The Map of the Sky (Trilogía Victoriana #2)(68)

Gilmore held the envelope for a moment before opening it. Perhaps it wasn’t a refusal, he thought optimistically. He inhaled sharply and took out the note. He read it again and again to make sure he wasn’t dreaming: Emma had accepted his invitation! Yes, she had accepted that desperate invitation. A joyous smile spread over his face. He had guessed right, he had known how to read between the lines: Emma wanted to see him again. He was sure she had liked him calling her by her Christian name. His challenge had in fact been a pretext, a pleasurable, amusing game designed to conceal his true intention. And Emma, skilled in the art of flirtation, had gamely pretended to accept it in a spirit of competition. What a truly adorable creature she was! Gilmore conceded, feeling that his devotion to her was boundless. He reached for another card and let out a sigh of love. It was his turn once more, but there was no longer any need for pretense; all he had to do was play along with Emma. He wondered whether there was anything in the world he could not attain, and decided there wasn’t. He sat hunched over the card and, feigning the requisite smugness, wrote:

I fear you will be the one who discovers that you lack the necessary imagination to conquer a man in love, Emma. And five o’clock seems an ideal time. Only death will prevent me from being here to receive you tomorrow.

He slid the card into its envelope and handed it to Elmer, who hurried downstairs almost at a trot. Waiting for him in the hallway was the grateful Daisy, who was still savoring the delicious muffins. They were almost as good as the blueberry jam beignets she bought as a treat on payday from Grazer’s bakery. Thirty minutes later, a few crumbs the wind hadn’t dislodged still sprinkled around the neck of her dress, Daisy delivered the note to her mistress.

Emma tore open the envelope and read Gilmore’s reply, her lips pursed as she stifled a cry of rage. How dare he question the power of her imagination or the ambitiousness of her desires! Although the message didn’t require answering, Emma could not resist responding. There was no sense in wasting any more ink discussing a contest she knew she would win the following day as soon as she revealed what she wanted. It was best to be humorous:

In that case, Mr. Gilmore, I advise you not to practice any dangerous sports until tomorrow.

She placed the card in the envelope and gave it to her maid. Daisy dragged herself over to Gilmore’s house, only to find a plate of blueberry beignets awaiting her. Before she could recover from her surprise, Elmer held out the little tray with an affectionate smile, and she placed the envelope on its polished surface, stunned yet touched. How could he have had time to go Grazer’s bakery and back? she thought; it was some distance away. That diligent, thoughtful young man must be quick on his feet. With a pompous bow, Elmer took his leave of her momentarily and went up to his master’s study, while she waited below overwhelmed by a feeling of gratitude verging on love.

When he saw the footman enter, Gilmore snatched the envelope from him and tore it open eagerly. Emma had refused to be provoked by his first sentence and, under the guise of her usual irony, now appeared concerned about his health. Gilmore grinned and shuddered with delight. Could she be any more adorable? He took up another card and wrote:

Have no fear, Emma, besides wooing you, dangerous sports have no appeal for me.

Ah, if only he was as witty when he was in her presence! Elmer hurtled down the stairs and handed the envelope to Daisy, boldly brushing his fingers against hers and causing the girl’s face to flush with confusion. Trying not to swoon from the sudden rush to her head, the maid thanked Elmer for the beignets, and, as a way of breaking the awkward silence that had descended between them, she told him how amazed she was that he had produced them so swiftly. Elmer gave a little cough and, like a child reciting Shakespeare from memory, said in a monotone, “I can make any wish of yours come true, unless you desire my beauty to be more than it is.” Daisy stared at him bewildered, unclear why he thought she would find his looks wanting. Elmer gave another cough and, turning his back to her, consulted the words scrawled on the palm of his hand. Then he turned around again, and, in the same dispassionate tone, said, “I can make any wish of yours come true, unless you desire to be more beautiful than you already are.” Daisy instantly turned bright pink, stammered a farewell, and walked back to her mistress’s house floating on air, wishing she knew how to write so that she could tell the increasingly attractive footman how she felt at that moment, unaware that he had already seen it in her eyes.

Some forty minutes later, she delivered the card to Emma, who realized despondently that Gilmore also had to have the last word. She tore open the envelope. How could anyone be so brazen? she thought after reading his reply. Did Gilmore have no limits? Emma took a deep breath, exhaling slowly to try to calm herself. She would have liked to reply, but the maid was fidgeting impatiently, as if she had sore feet, and sending her to Gilmore’s house yet again seemed too cruel a gesture, even for Emma. She comforted herself with the thought that, as Oscar Wilde had said, better than having the last word was the prospect of having the first.





XVI

MONTGOMERY GILMORE LIVED IN A PARISIAN-style town house near Central Park. In Emma’s mother’s day, the area had been a wasteland, where the few houses belonging to wealthy residents floated like luxurious islands in a sea of mud. But now those splendid mansions were squeezed between new dwellings and stores of strained elegance. Emma rang the door chime at ten minutes past five—ten being considered in polite society the proper number of minutes to arrive late for an engagement. Accompanying her was her maid Daisy, whose dismissal had been revoked in return for her keeping quiet about the meeting. It was utterly unthinkable for a young woman of Emma’s social class to call at a bachelor’s residence without a chaperone. And so, much to her regret, Emma had been forced to lie to her mother and to offer that deal to her maid, whose joyful acceptance, as you will have guessed, was not entirely due to her regaining employment. Shortly after Emma rang the bell, she heard someone striding jauntily toward the door. Instinctively, she straightened her hat, which matched her crimson dress, and noticed with surprise that Daisy did the same. After admonishing the maid with a gesture, she waited for the door to open and put on her most insincere smile.