Chapter 2

+ CHAPTER 2 +

 

Damsel in Distress

 

She was at an age of not being able to understand that her family’s breadwinner was dying. 

 

“Please stay awake, my dear Arthur,” she said to her husband, sobbing.  “They shall come for your assistance any moment now.”

 

One time at Ciaran’s house, a man attempted to shoot Ciaran but he missed.  Ciaran picked up his gun and shot the man back.

 

“Who sent you to kill me?” asked Ciaran, who suspected that something was fishy.

 

The man failed to answer since he died before he could speak up, and Ciaran was still in a moment of shock.

 

Upon hearing the news of Sir Hastings’ death, Musang smiled to himself and said in his mind, “Hari aku pun telah tiba (my day has finally arrived) – I’m satisfied that you have died, Sir Hastings.”

 

Meanwhile, a small boat was flowing on the river, of which sat a lonely little blond boy in it and he wept loudly.  There was soft rustling along the riverbank, and moving objects that eventually came out of the bushes. 

 

Amongst the men, they wore bands around their waists.  Some of them wore the conical coolie hats, while others wore black truncated caps called songkok.  On the other hand, the women wore head cloths and knee-length gowns, over the floral batik sarongs worn underneath.  They all stood together along the riverbank.

 

“Kesian dia (Poor boy),” said one of the ladies, having sympathy for the boy. 

 

Then in came a married Malay couple.  The man wore the black fez cap, and next to him stood his wife, who had a mantilla on her head, and their little son.  The three of them came forward to approach the boat, as it was moving towards the edge of the riverbank.  

 

The woman picked up and cuddled the crying beautiful blond boy up onto her arms to hush him.  “There is no need for you to worry, child.  We are here for your care.”

 

Gradually, Liam stopped crying with the given comfort.   

 

Standing next to Liam was their cuddly brown-eyed son with black hair.

 

Pak Ujang picked up a folded piece of paper and unfolded it.  He showed it to his wife before deciding to finally keep it to himself.

 

“Kasihanilah dia – dia anak yatim dan tidak ada orang lain lagi hendak menjaganya (Have pity on him – he is an orphan and no one else wants to take care of him),” said Mak Delima.

 

After kneeling on the ground, Pak Ujang placed his hands each on Liam’s shoulders and said, “Please do not worry, child.  We shall take good care of you.  From today, you are our son.  God willing, you shall one day grow up to be a strong man defending his family’s rights.”

 

While sitting down cross-legged on the floor in the living room, the boys were reading books.  They both wore collar-boned shirts with their matching pairs of pants, in which the blonde boy wore light green whilst the chocolate-haired boy wore light blue.  Then, in came a black hair man with thick black moustache and slightly tan olive skin.

 

Pak Ujang then cheered Liam up with his warm smile and he hugged the little boy.

 

“Please do not worry, child,” said Pak Ujang.  “We shall take good care of you.  From today onwards, you are our son.  God willing, you shall one day grow up to be a strong man defending your family.”

 

Pak Ujang also hugged his son, Demang, to show that he equally loved his two children.

 

Soon, Demang and Liam also hugged each other.  They also held hands when they walked with Pak Ujang and Mak Delima.

 

After the tragic incident at the farm, the Sulongs raised Liam as their own son and he became close to his foster brother, Demang.

 

“Oh, it’s time for us to go to our next class,” said Christopher, who had just looked at the watch.  “It’s 12.30 now.  We’ll continue the story next time.”

 

“Yeah, it’s better that we be there 15 minutes early,” said .  “Just when we were about to get the hang of the story, ”

 

            It was Friday.  Some time in the afternoon, I have invited Demak to my house after I took him for a walk around Rose Bay and Vaucluse.

 

I introduced him to my family, and they all shook hands and exchanged smiled with him.

 

“I’ll take you to Watsons Bay another time,” I said.  “You’ll love it there.  It’s more scenic there than Rose Bay and Vaucluse combined.”

 

“Yeah, it was a good walk on this warm day,” responded Demak.  “I’d be too tired to continue walking further,”

 

While having our afternoon tea, Demak and I talked in the living room.

 

On a breezy day, a boy with black hair, who was possibly nine years old, was sitting at a table with a blond boy with curly hair his age.  

 

A man and a woman were sitting in front of them.  It was Pak Ujang and Mak Delima with their two sons.

 

“What is 177 x 12?” asked Pak Ujang.

 

“The answer is 2124,” replied he dark haired boy.

 

“Excellent, Demang,” responded Pak Ujang.

 

“Now, what is 145 x 13?” asked Mak Delima.

 

“The answer is 1885,” replied the blond boy.

 

“Well done, Megat,” responded Mak Delima.

 

“Spectacular – keep up the good work,” said Pak Ujang.

 

While sitting at the table another time, the Demang and Megat (who was also known as Liam) were reading books published in English. 

 

The boys each wore tunic shirts with matching pairs of trousers. 

 

Demang wore a blue pyjamas set while Megat wore a green pyjamas set.  However, these were their daily traditional clothes.  They were not clothes they wore while in bed.

 

The man said; “Baiklah, Demang dan Megat.  Awak berdua boleh berhenti membaca buku dan ambil angin.  Tapi ingat, mesti balik rumah sebelum maghrib (Alright, Demang and Megat.  Both of you can stop reading the books and have some fresh air.  But remember, you both must be back home before sunset).”

 

“Baiklah, Bapak (Certainly, father),” replied the two boys upon agreement at the same time at the man. 

 

“Bapak, Ibu, kami pergi dulu, ya (Father, mother, may we go out now)?” asked the dark hair boy to confirm their parents’ permission to take a walk out. 

 

The woman replied, “Ya, anak-anakku.  Pergilah main dengan kawan-kawanmu.  Nanti kita jumpa lagi.  (Yes, my children.  Go and play with your friends.  We’ll see you later).”

 

“Ya, Ibu, (Yes, mother)” said the children, and they nodded in agreement.  They bowed their heads and grasped on to the man and woman’s hands, kiss them, and, they finally left their house.

 

The boys were ten years old at that time.  They were at the sandy beach, playing a ball game called sepak takraw. 

 

They all were practising before the real game began, by forming a circular group.  One by one they kicked the rattan ball into the air with their feet.  They then formed into two teams, with a net in the middle. 

 

Soon, they were ready to play sepak takraw.

 

Megat and Demang scored a couple of goals, as they kicked the ball in mid air and it hit the other team’s ground.  Their team cheered over their victory.  They then rested under the trees and drank some fresh water from the bamboo gourds they brought with them.

 

Sometime in the afternoon, all the boys arrived at a private property.  There was a simple-built stilt house with open flap-up windows, which were supported by sticks that held them up.  In the house, a man was reciting a Malay poetry called syair with a ten years old girl.  They both have melodious voices, making the syair sound full of spiritual awe.  Syair is traditionally a paternal heritage but he had decided to pass it on to his only daughter.

 

“Selamat petang, Tok Guru (Good afternoon, Master)!” greeted the boys. 

 

“Selamat petang, anak-anak,” said the man with a straight face, yet he looked fierce. “Marilah kita mulakan latihan hari ini.” 

 

They were ready to begin their lessons with their silat master that afternoon.

 

“Wah, Melor.  Sungguh merdu kami mendengar suara syairmu tadi (Wow, Melor.  We were greatly pleased upon hearing your sweet poetry recitation),” said Demang. 

 

“Ya, Melor.  Awak bagaikan puteri bidadari di alam kayangan (Yes, Melor.  You are like an angel princess in the fairy world),” said Megat.

 

“Terima kasih,” thanked Melor politely, gazing her eyes down to their flattery.

 

The lesson had then begun.  The boys and the man himself were all wearing hemmed triangular kerchiefs on their heads.  Megat, his brother, Demang, and, the others, came under the guidance of Tok Guru, who taught them the aliran (styles), which included the monyet (monkey) and harimau (tiger) forms to protect themselves against aggressive people.  Demang and Megat followed their master and learnt fast. 

 

“Syabas, anak-anak.  Kajikanlah aliran-aliran tok guru itu lagi (Congratulations, children.  Keep up the good and put it into practice),” cheered their master. 

 

Pak Ujang and Mak Delima gave their applause to the boys’ wondrous skills. 

 

“Melor, tolong berikan tetamu kita minuman (Melor, please serve our guests some drinks),” requested Tok Guru of the ten years old girl.

 

“Baiklah, Ayah.  Sekejap lagi minumannya akan sampai (Certainly, Ayah.  The drinks will arrive shortly),” replied his optimistic and gorgeous daughter. 

 

Soon, Melor served cups of water on the table where Pak Ujang and Mak Delima were sitting at.  During the martial arts lesson, Demang grabbed Megat’s wrist with his hand.  After blocking his opponent’s advancing fist, Demang pulled it forwards, formed an arm lock upon holding onto the arm and threw him to the ground.  In the following scene, Demang attacked Megat with a pole, and Megat avoided the hit.  As an opponent, Demang threw a punch at Megat.  Megat blocked it with his left arm, and then he grabbed it with his right arm and finally arm locked around Demang’s neck.   

 

A hazel-headed man with a goatee and moustache, wearing a navy blue jacket, was standing with a boy.  They were both wearing a bush hat and standing outside of their house.  The boy was pointing at something. 

 

“Aim for the centre.  Are you ready?  Fire!”

 

The boy began shooting after hearing a command from the man.  One by one, the tins fell down like a domino effect.  The boy perfectly shot the six tins at the distance in front of him swiftly with his guns whilst covering one of his ears.

 

“Niall, you have outdone yourself!” congratulated Ciaran on Niall’s hard work. 

 

“Thank you, Pa,” Niall replied.

 

Niall was then punching a stuffed rack sack.  He was boxing and he did it well.  Ciaran once tried to punch Niall but he missed out.  In return, Niall threw back a hard punch and stroke Ciaran quite painfully. 

 

“Easy there, Niall, but well done – that’s the spirit,” said Ciaran.

 

A light brown hair girl was with her moustached father, her brother and his friend.  They had just walked out of a clothing shop in town.

 

“Do you fancy the new gown that I bought for you today, Eleanor?” asked the moustached man.  

 

“Yes, I surely do, for it is beautiful, father, thank you,” replied the little girl, who was about ten years old, and she then kissed the man.

 

She then came forward to kiss Darren and Keith, “Thank you for suggesting the design.”

 

“We’re family, Eleanor – we do our best to keep dearest sister happy,” said Darren.

 

They all spoke Queen’s English except for the curly brown hair boy with brown eyes, who conversed with a Welsh accent.  Eleanor admired the charming boy, Keith Bell.  The Holloway had recently adopted him.

 

“My dear new sister, you’re always welcome,” said Keith.

 

Catherine was the name of a governess to Eleanor and Darren.  She was a proper woman, and was like a mother to them.  However, she spent more time with Eleanor, since that she wanted to her to become a “perfect English lady”.  Governess Catherine was testing Eleanor’s capability in her arts and etiquette in the living room.

 

“Excellent, Ms. Holloway!  Now, I would like you to play the pianoforte for me,” said Governess Catherine.  “Music is also my delight, and I shall like to acknowledge you to be of great proficient.”

 

“Eleanor, please stand up straight!” said Governess Catherine, noticing that Eleanor was slouching a little.

 

Governess Catherine admired Eleanor’s gifted talent in the arts, and she ardently enjoyed every note plucking Eleanor made on the keyboard while she sang like a soprano lady.

 

One day, Darren and Keith were at the living room chattering away about their cricket game.  Darren’s father was not present at home since that he had to take care of some business.

 

“Stand up please, gentlemen!” said Governess Catherine, who sounded like a headmistress.

 

After they stood up, the boys slightly bowed their heads as the two ladies entered the room.  The boys sat down at their respected seats after the females were seated. 

 

Eleanor took a walk around the Victorian manor one late afternoon, enjoying the splendorous garden, and she would sit on a bench there and read a book quietly.  On the other hand, Darren, Keith and their elite friends were playing cricket in the outdoor field of a local clubhouse. 

 

“Well done!  A far superior shot than I have presumed!” said Eleanor, giving her applause. 

 

The boys respected her encouragement.

 

In the dawn of 1895, a consecutive billow of puffing smoke from the coal-powered train was soon to arrive at a railway station in Malmesbury.  A beautiful and elegant young lady with brown locks wore a cream long-sleeves gown and stylish small hat.  She landed onto the platform shortly after the train’s arrival.

 

There was a young gentleman who stood next to her.  He had a pair of grey eyes and dark chocolate hair.  He was wearing a long-sleeved white shirt, black necktie, navy blue blazers and pair of trousers, as well as a black brimmed top hat.  His sideburns grew down to his lower ears. 

 

            “How do you enjoy Melbourne, my dear sister?” he asked, speaking with an elegant Queen’s English accent.

 

     “Sydney was spectacular, my dear Darren,” replied the young lady with the same accent.  “I cannot wait for father to hear our exciting trip.” 

 

“I am rather pleased to hear that you found your journey stimulating on our rather long trip, my dear Eleanor,” said the young Englishman. 

 

“Indeed, I have,” the young lady replied.

 

“We are delightful to your generous offer, father,” said Darren. 

 

They all decided to have lunch at the elite Coronation Restaurant.  The three family members were led in and sat at a table decorated with plain white tablecloth, cutlery, napkins, side plates and wineglasses.  A waiter carefully placed the napkins on their laps, and they thanked him for his refine service.  Soon, they were provided with a la carte menus to choose from a variety of dishes.  The waiters brought three main plates with steel lids on their hands, of which Eleanor was served first.  A small band of violinists and a pianist played romantic swaying classical sounds of Bach’s Violin Concerto in E Major as a sign of fine gratitude to entertain the restaurant’s guests.  It was an ingenious place for an unforgettable dining experience of a lifetime.

 

Sir Holloway and Darren placed their hats back onto their heads.  Then, together with Eleanor, they left the restaurant and took a walk around the dirt roads of the Victorian town that were crowded with coaches and people.  In the streets, there were many buildings with large glass windows and shingle roofs, and some have balconies atop the front porches.  Shops proudly present their entrances with big glass display windows next to the entrance doors. 

 

When a boy was playing games with his friends in the streets, he accidentally knocked against Sir Holloway as he ran passed the man. 

 

“I beg your pardon?” asked Sir Holloway furiously at the boy’s misbehaviour.

 

“Do forgive me, sir,” said the boy, noticing that the man was looking at him.

 

Sir Holloway did not say a word and gave a cold bow.

 

“Would you like to purchase a rose, sir?” asked a courteous little girl with a basket of flowers.

 

“No, I shan’t!  Get away from me, you filthy peasant girl!” yelled Darren.

 

The little girl scowled at Darren, disgusted at his attitude problem.

 

“Darren, dear – I know you don’t wish to purchase any flower but there is no need to personally insult this poor girl,” said Eleanor.

 

Darren simply gave an ‘hmph’ and walked away silently.

 

“Now, do not cry, little girl – I shall purchase three of them,” said Eleanor out of pity.  “What do you say?”

 

“Thank you for your generosity, Miss – may God bless you always,” said the little girl after taking six pennies. 

 

“You’re welcome, and I pray that the Lord will bless you and your family with prosperity one day,” said Eleanor, who seemed to have the heart of a crowned princess.

 

There was a brown-haired young man standing next to his mother; he was wearing a coat and trousers in a plain quality, and the lady wore a ragged grey gown and a white bonnet on her head.  They both were calling out, in their thick Scottish accent, to sell shortbread butter cookies to their customers.  Eleanor bought a reasonable amount of shortbread butter cookies from the woman. 

 

“Thank you, Miss,” said the joyful mother.

 

“My pleasure,” replied the English girl.

 

“Have a pleasant day, Miss,” said the young Scottish man with his warm smile.

 

“Thank you, and I wish the same for you,” she replied. 

 

She smiled dreamily at the boy and the boy sweetly smiled back. 

 

“Come on, sister!  Hurry, we haven’t all day to await you!” commanded Darren. 

 

“Alright, I am coming!” Eleanor replied. 

 

She turned around to follow Darren and their father.

 

Darren was standing about fifteen paces ahead of the girl and their father was standing three paces ahead of him. 

 

The girl got into an elegant black horse carriage with her brother and father.  There were two red sofas facing each other.  The coal-coloured vehicle brought them to a house surrounded by irrigated iron fences and it passed through the unlocked gate. 

 

The Union Jack waved about proudly in the air. 

 

The pebbled pathway directed them to an enchanting brick and stone quoin Victorian mansion, which was surrounded by a fleur-de-lys fence and gate. 

 

There was a fabulous English flower garden that bloomed with pride around the house.  It was as if the Holloways have afforded the best gardener in town. 

 

It was a mesmerising residence.  The girl and her family have finally returned home.  As she pushed open the enormous entrance door, standing in front of her was a beautiful polished wooden staircase with intricate railings, and the left part of the staircase was attached to the wall.  As she entered the lounge room, she sat on a cushioned sofa, which was near a pair of armchairs.  The furniture set perfectly matched the elaborate Persian rugs.  Standing in front of her was a well-ornamented fireplace. 

 

On top of the fireplace, there was a pair of golden candelabras, some books in between the two small bronze horse statues, and a mirror hanging on the wall above the fireplace.  The walls were covered with rose red damask fabric.  In the living room, a grandfather clock with all twelve Roman numerals gave strikes of a Westminster chime.  Extravagant Ming vases were also present in the room.  She took out a book from above the fireplace and sat down on the comfortable sofa.  Everything was mesmerising in her residence.

 

She was attending a regatta and her brother was one of the rowers.  It was packed with spectators.  Towards the end of the program, the God Save the Queen.

 

A green shamrock leaf was displayed on the hanging Murphy’s Tavern signboard.  The Celtic folk dance music was played along with a flute and a violin.  Men and women crossed one another’s arms, moved around in a circle and clapped one another’s hands.  It seemed that everyone there was a member working class, the type of society that an upper class British person must avoid mingling with.

 

“What brings an upper class English lady such as you here?” asked an unhappy Dubliner lady there.  “Yer wishin’ to taunt us Irish workin’ class I suppose?”

 

“Keira – leave the young lady alone please – give her some peace,” said a blond boy with a Belfast accent. 

 

“Would you care to dance with me, Miss?” asked the blonde Irish boy.

   

He appeared to be extremely attractive to Eleanor, and she could not let her eyes off him until a few minutes later.

 

“I would certain care,” replied the brown-haired English girl, who had just arrived at the train station two days ago.  “It is a fascinating lively dance the Irish have.”

 

“Well, thank you, Miss,” replied the blond young man.  “I appreciate that you highly value my heritage,”

 

“You are welcome, ” responded the girl.

 

The Irish boy and the English girl moved with the others in a big circle, and subsequently they formed smaller circles with each of them having one of their arms crossing one another before deciding to clap one another’s hands. 

 

Meanwhile, there were a bunch of boisterous men who toasted their beers at the bar counter.  The bar attendant was a seemingly very busy man, trying hard to earn profit. 

 

Eleanor was admiring the natural beauty of the sugarcane fields that coexisted with the background mountain and country houses.  She painted a breath-taking landscape of the beach next to a lushly forested area in the Impressionism style, which was a type of art that had been common in France, during her young adult years.

 

“All right, I’ve just finished my painting – I think this breath-taking beach will be a great masterpiece,” remarked Eleanor.  “Don’t you think this beach is beautiful?”

 

There was no response from either coachman or bodyguard.

 

“John?  Robin?” she called out after a long silent pause. 

 

After she impatiently turned around, she froze like a statue, gasping and mouth agape.  Her bodyguard and coachman were tied to the tree. 

 

There were also cloths tied to their mouths and they were unconscious.  Then she saw a brown-haired man approaching closer to her.

 

“You’re as beautiful as the painting, poppet!” replied a brown-haired man with a rugged face.

 

All three hooligans have rugged faces and they were all wearing vests, cream shirts and brown trousers that seemed to lack good condition and hats of chimney sweepers in late nineteenth London. 

 

Eleanor yelled for help as loudly as she could.

 

“This is the Police!” he said.  “Desist in the name of the law or I will shoot!”

 

The girl heard a familiar voice, and it sounded Irish.  After she turned around to see who he was, she then realised he was the Irish boy she met at Murphy’s Tavern.

 

“Look what you have done, young lady.  You shall never be grateful for this situation!” said the brown-haired hooligan.

 

“Do not attempt to approach any closer to us,” said the blond hooligan.  “Another step forward and I will shoot her!”

 

The young policeman said, “Lower your weapons or I will shoot!”

 

The brown-haired man said, “There is no benefit in threatening us to surrender.  Your rash actions will result in her death with this gun.  Drop your gun first.”

 

“And what is to become of her if I drop my gun first?” the policeman asked.    

 

Being alarmed, Eleanor cried out, “Look out!  Behind you!”

 

He was too late to defend himself since that the crafty hooligans had quickly struck him from behind.  Acknowledging their shrewdness, they all laughed sinisterly at what they did.  The young lady screamed and fled, but later she was caught by the four men who blocked her front, back and both sides.  She didn’t know what to do in that helpless situation of hers.

 

“Hold your breath, girlie,” said the brown-haired man. 

 

“You are all despicable!” said the young lady.  “Get your unclean hands off me!”

 

“We cannot deny your beauty, young lady,” said the blond man. 

 

A blue cloth piece had been mysteriously wrapped around the policeman’s head. 

 

“Behold!  Unhand that damsel in safe and alive at once!” said the olive skin boy.

 

Their conical straw hats were casting shadows over their unknown faces.

 

“We demand fifty gold coins in our hands before she is to be safely set free,” said the black-headed hooligan, who was expecting that someone would come up with the ransom money for them.  “Do you Orientals have them?”

 

“We agree to get you a ransom her release.  We are men of honour, except for the young lady.  Now, safely set her free, remove that cloth of her mouth and we will seek the ransom for you!” the olive skin boy replied. 

 

The black-headed man paused for a moment and then said, “Agreed.”  

 

He removed the cloth and let her off to his brown-haired friend. 

 

“You cheating scum!  You swore to release her,” the pinkish skin boy replied. 

 

The black-haired man replied, “I agreed to release her but it was you who failed to specify to where and to whom.  Besides, we demand the ransom now.” 

 

“Why have you not specified your ransom demand earlier?” asked the olive skin boy.  “It apparently appears that we have no other alternative but to fight you.” 

 

A pair of conical hats flew off at jet speed, and then the identities of two teenage boys were revealed.  The hooligans lost control of their weapons the moment the hats hit against their hands.

 

One of the hooligans struck Eleanor’s face with his hand and she fell down to the ground, and then she blacked out.

 

The boys placed the palms of their hands together.  Then, they raising one of their right hands up, and the left hands were faced down.  The hooligans picked up their firearms to hit the two boys, but the boys managed to hit them and managed to make them lost control of the weapons.  Following that, the boys quickly stepped on the firearms, picked them up and unloaded the cartridges.

 

“Have you had enough?” asked the dark-headed boy.

 

“Yes, we have had enough with you now,” replied the black-haired man. 

 

“Then leave now!” said the blond boy.  “Gentlemen, cease your grave misconduct, and seek for the good of mankind.” 

 

“I hope you’ve learnt your lesson.  Promise us you will be good, never again rob and attack defenceless women, as well as with others,” said the dark-haired boy.

 

All of the men agreed and they quickly vanished into the bushes.   

 

The two attractive knights have rescued the unconscious damsel in distress.  The dark-haired boy was applying his CPR technique onto unconscious Eleanor, pressing his hands against her chest.  The blonde boy took off her shoes and massaged her right foot.

 

To their surprise, Eleanor suddenly woke up and shortly after that she sat up, feeling no fear.

 

“Thank you for saving me from the four despicable beasts,” said the then conscious Eleanor.  “Indeed, I have been a damsel in distress!” 

 

Shortly afterwards the two boys quickly picked up their conical hats back, and wore them before releasing Robin and John.

 

“I would like to speak briefly with these two fine gentlemen who saved us,” said Eleanor.

 

“Certainly, Ms. Holloway,” said John.  “I will stand by the carriage for you.”

 

“How thoughtful of you, John,” Eleanor replied.

 

Eleanor walked towards the brothers who were just in a distance in front of her.

 

“How may I ever repay your kindness?” she asked.

 

The dark-haired boy replied, “There is no need to repay us, ma’am.  It is our duty to help those in need of it in the best of our abilities.”

 

“Then saying ‘thank you’ again will be sufficient,” replied the girl.  “Indeed, you have demonstrated your responsibilities well, gentlemen.  My name is Eleanor Holloway.  What are your names?”

 

The dark hair boy smiled like prince charming, introducing himself to the girl before the blonde boy.  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Holloway.  I am Demang Sulong and this is my brother, Megat.”

 

“You may simply address me as Eleanor,” said Eleanor.  “How delighted I am to have the pleasure of meeting such fine gentlemen.”

 

They shook hands with one another, of which the boys were first hesitant.

 

“Forgive me, how long have you been raised in Demang’s family?” asked Eleanor. 

 

“To my knowledge, I’ve been connected with them since I was a toddler,” Megat replied smiling charmingly.

 

After having her short daydreaming at the boys, she said, “I daresay you both are very handsome, as much as you are bold.  Gentlemen, I must instantly depart, and we shall converse at a later date.”

 

“I daresay you are also very beautiful, as much as you are kind,” Demang replied.  “We shall meet again in the near future, Eleanor.”

 

“Farewell, we wish you good health, Ms. Holloway – Eleanor,” responded Megat.

 

She placed both hands on her heart and said, “Farewell, my valiant saviours, for you shall always remain inevitable in my dreams.”

 

She held her hands together while facing Demang and Megat, and then she giggled away before she walked towards her carriage.

 

Demang and Megat blushed, lowered their gaze and chuckled.

 

“Thank you, John,” said Eleanor, who then began stepping into her carriage.

 

“My pleasure, Ms. Holloway,” replied John.

 

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