In the morning, I was surprised to find my father at the breakfast table reading his paper and eating dry toast. "Good morning, father," I said politely and gave him a small curtsy.
I walked up to my usual spot at the table and sat gracefully. Why the hell is he here? Ever since my mother died he had barely said a word to me. I had a sneaking suspicion that it was his fault.
"I pray that you had a good night's sleep."
"Of course, dear," he lazily responded, not even looking up from his paper. I decided to ignore his unusual appearance at the breakfast table and move onto more important matters. Later, that would prove to be one of the worst decisions I made in my life. However, I was only worried about one thing then.
"Father?"
"Mmhuh?"
"Do you, by chance, have the guest list from last night?"
"Yes, my company funded it. Why do you ask?" He lowered his paper, taking off his spectacles so he could look me straight in the eyes. For some reason that look made me feel uncomfortable. It made me want to squirm or look down, just escape. Keep it together.
"I was just looking for someone familiar that I thought I saw there. I wanted to make sure it was them."
"Of course," he said as he raised the newspaper and placed his spectacles back on his nose. Phew. "They're on my desk. I'll have Eliza bring them down to your room for you."
"Thank you, Father."
I kept calm until I finished and politely excused myself from the breakfast table. Practically bouncing with excitement, I made my way up to my room.  When I opened my door I saw it.  That golden stack of papers, my key to finding that woman.  Apparently Eliza had brought not just one, but six guest lists from six different functions plus seating charts, drafts of welcome speeches, and notes on the punctuality of different parties.  I need to make sure this woman gets a raise but, now is not the time.  I have to start looking for another woman, my woman, if I want to be done by supper.