Marigold Chain (7 page)

~ * * * ~

Out in the
street the fresh air hit them with instant effect. Alex reeled and
Chloë had to exert all her strength to keep him upright. A glance
behind showed that Danny and Freddy were having similar problems
with each other.

Mr Deveril’s
balance returned and he gazed abstractedly at the sky.

‘
Then if thou’lt have me love a lass, let it be one that’s
kind

Else I’m a
servant to the glass that’s with Canary lined,’

he declaimed
happily. And then, ‘Are you kind, Marigold?’

Chloë looked at
him, torn between laughter, exasperation and something she couldn’t
put a name to.

‘
Sometimes,’ she grinned. And, as a shiver ran down her back,
‘But this isn’t the time to discuss it. Or to recite poetry
either.’

‘
Quite
right,’ applauded Daniel.

‘
Philistine,’ said Alex vaguely, starting to walk.

‘
What I
want to know,’ said Freddy, ‘is where we’re going.’

‘
That’s
easy,’ replied Danny. ‘Home.’

Alex stopped so
abruptly that Freddy cannoned into him.

‘
No,
we’re not,’ he said positively. ‘I’m going to be
married.’

Chloë’s heart
gave a sickening lurch, then resumed its usual beat as she realised
how impossible it was.

‘
Are
you?’ asked Danny with interest. ‘Congratulations.’

Freddy shook
his head. ‘Can’t be done.’

‘
Why
not?’

‘
Need a
parson – middle of the night – all asleep,’ came the succinct
reply.

‘
Then
we’ll wake one,’ decided Alex.

Chloë found her
tongue as last.

‘
If you
were intending to marry me,’ she said carefully, ‘I don’t think
it’s a very good idea. You – we don’t know each other and
--’

‘
No. So
we won’t be disappointed.’ The blurred voice was faintly
bitter.

‘
But you
should think about what you’re doing! You can’t want to be married
– not just like that, anyway! And --’

‘
I won
your hand – and that I shall have,’ said Alex doggedly. ‘I don’t
ask you to love me.’

Chloë viewed
this demonstration of unexpected lucidity with resentment.

‘
I know
that – but I prefer to wait. Perhaps,’ she added cunningly, ‘I may
marry you tomorrow.’

‘
No.
Tonight.’

‘
But –
even if were possible – it’s ridiculous. You’re drunk!’

‘
Frequently, darling.’

‘
And
tomorrow you’ll feel differently.’

‘
So?’ His
face assumed an expression of total obstinacy. ‘Don’t argue. You
can’t run off with me then refuse to marry me. It isn’t
done.’

‘
Quite
right,’ said Danny, re-entering the lists. ‘Ought to get married
right away.’

‘
If you
can,’ added Freddy, faint but pursuing.

‘
You are
all as bad as each other,’ announced Chloë crossly. ‘You can’t wake
a priest at this time of night and expect him to marry
you.’

‘
Watch
me,’ grinned Alex. And then, meticulously, ‘And I’m not going to
marry a priest. I’m going to marry you.’

Danny dissolved
into a fit of giggles and communicated them to Freddy. Alex
remained, swaying slightly, his eyes fixed on his proposed
bride.

‘
Well,
aren’t I?’ he asked with a particularly charming smile.

Something
recognised, but as yet totally uncomprehended stirred inside Chloë
as she met those quizzical silver-blue eyes … and, swept for a
moment to a realm way beyond common sense, she gave way to it.

‘
Yes. It
would seem that you are. But it would still be best to wait till
--’

‘
No, it
wouldn’t,’ laughed Alex, sweeping her along with him. ‘Now – who
knows where we can find a parson?’

Freddy thought.
‘Chaplain – St John’s College,’ he offered.

‘
Excellent. Lead on – we follow.’

So, not without
difficulty, the little party made its way across St John’s Gardens,
led by Mr Iverson. Progress was both slow and noisy and Chloë felt
very doubtful that all three gentlemen would retain their senses
long enough to arrive at their destination – which, in her opinion,
would probably be a good thing.

However, her
hopes were dashed when they all came safely to the Reverend
Morland’s little house. And then the fun really began for, when
their imperious hammering brought no result, they started
clamouring and hallooing up at the windows. Chloë perched
resignedly on the edge of a water-butt and decided she had lost her
senses to be there at all.

Eventually a
light showed at an upper window which was then thrown up to
disclose a night-capped head.

‘
What the
– what is going on?’ demanded a thin, querulous voice.

‘
Come
down and find out,’ invited Mr Deveril.

‘
I will
do nothing of the kind! What do you mean by waking me at this hour?
Is someone dying?’

‘
Not that
I know of. I want to get married.’

‘
You
what
?’ spluttered
the cleric.

‘
I want
to get married,’ repeated Alex obligingly. ‘Come down.’

‘
I most
certainly will not. You’re drunk, sir!’

‘
I know.
Ah well, if you won’t come down – I’ll have to come up.’ And so
saying, he seized the thick creeper which enveloped the house and
began to climb.

Chloë decided
that it was time to intervene.

‘
Mr
Deveril – if you break your neck you won’t be able to marry
anyone.’

Alex peered
down from a couple of yards up.

‘
I’m
quite safe.’ Hanging one with one hand, he took his hat off and
tossed it to her. Then he started to climb again, accompanied by a
duet of advice from below and recrimination from above.

He had almost
reached the window when there was a sharp crack as a branch snapped
under his foot. ‘Damn!’ he said cheerfully. There was a scuffling
sound as he searched for a new foothold and found it. Then he was
nose to nose with the Reverend Morland.

The Reverend
retaliated by trying to close the window.

‘
Now,
now,’ reproved Mr Deveril, grabbing the casement. ‘Where’s your
Christian spirit? I am a branch to be plucked from the burning.
Pull me in.’

‘
You are
an ill-conditioned and cupshot nuisance – and you can go back the
way you came.’

Alex looked
down and shut his eyes quickly as the earth rushed up to meet
him.

‘
Not
entirely true,’ he said weakly. ‘Not at all, in fact.’

And just as
Chloë opened her mouth to shout, the Reverend disappeared from view
as Alex dived head first through the window. There was a loud
crash, then a voice said furiously, ‘Get off me, sir. You are sat
on my stomach!’ Upon which Danny and Freddy burst into howls of
laughter.

A few minutes
later the door opened to reveal Mr Deveril, dishevelled but
otherwise unhurt, and behind him the meagre figure of the Reverend
Henry Morland, clutching a robe over his outraged person. Daniel
and Freddy wandered in, leaving Chloë with little alternative but
to follow, while they manoeuvred the protesting cleric into the
parlour. Freddy lit a branch of candles and everyone blinked in the
light.

‘ …
. and
moreover I shall complain to a magistrate. Your behaviour is
iniquitous! I have never been so scandalised in my --’

‘
Enough,’
interrupted Alex. ‘I don’t want a sermon – I want to be
married.’

‘
And I
tell you it’s outside the canonical hour and therefore
impossible!’

‘
Let’s
hope,’ said Mr Deveril silkily, ‘that you are mistaken.’

Chloë sprang
forward. ‘It might be best if you let me explain. Sir, the
situation is a trifle … peculiar. This gentleman,’ she indicated
Alex, ‘has won my hand at the gaming table and --’

‘
What?
Do I hear you correctly? He
won
you?’

‘
Yes. And
so --’

‘
From
whom did he win you?’

‘
From my
brother. Mr Iverson will confirm?’

Freddy nodded
solemnly.

The Reverend
looked inexpressibly shocked.

‘
You poor
girl! This is barbarous – Sodom and Gomorrah! But you are safe now,
my child. None can force you against your will whilst I am here!’
he announced heroically.

Chloë lost a
little of her assurance.

‘
Ah –
yes. Thank you. Only it is not quite so … you see, I … er … I
agreed to it.’

A number of
conflicting emotions warred with each other in the worthy
gentleman’s face and he appeared beyond speech.

Alex laughed.
‘Well done, Marigold. At least you’ve stopped him talking.’

‘
Oh be
quiet!’ snapped Chloë, incensed.

‘
Hussy!’
cried the cleric. ‘Abandoned Jezebel!’

Alex
advanced with intent. ‘
Will you marry
us
?’

The Reverend
Morland squeaked as a hand grasped his shoulder, then meeting a
glittering blue stare, he capitulated.

‘
Yes. I
w-will,’ he quavered. ‘You deserve each other!’

‘
We thank
you. Now go and dress. I’m damned if I’ll be married by an
unfrocked parson.’

So eager was he
to be rid of his unwelcome guests, that the Reverend excelled
himself. In rather less than ten minutes he was back, wig and stock
askew but otherwise presentable and gripping his bible. Outside,
the church clock was striking twelve.

‘
Very
well,’ he said irritably. ‘Let us proceed.’

Chloë’s face
was the colour of parchment but she drew off her cloak, smoothed
the long rose-gold hair with hands that shook only a little and
stood before the cleric. Alex ploughed an erratic course to her
side and dropped his arm across her shoulders.

‘
Dearly
beloved,’ began Reverend Morland in a tone more properly suited to
an exorcism, ‘we are gathered here in the sight of God
…’

And fifteen
minutes later they were out in the street again with the door
slammed and securely bolted behind them. With a sense of complete
unreality, Chloë looked down at the heavy and over-large signet
ring which adorned her left hand and then at the man who was now
her husband. Mr Deveril appeared to be in rapt contemplation of the
rime-encrusted trees glinting in the moonlight.

‘
A Froggie would a-wooing go, “Heigh Ho!” says
Rowley
,’ he sang.

To the tune of
childish rhymes, they made their way back to Brewer Street and by
the time they arrived outside Mr Deveril’s door, where Danny and
Freddy took a blithe farewell, Chloë doubt that she could have gone
any further. The difference between helping Alex and carrying him
was now minimal and she guessed that her brother’s brandy was about
to have its usual effect. She propped Mr Deveril against the wall,
groping in his pocket for a key which she eventually found and used
to open the door.

‘
Cock-a-doodle-doo! My dame has lost – has lost
…
’

Chloë grinned,
replaced the key and, shouldering her burden, surged across the
threshold. Alex detached himself and stormed the stairs,
reciting.

‘
The King of France went up the hill with forty thousand
men!
’ His impetus wore out after the first five steps
and he remained poised with indecision.

‘
The King of France came down the hill and ne’er went up
again
.’ He turned round and sat down. ‘I
can’t.’

Chloë started
to speak and then stopped as a door opened above and light spilled
down the staircase. ‘Is that you Mr Alex?’

‘
Matt? I
thought you’d be asleep,’ said Alex hazily.

‘
Did
you?’ asked Mr Lewis, descending the stairs. ‘I doubt there’s
anyone who’d sleep through the din you were making.’ And then he
stood still, looking at Chloë with dawning recognition.

Alex smiled and
allowed himself to be assisted up the stairs, saying dreamily,
‘Matt … my old, old friend. Tell Sarah will you?’

‘
Tell her
what?’

The blue eyes
opened briefly.

‘
Tell her
I’m married,’ he replied, with surprised simplicity. And then,
eluding Matthew’s grasp, slid peacefully to the floor.

*

Alex awoke to a
sensation of knives grinding inside his head. He groaned and tried
to halt the painful process of returning consciousness by rolling
over and burying his head in his arms. His mouth felt as though it
was full of sawdust and his stomach full of bile.

‘
Mr
Deveril?’

The soft-voiced
enquiry struck him like a clarion and he groaned again in what he
intended as a negation.

‘
Mr
Deveril? It’s only a headache, you know – you’re not
dying.’

Stung to
indignation by the unfeeling nature of this remark, Alex replied
with a muffled curse.

‘
Don’t be
vulgar,’ said the voice, warm with barely repressed laughter.
‘That’s no language for a gentleman.’