Chapter 2
She should really leave soon, Saffron decided, staring into the mirror of the lavatory.
She’d told herself she’d been waiting until the pink faded from her skin after scrubbing her shoulder with a dampened hand towel, but it was more than that.
It had been years since she’d hidden out of mortification.
She’d thought she’d outgrown the childish propensity, yet here she was.
And all because of wretched Dr. Berking.
She’d managed to avoid him for weeks now, not just so he could forget their encounter, but so she could forget it too. But feeling his hand on her skin tonight took her right back to that horrible meeting. She shuddered.
It was silly—stupid really—to be so upset over it.
From what Elizabeth had told her, what Berking had done wasn’t unusual, or even so bad.
She’d gone to the department head’s office to discuss her latest idea for research.
If she wanted to stand out from her peers and be selected to carry on with graduate work, she needed the support of the department head.
Saffron had had no illusions about Dr. Berking, who’d been brash and insulting from the beginning.
She had braced herself for an unpleasant interaction but had hoped that somehow he would hear her out and maybe even say yes to her proposal.
She was very wrong. The results of that meeting lingered in the stirrings of fear she experienced whenever she heard the bark of Berking’s voice, the ominous thunder of his laugh.
But he would be gone to Brazil for six whole months. She could cope for two more weeks.
Saffron stepped back into the hallway but took her time returning to the din of the drawing room.
She slowly made her way down the hall paneled with dark, polished wood and paintings that likely individually cost her annual salary.
She rounded a corner and gasped, the sound turning to a laugh when she realized the man she’d nearly run into was Mr. Ashton, who seemed to be about to drain his glass into the bedraggled potted palm next to him.
“No, no, it’s clearly seen a lot of parties with bad sherry,” Saffron said with a smile. She removed the drink from his hand, placing it on the sideboard tucked behind the rescued palm. “Much better! No plants harmed.”
Mr. Ashton, who’d looked just as startled as she had when she’d rounded the corner, smiled.
Before he could reply, a doorway beyond opened, and the high voice of a woman began speaking.
Saffron had no desire to churn up more rumors about herself by being caught in a lonely stretch of dim hallway with someone, but the woman’s voice was drawing closer.
She stepped further into the corner. Without a word, Mr. Ashton moved next to her, their backs to the paneled wall.
She looked up at him, ready to make it clear that this was not an opportunity to make advances, even if he had acted gallantly earlier, but he looked just as uncomfortable as she felt.
The rustling of a gown told Saffron the woman had stopped just beyond where she and Mr. Ashton stood.
“What about him?” a cool voice asked.
The high voice whispered, “How do you put up with it! He’s gone off with Cedric’s daughter on the balcony. I saw them from the window.”
Mr. Ashton glanced down at her, his eyes questioning. “Should we go?” he seemed to ask.
“Has he now? Charming selection,” drawled another woman.
Saffron shook her head. Leaving now would only cause more problems, however much she didn’t want to be overhearing this conversation.
This was clearly in reference to Dr. Henry and Miss Ermine.
The cold voice must belong to Dr. Henry’s wife.
Saffron eased herself deeper into the corner, where she’d be obscured by the potted palm.
Mr. Ashton followed suit, the silk of her glove brushing against his hand as he drew closer.
“Why don’t you talk to him again, Cynthia, dear?” A sympathetic tone colored the high voice.
“What’s the point? Everyone knows what sort of man he is, and he’ll be gone soon anyway.”
“Yes, dear, but they know that you let him carry on. Surely it stings, even if—”
“Stings? Maybe before the first dozen women were paraded past me. I’ve little cause for concern.”
A few muffled footsteps, and a dark-haired head emerged from the hallway. Luckily, she faced away from their hiding place. Mr. Ashton did his best to shrink, but it only brought him closer to Saffron. She glanced up at him in question. He grimaced apologetically.
“Perhaps they’re just discussing the funding. You know, my husband said Mr. Ermine—”
“Yes, dear Lawrence made sure the funding came through.” The voice was as cold as ice.
The high voice came tentatively from around the corner. “Have you spoken to your solicitor? You mentioned something a few months ago …”
Saffron’s eyes widened in surprise, but then she recalled that this was a private conversation. She hoped Mr. Ashton hadn’t noticed her interest. That was certainly not the way to make a good impression. But then, they were shoulder to shoulder, both hiding. He wasn’t doing any better than she was.
There was a quiet, humorless laugh. “I haven’t decided if I will. The man will be out of the way quite soon. And I’m not exactly suffering in solitude.”
With that, the two women came fully into view as they cross the wide hallway. Lady Agatha hurried after Mrs. Henry. The dark-haired woman’s gown swished languidly as she went. For all her biting words, she seemed unruffled. The two women disappeared down the hallway without a backward glance.
Saffron released a relieved breath.
Mr. Ashton cleared his throat, and began, “I apologize. That was—”
A cheer from the drawing room made them both jump. Saffron gave him an uncertain smile. “We’d better return.”
He nodded and followed her down the hallway and back into the party. The drawing room was too bright for her eyes, and she squinted as a glass of champagne was pressed into her hands.
Mrs. Henry made her way to where her husband stood next to Sir Edward and Lady Agatha, looking dutifully pleased. Dr. Henry had eyes only for the champagne. Slightly behind Dr. Henry stood the man whom Mr. Ashton had spoken to at dinner, who looked drolly on at the proceedings.
Sir Edward raised his glass and called, “To our extraordinary team of adventurers, we wish you the best of luck on your voyage. May you achieve greatness!”
Dr. Henry tipped his glass to Sir Edward.
“Here, here!” chorused the crowd, lifting their glasses. Everyone sipped.
Saffron took a small sip of the bubbly wine and eyed the man behind Dr. Henry, who was now in close conversation with Mrs. Henry. “Who is that man talking to Mrs. Henry? The one you spoke to at dinner.”
Mr. Ashton was looking at something beyond her as he replied, “Richard Blake. He coordinated the funding for the expedition, reaching out to donors.”
Saffron was about to ask if she needed to protect another plant from the contents of his champagne glass, but when she turned to him, he’d already disappeared into the crowd. Slightly put out, she resolved to thank her hosts, retrieve her coat, and leave.
The noise level had significantly increased with the good cheer provided by the toast and the champagne.
Saffron began to make her way toward Sir Edward and his wife at the far end of the room.
She squared her shoulders when she saw Dr. Berking was among the group they were conversing with.
Surely he wouldn’t make untoward comments to her when they were among important donors.
Saying them before Mr. Ashton had been bad enough.
“Once we’re done on the ship, we’ll be in the clear,” Dr. Henry was saying, his voice rough and slurring. “Once that’s done, we’ll be gone and it’ll be fine.” He took another gulp of champagne.
“Yes, sir, the voyage across is always the most dicey,” said Harry Snyder, keeping a hold of Henry’s considerably taller shoulder, as if to hold his employer steady. “So many unpredictable factors. The expedition itself is far more flexible.”
Dr. Berking smirked into his glass. Saffron, paused behind the Leisters, had gone unnoticed. She opened her mouth to speak.
Sir Edward shook his head to an offer of more champagne from Henry, who’d snatched up a bottle from the table before them.
“Can’t trust large ships much these days—any little thing can throw their schedule off course.
I was approached about investing in a shipping company, and not two days after I declined, a ship in their fleet faced waves so large that the thing nearly capsized. They were nearly stranded near—”
Lady Agatha cut him off, saying, “Dear, no one wants to hear about things going wrong on voyages just as they’re setting out on one.” She laughed awkwardly.
Mrs. Henry looked at her husband for a long moment and set her nearly empty glass down. “Indeed, I shudder to think what might happen. Whatever would we do if something were to happen to you, Lawrence?”
Saffron wasn’t the only one surprised by the coolness in her tone.
Henry’s unfocused glare swung around to his wife.
With a snort, he reached for her lipstick-stained glass.
Berking nudged Henry with his own glass for a refill.
Henry blinked at him as if he couldn’t believe his impudence.
Had this not been the middle of a party, Saffron might have liked to see the two men square off.
Mrs. Henry watched her husband and Berking and rolled her eyes. Saffron edged nearer to the Leisters, intending to say goodnight while Berking was distracted.
She’d barely gotten a word out when Berking turned toward her and the Leisters, his malicious grin stretching across his face, having won his wordless duel with Henry.
Mrs. Henry murmured, “Thank you,” to Mr. Blake.
Saffron wondered if anyone else noticed how her fingers lingered on his as she took the refilled glass from him with a smile.
Mr. Blake gave her a hint of a smile in return.
Dr. Henry glared at Blake and snatched the champagne glass from her hand.
“I can pour my wife’s drink well enough, Blake.
” He sloshed a dollop of liquid into her glass, refilling what he had just caused to splash out.
He smiled obnoxiously at Mrs. Henry as she accepted the glass from him and took a drink.
With a cold smile to her husband, she said, “Thank you, darling.”
Then Mrs. Henry crumpled to the floor and lay quite still.
For a long moment, nothing happened. All eyes were on Mrs. Henry, as if waiting for her to get back up.
Then Lady Agatha shrieked, the shrill sound rousing the rest of the group.
Sir Edward and Mr. Blake dropped to their knees.
Her view of Mrs. Henry now unobstructed, Saffron could see the woman’s mouth working.
The chokes she emitted cut off abruptly after a moment.
Without her dark eyes to animate her face, Mrs. Henry looked like a corpse.
Saffron stood frozen. Beside her, Dr. Henry, too, stared without a reaction. Sir Edward and Mr. Blake attempted to revive Mrs. Henry. Mr. Blake looked up and said to no one in particular, “She’s not breathing.”
Sir Edward got to his feet and called for someone to summon a doctor, his voice hoarse.
By that point the entire room was aware of something having gone wrong. There were many doctors present, but only one medical doctor came forward to offer aid. Saffron was shouldered out of the way, waking her out of her shock with a jolt.
The doctor murmured, seemingly to himself, as he checked over Mrs. Henry. After a moment, he looked around for Dr. Henry. “Is your wife allergic to anything?”
Dr. Henry gazed down blankly at his wife, not responding to the doctor.
The doctor ordered an ambulance be called, and Saffron looked around to see who was moving to summon it. Lady Agatha was being helped into an armchair by Mr. Snyder. Dr. Berking was standing off to the side, speaking to a few other guests, with his eyes rapt on the action.
Sir Edward stood stiffly next to Dr. Henry, his eyes darting to the doctor and the door.
Dr. Henry blinked dazedly, then swore. He began to pace, running his hands through his hair again and again, and asking for a drink despite several bottles being within his reach.
Mr. Snyder finally slapped him smartly, which seemed to help.
Saffron and the other guests were soon ushered into another parlor.
Saffron’s hands hadn’t stopped trembling.
She wished she could do something useful.
Anything was better than standing in the midst of all these people droning on in hushed voices, expressing the usual sentiments of well wishes for the ill woman, amid speculation.
The general consensus, spread by those who were close enough to hear the doctor, was a sudden and severe food allergy.
Saffron looked about for Dr. Maxwell but couldn’t find him.
Before long, Sir Edward announced that Mrs. Henry had been attended to. The crowd seemed relieved, but Saffron didn’t feel it. The guests quickly disassembled, wanting to forget the unpleasant ending to an otherwise pleasant evening.