Chapter Ten: To Quote Miss Austen

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CHAPTER TEN

To Quote Miss Austen

            Eilian slowed his bicycle as he passed the glossy, black door of thirty-six Wimpole Street, wobbling slightly as he peddled backwards. He sat back for a minute merely staring at the house before he finally rested his velocipede against the rail and trotted up the stone steps. A perfect touch, he mused as a smile crept across his cheeks. Enthusiastically banging the jaw of the doorknocker, he watched through the gap in the heavily curtained windows as Eliza Hawthorne appeared at the end of the hall. At first, the doctor looked put-out at having to answer the door, but upon registering who was there, her face brightened.

            “Eilian, what a pleasant surprise. Please, come in.” She glanced over his shoulder. “Do bring your bicycle inside, or one of Mrs. Mercer’s dreadful children will ride off with it. Those little urchins commandeered a vacant steamer last week. Oh, where are my manners? Let me help you.”

            “I can get it myself,” he reassured as he easily hefted it with his left arm, using what remained of his right to support the bicycle’s frame as he half dragged it up to the door.

            He carefully carried it into the foyer and rested it against the steps but made certain the dirty wheels and greased gears did not touch the floral wall paper. As he followed Mrs. Hawthorne into the parlor, he inhaled the musty perfume of the cabinets of curiosities, noting their astringent undertone. It came not only from the preserved specimens but from the vapors rising through the floorboards from James’ laboratory. While the Hawthornes’ collection was much more macabre than his, he used their parlor as a model for his study. Eilian loved how every time he came to call on them, he was greeted by some new object that caught his eye within the shelves or curio cabinets. This time it was a tall jar that contained a human brain and spinal cord bobbing within its formaldehyde bath. There were little nodules of flesh protruding from the nervous tissue, and even though Eilian noticed the abnormality, he knew there was little hope he would ever understand the explanation of the disease if he asked for one. Eliza smiled to herself as she watched her friend’s eyes scan the shelves as he did each time he stopped by. What the adventurer didn’t know was when she knew he was in town, she made sure to have something new out in the open for him to discover.

            “Are you here to visit James or both of us, Eilian?” she called as she stepped into the kitchen to check if the tea kettle she had put on the stove earlier for herself was ready. “He should be up fairly soon. He has been in the cellar all morning conducting an experiment.”

            “I came to visit both of you.” He grinned warmly as he finally took his seat near the hearth. “I could not come to town without calling on my friends. I would like to apologize for the rather short notice, Eliza.”

            “I do not mind at all. I would have been surprised if you had not stopped by while you were in town. I hope I did not look too bothered when I answered the door, but your knock was the tenth today. Our neighbor had new cards printed, and the house number says thirty-six instead of thirty-eight Wimpole Street. This little mistake would not be so bad except he has a rather large practice and is too thrifty to get them reprinted. Now, I am forced to redirect all his patients.”

            “That explains your delightful new doorknocker.”

            “Yes, it gives them pause, and usually, they check the plaque on the house and go next door.” Eliza loaded the tray with little cakes and snacks as the kettle finally let out a screeching whistle. “I was at the tea house the other day and overheard Mrs. Sorrell talking about how Lady Dorset was hosting a dinner party. Did you enjoy yourself?”

            She continued gathering cups and spoons until she realized he never answered. Eliza repeated her question slightly louder but was once again met with only silence. Poking her head out of the kitchen, she noticed how Eilian’s distrait, grey eyes stared at the cloaked window while his mouth was drawn bitterly straight. It was unlike him to be so somber. As she came in with the tea, she intentionally allowed the empty cups to clink together on the tray. Lord Sorrell snapped to attention and smiled at her as if nothing was amiss.

            “How was the party?”

            The corner of his mouth stiffly curled. “Fine. The food was good.”

            “Who was there?” Eliza asked as she poured her guest some Earl Grey.

            “My parents, Dylan and Constance, the Earl of Bedford along with his wife and two daughters, and the Lord Lisle’s daughter and son.”

            “Which daughter was Lady Dorset trying to marry you off to?”

            Eilian stopped gnawing at the cake and shook his head. “You know my mother too well. The earl’s eldest daughter Maxine was her prime choice.”

            “Well, you know ‘it is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife,’” she quoted between measured sips of tea.

            “I would hate to disappoint Miss Austen and my mother, but I am not in want of a wife. What I am in want of is a ticket out of England.”

            An inaudible sigh seeped from the adventurer’s lungs, sagging his sturdy chest and shoulders. With downcast eyes, he swirled what little liquid remained in his teacup and stared at it, hoping the solution would materialize in the soggy tea leaves. He chewed on his lip. Eliza was someone he could trust with his life, but what happened was embarrassing in so many ways. Eilian looked down as her thin hand curled around his, squeezing it reassuringly. His face was uncharacteristically strained as he met her green-eyed gaze, which finally worked the words free from his mouth.

            “It went horribly. The whole visit was a disaster. Maxine and I were getting on quite well until our fathers decided to bring up the politics of the colonies. Of course I tried to stand up for the native populations, but they twisted it to make me look like some sort of traitor to the crown. I am glad to have seen her for the vain woman she really is, but it only got worse. To completely solidify her disgust, my own body turned against me at the most inopportune time. My prosthesis fell off as I left the argument. I did not think I could look any worse until I was reduced to not only an apostate but a leprous pariah. Upon seeing my dismembered arm, the viscount’s daughter fainted, which then caused a new uproar. All I could do was grab my prosthesis and run upstairs with my tail between my legs.”

            “Oh, Eilian, I am so sorry.”

            “When did I become this, Eliza? It is as if all they notice is that I am missing an arm. Is that such an unforgivable flaw?” he searched, his voice loosened with emotion.

            He gave little resistance when she pulled the teacup from his grip and placed it on the side table before clasping his hand between hers again. “Do you not realize how lucky you are to even be attending a party? You have cheated death and recovered better and faster than any of us could have anticipated. If they cannot appreciate you without your arm, then they serve no purpose in your life.”

            “I know.” Eilian sniffed, pulling himself together. “I will be able to escape them in a few months. Sir Joshua has invited me to go to an excavation with him in the Negev Desert.”

            “That is wonderful. The fresh air and freedom will do you good. If you have something fun to look forward to, why are you still so troubled?”

            “Deep down, I just worry they are right. What if I go to Palestine and am completely useless? I do not want to be a nuisance. I want to be as useful as I was before.”

            Eliza Hawthorne lightly tapped her spoon against her saucer as she toyed with whether or not to mention Hadley’s project and how much to mention about the craftswoman. How could she get to the heart of the matter without giving her cousin away? The earl-to-be was open-minded, but from her own experience, she knew that a woman’s open-mindedness often exceeded that of her male counterparts.

            “The other day, my craftsman friend, the one you bought your prosthetic arm from, stopped by. While sitting in the very chair you are in, he told me about this revolutionary prosthesis he only recently developed. I think it could solve some of your problems,” she began slowly, carefully monitoring how much she said.

            He sighed. “I am not sure. My old prosthesis is what got me into this mess.”

            “This one is very different. It is not a cosmetic prosthesis but a functional one. It will be custom made for you and secured to your body, so you will not have to worry about it suddenly popping off like the old one. The best thing about it is, it uses electricity to open and close the hand as if it is still part of your body. You will probably be able to pick things up and even carry them if they are light enough. It may even appease your family since it actually resembles a normal hand.”

            Before Eilian could reply, the cellar door whined opened, and even without seeing him, it was clear James Hawthorne had finally surfaced from his lab. Preceding his willowy form was the pungent odor of Thames water and putrefied flesh. The doctor was only in his shirtsleeves, but it was covered by an apron that was spattered with fishy, black gunk with the consistency of congealed blood. He pulled off his gloves and washed his hands at the sink. Without turning, he stuffed a large chunk of bread into his mouth and readied the kettle for another round of tea. Eliza Hawthorne cleared her throat, causing her husband to finally face them as he guiltily swallowed the snack whole.

            “Eilian,” he smiled, “I had no idea you were here. I would shake your hand, but I do not think I should, considering what I have been handling downstairs. Did you tell him about how the new arm Had—” he stuttered as Eliza shot him a sharp look over the armchair’s back, “happens to be for a missing forearm?”

            The young archaeologist shook his head in disbelief. “It is as if this was made for me. May I have your friend’s address? I would love to pay him a visit before I leave town today.”

            “Oh, that is impossible. When we spoke, he said he would be going out to the country to give a consultation today and would not be back until nightfall, but I can stop in tomorrow to make you an appointment for the following day.”

            His signature grin of genuine delight spread across his face. “Would you? That would be splendid. I am planning on heading back to my house tonight, so send him there sometime in the afternoon. If that time does not work for him, tell him to send me a date he can come.”

            “I am fairly certain he will be free then.”

            For the first time in days, joy fluttered through his chest, stretching his features back into their open state and making the scarce amount of light defiantly breaking through the velvet curtains seem so much brighter. He poured each of them another cup of tea and heartily snacked on the Hawthornes’ spread, allowing the warmth of happiness soak into every part of his being.

            He cleared his throat, stifling his own mirth. “So how is that toy-maker cousin of yours?”

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