Wainright Manor: Iris M/Manning T/Misha B/Damian W
The gates to the manor were opened, as promised, a quarter hour to six post merīdiem. When Iris and the man Manning took their car to the drive before the place, they would find a valet prepared to move their car, when they disembarked. They then would be led indoors by a member of the household staff. Inside the grand manor, they would pass by several rooms, including a more formal dining room, to one somewhat smaller and more, perhaps, intimate. Coats and the like would be taken at the will of the owners and the couple would be led to their seats, across from one another near the head of the breakfast table.
It was precisely at six, or, if the couple was later than this, then five minutes after their arrival that Damian arrived. He was not dressed with the rigid formality one might suspect from the owner apparent of such a place. But, then again, it was obvious he was a young man, a handful of years over twenty. Too, he was small and slight, standing below 5'8", with dark curls and eyes unnervingly light and even more unnervingly wide. He did not smile at his guests. Misha would be down momentarily, if he had not yet made his greetings, and so, Damian offered his hand, per custom, to Iris Morgenstern and the man with her, Manning Thorsen. "Hello," he said to them, his voice deeper than might be suspected, but with a flat affect and the crisp diction of formal education. "I am Damian." This would be obvious by now. He was, after all, not white, and in a town such as this, that would have been noticed long ago.
Damian did not deign to seat himself at the head of the table, alone, so that he would be forced to be separated so greatly from Misha for the evening. Instead, he sat beside Manning, so that Misha might sit next to Iris—a woman, went his thinking, was perhaps less threatening than a strange man might be. Just as Damian took his seat, a member of the staff, suited in black and white, brought out some manner of wine Damian did not care about. It was sure to be ancient and expensive, and the crystal glasses were filled, one at a time. "This is Wainright Manor," Damian continued, as if there had been no pause at all. "That is Father's family." The half of his heritage that was not shared with the girl child Iris had borne. "Dinner is forthcoming."