a marriage of convenience: xiii. the end
xiii. the end
Jon had every intention of keeping his promise, ambitious as it was, and it had to be admitted that his efforts in this endeavor were almost superhuman. Or so he told Tom as he sat back on his heels for a brief respite, but Tom just laughed and took the whiskey away from him and brought it to his own lips, then held it out of Jon's reach. In a week in bed with Tom he had learned more about him than he had in months of marriage, but some of the most shocking were how irreverent Tom could be, and even, at times, bold. One of the most shocking things Jon had learned was how much he liked it.
"It's shocking," he said as Tom still refused him a drink, "how disrespectful you are, I never would have known when we were first married. It's quite shocking, and a reflection of the sad morals of the youth of today. Someone should really do something about it."
"Perhaps you should write a letter to the papers," Tom suggested, yawning and stretching his arms over his head in a way that Jon had already learned he did only when he wanted Jon to touch him. When he was actually tired he yawned in quite a different way. Tom lay back and closed his eyes as if he would go to sleep, then opened them slightly to peer at Jon. "A very strongly worded letter."
"I think even stronger measures are in order," Jon said thoughtfully. "I think someone really should take you in hand."
Tom opened his eyes. "Yes, please," he said, and pulled Jon down on top of him when he laughed. "Yes, please," he said later, his voice softer and lower, his face turned away from Jon's and hidden against his arm. One of the things Jon had learned about him in the past week was how difficult it was for him, as bold and demanding as he could be in play, to ask for something he truly wanted, something he thought Jon might laugh at, or refuse. One of the things Jon had learned was how much he loved it when Tom would make himself ask, no matter how hard, and the way he looked when Jon gave it to him.
They spent a week in bed, or if not in bed, at least in the bedroom - Tom insisted on retreating behind the dressing room screen wrapped in a sheet when the servants brought meals in, which time Jon used to steal bacon from Tom's plate. And after four or five days of menus sent up by Mrs. Beaton only to be ignored or to be sent down with "no, thank you," scribbled in Tom's hasty handwriting, Tom insisted they make an appearance at dinner. They spent the meal looking at each other and then looking away, and pushing food around on their plates, and drinking too much wine, and generally making fools of themselves until finally they caught each others' eyes and burst into laughter and ran back up to the bedroom under the indulgent eyes of the servants.
They spent a week in bed, and Jon was rather inclined to spend the rest of his life there. Tom was, too, or at least he seemed so as he lay sprawled against Jon, looking thoughtfully up at the ceiling. "I was thinking," Tom said just then, "do you think - do you think we could just stay here?"
Jon grinned at him. "I see you are a mind reader, among your many, many other talents I am just discovering." He laughed as Tom blushed and turned away a little, still leaning heavily against him. "I was just thinking the same thing, though harsh reality leads me to believe that we may, eventually, in a year or two, have to leave this bed."
"No," Tom said. He turned away a little more, looking down at the sheet where his hand was tangled. "I just meant - I was thinking, maybe, do you think we could just stay here? At Cadence, I mean, could we just live here all the time?"
Jon had learned what Tom looked like when he asked for something he truly wanted, and for a moment he was tempted to simply agree. Of course they could live where they liked, for as long as they liked; there was no one who could force them to do otherwise. But something about Tom's voice when he asked, a desperate tone that he sounded just as desperate to hide, gave Jon pause. When they had made their bargain, or rather when it had been made for them, Jon had understood that he was to give Tom not only a fine and old name, but also a wider experience, an ease and comfort in a greater world that men like his father would never know. Jon had done him a disservice, he thought, in not keeping his side of the deal. There were many fine things in the city, fine things and fine people, a life of art and culture that Jon thought Tom would appreciate, perhaps more than Jon ever had, that Tom would love. And more than that, Jon did not like the idea of Tom retreating to Cadence because he didn't want to face that greater world. It was one thing to spend time in the country because he enjoyed it; Jon loved it here, too, and would gladly have lengthened his visits. But he did not like the idea of Tom burying himself here. He did not like the idea of Tom being afraid.
Jon had done him a greater disservice, he thought, than he had known.
After a silence Tom said, curling away from him, "It's all right, I didn't mean anything," but Jon stopped him from going any further with a hand on his hip.
"May I ask you a favor?" Jon said. Tom turned back to look at him. "May I answer that question a few days from now?" Tom nodded, looking a little confused.
"And I'm afraid I must ask you one other favor," Jon continued. "I hesitate to ask it, but I think it is important. I must return to the city for a few days, and I would like you to accompany me."
Tom bit his lip but then nodded. "Of course," he said. "Of course, I'll go wherever you like. But I'm a little tired now, I think -"
"One more favor," Jon said, and Tom looked like he was going to say something and then stopped himself. Jon leaned over and whispered in his ear, holding him in place as Tom flushed and pushed back against him. "Does that meet with your approval?" he said finally.
"I will have to give that matter long and hard consideration," Tom said, and Jon laughed.
"I will give you long and hard consideration," he said as he pinned Tom down to the mattress. Tom did not object.
Tom did not object the next morning, either, when Jon called the carriage to take them back to town. He did not object, but he looked anxious, and none of Jon's attempts to amuse or engage him were as successful as Jon would have liked. By the time they reached their destination, Tom looked much as Jon had been used to seeing him in the city, pale and quiet, drawn in on himself. Jon did not like it, but he said nothing to Tom. This was not Tom's problem to remedy.
When they arrived in town, they had time only to dine and scandalize an entirely new set of servants before Tom fell asleep and Jon lay awake, watching him and thinking about what he would do. The next day Jon took him to the picture galleries, where Tom spent an inordinate amount of time walking up and down slowly while Jon wished for a smoke, and then to a matinee of the newest play. Afterwards in the carriage home Tom smiled at him. "There are many wonderful things in the city, I'm glad you have shown me," he said, as if he knew what Jon was up to. Of course, he had no idea, but Jon was glad to have distracted him.
At home he saw Tom upstairs and then said, "I have some business to attend to, I must go out for a few hours. But there is a reception tonight. I'll be back in time to take you."
"Oh, business," Tom said with a bit of an edge to his voice, but Jon had seen the look in his eyes when he mentioned going out in the evening.
"Yes, business," Jon said, and left him alone.
The hour was a bit early, Jon supposed, but the crowd he was seeking had a habit of keeping odd hours, and he was not disappointed when he arrived at the gambling hell to find it full of fashionable men, and the hangers-on of fashionable men. There was talk as he walked in, and he let it simmer around him, seating himself at a table and joining a game. He won, of course; nothing had improved his luck like marriage, and after winning a few more hands he could see the tall dark-haired gambler who had irked him at the time of his wedding begin to bridle. A few more hands, and the man threw down his cards and said, "I'm surprised to see you here, Walker, and in such fine spirits. I'd think you'd be exhausted, after all your midnight rides. Wentz is out of the way for now, I suppose, but of course you can never be sure who might take a fancy next -"
Jon threw down his cards and stood up, smiling. Next to him William, who in the way of all good friends was always appearing exactly where he was least wanted, touched his shoulder and murmured, "Don't do it, he's just baiting you, it'll only make more talk."
"Good," Jon said, and walked over to the gambler, who stood to meet him. Jon smiled again and punched him in the face, sending him tumbling back over his chair onto the floor.
The other players crowded around them, and Jon could hear the talk grow from a simmer to a boil as he stood over the fallen man. "You are a liar," he said loudly, to make sure he was heard. "I say you are a liar, and not fit to be in this company." The gambler got slowly to his feet and stood rubbing his jaw, not looking at Jon.
"I say you are a liar, sir," Jon said. "What do you say to that? Will you call me out?"
The gambler, a coward, of course, as such men so often were, stood in silence for a moment and then shook his head. "A misunderstanding," he mumbled, still avoiding Jon's eyes. "I was mistaken. I beg your pardon."
"I must give it, then," Jon said, as the crowd listened avidly. "I must give it, as I have been mistaken too. I have been misled and deceived by gossip and the wagging of idle tongues. I have been mistaken, but I will be mistaken no more. I have nothing to be ashamed of in my marriage," he said, and listened to the gasps at this plain speaking. Jon found he rather enjoyed it. "Instead, I have much to admire, and to endeavor, however vainly, to live up to. And I tell you all, if any man dares to say otherwise, to me or to anyone, he will receive the same treatment as this pathetic fool."
He strode to the door, William at his heels, and then turned back one last time. "I trust you will talk about this," he said, and left.
When he returned home he found Tom waiting for him, ready and uncomplaining, though clearly not looking forward to the evening. After they greeted their hosts at the reception, Tom looked longingly toward a sofa in the corner, out of the way of the crush, the kind of place Jon had been accustomed to sit with him in earlier days. But instead Jon led him to a group of people in the center of the room, all of them talking feverishly and then growing silent as Jon and Tom joined them. Tom looked down at the floor, clearly preparing to suffer in quiet misery, but Jon smiled around him and then said, quite loudly, "So, Tom, do you know what the latest scandal is?"
Tom shot a sharp look at him, as if for a moment he suspected that Jon would hold him up to ridicule, but Jon slid a hand over his hip and was pleased to feel him relax. "I don't know," he said tentatively. "Maybe - do you mean the elopement?"
"Oh, I have kept you too long from society," Jon said. "You are sadly out of touch. The latest scandal, I must inform you, is me."
"You?" Tom said, and Jon almost laughed to see the look of pure surprise on his face.
"Yes," he said. "I am afraid I made quite a scene today - or rather, I am not afraid at all. I am glad of it." When Tom looked at him a little suspiciously, Jon said, lifting his voice, "I have learned something from your friend Wentz, something very important, though perhaps once I would have denied it. You must thank him for me when he is back in town - or perhaps I will do it myself, as I'm sure we shall see him often."
"You learned something," Tom said flatly. "From Pete." If Jon had learnt a thing or two about him in the past week, it seemed Tom had learned something as well, because he looked at Jon as if he knew Jon was playing at something, if not what. He had learned something, Jon thought, but not enough, because Jon might have sounded playful but he was in deadly earnest. Well, Tom would learn soon enough.
An even larger crowd had gathered around them, listening with great interest to their exchange. Jon could almost hear them memorizing it to be repeated to those unfortunate enough to have missed such unexpected excitement.
"Yes," he said. "I have learned the folly - worse, the heartbreak, that comes from paying any heed to the gossip and judgment of those of small mind and even smaller knowledge." He heard an old woman next to him huff with disapproval, and he laughed. He felt giddy, almost drunk, but he was determined to finish. "I have found the freedom that comes with knowing that there is someone I trust utterly, implicitly, no matter what anyone else says or does." He laughed, and he knew he sounded wild, but he didn't care. He felt wild, wild at saying such things out in public, at meaning them. He felt wild when he saw how Tom was looking at him. "And I find I am wrong, as I am so often, because in thinking further I realize I have nothing to thank Wentz for. You will know how happy I am to realize that," he said, lower, for Tom alone, and Tom laughed.
"It is you who have taught me this," Jon said.
"You said, once," Tom said, softly. "You said once that you and I knew the truth, and that that was all that mattered. That was all you cared about."
"I said that once," Jon said, "but then I did not know how to mean it. I know now, and I know enough to know that I was mistaken before." Tom watched him carefully, and no matter how wild or drunk he sounded to all those gathered around, he knew that Tom understood just how in earnest he was. "There is only one thing I care about, and it is you."
He could hear people talking around him then, an old man saying, "drunk," and an old woman saying, "disgusting," and yet another, "delightful." He didn't care about any of them, although he rather wished he knew the old woman who found it delightful. He didn't care enough to look away from Tom, though. He never would. He heard the talk growing around them and he cared for none of it, he cared for nothing until Tom smiled at him, and then he knew what he wanted to do, in spite of all the people around them, in spite of all the talk.
Jon slid his hand into Tom's hair and leaned up to kiss him.
He kissed him for a long time, long enough for the talk to rise around them and fade away and then rise again, louder and more insistent. Tom had jumped a little at first, from the surprise, but he did not try to move away. Instead he put his arm around Jon's shoulder and pulled him closer, kissing him right out in public, in front of anyone and everyone, like he didn't care.
When Jon was finally breathless he pulled away and looked at Tom laughing down at him. "Would you like some punch?" he said politely.
"I would like you to take me home," Tom said. "Right away," and Jon didn't even have to shove his way through the crowd that stood staring after them as they made their way to the door.
In the carriage Tom sat up against him and kissed him again, and when he was done Jon said, "You asked me a question a while ago, and I would like to answer it now." Tom looked at him expectantly. "We can live at Cadence forever, if you like, or in the city at times, or on the Continent if you prefer, or in hell if you demand it. I don't give a damn, as long as we live exactly where it suits you and as long as I am with you."
Tom thought for a moment. "There are many great things in the city, so many things I have never seen, and I would like to come back here often. And I have never traveled, and I would like you to take me to Europe very soon. But for now, right now, I think - I know that I would like to go back to Cadence." He smiled at Jon slyly. "You see, it is such a large house, and there are so many beds, and you made me a promise that you have not kept."
"Not yet," Jon said, and took Tom's face in his hand to kiss him. Then he said, his fingers tracing the line of Tom's jaw, and then his lips, "I told you once, and I meant it - I will try to always be to you a man of my word."
Tom smiled at him, and Jon could feel the movement against his fingers. "I know it," he said, and moved Jon's hand away so he could kiss him.
[epilogue: honeymoon]