The accidental groom

Morning Side of the Dawn

Morning Side of the Dawn

When she woke the next morning she was the victim of sick anxiety. Why had he not come last night . How was she to stand another day of waiting? Would he come to her to discuss the matter in broad daylight? That seemed horrible to Lizzie, so detached and coldblooded, she wanted it to be over with .Where was it written that she had to wait meekly in bed for him to show up? She would go and confront him.

"HE'S OUT? HOW CAN HE BE OUT at this hour?" Lizzie stared at Newton.

The sky had just lost the pinkness of dawn. Street sweepers were trundling their carts home across the cobblestones. Newton stared back at her down a nose that would have done any ancient Roman proud. "I couldn't say, my lady." Two spots of red burned in the butler's otherwise cadaverous cheeks.

Lizzie looked at them suspiciously. Her own face began to heat. Surely Alexander wasn't with another woman?

No, of course not. But Lizzie felt shaken nonetheless. She hardly knew Alexander.

A big black carriage rattled up, interrupting her thoughts. Lizzie turned to look. The carriage bore Alexander's crest. A footman jumped down and set the steps. Henry and Nicholas descended. Lizzie frowned. Why . . .? Alexander stepped down. Behind her, Newton exclaimed. Alexander was in his shirtsleeves, despite the cold. One sleeve was streaked with blood, and he held a soaked rag to the upper arm. Spatters of red arced delicately across his chest. In strange contrast to the gore, he wore an immaculate white wig. Lizzie gasped; her lungs wouldn't fill with air. How badly was he hurt? She stumbled down the steps. "What has happened?"

Alexander stopped and stared at her, white-faced. He looked as if he didn't recognize her. "Merde." At least he could talk.

"Newton, send for a doctor! Lizzie didn't bother to see if the butler followed her orders. She was afraid if she took her eyes from Alexander, he might collapse. She reached him on the street and held out a hand, hesitant to actually touch him lest she harm him further.

"Where are you hurt? Tell me." Her voice shook.

He took her hand. "I'm fine-"

"You're bleeding!"

"There's no need of a doctor-"

"He killed James," Nicholas suddenly said.

"What?" Lizzie looked at her husband's best friend.

He seemed dazed, as if he'd seen a tragedy. What had happened?

"Not out in the street for all the pious listening neighbors to gossip about, please," Alexander said. His words dragged as if he were weary to his soul. "We'll hash it out, if we must hash it out, in the sitting room." The fingers clutching her wrist were sticky with blood. "Come inside all of you."

"Your arm-"

"Will be fine as soon as I dose it with brandy-by mouth, preferably." He marched her up the steps.

Behind them, Nicholas called, "I'm going home. Had enough. Sorry."

Alexander paused on the top step and glanced back. "Ah, the golden resilience of youth."

Nicholas swung around violently. "You killed him! Why did you have to kill him?"

Oh, God. Lizzie stared, mute, at Alexander's friend. She felt dread seep into her chest, paralyzing her.

"It was a duel, Ravenwood." Alexander smiled, but his voice was still gritty. "Did you think I meant to dance a pretty gavotte?"

"Jesus! I don't understand you. I don't think I even know you." Nicholas shook his head and walked away.