"What is… why are you—" Triviño's surprise was plastered all over his face as he scanned me from head to toe. His eyes lingered on the red shoulder bars and the embroidery.
Teniente Dimalanta, who arrived with him, was not as surprised. He had already seen me in church that morning, as did the whole town of Malolos. Triviño, however, had only just arrived from Calumpit, and it would seem his friend had kept it a secret until then.
The two of them arrived late that afternoon at the doorstep of the Tiongson residence to fetch me for the banquet. Both were also dressed for the occasion, donning their rayadillo uniforms. It would seem that I wouldn't be riding a carriage to the Casa Real, as they had brought with them three horses.
"You look sharp, Heneral," said Dimalanta with a proud grin. The young man's hair was still wet and combed into a neat side part.
I still wasn't used to being called Heneral. And I must admit, it was pleasant to the ears—significantly better than being addressed as Gobernador, which, unlike the former, was a position with no real power.
"You're here to escort me too, Teniente Dimalanta? People might start mistaking you for my aide-de-camp," I commented, loosening the topmost button of my uniform, which made the jacket tighter than comfortable.
Teniente Dimalanta glanced at Vicente before he licked his lips and replied, "Actually… I wanted to talk to you about that, Gobernador. You see… my mother really didn't want me to join the army because she thinks I'll be in danger. But…"
"But… what?" I asked, although I was quite certain of what I'd hear next.
"But if I go with you to Marinduque, far from here… she'll be less worried. I might even be able to reconcile with her, once I have your assurance," Dimalanta continued.
I huffed. "This is the army, Teniente. You're asking for a transfer like it's nothing."
The flustered Dimalanta stuttered, "But… Heneral… if you request it, there would be no reason for them to refuse."
"Come on, Don Martín. It's not a hard thing to ask of you," Vicente said, as expected, coming to his friend's aid. "And can you not imagine it—the two of us as your aide-de-camps? We pair well, and I assure you, you'll have two intelligent and capable officers at your discretion."
I snorted at the shameless self-flattery. "Ho, ho! You're getting ahead of yourself, Vicente. Who told you I've appointed you as my ayudante?"
Vicente's face twisted as he threw his hands in the air. "What have I been then, all this time?"
"A pesky little minion."
I braced myself for a fiery response from Vicente, but it would never come. The expressions of the two young lieutenants suddenly softened, and they beamed. They were staring past me—toward the Tiongson house.
I followed their gazes, and then I fully understood.
The Tiongson sisters had come out of the door in their beautiful gowns and dresses, accompanied by their husbands in suits and top hats.
Except, of course, for Paz, who came out in the arms of her father.
She was the fairest in that yard—including the flowers in their garden. In her pristine white traje de mestiza, she seemed like a sampaguita. Her hair had been tied in a bun, highlighting her neck and the golden necklace hanging around it. The little makeup on her face brought a rosiness to her cheeks and lips.
Her eyelashes gracefully waved as she briefly glanced in our direction.
"Why are we only figuring out now that Paz is the prettiest among the sisters?" remarked Dimalanta.
"Not only among her sisters. I think she's the prettiest in the whole town," said Triviño. "She's like the Isabela of Malolos."
"Indeed," I smiled. It was a worthy comparison.
We arrived first at the venue. I was expecting a crowd as large as the one in church earlier, but there were significantly fewer people. I had forgotten that this was a high-society event, and only members of the principalia were invited.
Carriages and fine horses lined the entrance of the Casa Real. Men and women, wearing the best from their wardrobes, trickled toward the large main doors, greeted by finely dressed ushers.
As expected, there were many military uniforms in the crowd. Heneral Torres was among them, arriving with his wife and a cabal of officers.
"Should we go inside together, Heneral Lardizábal?" Torres asked me, after I exchanged a brief greeting with his wife.
"Oh, forgive me, Heneral Torres… I'm actually waiting for someone," I replied.
The general smiled. "Of course. See you later, Don Martín."
We waited a few more minutes, watching the day dim into early evening. Vicente and Ronaldo were as impatient as I was, with the lively music, the scent of food, and the golden light of chandeliers and candles spilling out of the doors.
But I was impatient for a completely different reason.
I exhaled when I finally saw the carriages emerge from the adjoining street and make their way to the Casa Real.
Then the clattering of wheels and waiting stopped. One by one, Antonio's daughters stepped down with their escorts and passed by me toward the entrance. A few of them gave me knowing glances.
Finally, the padre de familia stepped out of one of the carriages. Paz followed soon after, assisted by the cochero.
"I hope we didn't keep you waiting too long, Don Lardizábal," said Don Antonio.
The old man seemed like a shadow, and his words like whispers under the overshadowing presence of his daughter. Paz smiled at the lieutenants standing beside me before giving me an almost fearful glance.
"Well, my daughter is all yours for the night." Don Antonio nudged Paz.
With hesitation, she parted from her father and approached me. I offered her my arm, which she took with a nervous smile. At once, I felt like I was handling a pretty but fragile piece of glass.
"Shall we, Señorita?"
"I… I will be in your care, Heneral."