I laughed. “Godiva chocolates — do you want some, or all. I really shouldn’t be eating such things.” I giggled, hoping she wouldn’t scold me about my weight, like everyone else did.
“No, thank you, dear. That would insult Timothy.”
“He also sent me a basket of fruit. At least I can eat that without needing to exercise twenty minutes per piece. Would you like some fruit?”
She looked at me strangely. “Penelope, it is obvious that Timothy likes you just the way you are. I wouldn’t worry about dieting overly. Although exercise is always good for everyone, but no, thank you, dear.”
She rose up in a feline movement of grace, then walked over to remove the towel from my head. “Let’s start on the hair, and then I’ll do your makeup.”
So I was to be made up like a robotic doll, perfect for the man coming to pick me up? Something about that rubbed me wrong, but I didn’t want to hurt Simone’s feelings. After all, she’d given up a weekend evening to come bring me a warm coat, and now she was offering to beautify me once again. How could I complain?
I sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, and she began the process of making me presentable. She had just finished her last tease and touch of lipstick when the doorbell rang.
“Ah, Timothy has arrived,” Simone announced. “Time for me to leave.” She leaned forward and gave me the kind of kiss that didn’t touch but made the smooching sound on both cheeks.
“Thank you,” I said.
The door began to creak open in slow motion. I’d thought I had locked it after Simone arrived. That was an automatic habit. Not that the area I lived in was rough or unsafe, but almost everywhere was dangerous nowadays.
“May I come in?” Timothy asked, when he saw me watching. His eyes flashed with appreciation at the sight of me in my new dress. “You are exquisite,” he said, with a pronounced bow.
It hit me then, how unDarcy Timothy was. He was polite, at least to me. And his European manner of bowing to me and kissing my hand reeked of old-world wooing. But, although I’d thought he was full of himself, conceited, and rude, he had proven to be far from that in our conversations. Perhaps, I should say that he was more than Darcy yet still seemed to harbor some of the mannerisms of Jane Austin’s time. I guess the latter was kind of nice.