Epilogue
By the morning of the following second day, the marshes had drained enough for Ruben to take a bicycle to Wolf’s Run so that he could call for a carriage for the rest of them.
Jane could barely contain her excitement, and fear, at being able to leave this wretched house. She paced the entryway, bag and ruined parasol in hand.
Mrs. Foster had the dress she first wore to the Drowning House cleaned and pressed, and at last Jane finally felt right to be wearing her proper pelt again.
Almost. Her face was still naked, stripped bare of her makeup.
It was ruined by bruises and scrapes, and a nasty scratch trailing from her bottom lip to chin that would certainly leave a scar.
All she could think about, after a time, was what her mother would be like upon her return.
Would she be frantic? Would she be understanding?
Or would she just be working on her watercolors again as if Jane never left in the first place?
Jane at least knew she’d panic over her injury and the stilted stride Jane now walked with.
Mrs. Sterling would first fret over Jane’s well-being, as all good mothers do, but would then bemoan the grace in Jane’s stride becoming permanently interrupted rather than the fact that her daughter had been mauled.
Thinking about the wound made it ache suddenly, the pain settling in Jane’s knee.
She paused her pacing to lift her skirt and look at the bandaged limb.
The gauze was marked with the faintest imprints of pink and yellow.
Jane had to admit that she, too, feared the scar would be both ugly and damaging to her stride.
At the same time, smug pride flared in her chest. Neither of her sisters, her parents, or anyone else she knew, would bear scars from a battle won against a devil.
She had gone to discover her own new beast—her own Ichthyosaur—and all she would be able to show for it were a few scars and a new companion.
At least the beast spared my face… somewhat.
“What were you going to tell your mother?” Terence’s voice startled Jane as he plodded down the stairs.
He wore a fine green vest, which stood out brightly against the black of his tweed overcoat.
His face was smooth from a fresh shave; Jane smiled with approval.
He held a proper cane—which he used to gesture to her leg and then offered to her.
She took the cane, rolled it in her hands, and wrinkled her nose at it. It was a simple wooden one. Finely made, yes, but still plain. She decided to hold onto it, but she preferred to lean on her, admittedly, more fashionable parasol, even though it was stained with mud and blood.
“I do not know,” she said and dropped her skirt. “Haven’t decided. Perhaps I will say that we had a run-in with a dog—but that I won and that the dog is worse for wear.”
That rose a wry chuckle from Terence as he joined her in the entryway, “You wouldn’t be wholly wrong in that statement.”
The space was quiet, stiff, between them for a moment before he cleared his throat. He wrung a pair of smart gloves and a scarlet scarf between his hands.
“I’ve… never had a chance to properly thank you, Jane—and to apologize.”
“For?” Jane knew damn well what for, but she wanted to hear him say it. She smiled expectantly.
Her smile fell, though, when he looked at her. The earnestness in his gaze tamed her need to be playful.
“You freed me,” he whispered. “And I don’t think I’ll ever find a way to forgive myself that it was at the cost of your own blood but… thank you, Jane.”
Yes, I know. I gave you the stars. Now say it again… Please.
When he didn’t, she rolled her shoulders in a masculine shrug. “I’m an American. It’s practically instinct for me to viciously dress a thing I’ve put a bullet in.”
His laugh was muted, and Jane’s giggle faltered when he took her face in his hands. The calluses were tender against her cheeks and she savored their heat with a hungry sigh.
“Thank you, Jane,” he whispered, lower now, and his breath brushed against her mouth.
“I fear that I shall forever dread the setting sun. I’ve always dreamt of what music was made by crickets and bats and reeds kissed by the shifting winds, and perhaps one day I may come to cherish their song as a herald of freedom, just as I do dawn’s first songbirds.
But I hope I may grow to find excitement in finally looking upon the night sky to see the moon and stars I’ve only ever heard tales of.
” Their lips brushed, though only briefly, before he whispered, “Only if you’ll join me, and teach me to appreciate their wonder. ”
Teach me.
A command of his own that threaded its way through her ribs and the valves of her heart. She supposed that there was now much for him to learn, no longer bound by a beast in his blood but rather the scars of manhood.
She took hold of his chin and rubbed her thumb over the dimple there before leaning up to press into him with a kiss.
She wondered if this was another piece of Claunek’s torture: leaving bones haunted and souls scarred.
Terence could unlearn that pain inflicted upon the boys of the Hayes bloodline.
And he would have to do it on his own, as it was a curse that could only be broken in time.
Jane could offer a hand to guide and support him, though the path toward healing was a quest for him alone to embark on; to complete a quest of betterment would truly set him further apart from his fellow men.
On the other side of the door was the telltale slosh of mud churned by hooves and wheels, followed by disgruntled blows of horses made to trudge through dirty roads.
Jane ran a hand down the lapel of his coat as she took a step back. “It is a shame your fossils were ruined. They were rather unique finds… I think?”
He laughed, a hearty, rolling sound, and the corners of his eyes pinched pleasantly.
“Jane Sterling, I love you,” his chuckle, as sheepish as it was, inspired her skin to prickle with gooseflesh as he leaned to her ear, “And if you’ll allow me, in time, I would be honored to clean away my sins from your skin beneath my tongue.”
Before she could admonish him with a smack (or a kiss), she squealed beneath the nibbling peck he left on her cheek, and he left her to go out and greet their vehicle to a new life. Her heart stuttered and her face went hot, but she couldn’t help but grin.
She watched him slide through the mud as he crossed the yard to greet Ruben driving a wagon pulled by two draft horses, his shoulders held back and teeth flashed in a smile, with a revitalized confidence. The confidence of a man unbound.
I suppose I may come to love you, too, Terence Hayes.
Jane smiled as she leaned against the doorway to give her leg a rest. She watched him through the gentle mist before she sighed and pushed herself off to join them.
Ms. Hudson and Mrs. Foster came close behind her, swaddled in cloaks and with purses clutched in their twiddling hands.
Mrs. Foster, without stopping her conversation with Ms. Hudson, gave Jane a knowing look.
Though it’d seemed to be a wordless rule to not further ask about the beast, or rather the sudden lack thereof, out of a fear that their foolish hopes would somehow summon the beast right back, Mrs. Foster in her silence still seemed to know…
The beast, the evil, was now gone. They were all free.
Jane held her chin higher. If they’d been so quick to herald her an executioner by bringing them to the house, then perhaps now they could see her as a savior.
Wound around Jane’s heels in ribboning whisps, as she let Terence hoist her into the wagon after stealing another kiss, were the echoes of the screams of beasts and demons she had slain. She bit her lip against a rising smile.