Her stomach knotted and pulled. She set the bottle down, glancing up at the darkening windows above the high gallery that spanned three sides of the great hall. She’d left Mr. Hall and Lord Castleford finishing their work on the Chinese display, promising to return within the half hour.
Jane let out her breath. She had no idea how she was expected to find Dr. Cole, if indeed he was here at all. She peered at a case containing locusts and silkworms. A shiver rippled through her. As interesting as she found insects, she didn’t at all like seeing them dead beneath the glass, their bodies impaled with pins.
She moved away from the display toward a section beneath the gallery. At least two dozen floor globes—both terrestrial and celestial—were arranged beside a case containing numerous pocket globes. Jane twirled one of the celestial globes, studying the constellations, which were depicted as mythical figures and beasts.
Another celestial globe was made of heavy glass and sat upon an immense cast-iron stand and brass scale. Half-filled with blue liquid, the globe’s surface was engraved with stars and the rings of latitude and longitude. Jane cupped the massive globe in her hands and tilted it within the half-circle bracket, watching the liquid sway inside.
“Hello, Jane.”
The male voice, low and cultured, prickled against her skin. Her heart thumped as she turned to face the tall, slender man who stood near the back staircase, his eyes hidden behind the light reflecting off his glasses.
She swallowed. “You… you came.”
“Of course. I said I would.” He moved forward. The light slipped from his face, revealing his warm green eyes and aquiline features. “It’s a pleasure to see you, though frankly I feel as if we’ve already met. As if we already know each other.”
Jane smiled, her nervousness easing a little as she was finally able to put a face to the comments and riddles in the letters. He looked the way he wrote—elegant, clear, educated. His hair was blond, though dimmed by the twilight, a lock curling like a comma over his forehead.
He stepped closer until he stood on the other side of the globe. “I’ve been a bit concerned with your recent missives,” he said. “It’s evident that something has been upsetting you. I assume it has to do with this document of which you wrote?”
Jane nodded, her hand fluttering to the outside of her skirt pocket where the acte de naissance lay folded. She stole a glance at Dr. Cole. He was still watching her, a faint smile on his mouth, his eyes kind and curious.
“You had no idea?” he asked.
A lump clogged her throat. She shook her head. She’d apparently had no idea about anything. No idea that everyone she loved, her entire family, had been lying about her. Had been lying to her.
The emptiness in her chest widened to a gaping chasm. She stared at the surface of the globe, the engraved stars delicate against the thick glass.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
“I feared you’d stop writing if I did,” Dr. Cole replied. “And I confess I didn’t think you’d believe me.” He paused. “Would you have?”
Jane shook her head again. Of course not. Of course she wouldn’t have believed such an absurd thing. Papa was her father, not some stranger she’d been corresponding with for several months whose name she hadn’t even known until a few weeks ago.
Except that he was. Every bone-deep instinct told her that he was. Even though his name wasn’t on the birth certificate, she knew this man was her father. She could even see the resemblance in the shape of his face, the color of his eyes. Like hers.
This man was her father, and Lydia—Lydia—was her mother. The knowledge jumbled in her brain all over again, as riotous as a storm-tossed ocean.
She wondered if Lydia had ever planned to reveal the truth. If anyone had planned to. Or if they’d just expected to keep her in the center of a huge lie.
“Why didn’t you contact Lydia first?” she asked.
“I knew she wouldn’t want to see me,” Dr. Cole replied. “We didn’t part under the most… agreeable of circumstances.” He shrugged. “I wanted to get to know you, and for you to know me, without her influence. I suspect she has nothing kind to say about me.”
“Do you have anything kind to say about her?”
Dr. Cole reached across the globe, placing his long-fingered hand atop hers where it rested on the glass. His palm was warm, comforting.