* A flattering meeting * A sudden departure

One evening that late autumn, some time after our return from our sojourn in Europe, I found my father sitting in the parlour, a dejected expression on his face. When I asked him the reason for this unpleasant mood, he explained that he was terribly dissatisfied with the food here in England. "It is no wonder that I was never possessed of appetite living here in this country of bland puddings and over-cooked roasts!" he said. "When I sit at table, I feel as if I were a blind man, given the gift of sight for a few moments, only to have it snatched away again." He was distraught and I had no trouble empathising with him, so I suggested that my father arrange to have a grand dinner at the manor house, featuring some of the most outstanding dishes we had encountered in our journeys.

The idea seized him; the prospect of re-living some of those memorable meals set him into a flurry of activity. He found in London persons of every ancestry, asked of them the names of the best traditional chefs and procured the services of that chef for this dinner. He then proceeded to invite all of the prominent landholders and nobles in the county for a meal, he guaranteed, they would not soon forget.

At the appointed hour on the night of the late-November feast, my father and the staff were still rushing about the house and kitchens in last-minute preparations, while I began greeting the guests as they were announced. Soon, we were almost all in attendance and the butler began summoning us to dinner.

Before the company had all assembled in the dining chamber and taken their places according to their station, the doorman announced another guest, Count Meta of Triamond. There was much hubbub and hushed discussion among those assembled, for the name was an unfamiliar one, and when the stranger entered the room, his appearance did not serve to abate the commotion. He was preternaturally tall and slender, with raven hair worn long and loose about his shoulders. His complexion was light and nearly translucent, while his eyes were large and black as a moonless midnight. His dress, too, was striking in its antiquated style of hose and blouse and verdant green waistcoat with tails, composed of some collection of materials the like of which I'd never before seen. Perhaps it was my imagination or merely a conceit, I told myself, but it seemed that he was staring at me. I was quite stricken with his beauty, and I wondered if I should ever be able to stop myself from stealing glances at him.

At that moment, the footmen and pages began their parade of dishes and my attention was diverted to the wondrous meal. There were more than fifteen courses planned, the provenance of which covered most of Europe. There were cassoulets and casseroles, pizzas rustica, paellas, polentas, goulashes, fondues, borscht, gravlax, wursts and schnitzels, pierogen, souvlaki and felafel. No sooner had one dish been served to the company, than the next was arriving, preceded by the captain's declamation of the name of the item and it's country of origin.

My father was in his glory, more animated than I'd seen him since we'd been back in England. He ate with glee, rolling his eyes and kissing his fingers as each new plate was set before him; all the while, he kept up a running commentary on the history of that particular recipe, the name of the chef who had prepared it and the lengths to which he had gone to find the authentic ingredients. So enraptured was he by the torrent of delicacies that he failed to notice his guests' timidity in tasting the unfamiliar flavours. I, however, noticed immediately the looks of distaste with which some of the more exotic courses were greeted, the manner in which whole servings were removed from table in exactly the same situation in which they were presented, the whispered comments about the meal and about my father's unquenchable appetite.

I am certain that comments were being made about my own appetite that evening, since I was enjoying the grand dinner with much the same relish as was my father. Indeed, at times it seemed to me that the room was quite silent but for the sounds of our two forks tapping a rapid rhythm against the china as we indulged our bellies' every whim. From time to time during my gluttonous endeavours, I had occasion to glance over to where the Count was seated, near the other end of the long table. Although he always seemed to be in conversation with one of the fortunate young women whom Chance had seated near him, his eyes never failed to meet even the most furtive of my glances, sending, each time, a secret thrill coursing through my body.

By the time the last course was cleared away, I had consumed such quantities of food that I was perspiring quite freely, and found it necessary to retire to my chambers for several moments in order to have my maid assist me in loosening my painfully restrictive corset. As she released the tension on my laces, I could feel my abdomen swelling out from its confinement. I let out a sigh of relief and Anna clucked her tongue at me, saying, "There's no way we'll be puttin' that back on ye! Ye might as well try fittin' the cow in the rabbit hole!" I laughed at her impertinent forthrightness, but realised how correct she was in her observation. Fortunately, my new, larger clothes had recently arrived from the seamstress in London, and I was able, sans corset, to return to the party in comfortable and fashionable attire.

The females, none of whom were as well-fed as my father and myself, had retired to the parlour and were engaged in knots of conversation. After an appropriate amount of time, the men joined us, the stench of tobacco smoke clinging to their clothing. Most of the women of my age were gathered around one of the divans, and were soon attended by some of the young foppish gentlemen. Certain that nothing they were discussing would be of any interest to me, and failing to espy the Count's head above the rest, I sought out the group of men who were attending my father, certain that I would there find some intelligent discourse.

I was intercepted by the very man I had been seeking and I did not try to hide my pleasure at making his acquaintance. When he had introduced himself and kissed my hand, he said, "Before coming here tonight, I knew much of your intellect, having read with great interest your erudite disquisition on the blood of the Lepidoptera in the scientific journals. I had found great joy in having seen several of your glorious works of portraiture in fine homes. I, however, could not have imagined that your beauty would surpass those achievements as surely as the sun outshines a candle."

My heart was pounding as he looked into my soul with those black eyes of his, but as the blush rose to my face, I suddenly became concerned with how I might have appeared to him as I had let my appetite run unchecked through dinner. Why had he been looking at me? I wondered. For the first time since I had discovered my voracity, I had some doubt as to my appearance to others. Of a sudden, I felt the distension of my stomach, and, glancing downward, I could see the way my swollen and un-corseted body was revealed in the lines of my dress.

Then, almost as if sensing my sudden disquiet, the Count continued his praise, saying, "And, forgive me for being so bold, but I must commend you on your marvellous appetite. Throughout the meal, I could not help but watch as you extracted so much delight from an activity which most women in this land seem to despise as a bothersome chore, or ignore as not worthy of their attentions. In my country, a woman who is free in her soul and shows such relish in the simple, earthly pleasures is a treasure and worthy of the highest seat of honour."

After thanking him, I pondered whether to doubt his words as if they were so much flattery; instead, I found in myself a strange certainty that he had spoken the absolute truth. "Your country sounds like a sublime place," I replied. "I should like to visit it some day and I am surprised that I have never encountered its name."

"It is very distant," he said, "and sometimes it seems as far away as a dream. The route, too, is impossible to find without a knowledgeable guide, a lack of fear, and the courage of your intuitions. It is such a perilous journey that there are many who have set out to find their way to our land, only to return to their homes, broken, defeated and often quite mad."

"And yet, you have come here to England.," I said. "For what reason, might I inquire?"

He took my un-gloved hand in his, and I felt a certain illicit thrill in the touch of his cool flesh on mine. A thrill that only grew, when he answered my question by whispering, "I believe I came here to find you."

My voice failed me for a moment, and I thought I might swoon like a silly maiden, but I collected my wits, and demurred politely, saying, "You flatter me, sir. Surely you would not have risked your life and your wit for such a reason. What was the true nature of your business here?"

"There was no ostensible reason which I could easily explain," he answered. "In our country, we are more apt to bestir ourselves into some great endeavour on an intuition than we are to sit and ruminate about potentialities and possibilities. I felt I would find a thing I needed should I come to England, to Angleshire, and so I did come and I believe I have found that which I sought."

"And what will you do now that you have found the object of your quest?" Strange hopes were occurring in my heart at that moment, and I fervently wished for him to say something which I could not myself find the words for.

Instead, he confounded me by answering, "Having found my desire, I feel I must return to my home for guidance. So, I travel West tonight."

Feeling bewildered and disappointed by his enigmatic statement, all I could think to do was to ask him how he could presume to travel West. "West of here is only more England," I said, "until one reaches Ireland and then the Great Atlantic. Beyond the Atlantic is only America. These lands I know of, and I am sure that your country can not lie between them."

"Are you so certain?" he asked and smiled a sphinxian smile. "'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.' Your mind must be free to find such places. You must be able to see a thicket as not just a collection of many trees, but as a place of many paths. When your vision is such, you may understand my Geography. And now. My Lady, I must remove myself from the light of your beauty, but I assure you that we will meet again." He bowed low, then like an autumn wind rustling through a pile of leaves and bringing brief life to that which is dead, he took his leave of my father and the rest of the company. It was all I could do to keep from running after him and begging him to take me along.

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