Far Above Rubies by Anne-Marie Vukelic Page B

which was etched into his features. Charles glanced down at the bag of ripe cherries which he held in his hand and, all at once, a look of compassion crossed his face. He followed behind and began to offer the cherries to the child, one by one, to the complete ignorance of the parent.
    Coming to the better part of town, we walked past Billington’s London Warehouse, where Mary and I had spent many a happy hour looking at fans, gloves, bonnets, jewellery and the large selection of muslins. It had now closed for the day but Mary and I admired the display in the large square windows through which we could see a young woman polishing the oak counters. We continued along the busy streets until at last we came to King Street.
    The St James’s theatre was newly built at the expense of a Mr John Branham. Mr Branham managed the theatre and performed there often himself, being a very fine singer. He had asked Charles to write and direct some comedy sketches and he frequently conferred with Charles for advice on a variety of stage productions. Charles delighted in the theatre and his favourite actor was William Charles Macready who had recently performed Shakespeare to critical acclaim. Charles admired his work greatly and soon the two had become friends. I had met Mrs Macready and liked her a good deal, although I always felt a little timid in her husband’s company. His sonorous voice was quite alarming!
    After the performance, the four of us crossed the town once more and took a leisurely walk home. I recalled a similar occasion only two years before, when I had been short-temperedwith Mary and felt jealous of her. How foolish I had been to misinterpret Charles’s feelings for her. I smiled at the recollection, feeling glad that I had left such childishness behind and was now a grown woman with better sense. Fred and Mary walked side by side and laughed together, and I wondered if perhaps one day there might ever be more to their friendship. When we arrived home, Fred was still making jokes, but Mary had become unusually quiet. She politely excused herself, saying that she was tired and bade us all goodnight. Her slender figure alighted the stairs and, as she ascended, I had no idea that it was the last vision I would have of her alive.
    A few moments later, we heard a loud crash in her room and Charles and Fred bounded up the stairs in fright, calling her name. I followed behind less nimbly but what I saw upon reaching the bedroom door stilled my heart. Charles was kneeling on the floor and holding Mary in his arms. He whispered softly to her, his tears falling upon her face. One of her shoes dangled from her foot and Charles gently replaced it and stroked her cheek.
    ‘Dearest Mary, don’t worry, I am here. I shall not leave you.’
    Fred paced the room and wrung his hands, not at all sure what to do until I implored him to quickly go for Dr Bell. When he returned, Charles was still cradling Mary in his arms. The doctor retrieved his stethoscope from his bag and encouraged Charles to lay Mary upon the bed so that he might examine her. But Charles refused and held onto her more than ever. A moment later, after a brief examination, the doctor put his stethoscope away and placed a hand upon Charles’s shoulder.
    ‘I am sorry, sir, it is too late. She has already gone. You must put her down now, there’s a good fellow.’
    ‘No!’ Charles cried. ‘You are wrong. She is only sleeping. She took a little brandy from my own hand, not a few moments before you came.’
    ‘Believe me, sir, it is of no use. We can do no more.’
    Doctor Bell tried to coax him into releasing her, but to no avail. Charles began to sob and called her name over and over, untilhis voice became a hoarse whisper, ‘Mary, oh Mary, please do not leave me. I shall not be able to face the world if you are not in it.’
    Her countenance was as beautiful as it had ever been and it held a look of sad apology upon it. As in life, so in death, Mary had not wanted