The Wildest Rake

Belgrave, no doubt,’ he said, with the old sneering half-smile.

She forgot to keep her distance from him, forgot the danger of passing on the contagion in which she had lived for so long, and ran at him, pummelling his broad chest with her small fists, looking up into his face with angry, distracted, terrified eyes.

‘Fool, fool, what is Andrew to me? Do you think I could live if you took the plague from me? If I had died, at least I could think that you were safe, but now what is there left but despair?’

He trapped her hands and held them in a fierce grip, staring down at her intently.•

‘What are you saying?’ he asked softly.

She relaxed, sighing, seeing with a stab of joy the hope in his face. ‘That I love you, of course, my dearest fool.’

He drew a harsh, glad breath and pulled her into his arms. She flung her hands around his neck, half sobbing, and their lips met, hungrily at first, demanding, giving; then, with an altered feeling, a deep, certain abandonment of self, as though two rushing streams mingled at a watershed, with brief violence and turmoil which ends as the two become one and run on, joined in a single, powerful river.

The angry knocking at the door behind them seemed at first, to them, in their exalted state, the knocking of their hearts. Then Rendel, grinning, boyish and cheerful, said, ‘Ah, the good Doctor Belgrave, no doubt.’

Keeping his arm tight around her waist, he opened the door and Andrew fell inside, at his shoulders the ferocious stare of the watch, their halberds crossed to bar Rendel’s exit.

‘Are you insane?’ demanded Andrew, glaring at him.

The watch began to shout. ‘You had no right, sir, to deceive us, and make an entry there. You shall not come out again. It is the law. The city is at war with this plague. You must abide by the plague regulations. It is your own fault.’

‘I am aware of all that,’ Rendel murmured lightly. ‘Be of good cheer, sirs. I shall remain within for the usual period.’ He threw them a small purse of money which they caught eagerly, then closed the door upon their argument over the distribution of the coins.

Andrew stared at Rendel’s smiling face, then glanced at Cornelia. His sigh was brief but sharp, and she looked away, wishing that she did not feel so happy while Andrew looked so hag-ridden.

It seemed lunacy to feel like this, yet her heart was as light as air, and flew on wings of joy, even though death surrounded her on all sides.

Then, like a sting from a dart, she remembered Nan, and her new-found wings seemed to lose their power. She bit her lip and clutched at Andrew’s arm. ‘Oh, Andrew, Nan has collapsed. She has it, she has the plague. Come to her, come upstairs quickly.’ Remorse made her feel sick with shame. ‘How could I have forgotten her, even for a moment? Come quickly.’

Andrew nodded and climbed the stairs without answering. Rendel and Cornelia followed.

‘You must not come into this chamber,’ Cornelia told Rendel at the door. ‘Go into one of the other chambers and wait there. The risk is too great. You must take some care, at least.’

Andrew turned and nodded at Rendel. ‘Sir, you have gained entrance here by a trick. It was great folly. But I beg you, do not compound this madness by risking further. Do as your wife asks of you. I have enough work without the addition of another patient.’

Rendel shrugged. ‘As you please. If you need me, call me. I assure you, I am not afraid.’

Andrew looked scornfully at him. ‘There speaks ignorance. You have not seen the plague at work. It is a sight to chill the blood and damp the ardour of the bravest man.’

‘Yet you have not fled,’ Rendel remarked, his brows raised at this speech.

‘I am a doctor. I have no choice but to stay.’

‘Others of your trade have fled. You had a choice. You chose to stay.’

Andrew merely shrugged.

Cornelia, looking at Andrew as he turned away, thought sadly, he has chosen death. Since she’d had that moment of comprehension, when she realised that Andrew’s way of life had been determined by his hatred of what life did to human being, she had known that secretly he wished for death, preferring oblivion to the endless pain of seeing the blackness which, to him, threatened the living.

His was the courage of despair, yet it was still courage of the highest order. She could not conceive how he kept going on, from house to house, from death to death, unable to stem the tide of decay, yet never abandoning the attempt. She knew that she would never have been capable of such heroism.

Andrew walked into the great chamber, leaving them outside, and Cornelia looked at her husband. ‘He is a great man,’ she insisted gently.

He nodded. ‘I know it,’ he said, no longer smiling. ‘Having you, I can afford to be generous and admit as much.’ His look was teasing though. ‘I have always despised a display of mean-spirited jealousy. While I believed you loved him I could only hate the fellow. I am glad to be able to feel sorry for him now.’

‘He is my dearest friend in all the world,’ she said, hoping he would understand. ‘He is like my brother. I was blind, Rendel. I thought my feelings were quite different to what they truly were—but I did love him dearly, and do still, yet in such a different fashion to the way I feel about you.’

He lifted her hand and kissed it passionately. ‘I hoped it was so. I told myself it was so, but love is a jealous emotion. I could not be happy until I was certain of you.’