He had not expected her to be so near the door when he knocked; he had expected he would be shown into a parlor and have a moment to compose himself before being faced with her. He had never been here before, so maybe there was something he could learn from looking at the home these people lived in — some more nebulous knowledge he could arm himself with in the vain hopes that it would make conversation with her any less fraught. But no such luck; he was barely even inside before she was saying hello, and then he was left hovering a few feet from her wondering if he was supposed to hand her the flowers or not. She had to have assumed they were for her, because he would hardly be bringing anyone else in her home flowers, but she hadn't moved to take them. He could hand them to her, but — there was so much inertia involved in trying to close the space between them. He felt like an intruder already, coming into her house and into her life; he didn't need to go invading her personal space unasked, also.
So he held on to the flowers as she led the way into the parlor, and then he took up hovering on the opposite edge of the doorframe from where she was standing. She hadn't indicated where to sit, and didn't seem to be heading in herself, so he was directionless. Her question surprised him, and it showed in the quick arch of his eyebrows. "No," he replied, then had a quick panicked thought and added, "Unless he'd like to see me about something?" He didn't want to give the impression that he was avoiding her father, certainly. He thought they were on — not good terms, probably very far away indeed from that, but at least more genial ones than they had been on the Friday that the engagement had been confirmed. Ford had been trying, anyway, to be as respectful and engaged and deferential as he supposed a son-in-law ought to be, when they exchanged letters... but there was a lot that could get lost in written exchanges, and he didn't really know what Mr. Farley had been saying about him outside of their correspondence. Had he just unknowingly walked into the lion's den?
So he held on to the flowers as she led the way into the parlor, and then he took up hovering on the opposite edge of the doorframe from where she was standing. She hadn't indicated where to sit, and didn't seem to be heading in herself, so he was directionless. Her question surprised him, and it showed in the quick arch of his eyebrows. "No," he replied, then had a quick panicked thought and added, "Unless he'd like to see me about something?" He didn't want to give the impression that he was avoiding her father, certainly. He thought they were on — not good terms, probably very far away indeed from that, but at least more genial ones than they had been on the Friday that the engagement had been confirmed. Ford had been trying, anyway, to be as respectful and engaged and deferential as he supposed a son-in-law ought to be, when they exchanged letters... but there was a lot that could get lost in written exchanges, and he didn't really know what Mr. Farley had been saying about him outside of their correspondence. Had he just unknowingly walked into the lion's den?
Set by Lady!