The Map of the Sky (Trilogía Victoriana #2)(67)

I am sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Gilmore, but that is not my desire. My beauty would make you happier than it would me, for beauty never makes the person who possesses it happy, but rather the one who loves and worships it. I wish you better success with your compliments in conquering some other young woman, for anyone can see that in your case I am an unassailable fortress.

That would put an end to things. She had tried to go about it in a ladylike way, but Gilmore had been incapable of taking a hint, leaving her no other choice but to resort to rudeness. Satisfied with her message, she handed the envelope to Daisy, who, twenty minutes later, placed it once more on Elmer’s silver tray. The footman, noticing the maid’s pink cheeks, commanded in the tone of a kindly but firm general that she be served a glass of water downstairs in the kitchen. Then, after glancing at the young girl in what she thought was a somewhat forward manner, he went up to deliver the envelope to his master, who snatched it off the tray with uncharacteristic urgency.

Emma’s new message pleased Gilmore, for she was continuing to play with him. She referred to herself now as an unassailable fortress, which in the mysterious language of women must have translated as something like . . . an open garden, or a fountain from which he could drink after a long journey. He couldn’t be sure, but he knew it must refer to a place where he would be welcome. Excellent, his strategy was working. Now it was his turn. He took another card and for a few moments stared off into space, pondering his reply. Should he also hide behind a veil of ambiguity? No, as a man he must reveal himself as he was, expose himself fearlessly, cut straight to the chase. What did he want out of this exchange? he asked himself. He wanted to see her again. Yes, to tell her how he felt about her, but not with arrogant pronouncements or stuttering speech. However, for that to happen he must be sure the meeting took place under the most favorable conditions. And there was only one place where he might conceivably appear calm. He picked up his fountain pen and wrote, as though her annoyance were genuine:

Forgive me for offending you, Emma. Allow me to make amends by inviting you to take tea with me tomorrow at my house, at the time of your choice. Then I shall be able to look into your eyes and see how fervently you desire the thing no one can offer you. I am sure your desire will give me the strength to lay it at your feet, even if in order to do so I must go to Hell and back.

He blew on the ink and reread the message. It seemed a little risky. What if Emma were to say no? If she refused his invitation, there would be little point in going on. Although, truth be told, that prospect did not worry him unduly, for nothing would deter him from his mission, which would only end when one of them expired.

Elmer handed the message to Emma’s maid, and twenty-eight minutes later, just as Emma was beginning to think she had finally rid herself of Gilmore for good, another envelope sealed with an ornate “G” appeared under her charming nose. She opened it and read the message in disgust. “What a persistent egomaniac that man is!” she exclaimed after she had finished reading. Much to her annoyance, Gilmore had not only ignored her last message, but he was growing emboldened in his wooing, calling her by her Christian name and inviting her to his house. Had no one taught him anything about courtship? The game was over, his king had been toppled, why couldn’t he accept defeat? Any relationship, amorous or not, required a rhythm, a measured pace, and a series of rituals, but above all it must obey certain rules, of which Gilmore seemed unaware. Such ineptitude was exasperating. She took another sheet of paper and toyed with her pen as she mulled over her response. Clearly Gilmore had no intention of giving up the fight, however hard she tried to discourage him. As he himself had said, he was used to getting what he wanted, and his arrogance merited his being taught a lesson, a lesson he had never learned in the business world. She would not achieve this with words, unless she resorted to insults. And although quite a few came to mind, she would never use any of them, for she was perfectly aware that insults bring more shame on the deliverer than on the receiver. Thus she must think of a way more befitting her upbringing and intelligence in order to humiliate that insufferable swell-head, so that not only did he remove himself from her life but from the city itself. Emma gently gnawed one of the knuckles of her left hand as she tapped her little foot on the floor. So Gilmore thought he could attain anything she wanted, did he? Well, that remained to be seen, she said to herself, as she began to envisage a possible solution to the problem. What if she asked him for the unattainable? In that case, he would have two choices: he could surrender and hang his head in shame or make a complete fool of himself trying to attain it. It followed that her request must provide some hope of success so that his failure would be even more humiliating. Yes, she concluded, that was the only way; she must play along by accepting the challenge. Only then would she succeed in ridding herself of that oaf. She would go to his house and demand something no one could possibly attain! She seized her pen and wrote:

Very well, Mr. Gilmore. Does five o’clock seem like a good time for you to learn that you cannot get everything you want?

Daisy set off with the question to Gilmore’s house. She halted at the front door and straightened her little hat. Then she rang the door chime, which summoned the footman with a pleasing trill. As he opened the door, Elmer gave her a knowing grin, which she liked, for it wiped away his ordinarily stern expression. After depositing the envelope on the tray with a theatrical gesture, Elmer vanished upstairs, though not before inviting her to some muffins he had ordered to be left on a pedestal table.