Chapter 6 #2
Miss Easton shot him a look that was half-suspicious, half-reproachful. “Not a bore, no.”
“Bella,” Miss Fairchild said, hurrying over. “Did you see the jewelry stand over there? Come. I am in dire need of a new pair of earrings, but you know how indecisive I am.”
The two of them ambled off to the stand, followed by Mrs. Fairchild.
Silas and the others kept near the women, allowing them their freedom while ensuring their safety. Covent Garden drew a vibrant and varied crowd, and Miss Easton’s intent perusal of wares made her a target for pickpockets.
Silas looked casually at a booth of snuffboxes next to the collection of knick-knacks the women were poring over in the next stand.
He did not take snuff—the last thing his lungs needed was for him to be inhaling powder—and the vendor became so persistent trying to sell him a box that he moved to the knick-knacks instead.
He came up beside Miss Easton, who was fiddling with a small tin music box, her eyes alight with interest. “Papa bought one of these for my sisters and me, but it was much larger. It is fascinating to see how small it can be while producing such beautiful music.”
“A miniature wonder,” Silas agreed.
She glanced up at him, as though only just realizing to whom she had been speaking. She set the box down.
Silas frowned as she moved farther along the stand. “Tell me, Miss Easton, what it is about my presence that seems to act as a jug of water over the fire of your amazement at interesting things.”
“I cannot think what you mean.” She picked up a gemstone and looked at it for a moment before setting it down again.
“Can you not? I have seen your eyes light up with delight at fireworks, in which you abruptly lost interest when you remembered my presence. The same thing occurred out there with the magician and again just now with that delightful music box. I can only conclude there is something about me that destroys your enchanting enthusiasm. The realization is a great disappointment to me, I assure you.”
Miss Easton turned to him. “It is nothing to do with you.”
“What is it, then?”
Miss Easton’s lips pressed together, as though she was reluctant to answer. “It is my first time to London, sir, and I have a tendency to betray my lack of experience by what you refer to as my enthusiasm—”
“Enchanting enthusiasm.”
“—which I have been assured marks me as unsophisticated.”
Silas gave a little scoff. “If the mark of sophistication is for one to be bored by the world’s constant and varied delights, may I never be accused of it.” He picked up a pocket-sized spyglass and put it to his eye, directing his stare at Miss Easton, whose eyes were magnified through the lens.
They wrinkled at the corners, betraying her smile before the pretty laugh that followed it.
He handed her the spyglass. “Rest assured, Miss Easton, that in my presence, you may be as unsophisticated as you please. In fact, as far as I am concerned, the less sophisticated, the better.”
Smiling, she put the spyglass to her eye and regarded him through it.
He clasped his hands in front of him and stood straight. “What do you see?”
There was a pause before she responded.
“Trouble on the horizon.” She lowered the glass and revealed an impish gleam in her eye.
“The only kind of horizon worth chasing,” he replied, picking up an oddity that was shaped similarly to the spyglass.
“Ahh,” said the vendor, who had just finished selling a small almanac to a man. “You have found the most marvelous piece here, sir.”
“Have I?” Silas shot an exaggerated look of self-satisfaction at Miss Easton.
“Yes indeed,” the man replied, motioning for them to come closer as he took one of the same oddities in hand. “It is a marvel of modern science. They call it the kaleidoscope. You simply put it to your eye”—he demonstrated the manner of it—“then look through and turn it slowly.”
Silas handed his kaleidoscope to Miss Easton, who followed the vendor’s instructions.
Her mouth slipped open, and she drew in a sharp breath, then pulled the kaleidoscope away, looking at the man in awe.
The vendor beamed. “Enchanting, is it not?”
Her gaze flicked to Silas at the choice of word, and he smiled.
She looked through it again, the corners of her lips turning up at the sides with pleasure as she slowly rotated the kaleidoscope.
The vendor handed his to Silas, who put it to his eye. The most unique arrangement of colorful shapes met his view, fanning out from the middle in perfect, vibrant symmetry.
He turned the kaleidoscope, and the view shifted as the arrangement changed to something entirely new but every bit as beautiful. With each shift of the kaleidoscope, the view transformed until he finally dropped it from his eye.
Miss Easton was watching him, her own glass lowered. She smiled as their gazes met, and Silas felt that increasingly familiar tug toward her.
“Bella,” Miss Fairchild said, coming up to them. “You must see these fabrics!”
“Have you seen one of these, Felicity?” Miss Easton asked, handing her the kaleidoscope.
Miss Fairchild glanced at it for a moment, her brow pulling together. “Is it a toy?”
Miss Easton’s mouth opened as she seemed to consider this.
“Put it to your eye,” the vendor instructed.
Miss Fairchild took the kaleidoscope and did as instructed, smiling at the view it offered. “Very pretty!” She set it down. “They have the most intoxicating bolt of purple satin. Were you not saying the other day that you wished for precisely that?”
Miss Easton’s gaze went to the kaleidoscope for a moment, but she relented to her cousin’s pull and was soon gone, following her to the stand across the aisle, which was piled high with bolts of fabric.
“Thank you, sir,” Silas said, handing his kaleidoscope to the trinket vendor.
The vendor nodded politely, and Silas made his way to the others. Frederick and Mr. Fairchild were looking at pocket watches near the fabrics, and Silas took a place between them and the women, for he was curious about the fabrics as well.
Despite Miss Fairchild having pulled Miss Easton away from something she had been enjoying, Miss Easton did not seem to resent it. She was every bit as enthusiastic as her cousin.
A quarter of an hour later, she had purchased lengths of three fabrics, along with various ribbons and embellishments to complement them. Silas offered to carry the purchase, while Mr. Fairchild and Frederick carried those of Mrs. and Miss Fairchild.
“I have burdened you like livestock,” Miss Easton apologized to Silas as the group continued down the lane of vendors.
“Nonsense,” Silas said. “All I ask in return is that I be permitted to see the creations that come of it all. I must say, I approve of your choices.”
She shot him an amused glance. “Do you?”
“I do. But given the way you are looking at me, I take it my opinion does not carry the weight it ought to.”
She laughed. “I am willing to be convinced otherwise.”
They stopped while Mrs. Fairchild insisted upon looking at a few rings.
“Very well. The pink muslin you chose…it has a nice, tight weave but will still be light enough for summer wear, which I assume is a factor, given the time of year. The dye work is good too, which is more than I can say for the fabrics I noticed at the other stall we passed. And the satin…your cousin spoke truly when she said it was an intoxicating hue. If it was like any of the others I handled, it is a fine weave—smooth and consistent.”
She looked at him with a bit of wonder. “You know fabric well.”
“I made it my business to know,” he said.
“How so?”
“I used to have investments in textiles.” He turned toward the jewelry, for this avenue of conversation was unsafe to pursue.
A shimmering caught his eye, and he looked until he found the source. His lip curled up at the edge. “Look, Miss Easton.” He picked up the small pendant and showed it to her.
Her eyes swept to his.
“A near-perfect match.” Holding the gold loop the pendant was attached to, he used his fingers to gently twist it. The sunlight caught on the wings of a colorful butterfly, making the indigo and emerald shimmer, just as Miss Easton’s mask, domino, and dress had shimmered at Vauxhall.
She touched the pendant with a finger, marveling, and he dropped it into her palm.
“We will take this one,” Silas said to the jeweler, who nodded quickly and put out his hand for the pendant.
“Oh,” Miss Easton said, ceding it to the jeweler. “I couldn’t possibly…”
“Do not be ridiculous.” Silas took a few coins out of his pocket and gave them to the jeweler. “That pendant might have been made with you in mind, Miss Easton. Consider it my apology for abandoning you the other night.”
“You owe me nothing, Mr. Hayes,” she said as the jeweler handed him the pendant, now hanging from a bracelet chain.
“It is the merest trifle,” Silas said.
She hesitated, but her eyes looked at the butterfly hungrily as he dangled it in the air.
He waited a moment, then closed his fingers around it. “Very well. I shall wear it myself, for it deserves to be worn.”
She narrowed her eyes as though she did not believe he truly meant it.
He draped the bracelet over his wrist in response. “Help me with the clasp, would you?” He held out his hand and waited.
When she made no move to assist him, he glanced up at her and raised his brows expectantly.
She gave a little incredulous laugh, then worked at the clasp until the bracelet was secured.
He shook out his wrist and tipped his head to the side to admire it. “Very fetching, I think. The colors complement my knuckles.”
“You are the strangest man, Mr. Hayes,” Miss Easton said, but her smile was wide and amused.
That alone was enough to keep the bracelet on his wrist.