
"His Highness will be joining us," Mrs. Harper leans in towards her to hiss. "Go get ask idiot for another cup as well."
"I am afraid I must contradict you," the Prince says smoothly as he comes closer to settle down easily at a chair across from them. "You will both be having tea with me." As soon as he is comfortably situated, a waiter comes to his side straight away and he orders for their party in self assured tones.
"I was just telling this young thing here how there weren't any respectable faces and here you are!" gushes Mrs. Harper immediately. Her chubby face is positively gleaning with pride at such a compliment of having the Prince sit with them so familiarly.
As for the Prince, he merely sits there with a cordial expression on his face, though he does not fully smile.
"And how do you like it here?" he asks.
She had been avoiding eye contact with him so it takes her a moment to realize he had not been asking Mrs. Harper, but herself until she feels an unpleasant elbow in her rib.
"Oh!" she stammers uneasily at having the attention trained on her and tries to crouch further into the plush couch. "Well... it all seems a bit superficial," she makes to mumble out awkwardly.
"She's spoiled, that's why, your Highness," chides Mrs. Harper loudly. "Most girls would give their eyes to see a place so fine as this."
"Wouldn't that rather defeat the purpose?" the Prince asks with an amused smirk.
The false chuckle that Mrs. Harper lets out is badly transparent.
"Are you playing the tables while you're here?" Madam carries on, making a show of bringing out her shiny, silver cigarette case and taking out one.
From the stiffness of Madam's shoulders, she knows that she will be getting an earful later.
"I'm afraid I don't gamble anymore," the Prince shrugs, but obliges Mrs. Harper by lighting her cigarette for her.
Try as she might, she couldn't resist looking him over as he sits there. She wonders what it must be like to be him. Someone who appeared to be instantly recognizable and constantly talked of. He looked so collected and well put together. The cut of his jacket was superb, bringing out the broadness of his shoulders and slim waist. His shoes were even the perfect kind of shine. Not too shiny and not too dull. One leg is thrown so casually over the other to convey a distinguish sense of ease. He made such a confident picture, so comfortable in his skin, that she begins her awkward fidgeting again. He looked so different and yet the same than how he had looked earlier in the afternoon. She cannot believe she had not recognized him. Perhaps it had been because he had caught her so off guard with his unusual behavior. Looking at him now, there was no question as to who he was.
What a mess she has made of things... again. What he must think of her, being so bold as to encroach on so private a moment of his.
"I am sure if you tried, the tables will turn out quite fun," Mrs. Harper continues on. She snootily inhales a drag and releases it slowly through her nose. The gestures looks almost comical in it's played up arrogance in comparison to the elegant dignity of the man sitting with them.
"I'm afraid that sort of indulgence failed to amuse me long ago," he replies and he does not look the least bit sorry for it. It begged to question why he would seek to come here on an off peak season where gambling was the main attraction. "What about you? Do you play?"
She is just opening her mouth to answer in the negative when Mrs. Harper cut off any chance of her getting her reply out.
"She would not know a thing about those sorts of things, being in her position as she is," comments Mrs. Harper indifferently. "Oh to be young again!" She laments dramatically as she inhales another drag. "There are so many things to amuse you. I doubt you remember, but the last time I saw you, you were with your charming wife. I'm sure you don't remember an old crow like me though." Mrs. Harper gave him what she hoped was not intended to be flirtatious before barreling on before he can answer. "Will you be staying here long?"
"I haven't exactly decided yet," he answers indifferently, but there is a shadow in his eyes now that had not been there a moment before.
Just her imagination, she thinks and lowers her face to look at the cup in her hands.
When Mrs. Harper does not immediately try to convince him to stay on longer, she looks up again to see that it is because he's watching her.
"Has your valet unpacked for you?" Mrs. Harper finally blurts out. "It would be so nice to spend time with such great company as yourself."
"I'm afraid I have no valet," he points out, ignoring her invitation.
"No man servant?" Mrs. Harper asks, looking scandalized that he would travel alone.
"No," he says simply. "Perhaps you would care to do it for me."
Mrs. Harper misses the quirk in his lips because she flushes.
"Well, I hardly think it's fitting...," Madam says awkwardly before snapping her beady eyes to her. "Maybe you can be of help to the Prince. You're a capable child in many ways."
"Quite unnecessary," the Prince says quickly. "I prefer the motto, 'He who travels fastest, travels alone.' Or have you not heard of it. Excuse me."
Without another word he's up and gone with a quick bowing gesture as quickly as he had appeared. His comment, which had been a jab at Madam, went completely over the older woman's head.
"Did you suppose he thought that was funny?" Madam asks with a disappointed frown. "What a strange man. Don't forget the key!" She demands before rising to her feet without waiting for her.
Jumping at the snippy tone of her employer, she fumbles to put down her cup before scrambling to her own feet in order to follow behind.
"I suppose I can't blame him for being so eccentric," Mrs. Harper comments flippantly, slowly leading the way to the elevators that would lead them back to their rooms. "He's probably not over his wife's death."
That left food for thought. Had that been why he had looked so distraught and angry by the pool?
"By the way, my dear," Mrs. Harper says as they wait for the lift. "I hope you don't take this like I am being unkind, but you were just a little too forward with the Prince just now. Your reply embarrassed me and I'm sure it did him too."
Had that been rude? The mention makes her chew her bottom lip nervously. She had not meant to make him uncomfortable.
"Oh don't sulk!" snaps Madam, just when the doors to the lift open to admit them. "Maybe he didn't even notice. As withdrawn as he has become. Poor man. They say he simply adored her."