Dragonfly in Amber 2(366)

I felt Jamie’s body stiffen still further, if such a thing were possible. Jonathan Randall stiffened, too, as though he felt the force of Jamie’s eyes upon him, but didn’t look up.

“Alex,” he said quietly. He laid a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, as though to quiet the cough. “Don’t trouble your mind, Alex. You know you needn’t ask; I’ll do whatever you wish. Is it the—the girl?” He glanced in Mary’s direction, but couldn’t quite bring himself to look at her.

Alex nodded, still coughing.

“It’s all right,” John said. He put both hands on Alex’s shoulders, trying to ease him back on the pillow. “I won’t let her want for anything. Put your mind at rest.”

Jamie looked down at me, eyes wide. I shook my head slowly, feeling the hair prickle from my neck to the base of my spine. Everything made sense now; the bloom on Mary’s cheeks, despite her distress, and her apparent willingness to wed the wealthy Jew of London.

“It isn’t money,” I said. “She’s with child. He wants…” I stopped, clearing my throat, “I think he wants you to marry her.”

Alex nodded, eyes still closed. He breathed heavily for a moment, then opened them, bright pools of hazel, fixed on his brother’s stunned and incomprehending face.

“Yes,” he said. “John…Johnny, I need you to take care of her for me. I want…my child to have the Randall name. You can…give them some position in the world—so much more than I could.” He reached out a hand, groping, and Mary seized it, clutching it to her bosom as though it were a life preserver. He smiled tenderly at her, and stretched up a hand to touch the shiny, dark ringlets that fell by her cheek, hiding her face.

“Mary. I wish…well, you know what I wish, my dear; so many things. And so many things I am sorry for. But I cannot regret the love between us. Having known such joy, I would die content, save for my fear that you might be exposed to shame and disgrace.”

“I don’t care!” Mary burst out fiercely. “I don’t care who knows!”

“But I care for you,” Alex said, softly. He stretched out a hand to his brother, who took it after a moment’s hesitation. Then he brought them together, laying Mary’s hand in Randall’s. Mary’s lay inert, and Jack Randall’s stiff, like a dead fish on a wooden slab, but Alex pressed his hands tightly around the two, pressing them together.

“I give you to each other, my dear ones,” he said softly. He looked from one face to the other, each reflecting the horror of the suggestion, submerged in the overwhelming grief of impending loss.

“But…” For the first time in our acquaintance, I saw Jonathan Randall completely at a loss for words.

“Good.” It was almost a whisper. Alex opened his eyes and let out the breath he had been holding, smiling at his brother. “There is not much time. I shall marry you myself. Now. That is why I asked Mrs. Fraser to bring her husband—if you will be witness with your wife, sir?” He looked up at Jamie, who, after a moment’s stunned immobility, nodded his head like an automation.

I do not believe I have ever seen three people look so entirely wretched.

Alex was so weak that his brother, with a face like stone, had to help him, tying his minister’s high white stock about the pallid throat. Jonathan himself looked little better. Gaunt from illness, the lines in his face were carved so deep that he looked years older than his age, and his eyes peered out from deep sockets like caves of bone. Impeccably attired as always, he looked like a badly made tailor’s dummy, features carelessly hacked from a block of wood.

As for Mary, she sat miserably on the bed, weeping helplessly into the folds of her cloak, hair disheveled and static with electricity. I did what I could for her, straightening her gown and combing out her hair. She sat drearily sniffling, her eyes fixed on Alex.

Bracing himself with a hand on the bureau, Alex groped in the drawer, coming out at last with his large Book of Common Prayer. It was too heavy for him to hold open before him in the normal fashion. He couldn’t stand, but sat heavily on the bed, holding the book open on his knees. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily, and a drop of sweat fell from his face, making a blot on the page.

“Dearly beloved,” Alex began, and I hoped for his own sake, as well as everyone else’s, that he was using the short form of the ceremony.

Mary had stopped crying, but her nose was red and shiny in her white face, and a small snail track showed on her upper lip. Jonathan saw it, and expressionless, pulled a large square of linen from his sleeve and offered it to her silently.