Chapter 2 #3
His tremoring paused, and his hand clasped atop hers. “I… appreciate that, Jane…”
It was late afternoon by the time they finished lunch and returned to the hotel, where Mrs. Sterling sat in the parlor room with her sketchbook open to a page depicting what looked like some kind of fossilized plant.
She had her watercolors out, and the tips of her fingers bore multicolored stains.
Her hair shone like copper wire under the gaslight, streaked with pale white, as she turned with a smile upon Jane and Terence’s entrance.
The only way she and Jane resembled one another was their eyes, green in color and always crinkled at the corners with some sort of emotion.
Elation, despair, worry, exhaustion. There was always a crease of some kind there.
They otherwise more resembled old colleagues rather than a mother and daughter.
“About time you two came back. Come and warm yourselves, children, you look chilled!” She said, brushing her hands as she stood to greet them. She must’ve noticed their rosy noses and cheeks, much in the same way that Jane caught something hinting at a catty knowing flickering across her grin.
Jane felt a sudden chill across her shoulders in the absence of Terence’s heat when he took a step back toward the door. She bit her tongue to withhold an urge to whimper.
“Ah, thank you, Mrs. Sterling, but it’s almost evening. I ought to leave you ladies to enjoy your night. The marshes of Wolf’s Run can be a beast to navigate at night once you can no longer see the road,” Terence said, lips pursed.
Both women shared a frown.
“Well, if you insist, Mr. Hayes,” Mrs. Sterling said.
“We will see you again—soon—yes?” Jane’s words emerged as a whine. She wasn’t fond of the idea of him leaving quite yet, and, desperately seeking an excuse, added, “Y-you mentioned having fossils you’d want my father to see.”
Their luncheon hadn’t been anything spectacular, but Jane wasn’t ready to have their time together come to an end.
Lunch was at a simple cafe on a street neighboring the gardens, lined with brown storefronts Terence walked her through, though she couldn’t recall the name of the road nor any of the stores, only that everything was gray and colorless.
And cold. She’d been grateful that Terence’s body was so warm, and that he didn’t seem to mind her pressed against him.
In the end, his eagerness to show her shops that had gowns and hats and shoes displayed in their windows was enough to make her smile.
He was making an effort, and that was what mattered most to her.
The excursion and their lunch of tea and sandwiches was rather boring, with simple conversations consisting of Terence asking what her trip across the Atlantic was like, what she thought of Cambridge so far, what she’d thought of the gardens, and if she saw anything that piqued her interest in any of the store windows.
“Do all English women allow themselves to dress so…” she waved her hand in an attempt to capture a word that floated in the air around her, then used her pointed gaze to gesture to two young girls that strode past where they sat at the window.
Both of them wore brown, so muted and dry that they nearly blended into the slick street.
Their hats were small, and they wore jackets that hung well past their knees.
Practical. That was the word Jane needed, but it wasn’t what she wanted.
“Drab?” was what she finally settled for as she wrinkled her nose, settled her chin on the heel of her palm, and watched the girls cross the street.
From the lip of his cup, Terence glanced between her and the girls. For a moment his gaze lingered on her chest, on her trilobite charm, to which Jane arched her back to puff her chest out further; the necklace itself was a similar shade of brown, but she knew she could make such a color flourish.
“I’m afraid I wouldn’t know,” he said. He then gestured to his own dark wardrobe and tilted his head. “Do you think of me as drab?”
“But of course!” She said and pinched the edge of his sleeve between a thumb and forefinger. “Have you ever considered that you’d look charming in green? Maybe even a fuschia color.”
“Do you think so?” He looked at himself with a pinched brow, as if imagining himself in said colors.
Certainly. “Maybe,” she shrugged and pinched his coat again.
She couldn’t deny the comfort his company brought, especially after being denied an opportunity to further converse with him beyond simple introductions at May’s exhibition.
The idea of never seeing him again before the Sterlings were to leave England made something in her heart grow heavy.
She was just starting to dig her claws into a man free of the influence of her sisters and mother, to at last have a companion wholly to herself… she couldn’t let him go yet!
Mrs. Sterling looked between them both, eyes wide with a curious hunger. “Oh? Fossils, you say?”
“He told me that he found fossils in his garden, you see,” Jane explained for Terence before he even had a chance to speak for himself.
“And he was hoping Father could appraise them for their value and decipher what fossils they are. With your permission, I would love to have a look at these fossils.”
“Please don’t fret over the matter on my behalf, Jane,” Terence interjected, perhaps a little too quickly. “I was merely curious about what value they may hold.”
“Oh! Dear, you won’t need Simon for a job like that,” Mrs. Sterling made a gesture toward her daughter. “Jane would be of great help to you if you need something identified. She’s been watching Simon work all her life. Everything he could possibly know, she would know as well.”
Jane flushed but couldn’t stop from holding herself a little higher.
She did know her fossils, that much Mrs. Sterling had correct, though her truth may have been exaggerated.
Jane was unsure if she would be able to provide Terence with an accurate analysis of the bones, not without her father’s knowing eyes.
But if this meant spending more time with him…
“No, no, I wouldn’t wish to trouble Jane that way,” he said, and though Jane’s heart ached at the words, she was emboldened by the fact that he didn’t scoff or laugh at the notion of a woman knowing her fossils.
Mrs. Sterling snorted. “Oh, please, we insist! What else is a girl to do around Cambridge?”
Croquet, walks in the park, visiting the museum—again, Jane thought, but what enjoyment would she get out of them if she didn’t have a companion (who wasn’t her mother) to share them with?
“Just for a day, then? How about tomorrow? Unless you’re preoccupied…” Mrs. Sterling said with a prim arch of her auburn brows.
Terence licked his lips as he looked between the two women. A damp sweat beaded at his temples, making his dark hair and graying sideburns glisten. Lines around his mouth deepened.
Why is he so bothered by the idea of a simple house visit?
Surely living in a marsh doesn’t seem so bad…
And besides, I’m not that horrible of a guest!
Jane inwardly huffed to distract herself from the rising worry that Terence would turn down her mother’s offer, and thus they would never see each other again.
“Please, Terence?” She stepped forward and fluttered lashes in a toying blink, just as she had done when convincing him to sit beside her at yesterday’s lecture.
The same shadow of a leashed dog returned to his gaze, softening it as he looked at her.
That peculiar sadness started to leak through her again, just as it did at the greenhouse.
She hoped such sadness was because he, too, was aware of how this could be the last chance they’d see each other if he turned down her offer.
Eventually, to her relief, he nodded. “Alright. I shall be back in the morning. Early. Five or six o’clock? I wish for you to have all day to work, Jane.”
Mrs. Sterling smiled. “Oh, that’d be perfect!” She held Jane’s shoulders. “We shall see you tomorrow, then, Mr. Hayes.”
“Yes, I shall look forward to it,” he ducked his head in a nod and secured his hat back on.
As he turned to leave, he paused and looked at Jane.
His mouth faltered once more into that wry grin, soft and plush at its edges.
“Thank you for the company today, Jane. I hope to share many more with you before you’re gone. ”
She had no chance to wave or offer her own thanks—which sat eagerly on the tip of her tongue—before he left them with a wordless stride.
She didn’t know how to feel other than a newfound hollowed longing, so she just turned to face her mother. She narrowed her eyes when Mrs. Sterling’s grin turned mischievous.
“Were you actually sleeping this morning, Mother?” she asked, and Mrs. Sterling only smirked before returning to her paints.