Chapter 4 Dinner day 1 act 4
It was time. My masterpiece was going to be revealed for everyone to see. I wished I had someone to share it with, but I had learned a long time ago that there was only one person I could count on, and that was me. Oh well, let the show begin.
Nancy
The black evening dress was not glamorous, with discreet patterns made by glass beads and a fringe at the bottom. I looked at myself for a long time in the mirror. There was no hiding it. No fluffing or smoothing would make me look like I belonged at the dinner. I was just going to own it. I walked down to the dining room.
“Miss Young,” Milo said, walking up to me.
“Mr Rimi,” I greeted him. He had been good-looking in his suit, in his formal wear he was lethal. His almost black hair was curling at the front, making him look like a rascal, but his eyes couldn’t hide the steel.
“Please, call me Milo, there are too many Mr Rimi here to confuse anyone,” he said.
“Okay, then please call me Nancy,” I replied. He took me to my seat, placed next to his. Everyone had arrived and was taking their seats.
“No one wants this to drag out longer than it needs,” Milo whispered to me. I nodded. The first course was served, and we ate and tried to make uncomfortable small talk.
“How long do these things usually last?” I whispered to Milo. He gave me an unhappy smile.
“A couple of hours,” he told me. Great. This would give me indigestion, I thought. As the main course had been served, a big silver cloche was placed in the middle of the table by the butler. The polite conversation stopped as Mr Herthford stood up.
“We have arrived at the point where I will be reading the first part of the will,” he told us. I glanced around the table. The Don who sat at the end of it was staring at the silver dome in the middle of the table. His parents were looking at each other, and everyone else looked at the lawyer. Mr Herthford took out a folded paper that was sealed by wax. He broke the seal and cleared his throat.
“Dear family. If Mr. Herthford is reading this, it means I have died. We all saw it coming and I’m hoping it was quick and painless. You are all gathered here as you want to take part in the inheritance I leave behind me. Before we get to that part, it is high time this family deals with its past. A foundation built on sand will never hold a mighty house. For far too long, I have been the secret keeper. For generations, the burden was put on my shoulders. I won’t take it to my grave. When I walk into our Lord’s gates, or the other place, I will be free from this. Mr Herthford, please lift the cloche, and to the rest of you; May the Lord watch over you,” Mr Herthford read out loud. Then he bent over the table and lifted the dome. Everyone was holding their breath as the objects underneath were revealed.
“What is that?” the Don’s mother asked.
“Give it to me,” Don Alexander demanded. The tray with the note and a pair of blue, knitted, baby boots on were passed to him. He unfolded the paper and read it. His face turned pale. He read it again and then took up the next note and read that as well.
“What is it?” Ava asked, trying to read the note as well.
“I need to speak to my father in my office,” Don Alexander said.
“I’m sorry, Don, that is not allowed,” Mr Herthford told him.
“Fuck it isn’t allowed! I’m the Don! If I want to speak to my father in my office, I will speak to my father in my office,” Don Alexander shouted and slammed his fist into the table. I jumped and Milo put his hand on my arm. He left it there which I was grateful for. It helped to ground me.
“You are of course free to talk to your father in your office. But it will count as leaving the dinner early, disqualifying you from inheritance,” the lawyer said in a calm voice.
“Damn!” Don Alexander exclaimed.
“What does it say?” his mother asked.
“Nothing,” he said.
“The letters in your hand are the original, Don Alexander, but your late grandmother instructed us to create a copy for each of the guests,” Mr Herthford said and as if it had been a secret signal, the butler came around and handed out two notes to each of the guests. I was no better than the rest of them; I hurried to unfold the first paper and began to read. It was a letter, dated over twenty-one years ago.
‘Honoured Don Matteo,
I write to you in desperation. As you know I have been seeing your younger son Julius. I now find myself in a difficult situation. To my great shame, the child I carry isn’t Julius’. The father is Maximus, your oldest son. I am very sure about this, as the child was conceived during Julius’ travels to Italy. I am desperate and I do not know what to do. I therefore beg for you to tell me. I will obey your decision.
Yours Truly Jessica Newbro’
I hurried to open the next letter. Needing to know what had happened. It was dated one day later than Jessica’s letter.
‘Dear Miss Newbro,*
This is indeed a difficult situation. As you are aware of, my oldest son, Maximus has a wife and a child. That child is the successor to our family and I am not about to risk the child’s position by acknowledging a bastard. On the other hand, the child in your stomach is of my blood. This matter will stay between the two of us. You will tell Julius it’s his child, he will believe you. I will approve of your marriage and the child will be raised in the family. This is the last time we will speak of this.
With regards, Don Matteo Rimi’
The dining room was dead silent as everyone was reading. Everyone except Don Alexander. He was fuming, staring daggers at his father. Then Milo laughed and everyone turned to look at him. For a moment I thought he had gone mad. Who laughs at a moment like this?
“I guess there is more than one bastard branch of the old family tree,” he said while still chuckling. I understood his merriment. He had been shunned as a part of a bastard bloodline all his life, only to find out the main family had nursed a bastard all along. After his comment, two things happened at once. Both Victoria and Julius stood up. They were seated opposite each other at the table, which made it difficult to look at both of them at the same time. As one, they both raised their hand and slapped their spouse.
“Your slut!” Julius bellowed.
“Cheating bastard,” Victoria shouted.
“Enough!” Don Alexander said, standing up. The room fell silent again. My eyes were on Nero, the oldest of Julius’ and Jessica’s children. The letter was about him. He looked pale as a sheet as he shuffled the two papers in his hands.
“Mother?” he asked.
