Excerpt: H2O

A little background information first perhaps? Lord Hinon is a member of the Council of Elders, a sort of Senate. However, he feels information is being withheld from him by the council leader Yric. So he asks the elderly Lord Sergas for dinner, hoping to get the information from him. Lord Sergas' wife died many years ago, however, so he brings another dinner guest *dundunDUN!*. Lord Hinon's wife Yrlis is, well, not amused.

And now, without further ado, the excerpt:

Yrlis was, for lack of a better word, freaking out completely. ‘A cat?’ she shrieked. ‘A cat? Is he seriously bringing a cat?’
‘Yes, dear,’ said Lord Hinon for the twelfth time. ‘And not just any cat. His own cat.’
‘Why?’ She was close to tears now.
‘No idea,’ said Lord Hinon. ‘But he said it would please him. And we want him to be pleased, don’t we, or he will not tell us anything. I hoped you might like cats.’
‘I do like cats,’ said Yrlis. She flicked through chapter seventeen of her Handbook. ‘I just have no idea where to put it, what to serve it, from what bowls… That sort of thing.’
‘I doubt it is important, dear,’ said Lord Hinon soothingly. ‘The cat will not know the difference.’
‘But Lord Sergas will,’ Yrlis bit back. ‘He’s of highest rank! What will he think if we treats his cat in a way that does not suit it?’
Privately, Lord Hinon doubted if Lord Sergas would notice, or bother if he noticed, but he thought it best not to tell Yrlis. She took such pride in being a refined upper-class lady after all. Lord Hinon had ordered flowers for the dinner table, but Yrlis had promptly sent them back and requested new ones. It was a Wednesday after all, and it was not seemly to have white roses in the middle of the table on a Wednesday. Though Lord Hinon could have sworn that when he and Yrlis had dined at Lord Branagh’s house, not that long ago, it had been a Wednesday and there had definitely been white roses on the middle of their dining table. Yrlis scoffed at this and decided that Lord Branagh and his wife we unschooled in the ways of proper nobility.
The long dining table was now decorated with yellow roses and apple blossoms, which according to chapter seven of the Handbook (“Decorative Dining”) was proper for a Wednesday in early summer. The table had been set for four, with Lord Hinon and Lord Sergas on one side, and Lady Hinon and Lady Sergas on the other, facing their husbands. This, according to the Handbook, was the correct seating plan when two couples dined together. However, the fact that Lady Sergas had been dead for over a decade caused a few complications. In short, it meant Lady Hinon would be sitting next to the cat. Worse, the fine plates and the elegant cutlery set out for Lady Sergas would have to be replaced by bowls or plates a cat could eat from. There would have to be cushions on the cat’s chair, so it could reach the table. This would cause the dining table to be extremely unsymmetrical, which according to the Handbook was the worst that could happen to a dining table. Yrlis continued turning the pages of the Handbook. There was nothing, nothing at all about dinner parties and cats. Sure, there was plenty that was said about dinner parties, and a bit about cats too, but the information was quite useless at this particular moment. Yrlis had read it many times already that evening, but she read through it again. Perhaps she had missed something?
Cats, or so the Handbook said (chapter twelve “Animals of the Noble Household”), could be divided into two categories. The first were the useful cats. They were striped, frisky and occupied kitchens and outbuildings. Their duty was to catch mice and other pests. There were a few of those in the household, Yrlis knew. But she made sure they never set foot, or paw, in the part of the house where she and Lord Hinon dwelled. The second category consisted of cats that were either slender and had elegant drawings, or that were fluffy and grey. These should be in sitting rooms, on pedestals, to be petted and groomed by noble members of the household.
Lord Sergas was most likely bringing one of the second category. However, though the Handbook described in lengthy detail the correct place for such a cat to sleep and what sort of bowls it should have for its food, it said nothing about how one should treat one of these cats when it came as a dinner guest, Yrlis snapped the book shut angrily. She felt betrayed. The Handbook had never failed her before.
‘Lord Sergas can be here any moment now,’ Lord Hinon said. ‘Have you finished?’
‘I suppose,’ said Yrlis. There was nothing else to do. She cleared away the cutlery and the crystal goblets from the place where the cat was going to sit. Then she ordered the maid to bring some pillows and a few bowls. She set the place for the cat as best as she could, rearranged some of the flowers to make sure the table recovered some of its symmetry, then stood back to admire the effect. She closed her eyes in horror. The effect was not something she could admire. But it would have to do.
Just in time. The bell rang. Lord Hinon and Yrlis hurried to the sitting room and sat down looking composed. A moment later a servant came in, and announced Lord Sergas and Mr Paws. Mr Paws did not seem to fit into either of the two categories that the Handbook described. He was fluffy, but also striped. His fur was a bit scraggy and red in colour. His face looked as though he had just run into a brick wall. He seemed, however, content in Lord Sergas’ arms. He was purring at least.