A Mystery Of Errors

Elizabeth realized that things were not quite going the way she’d planned. What she had hoped for was an opportunity to create a bad impression and thereby discourage Mr. Gresham’s interest. Instead, it was beginning to appear as if he had no interest. And she found that very interesting, indeed.

“I had always hoped,” she said, “to fall in love with the man whom I would marry.”

He glanced at her appraisingly and smiled faintly. “Ah. Love. Indeed. I quite understand. And as unfashionable as it may seem, I believe that there is a great deal to be said for love. Would you not agree?”

“I would.”

“Good. Then in this one respect, at least, we are of like mind. You would prefer to love the man you were to marry, and I…”

He turned to look directly at her. “I would prefer to marry a woman that I loved.”

Elizabeth abruptly realized what the purpose of this meeting was, and she caught her breath, scarcely able to believe in her good fortune. “And… is there such a woman?” she asked, meeting his gaze.

He nodded once again. “There is.” When she did not respond immediately, he added, “And is there such a man in your life?”

She shook her head. “No. At least, not yet.”

“Ah. Pity. Doubtless, there shall be before long.”

“Let us understand one another, Mr. Gresham, and speak plainly,” she said. “You do not want this marriage. Anymore than I do.”

“No, Miss Darcie,” he said. “I do not. And ‘twas my hope that you would feel the same way. As, it would appear, you do.”

“I do, indeed, Mr. Gresham. But I mean no offence toward you.”

“Indeed, nor I toward you,” Gresham replied, visibly more at ease now. “I was concerned that my desire to break off this betrothal might have been painful or distressing to you.”

“The marriage was something that my father wanted,” she said, “for reasons that had more to do with his ambitions than with mine.”

Gresham nodded. “Aye. Our situations seem much alike. ‘Twas my father who wanted this, as well.” He smiled. “Apparently, the family fortune has been somewhat depleted by some unwise investments he had made.”

“So he seeks to make a wiser one through you,” Elizabeth replied, with a smile.

Now that she saw which way the wind blew, she felt a great deal more comfortable with Gresham. Her opinion of him had improved, somewhat, as well. She could now see why he had acted as he did. He could not very well have revealed the purpose of this meeting in his invitation. Not knowing how she felt, he had needed to be circumspect, and issue the invitation in such a manner that her family would have little or no time to prepare for it and interject themselves in any way. This was a matter that had needed to be discussed in confidence. Nor could she fault him for wanting to break off the betrothal. He was in love with someone else. What better reason could there be? She had wanted to find a way to break it off herself, because she was not in love with him.

Her sympathies became aroused toward him and she started to look upon him with more understanding. He was not a bad sort, after all. Without his cooperation, there could not have been a marriage. He had not needed to meet with her like this. He could have simply refused to go through with it. He would have raised the ire of his father and perhaps risked being disinherited, but he certainly had not needed to consider her feelings in the matter. And yet, he had done just that. He had wanted to speak with her, prepare her, make some explanation. In this respect, he had comported himself in every way like a true gentleman. Even an honorable one, she thought, smiling to herself at the irony, considering the play being acted below, to which neither of them was paying the least bit of attention anymore.

“I see that you have wit,” said Gresham, with a smile. “Depending upon one’s perspective, that will, in good time, either make some man very happy or else miserable beyond belief. More wine?”

Elizabeth laughed, both at his good-natured gibe and in relief that things had gone so well. “Please,” she said, holding out her goblet and noticing that it was fine, engraved silver, not pewter. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the wicker basket Drummond must have brought, containing the goblets and the wine, as well as the trencher for the serving of the bread and cheese. Gresham clearly liked his comforts.

“So, here we are. The perfect pair,” said Gresham, raising his goblet to her. “A son with a father in want of money, and a daughter with a father in want of position. A match made in heaven, one might say.”

“Aye,” she said, “if one father could but wed the other.”

Gresham chuckled and they touched goblets. “I am glad we could achieve what the French call a ‘rapprochement.’ Now the question remains, how best to inform our families of this.”

“Plainly, I should think, would seem the best course,” Elizabeth replied. “I cannot imagine any way to tell them that would result in any sort of satisfaction on their part. So why not simply be plainspoken?”