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“—You mean more to me than all the birds in the sky and the heavens above them. If you love me, I hope I have deserved it. Thank you.”
Miss Peregrine quickly wiped her eyes and walked away from her wards, leaving them to deal with their mission. For now, she’d be awaiting their return at Josep’s house. She could only hope that they’d come back to her safely, just as they always had done. If she hadn’t had such an important role as a ymbryne, Caul’s sister, and as the head of the Council of Ymbrynes, she would have joined them on these missions without hesitation. Damn it all that she had to stay behind for the sake of Peculiardom.
Bitterly, she found herself sitting down on a velvet couch in the house’s main entrance hall, cradling a cup of tea in her hands that one of the corpses had delivered earlier. It hadn’t enough sugar and it wasn’t the type she preferred, but she decided against complaining about the deadriser’s tea in their own home. Miss Peregrine was a guest with manners, she thought, sitting up primly in her seat.
“Hey, sugar.”
A honeyed voice spoke to her from her left. There was a woman standing there. One in a blouse tucked into burgundy dress pants, and brown hair that seemed to curl perfectly at her shoulders. The stranger took the liberty of sitting down right next to Miss Peregrine and crossing her legs on the coffee table.
Oh dear, was Miss Peregrine’s first thought. Her mind blanked as she took her in. The woman was undeniably beautiful. In fact, Miss Peregrine hadn’t felt so flustered since her days at Miss Avocet’s academy, when one of her schoolmates came to a dance wearing a pretty dress.
It took her a good, long minute for Miss Peregrine to realize she had been staring. “Hello,” she said dumbly.
The stranger smiled and held out her hand. “Jane’s the name.” She said, finding the ymbryne’s wide-eyed stare amusing.
Miss Peregrine shook it politely with her gloved one. She briefly considered introducing herself as ‘Miss Peregrine,’ though she thought it a little pretentious seeing as Jane had merely introduced herself by her first name. “Alma,” she said, returning her smile in what she hoped was a calm and collected manner.
“Saw your little speech out there,” Jane said, nodding towards the door. “You’re one of those ymbrynes from London?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Yeah, I could tell by your accent,” Jane smirked a little. “And your looks. And, well…” She glanced at Alma’s tea. “The tea. We haven’t even opened that cabinet in thirty years until you folk came along.”
Alma gave her a thin-lipped smile, resisting the urge to toss said tea into the plant beside her when Jane wasn’t looking.
The other woman wasn’t blind to her internal suffering. She chuckled, leaned back and draped her arm over the couch cushion. “Bad, huh?”
“I’m afraid so,” Alma dropped the act and sighed. Her shoulders slumped a little as she looked down at her tea.
Jane watched her do so in silence for a moment. Never before had she seen a ymbryne so cute. In America, they believed the mysterious bird-women of London to be imposing figures that ruled Eastern Peculiardom with an iron fist. The only thing she saw before her was a small, fidgety woman in a black Edwardian dress. “Fine, I’ll get you another cup if you stop sulking. What do you want?” She clicked her tongue twice. The nearest dead, a man with a vest and goatee, obediently took one step forward.
Alma blanked for the second time that evening. Tea? She had to choose? Oh, she loved all kinds. Darjeeling, chamomile, black, Earl Grey–
“Sugar, just choose something.”
“Darjeeling,” the ymbryne said quickly. The dead man bowed and staggered towards the kitchen at another click of Jane’s tongue.
The two sat in silence for a moment before Jane scooted a little closer to her. “So,” she said in a low whisper. “You single?”
Alma’s cheeks flushed a brilliant red. “What–?”
“Oh, just so you know. If you are taken, it won’t stop me from flirting with you,” Jane’s lips curled into a smirk again. It always seemed to make Alma’s heart flutter. “Like, I’m not homewrecking, just checking its sturdiness. When was this built, you know what I mean?”
Alma broke into an embarrassed smile and picked at the fabric of her skirts. Her voice didn’t seem to work.
“Is that a yes or no to being single?”
Alma exhaled. “Yes, I am a bachelorette. But I’m not interested in a relationship at this time.”
Jane leaned forward and looked her in the eyes. “Can I make you interested?”
It was only then that Alma realized Jane’s amber eyes were the most mesmerizing she’ ever seen. In the right light, at the right angle, they seemed to glow like two golden stars. She couldn’t decide which pupil to focus on; Left or right.
“Are all ymbrynes like this?” Jane asked.
“Like what?” Alma tilted her head a little.
“Like–” Jane stifled a laugh at Alma’s head tilt. “Like a bird. It’s cute.”
Alma had never, in her hundred years of life, been called ‘cute.’ There was a time when she would’ve found it insulting. Coming from Jane’s lips, it sounded… Sweet. “Cute?” She repeated breathlessly.
“Yeah.” Jane glanced at the door again. “You love those kids, don’t you.”
It was more of a statement than a question, but the answer was “Yes. I do love them, as if they were my own.”
Jane’s smile softened a little. “I used to be a mom too, you know. A little sweetheart named Calvin. He was scared of bugs and the dark.”
Alma tried to imagine it; A young boy, with the same amber eyes and cinnamon hair as the woman before her. She imagined him screeching at the sight of a ladybug and giggled at the thought.
Jane enjoyed the sound of her gentle laughter. Without a second thought, she tore out a page from a nearby notepad and scribbled on it with a ballpoint pen. “Here’s the address to the loop’s nearest mailbox.” She handed it over. “Write me sometime.”
When Jane handed over that page, Alma felt as if she might faint. The somewhat-legible handwriting had a certain charm to it that she couldn’t deny.
Alma nodded, feeling her cheeks warm. She felt like a swooning belle, and it didn’t bother her one bit. “When I find the time,” she said slowly, “I will write to you.”
Jane’s lips curled into a small smirk. This woman. This ladylike, gothic, flustered mess of a woman. When she was sure none of the deadrisers or Londoners were looking, she leaned in and pressed a brief kiss to her cheek.
Alma looked at her with widened eyes, her lips parting in shock. Jane only smiled at her, patted her shoulder, and stood up.
“Well. See you around, sugar.”
…When the dead man walked back around and graciously handed Alma the cup of Darjeeling she’d ordered earlier, Alma could only stare at it. “How forward,” she muttered embarrassedly.
· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·
“Miss Peregrine!” Emma called from the doorway of their new, rickety home in Devil’s Acre. “Letter for you!”
Miss Peregrine, who had been fixing her hair with pins, felt her heart quicken. Could it be her? That woman? It had been a month of correspondence between them, and Miss Peregrine always anticipated the next letter.
She walked downstairs and found several of her wards at the door, crowded around the letter in Emma’s hand. A plain, cream color with a little cornflower tucked into the envelope. Enoch let out a low whistle, while Jacob smirked at the sight. It was addressed to ‘Birdie,’ and there was only one bird in this house.
“Miss Peregrine,” Bronwyn said slowly, handing her the envelope. “Who’s this from?”
Miss Peregrine suppressed the urge to smile at the familiar handwriting. She coughed. “From a friend.”
“A friend who gives you flowers?” Jacob said disbelievingly.
Miss Peregrine only ignored the children and carefully opened the letter with her nail. She held the flower in one hand while she pulled the card from its sheath.
—————
Hey Sugar,
Loving these old-fashioned letters from you. I hope you don't find it rude of me, but what time are you from? 19th century? Early 20th? It’s charming. As for my fruitcake recipe, it’s also in the envelope.
And for God's sake, your puns are awful. Awfully good. I especially liked “You’re just my cup of tea.”
Your Darjeeling,
J. L.
—————
Miss Peregrine wasn’t quick enough to hide the card in her pocket before the children could see the words written on the paper. They let out a chorus of ‘oohs,’ nudged one another and shot her side-glances, knowing full well that their ymbryne had found a good ‘friend.’
Miss Peregrine waved them off and hurried upstairs to write her reply. She told them not to bother her, for she had important work to do before the next meeting of the Council of Ymbrynes. The children knew better. They saw the excitement in her eyes as she climbed the stairs and decided not to mention it.