A Discovery of Witches - Deborah Harkness [76]
While brushing my teeth, I decided the only thing to do about my hair was to pull it away from my face and twist it into a knot. This made my chin and nose look more pointed but created the illusion of cheekbones and got my hair out of my eyes, which is where it gravitated these days. I pinned it back, and one piece immediately flopped forward. I sighed.
My mother’s face stared back at me from the mirror. I thought of how beautiful she’d looked when she sat down to dinner, and I wondered what she’d done to make her pale eyebrows and lashes stand out the way they did and why her wide mouth looked so different when she smiled at me or my father. The clock ruled out any idea of achieving a similar transformation cosmetically. I had only three minutes to find a shirt, or I was going to be greeting Matthew Clairmont, distinguished professor of biochemistry and neuroscience, in my underwear.
The wardrobe contained two possibilities, one black and one midnight blue. The midnight blue had the virtue of being clean, which was the determining factor in its favor. It also had a funny collar that stood up in the back and winged toward my face before descending into a V-shaped neckline. The arms were relatively snug and ended in long, stiff cuffs that flared out slightly and ended up somewhere around the middle of the back of my hand. I was sticking a pair of silver earrings through my ears when there was a knock at the door.
My chest fluttered at the sound, as if this were a date. I squashed the thought immediately.
When I pulled the door open, Matthew stood outside looking like the prince in a fairy tale, tall and straight. In a break with his usual habits, he wore unadulterated black, which only made him look more striking—and more a vampire.
He waited patiently on the landing while I examined him.
“Where are my manners? Please come in, Matthew. Will that do as a formal invitation to enter my house?” I had seen that on TV or read it in a book.
His lips curved into a smile. “Forget most of what you think you know about vampires, Diana. This is just normal politeness. I’m not being held back by a mystical barrier standing between me and a fair maiden.” Matthew had to stoop slightly to make it through the doorframe. He cradled a bottle of wine and carried some white roses.
“For you,” he said, giving me an approving look and handing me the flowers. “Is there somewhere I can put this until dessert?” He glanced down at the bottle.
“Thank you, I love roses. How about the windowsill?” I suggested, before heading to the kitchen to look for a vase. My other vase had turned out to be a decanter, according to the senior common room’s wine steward, who had come to my rooms a few hours earlier to point it out to me when I expressed doubt that I had such an item.
“Perfect,” Matthew replied.
When I returned with the flowers, he was drifting around the room looking at the engravings.
“You know, these really aren’t too bad,” he said as I set the vase on a scarred Napoleonic-era chest of drawers.
“Mostly hunting scenes, I’m afraid.”
“That had not escaped my attention,” Matthew said, his mouth curved in amusement. I flushed with embarrassment.
“Are you hungry?” I had completely forgotten the obligatory nibbles and drinks you were supposed to serve before dinner.
“I could eat,” the vampire said with a grin.
Safely back in the kitchen, I pulled two plates out of the refrigerator. The first course was smoked salmon with fresh dill sprinkled on top and a small pile of capers and gherkins arranged artistically on the side, where they could be construed as garnish if vampires didn’t eat greens.
When I returned with the food, Matthew was waiting by the chair that was farthest from the kitchen. The wine was waiting in a high-sided silver coaster