Part 18 (1/2)

”I'll show you how ethical I am.” I reached for the satchel and drew out a bottle.

”It's from the church?” Eldric spoke softly, as though he were praying.

”From the church.”

”Communion wine?”

”Communion wine.” I knew that Mr. Clayborne was no fool, that he wasn't the man to let the illuminating gas cause a second accident. He'd have turned it off, or contained it somehow. So I'd stuffed my satchel with the kinds of treats that appeal to fires-paper and rags and paraffin and alcohol.

”Brilliant!” said Eldric.

How lovely to no longer have the option of destroying the pumping station. What a relief! It wouldn't be a relief the next day when I awoke to hear Rose coughing. But I might as well enjoy it for now.

I drew off the cork. ”How does one drink it?”

”Right from the bottle.”

”A swig?” I said. ”I've never had a swig.”

I drank. The smell s.h.i.+vered against the roof of my mouth. I wiped my mouth with Eldric's coat sleeve, just like a bad boy. ”I've swigged.” I handed the bottle to Eldric. ”Or is it swug?”

”Swug,” said Eldric. ”It is in bad-boy circles, at least.” He swug. ”It tastes much better outside church.”

”It's the picnic principle,” I said. ”Things taste better outdoors. And if it's a forbidden thing, so much the better.”

”I'm sorry I called you irritatingly ethical,” said Eldric. ”I was clearly mistaken. Now back to my idea, from which you are clearly trying to distract me. I'm not saying that Fraternitus members mayn't have secrets from each other. Sometimes that's inevitable. But don't you think we can trust the other and ask for help?”

There was no point in saying what I really thought. I nodded and swug again.

”Perhaps our initiation will bind us in mutual trust and aid.”

”I've been waiting and waiting,” I said, ”but no initiation.”

”Keep waiting,” said Eldric. ”Now that I've mentioned it, I shall have to delay it for months. The initiation must never come when you expect.”

We were most companionable, pa.s.sing the bottle between us. I made myself forget about the next day. We leaned against the wall, very gradually sliding toward each other. I leaned my head on his shoulder; he rested his head on the top of mine; and the astonis.h.i.+ng thing is that it wasn't at all awkward.

I wouldn't worry about tomorrow. I'd let today be enough.

We laughed a lot and I grew warmer still, lovely and warm. I do realize that some of that warmth was due to the wine, but there was much more to it than that. There are two distinct aspects to Communion wine: one aspect is the wine itself, the other is the idea of communion. Wine is certainly warming, but communion is a great deal more so.

16.

The Party's Always Over at Midnight ”I don't like all one color,” said Rose, ”but I like our frocks.”

I knew she did. She'd been saying so all day. She liked the way they matched up with themselves, which is to say they were white, white, white.

But that's what young ladies wear to garden parties. White.

Rose was to attend the party. Dr. Rannigan said she might.

”Robert will like the way I match.” Rose turned so I might do her b.u.t.tons.

I pressed my lips together so I wouldn't say what I'd said so often in the past few days. That Robert might choose not to come; that he might feel awkward; that he wouldn't have any friends at the party.

But Rose had heard me often enough. ”I'm his friend. He would come because I'm his friend.”

”You're all b.u.t.toned, Rose.”

Once, I would have called her Rosy.

Or Rosy Posy.

Funny how I kept thinking of our pet names since that rainy Two-Pint Friday at the Alehouse, when Father called me Briony Vieny.

”I look pretty,” said Rose.

She did, too. The dress was drifty and Grecian in shape, with a high bodice that flowed into a great shoulder bow. Mine was identical. The party had proved to be a lot of work, and in the end, Pearl abandoned her plan to design two dresses. We'd look like twin Grecian oracles, rather pale from staying in our cave. Also minus the prophetic powers, which was a pity. If I could look into the future, I'd know how I saved Rose from the swamp cough. I hadn't had a single idea, so far. Two weeks and no ideas.

”Do you suppose Robert's here yet?”

”Why don't you go see,” I said, which left me to do my own b.u.t.tons, but that was better than going mad. ”Don't forget, Dr. Rannigan says you must wrap up well, and that you mustn't stay at the party past ten o'clock.”

It also left me with some brain-room to think about how to save Rose. One needs an entire absence of Rose to be able to think about her. If she died, I could think about saving her all the time.

There's a riddle in there. I'll suggest it to the Sphinx.

Rose came dancing over the moment I descended the stairs. ”Leanne is here, and because of my eye for color, I said her frock is Persian green, and she said, 'Right you are!' ”

Her cheeks were actually faintly pink. Rose smiled her pearl-strand smile, her real-girl smile.

”I asked her how old she was,” said Rose, ”and she said she was very old indeed. Father said it was rude to ask, but Eldric said Leanne was joking and I mustn't believe her. He said she's just his age, which is twenty-two.”

Rose led me through the kitchen, which was a most peculiar feeling. Usually it's I leading Rose.

”Eldric has decorated the garden in blue and white. He said it was inspired by the Orient, but Leanne said it was a la j.a.ponaise.”

We stood at the kitchen door. ”May I open it now?” Eldric had forbidden any of us even to peek at the garden. He'd been most secretive about his arrangements for the party, and had taken to skipping meals in order to work on the final details.

”I see you put on your shawl,” I said. ”Very good.”

But Eldric had taken dinner with us yesterday-I suppose he couldn't very well not show up, as Father had invited Mr. Clayborne. Mr. Clayborne said it looked as though Eldric was working hard; and Eldric gave him a gray little smile and said he was; and then Mr. Clayborne had to go and say he wished he could once, just once, see Eldric work hard at something useful, such as university, or a profession.

”I prefer that you open the door,” said Rose.

Blast Mr. Clayborne! Why did he have to go and refer to his blighted hopes, with Eldric looking as though he'd worked himself to death? He was still six or seven feet of boy-man, but he no longer hummed with energy. I don't know how a great boy like Eldric can look translucent, but he did. He was burning out, all wick and no wax.