Arabella of Mars(94)
Simon trembled miserably on the cold flagstones, eyes darting every which way. Then he closed his eyes hard and seemed to gather himself up, bowing his head and bending over his clenched fists. For a long time he remained thus and Arabella watched him, holding her breath as he held his, knowing how difficult the decision must be.
Then he let out his breath with a loud “Pah!” and collapsed onto the bed, head held in his hands. “I cannot!” he said. “I have not the courage.” For once, Arabella thought, he was entirely sincere.
Arabella and the captain exchanged a long, considering look. His eyes were very hard, and he glanced to the prostrate Simon and back to her, tilting his head with a raised, questioning eyebrow.
His meaning was clear, and it appalled her. She replied to his glance with a sharp shake of her head and a stern frown. “We will leave you to consider, Cousin,” she told Simon, and angrily swept out of the room. The captain followed.
As soon as the door had closed behind the captain, leaving the two of them alone in the hall, Arabella rounded on him. “My cousin must be allowed to make his own decision,” she hissed in a barely contained whisper. “To force such a sacrifice on any one, even such a villain as he, would be inhuman.”
The captain’s expression was as grave as ever she had seen it. “If I am any judge of character,” he replied in a low intense murmur, “if we wait for him to do the honorable thing, we will all die in the waiting.”
“That may very well be.” She took a breath, let it out. “But in this matter, I cannot countenance coercion. To throw him to the Martians against his will would be a violation of both okhaya and common human decency.”
His gaze bore down on her. She returned it, refusing to back down. At last the captain blinked, and inclined his head to her. “Very well. I shall gather every one to the kitchen for our final defense.” He bowed. “We may die, but at least we will die with honor.”
She recognized that he, too, had been asked to sacrifice himself for the sake of others, and unlike Simon he had done the honorable thing. Even if the decision cost her her life, her esteem of him was inestimably raised because of it.
“I thank you very much for your understanding in this difficult matter,” she said, and gave him a deep, respectful curtsey.
*
Arabella watched the captain’s upright, buff-coated back as he departed, his boot heels clopping on the ancient flagstones, until he rounded the corner and vanished from sight. Then she sighed, gathered herself, and returned to the bedchamber.
Simon lay as she had left him, on his knees with his upper body splayed out atop Michael’s bed-clothes. Michael, for his part, still lay wan and unmoving, though he yet breathed.
“Dear cousin,” she said, and he gasped and jerked upright, relaxing when he saw that she was alone. “Dear cousin,” she began again, “I do understand how impossible this request must seem. But I must beg you to reconsider. Not only all of our lives here, but the lives of every Englishman in Fort Augusta territory, could be spared by your action. Perhaps even more—who knows how far this insurrection might spread if not checked?”
“I am a weak man, Cousin,” he replied. “It was my weakness that led to my poverty, and brought me to Mars, and prompted me to steal the egg.” He gave a rueful grin. “It would be inconsistent for me to display any strength of character now.”
“People can change.” She settled herself on the bedside chair. “Just months ago I was a naive girl. I, too, took myself to Mars on a sudden whim, not considering the costs or consequences, and suffered greatly for my imprudence. Yet I have also learned from the experience.” She leaned in close. “There are some tasks only one person can perform.” She thought of the explosive shell, its smooth warm exterior hiding such great destructive power, and how it had been placed in her hands with a confidence she still felt she had not earned. “If such a task should happen to fall to you, you may rail against it, you may deny it, you may try to push it away … but in the end, you may also find that you can rise to the occasion.”
“Even such a man as I?”
“Even such a man as you.” She held out her hand. “Come with me, Cousin.”
Mutely he took it and rose. Then, still holding her hand, he stood and contemplated her face for a time, considering. “I … I will make the attempt,” he said at last. “I will endeavor to do honor to the family name.”
Arabella’s suspicion of Simon warred with her desire to assume the best of any man, but in the end her natural inclination to charity won out. “That is all I, or any one, could ask.”
“I only request that I be given a moment alone in my bedchamber, so as to prepare myself for … for the end.”
“Of course.”
At the door he paused and looked back at Michael, still unconscious, his breathing shallow but regular. “I am sorry, Cousin,” he said, then set his shoulders and stepped into the hall.
Arabella, too, cast a long glance back at her brother before closing the door behind herself.
*
They found the drawing-room, when they arrived, nearly empty of both people and supplies. Only a few servants remained, rushing in and out, carrying crates and barrels away to the kitchen, and they were all too distracted to take any notice of Arabella and the increasingly anxious Simon. Even so, as they approached the spiral stair, one of the footmen paused in his work and called out, “You ought not go up there, sir and miss! It is too dangerous! Even the riflemen have been forced to retreat.”