Chapter Text
“Have you heard that Mr. Wheeler is arriving in London this weekend?” William Byers had overheard himself asking at least three different people over the course of the week.
Michael Wheeler — his dearest friend since childhood — was finally returning after two years abroad, having toured nearly all of Europe. The entirety of London society seemed to anticipate his arrival with barely concealed excitement. The Wheelers were among the wealthiest families in the city, and it was widely presumed that Michael would become the most eligible bachelor of the season.
For reasons he could not quite name, William found himself strangely nervous.
That afternoon, they had invited Lucas Sinclair, Maxine Mayfield, and Dustin Henderson to call, and of course his adoptive sister Jane was present as well, having joined their family five years prior.
“That Wheeler… I never thought I would say this, but after two years, I believe I have missed him a little,” Maxine confessed.
“I have missed the bastard every second,” Lucas declared.
Maxine rolled her eyes.
(Maxine and Lucas were, it must be noted, engaged.)
Dustin and Jane conversed animatedly while William lingered nearby, twisting his hands together in a manner he hoped no one would remark upon.
Then, from the distance, the unmistakable sound of a horse’s approach echoed down the lane. Laughter erupted and everyone rushed outside in a flurry of chatter. William remained inside for a moment longer, drawing in a steady breath.
“Mr. Sinclair,” came Michael’s teasing voice from beyond the door — and William’s heart leapt traitorously within his chest.
“‘Mister,’ my foot! I see Paris has made you refined!” Lucas laughed. “My heart is shattered!”
“Mr. Henderson.”
“Michael Wheeler himself!”
Once William had composed himself, he stepped outside and witnessed Michael greeting Jane with a kiss upon the back of her gloved hand, his horse nickering softly beside him.
Before Michael had left England, he and Jane had often been seen together. Rumors had even circulated that an engagement was imminent — though such whispers were eventually dismissed. Less charitable tongues suggested that Jane’s modest dowry had not met the Wheeler family’s expectations.
Then Michael’s gaze found him.
He smiled — only slightly — and inclined his head.
“William.”
“Michael.”
They stood there for a moment, suspended in a silence that felt far too aware of itself.
“Well then, let us go inside and hear of your grand adventures,” Lucas declared.
They gathered in the Byers’ drawing room, and for the first time in his life, William became keenly aware of how modest it was compared to the Wheeler residence. It had never troubled him before. Yet now, for reasons he refused to examine, it lingered heavily in his thoughts.
Michael spoke of Holland, Italy, Spain, Portugal — and finally Paris. Of the people he had met, the languages he had attempted, the customs he had adopted, and the cuisines he had grown rather fond of. His dark hair was slightly longer than before, worn in a fashion favored by certain distinguished gentlemen of London, and the collar of his shirt lay casually open.
He was the same Michael.
And yet, somehow, not.
“And tell me,” Lucas asked with a grin, “were the ladies beautiful?”
Maxine fixed him with a lethal glare. “My dear, he merely inquires about the women Michael encountered,” Lucas amended hastily.
“Well then, perhaps you should travel Europe with him — and never return,” Maxine replied sweetly.
“There is nothing quite like the ladies here,” Michael said lightly, his gaze flickering toward Jane.
It was subtle — but William noticed.
Jane stood slightly turned away, and he could not see her expression.
Tea was served. They spoke of engagements — Lucas and Maxine’s, of course — and Jane mentioned that she had taken up the art of fencing.
Michael looked utterly delighted.
“You must give us a demonstration!”
“Now?”
“Now, by all means!”
Jane lifted a shoulder. “Is there a brave volunteer?”
Silence.
“Dustin, perhaps?”
“I would not wish to wound a beautiful lady.”
“A beautiful lady? The first may be true. The second, I somewhat doubt.”
They took their positions.
Jane disarmed him in under a minute.
Lucas barely suppressed his laughter beneath Maxine’s stern gaze.
“I was merely warming up,” Dustin insisted.
He fared no better in the following rounds.
Jane won each bout to enthusiastic applause — none louder than Michael’s.
William had long known she practiced, but he had not realized how formidable she had become.
By the time the sky blushed orange and violet, plans were made for future gatherings. Michael had affairs to attend to now that he had returned, but they would meet again soon.
At supper, Jane spoke of how pleased she was to have seen Michael again.
William offered a faint smile and concentrated rather intensely on his potato.
“Are you quite well?” his mother asked gently. “You seem distracted.”
“A little,” Jane agreed.
“I am fine,” William replied too quickly.
Yet all he could think was that Michael had greeted everyone with warmth — he had heard it clearly from the drawing room —
everyone but him.
“I should like you to teach me fencing,” William told Jane the following Tuesday morning.
“Since when are you interested in fencing?” she laughed.
They were fond of one another — comfortable enough to be direct, even teasing.
“I found it… impressive,” he admitted. “And it may prove useful. One never knows.”
She studied him carefully.
“Very well.”
They began that very morning, and to his surprise, William proved rather adept. He disarmed her twice. His lithe frame allowed him to dodge and anticipate with surprising precision.
He resolved to attend her lessons henceforth.
That weekend, the Wheelers hosted a grand ball.
Maxine arrived at the Byers residence to assist Jane in selecting her gown. William always enjoyed her visits; he possessed an unexpectedly discerning eye for fashion, and his suggestions were often correct.
Jane chose pale lilac.
Maxine wore a striking shade of orange that complemented her hair beautifully.
William regarded himself in the mirror — dark strands falling across his forehead, dressed in the single suit he owned. The Wheelers, despite their fortune, had never been unkind.
Their manor was resplendent: extravagant flowers, attentive servants, and the most exquisite live music filled the air.
“How has London survived without me, Mr. Byers?” Michael asked.
William flushed.
“Quite well, thank you, Mr. Wheeler,” he replied, more stiffly than intended. “We wondered what you were about.”
“Oh, come now, William — I jest. No ‘Mr. Wheeler.’”
“And you? Without us?”
“I missed everything here, of course.”
His gaze drifted.
To Jane.
She was approaching them — radiant.
“May I have the next dance?” Michael asked her.
She laughed softly and placed her hand in his.
Around them, couples took to the floor: Lucas and Maxine, his mother and Colonel Hopper — recently engaged — Dustin with a girl he did not recognize, Nancy Wheeler with his brother Jonathan.
William did not understand why watching Michael dance with Jane caused that peculiar twist in his chest.
Once, they had exchanged letters faithfully. After six months, the correspondence dwindled. Then ceased. And yet, Jane had continued to receive his letters.
When the dance ended, his mother approached.
“Would you not care to dance, dear?”
“Later, Mother.”
He felt absurdly misplaced.
Then Michael approached him.
“Byers,” he said.
Byers?
“Do you not wish to dance?”
William flushed again.
“You have known me many years, M— Wheeler. You know it is not my talent.”
“Well, you should try. I could ask Nancy for you—”
“That will not be necessary.”
“Oh? Or perhaps—”
“It is not necessary,” William repeated, firmer this time.
Michael regarded him with widened eyes — then returned to Jane.
They danced three more sets — the precise number permitted before whispers might begin.
Jane looked happy.
William told himself he was glad for her.
He ought to be glad for her.