“Very much so. And he’s been accruing overdue fees.”
“Ah, how unfortunate,” he said softly.
The din of Bach’s duet spiraled to an end, leaving only the sound of wind and rain rattling the windows to occupy its air, as Jane and Terence held each other’s stare.
Whenever he smiled, lopsided and gentle, Jane noticed a dimple form in the center of his chin, and it took every fiber of willpower to not reach forward and tap said dimple—and with a fingertip or her lips, she would never say.
“Can we give Vivaldi a try?” She said, clearing her throat and glancing at the phonograph to break free of such traitorous temptations. She stepped up to it and snatched the first canister she saw. “I wish to seehowthose cylinders work.”
As afternoon dimmed beneath the oncoming twilight, a storm had started to claw at the house. Thunder growled through the skies, between the clouds, rattling the Drowning House to its very foundations. Rain slashed across the windows with a sharpness Jane felt cut down to her bones.
And as the daylight faded, so did Terence’s friendliness. With every hour that had come to pass, the more he chose to silently brood at the sitting room windows, watching the skies, the rain, the marshes, with a deep crease to his brow. He had stopped tending to the phonograph hours ago, leaving Jane to steep in the house’s increasingly tense silence.
Jane was freed from her spell of working with the fossils (which had come to primarily consist of mindlessly transcribing notes related to what she had come to identify in an attempt to appear busy) when he cleared his throat and stepped away from the window.
“I think it might be best that we return you to Cambridge,” he said, offering her a tightening of his lips that might have been a smile. Whatever it was, it failed to summon the dimple to his chin.
Jane stretched back in her chair with her arms arched over her head. She removed her glasses by pushing them up so that they could rest in her hair. “I didn’t realize it was already so late.”
“One of many cruel games played by darkness,” Terence uttered with a tone so low and so cold it gave her pause. “Pray that a road is still out there.”
“I… can certainly try,” Jane said, never having been a woman of religion or prayer. She cleared her throat, “So, the fossils I thinkyou may have here are—”
“Why don’t we discuss this tomorrow, Jane?”
She flinched at his interruption and tamed a scowl by biting her lower lip. She tapped her pen against the rocks before her (two of which she marked as being ammonites, one being a still unidentified fish, one as the imprint ofPsaroniusfronds, and another was the potential scaly imprint of aLepidodendrontree; none of which were high-value finds, but Jane had been excited to identify them nonetheless). “But, you see, I can bring these—”
“Tomorrow, Jane,” his hands braced the desk. They shivered so intensely that the rocks rattled. Even the veins just below his skin seemed to writhe. Sweat pearled along his temple as his gaze on her remained unmoving. “Please.”
Is a storm truly that frightening?Jane would’ve found Terence’s apparent fear of thunder and rain adorable if he weren’t staring at her with the grimness of a fresh funeral.
“Alright, then…” she said as she tried to swallow down a prickle of disappointment, a stab of betrayal.
She packed her things in silence, leaving only the rocks and her father’s book on the desk, excuses for her to return to the house tomorrow. Mrs. Foster, who seemingly disappeared as the skies outside grew darker, had Jane’s coat and hat waiting for her in the foyer.
“Will I see you tomorrow then?” Jane asked, eagerly looking up at Terence as they waited for Ruben to retrieve the cab.
The worry that’d previously chilled his features softened, and his mouth twitched in a weary grin. It wasn’t until her hand started to overheat that she realized that he gently gripped her fingers. “I couldn’t wish for such to come sooner, Jane.”
Ruben came to the door, his coat already soaking wet, and gestured for Jane to join him underneath his newfound umbrella.Mud sucked at Jane’s boots as they crossed the lawn, threatening to vacuum her into the depths of the earth with every step.
“See you tomorrow, Terence!” She shouted over the rain before hauling herself into the cab. A hopeful promise, even if he didn’t call back to her.
A soothing cacophony of rain drummed against all sides of the carriage as Jane rested her head back against the seat with a sigh.
As much as the sudden curtness in Terence’s attitude and his urgency for her to leave perplexed (and, admittedly, to a lesser degree, hurt) her, she couldn’t deny the satisfaction she felt about the work she had done today—and the time she’d spent with him.
Whenever she pictured the warmth of his eyes, the timid twitch of his lips as he allowed himself a smile, the heat of his shadow over her shoulder, a hot, tingling pit wriggled in her stomach. She craved more. More of him, his attention—his praise. Anticipation for tomorrow’s visit made her shiver in her seat.
Hopefully whatever foul mood ails him now will be long gone in the morning!
The ardor that thrummed in her soul was snuffed out when she was suddenly launched forward and crashed into the opposite bench. The carriage lurched once more, throwing her to the floor as she tried to right herself, before coming to an abrupt stop. The horse screamed outside. Pain blossomed in Jane’s cheek where her teeth bit down deep into flesh. She choked at the sudden taste of blood bathing her tongue.
As she stood, she struggled to find proper footing with the carriage’s newfound lopsidedness, leaning too far forward and canted to the left at a severe angle. She pushed open the door and yelped when a slurry of mud poured into the interior, ice cold and thick. The carriage was half-drowned in muck. Mistletoe, too, wastrapped as her vicious bucking sucked her deeper into the mud. Ruben was pulling on her reins in an attempt to free her.
Jane abandoned her bag in the carriage and rushed to Ruben’s side. Her hands closed over his as she joined him in pulling. Effort stressed her arms and between her shoulders, and she struggled to maintain a grip with her rain-slick gloves.
When Mistletoe showed no signs of even coming loose, Ruben dropped to his knees, plunged his hands into the earth, and started to dig her out. Jane gritted her teeth and continued to yank on the reins.
