Chapter 1 #2
“No, no,” Mrs. Sterling pursed her lips. “He’s ill with an infection, I’m afraid.”
Mrs. Talbot pressed a hand to her chest with a low tsk. “Oh, how dreadful.”
Mr. Talbot smoothed blunt fingers over his bristly, white mustache. “Yes, that is very unfortunate.”
Mrs. Sterling took both of Mrs. Talbot’s hands and worried her mouth into a pursed line, as if on the verge of tears.
Very clearly a mask, one anyone could see as a dramatic ruse, as Dr. Sterling’s “infection” was nothing more than a mere head cold that only brought him mild discomfort and exhaustion.
Mrs. Sterling and Jane were alike in that way: stretching the truth just enough to warrant extra attention, but not pity.
It seemed to have worked, as Mrs. Talbot stepped closer to her friend with coos of reassurances and well-wishes rushing from her mouth.
As Mrs. Sterling and the Talbots spoke, Jane stood off to the side, listening, smiling, nodding, and laughing whenever the conversation required it.
But it didn’t take long for her to grow tired of the same “how are you”s and “what have you been doing”s that were shared whenever they reunited with the Talbots.
There was only so much small talk between those who have known each other for decades—and have lived stagnant lives for twice as long—a woman of twenty-four could handle, so she allowed her eyes to wander the room.
Repeatedly her attention was drawn away from the crowd of puff-sleeved bodices, slim skirts, and plainly-colored ditto suits and back toward the fin whale suspended high above, haloed by sunlight and an arched ceiling.
It continued to watch her as though it were a predator tempting her back to it with its magnificence.
Its gaping ribs were poised to swallow a man standing in its shadow, just as she had been doing moments ago.
Even from behind Jane recognized the man’s slumped shoulders, so she kept her steps as quiet as possible as she parted from her companions to approach him.
Excitement made her final few steps clack sharply against the marble floor before she pounced on the man, and roared, “A-hah! A new victim to be gobbled up by the big bad whale!”
The two of them cried: her from thrill, him from terror.
It felt as though the world paused as the ambiance of studious conversation hushed into leering silence, and several heads turned to look their way.
Jane supposed that she should have been embarrassed, but she was too focused on trying to breathe amidst her pealing laughter as the man reached for his chest to settle his beating heart.
She at last regained just enough breath to say, “My word, is that Mr. Terence Hayes I see? In the flesh? Or are you just an apparition?” She pinched his arm to assure herself of his corporeality.
The man was tall and broad-shouldered, though not in the sense that his size was monstrous or athletic.
More like a wall of stone, a barrier of flesh and bone determined to protect and defend.
Much like a great wall, he always seemed weathered to Jane, even though he couldn’t have been older than forty, with threads of silver at the temples of his otherwise dark, neatly-groomed hair and the bruised flesh around his eyes.
His clean-shaven face was long, hollow, and sagging from what seemed to be perpetual exhaustion, but he always held a quiet politeness in his hazel-brown eyes that Jane had been drawn to since they first met.
It was a visage she likened to a lazing basset hound, and she grinned as a warm sensation blossomed in her chest when he looked at her.
“Miss Sterling, you startled me,” Terence Hayes released a ragged breath but quickly composed himself. A hand smoothed the front of his purple waistcoat.
No, not purple, Jane noted. Mauve.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, yes, it is me, in the flesh, you are not mistaken. How have you been? It feels as though it has been half an age since we last met.”
“Well enough. Though, I’d rather not be stuck going to a lecture on a Saturday afternoon, not with the weather being as fine as it is,” Jane whined, pouting her lips as she gazed longingly out the windows and at a courtyard painted by the rare golden hues by the oncoming autumn sunset.
“I’d forgotten how gloomy your England can be.
I was hoping to cherish the sun before it decided to vanish again! ”
“It is autumn, Miss Sterling,” his gaze dropped to her dress, a thick brow raised. “You seem to be properly dressed for the weather with all those layers.”
Jane clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes.
“It only looks layered because of the lace. See?” She toyed with the pleated fringes of her dress, displaying the white lace decorating the bulk of her pink skirts.
Ruffles of the glittering lace fringed from the puffed fabric of her shoulders and pillowed around the cuffs of her silken sleeves, which she held out for him to inspect closer. “Just lace.”
“Ah, my mistake,” he said in a voice that rumbled gently from his chest, reaching her ears with a tender caress. He leaned close, eyes narrowed, to better observe her ensemble; a heavy scent of bergamot and damp earth washed over her. “Quite well-made, Miss Sterling. It’s attractive on you.”
Jane couldn’t resist another grin, though she was unsure if it was inspired by smug satisfaction or the heated fluttering in her chest. This gown was one she requested specifically for this trip.
While her father’s pocketbook refused her the chance to purchase a thing directly from Paris, she was able to convince the Sterlings’ favored dressmaker Mrs. Robinson to craft an exact replica of the blossom-pink dress Jane had glimpsed in an issue of La Mode Illustrée.
Years of patronage from the Sterlings, an invite to afternoon tea, and a handsome sum of $30 were all the costs it took for the old seamstress to agree to the sudden commission.
And Jane was excited that such an impulsive request was yielding the desired results.
Though Terence Hayes was just one person, to dazzle one man was enough to dazzle a crowd.
Jane’s poise faltered slightly before burgeoning once more when Terence took her outstretched hand and brought it to his lips so they may bump against her gloved knuckles—the whisper of what might have been a kiss.
His hands trembled, but this tremor was something he’d always possessed, as far as Jane could remember from when she’d first met him at the exhibition in May.
She’d rued that their meeting had been so brief, underneath the Diplodocus skeleton, not too unlike the scene they engaged with now, as he had been in a rush to catch an afternoon train from London to Cambridge.
“It’s a pleasant surprise to see you again, Miss Sterling,” the confidence that glimmered in Jane’s chest dimmed when he started to look behind her—searching. “I heard that your father will be in attendance. Will he be joining us?”
Jane wasn’t afraid to let her disappointment show, propping a hand upon her hip and letting her smile fall into an unsatisfied curl of her lip. “No, he will not—”
“Oh, Mr. Hayes, hello!” Mrs. Sterling appeared at Jane’s side and took hold of her elbow.
Her brow pinched, and her smile softened, as she reached forward and squeezed his arm, a gesture of sympathy.
“I hope you have been doing well, dear boy. I am terribly sorry to hear about your brother. A good man, he was.”
Jane’s blood chilled and her cheeks flushed.
She’d forgotten the news she heard of the late Matthew Hayes’s passing.
She knew very little of his death aside from a rumor her mother shared with her over breakfast as they were still crossing the Atlantic, that he had been shot in a hunting accident a month ago.
Though the ghastliness of such a whisper was enough for her to keep it at the back of her mind out of intrigue, she had otherwise forgotten about it as she didn’t anticipate seeing Terence in attendance today, nor did he wear any tokens of mourning.
She was unprepared to offer condolences.
Guilt smacked her across the cheek with an ice-cold hand, and she withheld a grimace as she lowered her head and took a step back, allowing her mother more space to comfort.
“Yes, yes, thank you. A good man he was indeed,” Terence said quickly, clearing his throat in a manner hinting at a mounting discomfort. His smile was tight, brief, a polite obligation. “Will Dr. Sterling be joining us?”
Mrs. Sterling’s expression started to morph into her trademark pout. “Oh, no, I’m afraid he won’t be. Too ill to travel—only the flu, bless him, but he didn’t think he could survive on a boat with his condition.”
Heat flooded Jane’s chest once more as Terence inclined his head. “My deepest apologies, Sterlings, I hope that his recovery is swift. Do send him my condolences that he couldn’t be with us today, will you?”
There was always something so attractive about a man who allowed himself to display a genuine concern.
“I will. He regrets being unable to attend,” Mrs. Sterling placed a hand atop her breast. “It breaks his weary heart when he misses these lectures.”
“Such a shame… I had been eager to speak with him regarding a proposition. It seems that you will also have to tell him that I send him my heartfelt greetings,” Terence said, hands clasped behind his back.
Mrs. Sterling touched his shoulder in the feminine mimicry of a mate clapping a hand there.
“But of course! He’s spoken so fondly of you since his London trip, and I must admit we were rather impressed by the collection of gryphaea specimens you sent home with him.
I think they’re still displayed in his study cabinet.
He’d be thrilled to know you said hello! ”