A Beautiful Poison

“Andrew! How are you?” Ernie strode forward as if he were the host, extending a hand. But Andrew dodged the gesture, instead rubbing his palms together. He wore a dark suit, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in a year. He was a tarnished penny compared to the gleaming gold piece that was Ernie.

As the maid removed Andrew’s coat, Jasper casually examined his hands. Dark spots colored Andrew’s palms. Had he been writing letters and spilled an ink pot somewhere? The skin seemed thickened too, as if recently calloused from heavy labor.

“Did you get struck down with the flu as well?” Ernie asked.

“Yes. I’m just about over it, though.” Andrew gestured beyond the silken screens. “How are the ladies?”

“Allene is better,” Ernie said. “Thank goodness she had a good constitution to begin with. She’s been able to walk without assistance, and her appetite has returned. Her color is good, but she’s still coughing. I made sure the doctor paid a visit this morning. Birdie still can’t walk. She’s . . . advancing.”

Jasper and Andrew stared at him, surprised that he was the owner of such intimate details.

“Advancing?” Andrew said. What color he had possessed drained away.

“Yes. The cancer in her leg is growing. She’s in a lot of pain, but I’ve been making sure the maids keep it at bay with her medicine. It’s terrible, but sometimes these things happen.”

Andrew grabbed Ernie’s shirt collar with a violence that astonished Jasper. “These things don’t just happen! She’s only just eighteen, for God’s sake!”

Ernie pulled his hands together, drove them between Andrew’s, and broke his hold too easily. His face reddened with anger, not cowardice.

“And how would you know? So self-involved, you never even saw that your fiancée’s best friend was dying in front of your eyes!”

“All right, that’s enough,” Jasper said, stepping between them and raising his hands. “This isn’t helping them.”

The maid in the hallway cleared her throat and curtsied. “I am sorry for the delay, but they’ve asked for you, sir.”

All three men turned on their heels but exchanged glances. The maid had said sir, not sirs.

“I’m sorry, for who?” Jasper asked.

“For Mr. Fielding. I’ll let the ladies know you two gentlemen have also arrived,” she said.

“Well, I’ll be,” Andrew huffed when Ernie picked up his coat. Several magazines and papers were stuffed into his coat pocket and nearly fell out when he followed the maid.

“Humph,” Jasper murmured, after a long silence. “I feel like a coat hanger with no coat.”

“I understand that metaphor,” Andrew said. He hid his spotted hands in his trouser pockets and pulled out a tin of lavender pastilles. As usual, he didn’t offer one to Jasper. Selfish prig. Soon, the maid returned and ushered the other two men into the salon.

Allene lay on a chaise, covered by a damask coverlet. She looked pale and thin, but color once again ignited her cheeks. She donned a brilliant smile at their entrance and reached for Jasper’s hand.

“Oh, Jasper. What would I have done without you? If only you could have helped Lucia too.” Jasper blinked at the pronunciation of the maid’s name. “You’ve heard about George and the others . . .” She dabbed at her eyes.

“Well, I didn’t know any of it would help. You’re lucky.”

Allene nodded. “Very lucky.” Holly emerged from behind the sofa and sat on Allene’s lap.

He pointed. “Is that a good idea? Having Holly here?”

“No, it’s not,” Birdie agreed, reclining on a chaise opposite Allene’s. “But we think she caught the flu last week, though it was the smallest trifle. Can you believe it? Anyway, we can’t keep her away from Allene.” Allene seemed in a sort of bliss with Holly on her lap. Matching cups of tea sat at the ladies’ elbows on three-legged marble tables. Allene and Birdie were once again two peas in a pod. Ernie sat between them, studying them for any signs of discomfort.

“Jasper, did you know what you are?” Holly asked aloud to everyone. “You’re a rock. You’re in a book too. Want to see?” She lisped her words. Want to thee? A book was open on the table by Allene. While she and Birdie spoke to Andrew and Ernie, Jasper strode to the open book. Their faces were now all turned away, and for all he knew they’d already forgotten he was here. He disliked being excluded from their conversation, but they were talking about the stalled peace talks in Europe, and he disliked that subject too.

Holly pointed a chubby finger at an open page in American Gems and Precious Stones. A pencil had marked a chapter on jasper.

“Oh. Of course.” He’d assumed she thought he was a mighty, unmovable tower of mountainous strength, but here she was telling him he was a shiny, pretty thing. “Can you read this?”

Holly shook her head. “No. But Auntie Ally reads it to me at bedtime.”

“Let’s see what it says.” He peered closer and read aloud. “‘Jasper is found at many localities and in a great variety of colors. Jasper is very little used in the arts, and for so common a stone, the entire annual sales would not be more than one thousand dollars.’” He hooted out loud.

“What’s funny?” Holly asked.

“I’m common and cheap, and I’m a dime a dozen.” He grimaced. “My parents named me well.” He patted her on the head, and Holly pulled him back over toward Allene’s chaise. Andrew had suddenly gone to crouch by Birdie’s side. He hid nothing, that one.

“It’s just a few things I left at the factory. Would one of you be able to get them?” Birdie asked.

“Ernie can fetch those things for you. Won’t you, Ernie?” Allene interjected.

Birdie gave Andrew a single look, and he rose to his feet and stepped closer to Allene.

“Actually, I did promise to pick up a few more things for the girls anyway. Why don’t we go together?” Ernie suggested.

“Fine idea,” Andrew replied, though his face showed no enthusiasm for company. He bent down to dutifully kiss Allene and squeeze her hand, but he grimaced in discomfort. Her sapphire engagement ring had become loose on her thin finger, and the large stone had twirled downward inside her palm, where it poked its giver.

Andrew soon left with Ernie. Minutes later, Birdie exclaimed, “Oh! Ernie left his coat.” She patted the garment draped over the end of her chaise. The paper contents of his overstuffed pockets tumbled out.

“My magazines! He brought them for us to read. Jasper, would you mind?”

Jasper picked up the pile of papers, removing the curled magazines to give to Allene. “Ugh, what a pack rat he is. Look.” There were three crumpled Mary Jane candy wrappers and a creased envelope as well. He flipped it over and stared at it.

“What is it?” Allene asked.

Jasper was silent as he stared at the script on the front. “It’s for you,” he said to Allene, but ice had crept into his voice.

Allene picked up the cream-colored envelope and opened it, withdrawing a sheet of folded paper. No stamps, no date, yet again. Her lips barely moved as she read it.

“No,” she whispered. “No, it can’t be.” She handed it to Birdie, who read it aloud.

Lydia Kang's books