A Mystery Of Errors

“Well, now, Elizabeth, ‘tis pointless to keep up the pretence,” her mother said. “We have Mr. Gresham here to testify to what he did or did not do, and to what he did or did not say. I mean, really, Elizabeth, ‘tis one thing to have a man see that his wife-to-be possesses wit, imagination, and resourcefulness, but ‘tis quite another to have him believe that she is foolish, willful, and stubborn!”

Elizabeth was speechless. She stared at Gresham, who gazed back at her with seeming innocence, and she could not believe he had the nerve to stand there duplicitously and pretend that their meeting had never taken place. It was unconscionable! She did not know how to respond or even what to think. His presence was not only inexplicable, after everything that he had told her, but he was, by failing to admit the truth, essentially making her out to be a liar. And… to what end? What could his motives be?

“A beautiful young woman with her whole life before her certainly cannot be faulted for feeling some trepidation under such circumstances,” Gresham said, in an oily, placating, condescending tone. “After all, we had never met. I could easily have been some monstrously appalling fellow, ill formed and of a hideous aspect, unschooled in the proper social graces, and intemperate by disposition. I trust, however, that I shall be able to dispel any such concerns and ease her mind on these accounts.”

He smiled at Elizabeth and gave her a slight bow, and in that moment, she wanted nothing quite so much as to kill him. Except she could not, of course, and saw that any further insistence on her version of the story would be fruitless. Her own mother did not believe her and her father certainly would not. He would be furious beyond all reason at the thought that his own daughter had deceived him and had so very nearly upset all of his plans.

What was she going to do? It was unbelievable that such a thing could happen to her. Gresham was a monster. What in God’s name did he intend by this? Now there would be no way she could convince her parents that it was he who was the liar and not she. She had no proof. Only her word against his.

And suddenly, it came to her.

“Drummond!” she said.

“I beg your pardon?” Gresham replied.

“Your servant, Drummond! You do have a servant named Drummond, do you not?” Elizabeth said. “Or was that also something I imagined?”

“Drummond,” Gresham said. “Aye, he is my servant. What of it?”

“Ha! How could I have known that?” said Elizabeth, triumphantly.

“ Elizabeth, really…” said her mother, with a sigh.

“I am not sure what you mean,” said Gresham. “ ‘Tis no secret that Drummond is my man. I would be lost without him. I depend on him for a great deal. Everyone who knows me knows Drummond.”

“I see,” Elizabeth replied. “Well, ‘twas Drummond who met me at the Theatre yesterday and escorted me up to your private box. He saw me there!”

Gresham frowned. He walked over to the door, opened it and called out, “Drummond! Come in here a moment, will you?”

His servant, who had been waiting with the carriage, came running in response. He bowed as he came in and took his hat off. “Aye, sir?”

“Drummond, do you see this lady here?” said Gresham, indicating Elizabeth. “Aye, sir.”

“Do you know who she is?” “Mistress Elizabeth Darcie, sir.” “Aha!” Elizabeth said.

“And how do you know that, Drummond?” Gresham asked. “Why… you told me so, sir. You said that you were coming here to see her.”

“So I did. And what about last night?” “Last night, sir?”

“Aye, last night. When you saw her.” “Sir?”

“Did you not see Miss Darcie last night?” “Last night, sir?”

“Aye, are you deaf? Did you see her last night?” Drummond, looking confused, shook his head emphatically. “Sir, I… No, sir. I never saw her before in my life, sir.” “You liar!” Elizabeth cried out.

“ Elizabeth!” her mother exclaimed with shock. “Mr. Gresham, I am quite simply at a loss to explain my daughter’s behavior! Honestly, I do not know what has gotten into her!”

“Mother, they are both lying!” said Elizabeth.

“ Elizabeth, go to your room, this instant!”

“But, Mother…”

“I said go to your room! Immediately! We shall discuss this when your father returns home. Please forgive me, Mr. Gresham…”

Elizabeth ran out of the room in tears. She was furious with her mother, furious with Gresham and his servant, and furious with herself for crying. Drummond had lied, of course, because Gresham had told him to. That was the obvious explanation. The man was a servant; he simply did as he was told. She told herself that she should not really be angry with him. But Gresham…

She had never hated anyone so much in her entire life. The man was an utter villain! What possible reason could he have for making her out to be conniving and deceitful? Worse than that, a fool. He had seemed so earnest and sincere when he had said he loved somebody else. Was it all a lie? apparently, it was. But why? She could make no sense of it.