Elizabeth stopped short as a strange, oddly dressed man appeared in front of her. She stared open-mouthed--quite rude of her, she decided upon later reflection--at his outlandish attire. Back home she rarely came upon a man, let alone was approached by a man, who was dressed in anything less than a gentleman's commonplace attire--leather breeches, white waistcoats. This man had neither. She expected he'd been robbed, or perhaps his captors were not as kind as she suspected hers had been.
Holding her muslin skirts, Elizabeth bowed in a slight curtsy, all the while keeping her eyes locked on the man. When he spoke his name, she searched her memory for any possible previous meeting, perhaps they'd crossed paths at a ball in town. Deciding the chance of them having any existing relation was null, Elizabeth stood up straight and sported the proper attitude expected upon meeting any well-versed gentleman back home. Elizabeth, however, considering his dress and lack of proper manners, didn't expect as much aptitude from this man.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Kirk," Elizabeth smiled. "I fear I cannot offer any convincing or dependable answers for your questions, and I must confess that I appear to be entangled in a quandary of a similar nature."
Elizabeth looked around for any sign the two might have company, and found none. She had spent little time in the presence of a man by herself, and the impropriety of the situation was startling.
"Mr. Kirk, may I inquire upon your situation? I have noticed from your manner of speaking that you do not originate from England. I hope you do not consider this inappropriate, Sir, but I find myself wondering where you call home."