Snyder snorted. “Fawcett isn’t a true academic. The things he claims to have seen are hardly worth contemplating. A dog with two noses? A snake the length of an autobus? I think not. Dr. Henry believes there is quite a bit about the real history and culture of the indigenous people in the area that has yet to be discovered.” With a sneer, he added, “The animal and plant people can always find more to look at.”
Snyder clearly didn’t recognize her as one of the “plant people.”
Dr. Maxwell turned toward their conversation and smiled wryly. “Yes, indeed. Thousands and thousands of organisms in every square meter of land over there. A most intriguing place. I’m sure Dr. Henry will find more than what he is looking for there.”
These last words looked to taste a little sour to Maxwell, Saffron noted. His eyes lacked their usual softness, and he quickly turned back to his supper.
Snyder seemed to think this was the end of the conversation, which was fine with Saffron. As she ate bites of Waldorf salad, her eyes fell again on the woman she suspected to be Mrs. Henry. She was now looking down the table to the man Mr. Ashton had spoken to earlier. The man seemed to smirk back at her. Though no doubt a decade older than him, her returning look was sly, almost smiling.
Saffron realized Mr. Snyder was speaking to her again.
“I’m always so shocked by who wants to come on these grueling trips. Dr. Henry has to reject most applications just based on lack of experience in the field alone.” He leaned closer to her, near enough that Saffron could see the fingerprint marring the shine of his eyeglasses. “Although there are other considerations. Take Dr. Maxwell, next to you. Dr. Henry rejected his offer to join the expedition outright.”
Snyder shot a glance to her left at Dr. Maxwell, deep in conversation with a professor of mineralogy.
“Dr. Maxwell?” Saffron repeated, trying not to sound surprised. Dr. Maxwell surely hadn’t applied to go on the expedition. He was far too old to be traveling down a great river in the heat of the equator! She’d thought his comment about his wife declaring he couldn’t go was a joke.
“Oh yes,” Snyder said, stabbing his salad with his fork. “Dr. Henry was surprised when he said he intended to come along, and he tried to let him down easy. Poor man seemed fairly cut up, though.” Obviously, he didn’t know that she worked for the professor he was gossiping about. Nor did he seem to mind talking about the expedition now he wasn’t revealing their plans. Before she could say anything, he pressed on. “They had a rather dreadful row, I’m afraid. Dr. Maxwell told Dr. Henry that we’d be lucky to return from the expedition with all our men alive, with so many dangerous things lurking in the jungle. Animals and natives everywhere! Just waiting to creep up on you …” His enthusiasm seemed to fade slightly. Then he perked back up, saying, “But that’s why Dr. Henry insisted on leading the crew. His experience and skills will no doubt ensure our safety.”
Luckily, Snyder had little else to say to her the rest of the meal. Irritation and confusion dampened her appetite, and Saffron spent the rest of the meal wondering if she’d regret venturing out of her little corner of university life.
* * *
At dinner’s end, Saffron stood carefully to ensure that none of the embellishments on her borrowed dress were caught on the chair, and followed the ladies to the drawing room. Electric lights glowed around the rose-red room, and a large fire had been constructed in the monolithic hearth to take the edge off the spring evening. Saffron chose a seat near the fire, not anticipating participating in the kind of conversation the other women were likely to share. Her grandmother had ruled such gatherings, always with a subtle but sharp barb ready to remind her that, given Saffron’s interests, her conversation was not welcome. Considering she was among ladies of similar class now, she wasn’t likely to be a great conversational partner. It had been years since she’d kept up with London gossip. She’d been far too willing to leave it behind when she’d began working in earnest toward her goal of becoming a botanist.
To her surprise, the hostess, Lady Agatha, brought her a cup of coffee. Her peach dress fluttered as she settled next to her. “My dear, I’m told you are Thomas Everleigh’s daughter. How wonderful to meet you.” She looked exactly like her grandmother’s compatriots: women of taste and means who had preserved their beauty to the best of their ability, but in the end looked like wilted flowers in silk and pearls. “Your father used to join us quite often when he was a professor, you know. What a charming man.”