“It’d be a delight, Miss Sterling. I certainly wouldn’t wish for you to die—under any circumstances—but boredom would be quite an unsightly way to go,” he whispered with words that held a muted smile to them and followed Jane to a trio of open seats where she sat comfortably between him and Mrs. Sterling.
Not even a heartbeat passed before a short man with a finely groomed silver beard stepped up to the podium and announced his presence with an obnoxious, wet clearing of his throat. The moment Jane recognized him as Dr. Charles Greene, a fellow paleobotanist her father described as being ‘amateur’ for letting his heart become ensnared within a cage of industry and empire forged by discovery rather than for the wonder such science could nurture, she decided to pay him no mind as he began to speak. She let the world around her to fall silent as she eased into the numbness of quietly existing.
She continued to half-listen, only offering applause whenever anyone else did between speakers. It turns out they were arguing—well, arguing in the sense that each man who spoke after Dr. Greene would attempt to discredit the previous man’s statement with progressively petty remarks veiled behind the sophistication of scientific vernaculars and European accents—about the identity of a new kind of fossilized fern from the Saurian Expedition in Nevada. Or perhaps they were speaking aboutIchthyosaurskeletons found on the same expedition. Jane couldn’t bring herself to care enough to pay proper attention. It all came to sound like the cacophony of dogs snapping, albeit politely, at each other’s throats for a scrap of bone.
Instead, she busied herself with scribbling on a museumbrochure with one of the charcoal pencils hidden in the depths of her mother’s purse. And on the pamphlet she drew beasts. Winged ones with beaks filled with jagged teeth. Some of them were chewing the heads off of stick-figure caricatures with beards and monocles. She felt Terence’s observing stare, felt him lean close ever so slightly, so she shifted her hand as she pretended to sit back and examine her work, allowing him a peek.
“What are these meant to be?” He whispered, a low, rumbling sound in the dark.
“Pterosaurs, obviously! Can’t you see the wings?” Jane traced over the multitude of wings with the pencil.
“Ah, yes, I suppose I do see it now,” he hummed, his breath tousling a strand of her hair. “My mistake, Miss Sterling. I must say, the teeth and whiskers are a creative detail.”
The lecture continued, about what Jane no longer knew as her mind had begun to wander once more, and she had grown curious as to why Terence would have been in attendance. As far as she was aware, he, like the Talbots, was not a man of science and attended such lectures because he had the interest and free time. He never seemed too inclined to speak with other doctors and scientists, so she wondered what had made her father so special that an English gentleman would be seeking his company.
She resumed her sketching, this time drawing a triceratops with arcing horns and hunched back like that of a charging bison, and when there was an eruption of applause following another speaker, she asked, “So, what business do you have with my father?”
Leaning closer to exchange his own whisper, Terence said, “I’ve recently found fossils in my garden. Ones of old plants, it seems, that I cannot recognize, so I felt it a stroke of luck when I heard your father would be in attendance today. It’s a shame he isn’t here, but I can always send him correspondence of whatI found, and donate them to the museum regardless. I would’ve liked to have known what they are, to know their worth. I’m not sharp enough to be versed in paleobotany, unfortunately, so I don’t trust myself to properly identify them.”
Jane raised a brow. “What’s stopping you from asking Dr. Greene for assistance?” She used her charcoal pencil to gesture to said professor from where he had long since fallen asleep in his seat, head resting back and his mouth hanging agape. If it weren’t for the snores rattling in his throat, she would have thought that he was dead.
“Your father is a rare breed of man. His studies are his passion and not a tool in a competition. And I find him considerably more approachable. Dr. Greene, I fear, would find my request too trivial and meager,” Terence hummed and rested his chin upon a knuckle, then nodded toward the other end of the room, to an elderly man with a back so crooked Jane thought he resembled a question mark. Doctor Alan Thaddeus Hawthorne—the Second, Jane reminded herself—a professor of botany from London, though it seemed as though he looked more like he were pulled from a crypt rather than a university hall.
“Should I also refrain from asking for Dr. Hawthorne’s opinion?” Terence smirked with muted humor.
Jane clicked her tongue and flashed her teeth before resuming her sketching. “He may be a safe bet. He has a deeply… intimate knowledge of paleontology, you know?”
Something genuine passed behind Terence’s eyes, stifling their brief flicker of mischief. He looked at the old doctor again in reassessment. “Is that so?”
She nodded, biting her lip against a smirk. “Well, I’d sure hope so, given he looks as though he’s peeped up his fair share of dinosaur dames’ skirts before inviting them to a waltz in bed.”She didn’t wait for his response before stifling a cackle behind her hand, failing to capture her snort. The sound echoed in the theater and she heard the creak of chairs as many eyes turned to stare.
It wasn’t until Jane felt Mrs. Sterling pinch her arm and seethe a sharp “Janet!” in her ear that she finally tamed herself into silence. She nearly fell into hysterics once more when she braved a glance in Terence’s direction and saw a ruddy blush on his cheeks.
Mrs. Sterling’s fingers remained curled and poised to pinch again for the remainder of the lecture. Whenever Jane caught mother’s glare in her periphery, bravery threatened to curdle into foolishness, and she pressed her lips into a tightened line in an attempt to keep laughter contained deep between her ribs.
Such behavior persisted until the lecture ended with another series of applause. Neither the Sterlings nor Terence rose from their seats until Dr. Hawthorne passed by in his hobbling departure, which was when Jane and Terence exchanged a knowing look. His cheeks burned pink and Jane snorted—again—as they left the theater.
Once they were back in the main hall, Terence cleared his throat and situated his hands behind his back. “Well, missus and ma’am,” he nodded to both Jane and Mrs. Sterling respectively, “It’s been lovely to see you both again. How long will you be in Cambridge?” He lingered on Jane for a heartbeat too long before scratching at his cheek, itching away any blush that might have remained there.
“Until the end of the month,” Mrs. Sterling answered. “We booked the suite until the end of November, and… well,Iwould hate to waste the weeks we have left.”
“Then I would be delighted to offer you ladies a tour of the city,” he said quickly. “There is much to see here, and I’d be heartbroken if you dared to return to America disappointed inwhat you’ve seen.”
“And we would be delighted by your company,” Mrs. Sterling said with a shrill coo as she touched his arm. “Our suite is at the University Arms. You’re always a guest with us, Mr. Hayes. Let us plan for an outing soon—tomorrow morning, perhaps?”
“I don’t see why not tomorrow. Expect me there in the morning, then, where I shall bid you both a warm welcome to the city, and perhaps a luncheon,” he smiled then, and his gaze lingered on Jane once more.
“I think it could be fun,” Jane offered. She smudged her gloves with charcoal marks as she worried the pamphlet between her fingers. “But! Come no earlier than nine! Dear Mama will need all the time she can get to put on her face.”
Mrs. Sterling cleared her throat, “Are we sure it’smewho will require an eon, and then some, for putting on face?”
Jane’s cheeks heated as she balked at her mother. She couldn’t deny the truth behind her words, but did she need to say them in front of Terence?
Her embarrassment fizzled away, though only slightly, upon hearing his rumbling laugh.
“Let us settle for nine-thirty, then, ladies. Take all the time that you will require for putting on your faces,” he said and offered Jane a small smirk. “But until then—I bid you ladies a good day.”
He took turns shaking each of their hands with a gentle grip as a final farewell before making his departure. He caged Jane’s hand a heartbeat longer than he did Mrs. Sterling’s, and Jane was certain the brush of his thumb across her knuckles was to ensure the kiss he left there before would remain stamped into her skin.
