Snippet #1460224

"Oh! Oh dear!" One moment Jane was leaning out to look at the water which was very fascinating to her (she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen water that was deeper than her wash basin at home) and the next she was on the ground. Her left hand flew to her chest in distress though her clockwork heart kept its steady pace.

She listened to them squabble with faint amusement at their accents. She'd never realized people actually spoke like that. She didn't listen to what they were saying, however, and was deeply touched when one of them came to apologize and help her up. Without thinking, she reached up with her mechanical hand to take his, but stopped suddenly. What would happen to his poor hand if she clutched it too tightly with hers? It could be disastrous. Clearly disturbed, she pulled her hand back to her side.

"I..." she said, unsure of what to do. It would be awkward to take his hand with her left, but what choice did she have if she didn't want to crush it? Sagging her shoulders only as much as was allowable for a young lady, she gave in and reached for his hand with her left and stood in as dainty a manner as was possible. "Thank you."

She was about to go on her way when she happened to glance down. "My dress!" She collapsed back to the ground and began to cry. Now Mrs. Doyle would surely know that she'd been out. Thinking of how disappointed her father would be in her when he learned of her escapade only made her weep with more intensity. He would be so worried that she'd never have a chance to escape again. "What am I going to do?" She buried her face in her hands, knowing that it was unladylike to cry so hard in public but unable to stop herself.

Chink! She heard the sound, though it may have been in her head. She looked down to her see her right hand laying useless in her lap. She stared at it curiously, for a moment forgetting her tears. Experimentally, she lifted it and saw that it was completely limp. She could not move it. Something had come out of place. It wasn't a terribly thing to happen, but it was not completely rare either. She sighed and began to remove her glove before looking in panic at the group that had run into her.

"I'm terribly sorry," she said in a rush. "Excuse me." With that, she forgot all the lessons Mrs. Doyle had tried so hard to teach her about being a lady. She pulled herself off the ground, gathered up her skirts, and ran to the nearest secluded place.

There were people there, of course, but they weren't the sort she would notice and so she didn't pay them any mind as she took off her glove and proceeded to fix her hand as her father had taught her years ago.