He saw the truth in my face, and nodded, unsurprised.
"I waited," he said softly, lying back in exhaustion on his pillows. "I hoped…she would come once more. I had no reason…but I prayed. And now it is answered. I shall die in peace now."
"Alex!" Mary's cry of anguish burst out of her as though his words had struck her a physical blow, but he smiled and pressed her hand.
"We have known it for a long time, my love," he whispered to her. "Don't despair. I will be with you always, watching you, loving you. Don't cry, my dearest." She brushed obediently at her pink-washed cheeks, but could do nothing to stem the tears that came streaming down them. Despite her obvious despair, she had never looked so blooming.
"Mrs. Fraser," Alex said, clearly mustering his strength to ask one more favor. "I must ask…tomorrow…will you come again, and bring your husband? It is important."
I hesitated for a moment. Whatever Jamie found out, he was going to want to leave Edinburgh immediately, to join the army and find the rest of his men. But surely one more day could make no difference to the outcome of the war—and I could not deny the appeal in the two pairs of eyes that looked at me so hopefully.
"We'll come," I said.
"I am a fool," Jamie grumbled, climbing the steep, cobbled streets to the wynd where Alex Randall had his lodgings. "We should have left yesterday, at once, as soon as we got back your pearls from the pawnbroker! D'ye no ken how far it is to Inverness? And we wi' little more than nags to get us there?"
"I know," I said impatiently. "But I promised. And if you'd seen him…well, you will see him in a moment, and then you'll understand."
"Mphm." But he held the street door for me and followed me up the winding stair of the decrepit building without further complaint.
Mary was half-sitting, half-lying on the bed. Still dressed in her tattered traveling clothes, she was holding Alex, cradling him fiercely against her bosom. She must have stayed with him so all night.
Seeing me, he gently freed himself from her grasp, patting her hands as he laid them aside. He propped himself on one elbow, face paler than the linen sheets on which he lay.
"Mrs. Fraser," he said. He smiled faintly, despite the sheen of unhealthy sweat and the gray pallor that betokened a bad attack.
"It was good of you to come," he said, gasping a little. He glanced beyond me. "Your husband…he is with you?"
As though in answer, Jamie stepped into the room behind me. Mary, stirred from her misery by the noise of our entry, glanced from me to Jamie, then rose to her feet, laying a hand timidly on his arm.
"I…we…n-need you, Lord Tuarach." I thought it was the stammer, more than the use of his title, that touched him. Though he was still grim-faced, some of the tension went out of him. He inclined his head courteously toward her.
"I asked your wife to bring you, my lord. I am dying, as you see." Alex Randall had pushed himself upright, sitting on the edge of the bed. His slender shins gleamed white as bone beneath the frayed hem of his nightshirt. The toes, long, slim, and bloodless, were shadowed with the bluing of poor circulation.
I had seen death often enough before, in all its forms, but this was always the worst—and the best; a man who met death with knowledge and courage, while the healer's futile arts fell aside. Futile or not, I rummaged through the contents of my case for the digitalin I had made for him. I had several infusions, in varying strengths, a spectrum of brown liquids in glass vials. I chose the darkest vial without hesitation; I could hear his breath bubbling through the water in his lungs.
It wasn't digitalin, but his purpose that sustained him now, lighting him with a glow as though a candle burned behind the waxy skin of his face. I had seen that a few times before, too; the man—or woman—whose will was strong enough to override for a time the imperatives of the body.
I thought that was perhaps how some ghosts were made; where a will and a purpose had survived, heedless of the frail flesh that fell by the wayside, unable to sustain life long enough. I didn't much want to be haunted by Alex Randall; that, among other reasons, was why I had made Jamie come with me today.
Jamie himself appeared to be coming to similar conclusions.
"Aye," he said softly. "I do see. Do ye ask aught of me?"
Alex nodded, closing his eyes briefly. He lifted the vial I handed him and drank, shuddering briefly at the bitter taste. He opened his eyes and smiled at Jamie.
"The indulgence of your presence only. I promise I shall not detain you long. We are waiting for one more person."
While we waited, I did what I could for Alex Randall, which under the circumstances was not much. The foxglove infusion again, and a bit of camphor to help ease his breathing. He seemed a little better after the administration of such medicine as I had, but placing my homemade stethoscope against the sunken chest, I could hear the labored thud of his heart, interrupted by such frequent flutters and palpitations that I expected it to stop at any moment.
Mary held his hand throughout, and he kept his eyes fixed on her, as though memorizing every line of her face. It seemed almost an intrusion to be in the same room with them.
The door opened, and Jack Randall stood on the threshold. He looked uncomprehendingly at me and Mary for a moment, then his gaze lighted on Jamie and he turned to stone. Jamie met his eyes squarely, then turned, nodding toward the bed.
Seeing that haggard face, Jack Randall crossed the room rapidly and fell on his knees beside the bed.
"Alex!" he said. "My God, Alex…"
"It's all right," his brother said. He held Jack's face between frail hands and smiled at him, trying to reassure him. "It's all right, Johnny," he said.
I put a hand under Mary's elbow, gently urging her off the bed. Whatever Jack Randall might be, he deserved a few last words in privacy with his brother. Stunned with despair, she didn't resist, but came with me to the far side of the room, where I perched her on a stool. I poured a little water from the ewer and wet my handkerchief. I tried to give it to her to swab her eyes, but she simply sat, clutching it lifelessly. Sighing, I took it and wiped her face, smoothing her hair as much as I could.
There was a small, choked sound from behind that made me glance toward the bed. Jack, still on his knees, had his face buried in his brother's lap, while Alex stroked his head, holding one of his hands.
"John," he said. "You'll know that I do not ask this lightly. But for the sake of your love for me…" He broke off to cough, the effort flushing his cheeks with hectic color.
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.