“ What ! You mean he said so to your face?“ her father replied, astonished.
“He said it plainly. I was not at all to his taste.” “He truly said so? Just like that?”
Elizabeth decided that there was no harm in embellishing a bit. After all, it was what they had agreed to, more or less, and since they would, in all likelihood, not be seeing Mr. Anthony Gresham again, there seemed to be no reason not to embroider a bit more, purely for effect.
“He said I was too skinny,” she said, “and that my bosoms were too small.”
“Good God!” Her father looked aghast.
“And he thought I was a bit too horse-faced for his liking.”
“Horse-faced!” His jaw dropped.
Her mother gasped.
Elizabeth wondered if this was, perhaps, going a bit too far. She knew that she was pretty, and bore a strong resemblance to her mother. It would not be immodest to suppose that it would be a stretch in anyone’s estimation to call her horse-faced, but the very idea of his daughter being so horribly insulted made her father apoplectic, especially since, given the resemblance between mother and daughter, it was an insult to his wife, as well. His face turned bright red and he sputtered with outrage. Her mother, meanwhile, had turned as pale as a ghost.
“Horse-faced!” he repeated, with stunned disbelief. “ Elizabeth…” He reached out and took her by the shoulders, looking her straight in the eyes. “ Elizabeth, are you quite certain you are telling me the truth?”
She had expected this and she was ready. She widened her eyes, as if with shock that he should question her veracity after what she had been through, and allowed her lower lip to quiver slightly. “Oh, Father!” she cried. “Oh! How could you?“
She pulled away from him and ran out of the room, sobbing.
She listened, afterward, from the other room, as her father shouted, paced and blustered, expressing his outrage and threatening to demand satisfaction, though Elizabeth was fairly certain that was nothing but a bluff, merely idle threats to soothe his injured pride. For of course, it was his pride that was injured and not hers. He cared less about her feelings than about the fact that it was his daughter who had been called horse-faced and unsuitable, thereby impugning not only his abilities to raise a daughter properly, but even his very humors, which had produced her. It was the seed of his loins that had been found defective and he took it as a personal insult. Elizabeth went to bed content and secure in the knowledge that there would be no marriage now. At least not with Anthony Gresham.
She was, therefore, caught completely unprepared when Gresham came calling the very next day, bringing with him a bottle of fine Portuguese wine for her father, a handsome gold brooch for her mother, and a lovely bouquet of red roses for her.
Her father was at work when Gresham arrived, but her mother was at home and when she summoned Elizabeth, sending one of the servants to tell her that she had a caller, Elizabeth had absolutely no idea who it might be. When she came in and saw that it was Gresham, she was absolutely stunned.
“Bess, dear, look who has come to see you!” said her mother, beaming. “Mr. Gresham, may I present my daughter, Elizabeth?”
For a moment, Elizabeth was simply too taken aback to speak. Her mother was introducing her to Gresham as if they had never even met. Gresham rose to his feet and came toward her, smiling charmingly.
“Miss Darcie,” he said, holding his hand out to her. She gave him her hand, numbly and without even thinking. He bent over it and brushed it gently with his lips. “How delightful to meet you, at last. I was told that you were very beautiful, but in all honesty, I must confess that the reports I had received simply had not done you proper justice.”
“Is he not utterly charming?” said her mother, with a smile Elizabeth could have sworn had a malicious touch. “So well spoken, and so handsome, too! Is he not everything you could have hoped for?”
Utterly confused, Elizabeth looked from her mother to Gresham and back again. “Mother, you speak as if Mr. Gresham and I had never met.”
“Oh, do I?” her mother replied, innocently. “You mean to say you have?”
“I am quite certain I would have remembered, madame,” Gresham said, with a smile.
Elizabeth frowned. This was not making any sense at all. She could not understand why her mother was acting as if the events of the previous day had never happened. Or why Gresham was acting that way, for that matter. She had no idea what he was up to, but she was not going to have any of it.
“Then you must have an exceedingly short memory, Mr. Gresham,” she replied, stiffly.
Now Gresham frowned, infuriatingly. “I beg your pardon,” he replied. “I am fairly certain that we have never met. Perhaps you have mistaken me for someone else?”
She stared at him with disbelief. “We were at the Theatre only yesterday,” she said. “Could you have forgotten that already?”
Gresham stared at her with incomprehension. He glanced at her mother, as if seeking confirmation of Elizabeth ’s assertion.
“ Elizabeth is having her little jest,” Edwina Darcie said, with a smile.
“Ah,” said Gresham, as if he understood, though clearly, he did not understand at all. He still looked faintly puzzled.
“Jest?” said Elizabeth. “Mother, whatever do you mean? There is no jest. You were right here when Mr. Gresham’s invitation arrived yesterday by messenger!”