by Robert Thier
‘Later!’
Finally, she was silent. Like the loyal subject I was, I fixed my eyes on the centre of the chapel, where the Queen was slowly advancing towards the altar. Still…out of the corner of my eye, I could still see Miss Linton. The silence around us began to expand, and as it did, for the first time in my life, it wasn’t my refuge. It wasn’t the place I could flee to. The longer she was silent, the more I wished she would speak.
The Queen reached the altar. Music had started to play in the background. The reverend pulled out his bible.
Don’t look at her. Don’t look at her. Don’t look at her.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her glance at me. Stonily, I stared ahead, not acknowledging her in the least.
And what did she do?
She smiled. Smiled at me, glowering into empty air.
Why the heck would she-?
The priest cleared his throat.
‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony.’
A muscle in my jaw twitched. This man? This woman? Why in Mammon’s name couldn’t they use labels, serial numbers or at least names in that little speech? I shifted uncomfortably. Only when my feet were done shifting did I realise they had deposited me several inches closer to Miss Lillian Linton.
This man. This woman.
Stop. Stop now. Irrational. Cease this!
I shifted again.
Damnation! What was the matter with me? Did I have the fidgets?[31]
No. I didn’t. Because the fidgets only affected the legs. But now, my hand was moving, too, shifting slowly towards hers.
Stop!
I waited. It shifted again, towards that small, soft hand that was so close to mine.
Stop! That is an order.
But my hand seemed to have spent too much time in contact with Miss Lillian Linton already. It stubbornly refused to do what it was told.
But…she seemed to have the same problem. My breath caught as I noticed her small hand inch towards mine, seeming unable to resist. What was this?
‘…which is an honourable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union…’
My hand moved another inch closer. By King Midas’ throne! Why couldn’t that infernal priest shut up?
‘…that is betwixt Christ and his Church…’
My hand moved another fraction of an inch closer.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught her glancing at my face. I was sure it was cold and hard as ice. All my heat was in my fingertips, burning to move, to close the distance.
Control! Control! Ignore her!
‘…which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence, and first miracle that he wrought, in Cana of Galilee; and is commended of Saint Paul to be honourable among all men: and therefore is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men's carnal lusts…’
Wild images flashed past my inner eye. Images that had no place in a chapel - and most certainly not in my mind!
Don’t move! That is an order!
But my hand jumped two whole inches forward, and I could be thankful it was only my hand. I trembled, fighting to control the rest of me.
‘…and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God; duly considering the causes for which Matrimony was ordained. First, it was ordained for the procreation of children…’
So much for control. My eyes flew to her. Her face. Her eyes. Images swept past my inner eye that were far more dangerous than the ones I had to endure a moment ago. She and I, and we together with our…
Stop! There will never be an ‘our’! There will never be a ‘we’!
Except maybe as in We are extremely sorry to inform you that, due to budget cuts, your position has been terminated forthwith. We wish you the best of luck with your future career. Good riddance to bad rubbish.
Because she was bad. Bad for my peace of mind. Bad for my composure. Bad for my control over my infernal extremities!
‘…to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and to the praise of His holy Name. Secondly, it was ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication…’
Very bad for my control. Very bad indeed.
‘…that such persons as have not the gift of continency might marry, and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ's body. Thirdly, it was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort…’
Comfort? Comfort? Ha! She had been nothing but a pain in my rear!
‘…that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity…’
Plus, I had to pay her for it!
‘…and adversity…’
And why, pray, was I thinking about marriage in combination with Miss Lillian Linton? The concepts were about as related as tin plates and elephant turds! What was I still doing here, anyway? My business was concluded. I should sneak out through the back door, get back to work, and-
‘…Into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined.’
-and my hand moved another inch or two closer to hers. Now our fingers were only fractions of an inch away from touching. My heart beat against my chest like that burglar I had trapped in my bank vault and left to suffocate. What a shame the peelers had gotten him out. My heart, for some reason, seemed just as determined to escape my chest as he had been to escape the vault, in spite of my indisputable rights of ownership. This was intolerable!
‘Therefore if any man can show any just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forevermore be silent.’
Now here, finally, was something easy. Something I could do. Just stand here, be silent and don’t move. That I could do, right?
Incorrect.
My hand moved to close the last bit of distance. As tumultuous cheers exploded all around us, and a choir started singing, my fingers interlaced with hers. I didn’t need to speak. With silence, my hand said more than my lips ever could with words. For one moment, one blissful moment, it all made sense.
‘Wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony?’ The priest enquired. ‘Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?’
‘I will!’ rang out a voice over all the cheers in the chapel - and instinctively, my hand squeezed hers.
Sartorial Rationing
An insect settled on my hand and started sucking blood. Without even glancing at it, I squashed the thing and flicked it away. Only one person here was allowed to suck blood in my book - and that was me, from people who owed me money. The other insects got the message and kept their distance.
Crack!
At the noise of breaking branches from behind me, I froze. A predator approaching?
‘Bloody hell!’ a lady’s voice behind me uttered a distinctly unladylike curse.
Ah. Not a predator. Just another pest.
You should never have brought her on this journey.
As if I’d had a choice. For a female, she could be quite persistent.
‘Bloody, stinking hell! And I mean that literally! How can it be this hot in here? I thought the desert was supposed to be hot!’
‘High humidity,’ I answered without turning or slowing down. She had wished to come on this trip. She would have to deal with it. ‘The higher the humidity, the hotter human senses perceive it to be,’
‘Perceive it to be? You mean it’s not really this hot?’
‘Exactly. Your body is a fallible animal. Simply ignore its false information.’
‘Oh, thanks so much! That’s a great help!’
‘You are welcome, Mr Linton.’
That should have se
ttled the matter - or at least so I thought, until, after a few more moments, I heard another sound from behind me.
Thud!
Unless a monkey had just toppled out of a tree, that was the sound of a falling secretary. I felt a muscle in my jaw twitch. She had come on this trip. It was her burden to bear, her task to accomplish alone. That’s what I paid her for, after all.
And yet…
And yet…
Muttering a low invective, I turned around and marched back to the spot where Miss Linton lay on the ground, panting and gazing blearily at my feet.
‘In case there was a miscommunication, Mr Linton,’ I told her, my voice cold enough to freeze the constant rain dripping from the leaves overhead, ‘we are not stopping for the night yet. Because, as you might have noticed, it isn’t night yet. Get up!’
‘Pfft…!’ she said. Normally, I would have appreciated such brevity. Right now, however, I would have preferred a ‘Yes, Sir! Immediately, Sir!’
‘Mr Linton!’
‘Ffff…fff…Pfft…!’
I cocked my head, regarding her coolly. ‘Am I to infer from your excessive panting that you do not have the wherewithal to continue?’
‘Pff…pff…’
Glaring balefully, she raised her head to look at me. ‘I’m not weak, darn you! This is inhuman! Nobody can manage this!’
I looked down at her, trembling on the ground - and suddenly, I was seized by the insane urge to kneel down and hold her in my arms. Had I gone mad? Bodily contact would provide additional heat, and would be completely counter-productive in these surroundings! What was the matter with me?
Shaking off the mad idea, I gave her another cold look.
‘Indeed? I seem to be managing. And so, believe me, do the numerous native tribes living in this jungle.’
‘There are people living in this hell? Of their own free will?’
She looked so horrified and lost…
No bodily contact. No. Bodily. Contact!
‘Indeed there are.’
‘How do they stand it?’
You’d be surprised what people can stand, when they’ve never known anything else.
I shrugged and turned away. Better not to see her. Better not to stand too close. ‘Unlike you, they are resilient. And I believe they wear somewhat less clothing than you or I. Now, are you going to get up, or will I have to drag you up?’
There was a moment of silence. Long, thoughtful silence. When finally she said, ‘All right. I’ll get up,’ I felt as if I’d missed a part of the conversation. What was going on in her mind?
Better not ask. It’s probably safer.
Still…
I found out soon enough, anyway.
It was twenty-eight minutes, seven seconds and three hundred seventy-five milliseconds later when I suddenly heard a gasp from behind me. Not her gasp, either. No, that was what truly put me on alert: it was Karim’s. There weren’t many things which could make that gnarled, hardened fighter afraid. Whatever he had seen had to be truly horrifying.
I turned around and-
Holy golden throne of Midas!
I felt my whole body stiffen. Before I could get my face under control, my eyes widened infinitesimally, and, even in this humidity, my mouth went dry.
Miss Linton stood there, sliding off her tailcoat as cool as a cucumber, a devious little smile on her lips that made my insides churn. The waistcoat she wore beneath suddenly seemed a lot more revealing than it had in London, and the linen shirt clung to her skin, wet from top to bottom.
‘What do you think you are doing, Mr Linton?’
‘Why, removing some unnecessary clothing, of course, Sir.’ Still smiling that insidious little smile, she slid the rest of the way out of her tailcoat and let it hang loosely from one hand, swinging back and forth, as if baiting a bull. ‘Thanks so much for giving me the idea, by the way.’
My left little finger twitched. ‘I? I did nothing of the sort!’
‘Of course you did. Don’t you remember?’ Stowing the tailcoat away in her backpack as if she were merely packing away a pesky piece of luggage, she took a deep breath of air and stretched herself. ‘You said the natives do it, didn’t you?’
‘True.’ With considerable effort, I raised my eyes away from where her shirt clung to her body in a way that… No! Think pounds. Think gold bars and high-return investments. Yet, whereas these thoughts had always helped to clear my mind of anything else before, they suddenly seemed to have lost their allure. Clenching my teeth, I forced myself to continue. ‘But there are two important differences between you and a native of South America, Mr Linton.’
‘Indeed, Sir?’
Oh, that tone of voice…
I took a step towards her. ‘Yes, indeed, Mr Linton! Firstly: you are English!’
‘You don’t say.’
Another step. Why was I moving towards her? I had to stop! Gold bars. Big, glinting gold bars decorated with diamonds. ‘And secondly: they don’t work for me.’
‘How disappointing for you. Haven’t you opened a branch down here yet?’
That infuriating little…!
A noise erupted from my throat, somewhere between a growl and the grinding of stone on stone. I stared at her for a moment, not knowing what in Croesus’s name to do with her - then I whirled around and gave a curt shrug. ‘Fine! If you wish to run around the jungle without your tailcoat, Mr Linton, be my guest. But be warned that such improper attire will not be tolerated in my office.’
‘Of course not, Sir,’ she purred from behind me, sounding like a wildcat on the prowl. I would have to keep an eye on her once were back in the London office. But right now, what I had to do was keep my eyes and my mind off her. I needed to think of other things. Gold. Diamonds. People who pay their debts on time. Big, chocolate brown eyes gazing at me from under teasing lashes-
No! No! Rubies and diamonds! Rubies and diamonds!
We continued on. For several hours, we marched in silence through the jungle, the only noises around us the chirping of the birds in the trees and the rustling in the underbrush as unknown animals slipped by us in the darkness. Maybe she had given up. Maybe she had seen the foolishness, the danger in acting as she did, and had decided it was better to stop while she still-
The rustling of cloth from behind me interrupted my thoughts. A moment later, Karim cleared his throat, sounding urgent.
‘Um…Sahib? Sahib!’
I froze. ‘What is it, Karim? Is there a problem? Did you see something suspicious?’
‘Err…in a manner of speaking, Sahib, yes. Sahib, she-’
She.
Of course. She.
Slowly, I turned around to face her - just in time to see a pair of trousers fall to the ground. Not too extraordinary an occurrence, you might think. During my time in the west of America, I had seen plenty of trackers and cowboys discard their trousers when they wanted to swim, fish, or were just too damn hot in the burning sun. But the sight that met my eyes now wasn’t a pair of typical cowboy legs, to put it mildly.
‘Aahh!’ The little minx stretched her legs. I felt my fingers twitch, itching to wrap around…what? Her throat? Other, more intriguing places? Concentrate! Gold. Diamond. Rubies. ‘Much more refreshing like this, don’t you think?’
‘I-cannot-agree,’ Karim managed to get out between clenched teeth. He was holding one hand clamped over his eyes, and the other outstretched towards Miss Lillian Linton, as if to ward off evil. Ridiculous! She was far too evil for that to work. ‘Put those back on now!’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Making a little pirouette, she glanced down at her new attire, a spark twinkling in her eyes. Warm eyes. Mesmerising eyes. Damnation! ‘I like it like this. Nice and breezy.’
‘You…you…ifrit! Temptress! Demon in human form!’
I couldn’t agree more.
She raised an enquiring eyebrow. ‘How would you know? You haven’t taken a good look at my form yet.’
I have. Trust me, he’s right.
Karim only muttered a string of Punjabi curses. Clearly not considering being insulted in a foreign language a matter for concern, Miss Linton turned her back on him and turned her sweet smile and lack of trousers on me.
‘And you, Sir? What do you think?’
What I think right now is not fit for a lady to hear, Miss Linton.
For she was a lady. There was no doubt about that now. No amount of my calling her ‘Mr Linton’ would burn from my mind the image which met my eyes when I looked at her. I didn’t even want it burned from my mind. I wanted it burned into me, seared deeply like a brand that would never disappear. My eyes slid down her form, taking in everything as if I were a bank vault and she a substantial cash deposit. Finally, I managed to tear my eyes away and meet her gaze, teeth gritted. Midas, Croesus and Mammon! It shouldn’t be legal for her to walk around like this.
Well, it probably isn’t. But why would she care?
‘What in the name of all that is properly attired do you think you are doing, Mr Linton?’
She gave me a smile as bright as diamonds. ‘Why, simply adjusting to the climate, Sir, as you suggested.’
‘I didn’t suggest for you to run around displaying your unmentionables to the world!’
‘The world?’ She raised an eyebrow, playing the innocent. ‘But it’s the middle of the jungle. There’s no one here except Karim-’ A groan came from the direction of my long-suffering bodyguard, which she completely ignored. ‘-me, and of course…. you, Sir.’ She gifted me with another sweet smile. I had never trusted gifts.
‘You can’t have anything against seeing my legs, now, can you? After all…’ She stepped closer. Damn her to hell, she stepped closer! So close that our bodies were almost touching. Leaning forward, she whispered: ‘It wouldn’t be the first time, would it?’
I swallowed hard.
‘Are you going to continue with this lunacy?’ It cost me all my power to speak. All my power to look at her, and not reach out towards her. ‘Or are you going to remember what behoves a decent young English lady and give up now?’
‘I don’t really think wearing these-’ she told me, holding up her trousers ‘-is what most people think behoves a decent young English lady, Sir - but I’m doing it anyway. Besides…’ She grinned at me impishly. ‘Have you ever known me to give up?’