I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.
-- Edna St. Vincent Millay, Dirge Without Music
Երկու (Yerku)
Two
Mr. Eames is a vicar at a church in London. He and his wife have two sons of their own, both married and away from home. He is determined that his adopted son will have as good as education as both of his biological sons. So he sends Davit to live with a fellow vicar's family in Cambridge, where he'll be tutored to prepare for university.
Davit is sixteen. His name is now spelled David. His surname is listed everywhere as Eames. He can't quite remember how to write "Davit Altounian" in Armenian. He has still never been able to tell his adoptive parents about his past. He pretends he can't remember anything before the orphanage.
In the last two years he has discovered there's something else he'll never be able to tell them.
When they send him to Cambridge they tell him to find a nice girl to marry. David smiles and pretends to take it as a joke.
He has no interest in girls. He would much rather find a nice boy.
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Two important things happen at Cambridge. David finds Dzovig, and he meets Alec.
The first important thing:
It's April 1914. Five years since the Adana massacre. In the newspaper one morning David sees a letter from another Armenian orphan. Like David he was adopted by an English family. Now he's trying to find out if any of his relatives survived.
He lists his parents' and siblings' names. David doesn't recognise any of them.
But that letter starts a flood of correspondence. Other Armenians write to the paper. They list their relatives, and if they can they give information about other people's relatives. The information is usually horrible.
David writes too.
My name is Davit Altounian. I was eleven during the massacre. I know my sister Dzovig survived because we were at the orphanage together until she was adopted.
Weeks later he gets a letter. It's covered with tearstains and scratched-out lines where the writer changed their mind.
It starts, I am Dzovig.
Her adoptive parents had decided to move to Yerevan. She has joined an organisation to hunt down the Turkish officials who organised the Hamidian massacres and allowed the Adana massacre[1]. She is back in England on the trail of two officials, a father and son. They are going to America, and she will follow.
Davit meets Dzovig in a park one morning. They stare at each other. He doesn't recognise her. She has a scar at her mouth, twisting up her lip to reveal some of her teeth.
She had no such scar in the orphanage.
He can see she doesn't recognise him — at first. Then she makes a noise like a wounded animal.
"What's wrong?" he asks in Armenian, slow and stilted from disuse. He hasn't spoken Armenian since 1911.
Dzovig stares at him. "Don't you know how much you look like Mother?"
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The second important thing:
It starts about the same time as David writes to the paper. He is studying the classics with Reverend Grantley. So are four other young men. The only one David meets regularly is the Honourable Louis Gresham.
The Honourable Louis — who insists his name is pronounced Lewis, tradition be damned — is two years older than David. His father is an earl. He's the laziest man David has ever met.
He also knows David's secret.
David had been careless. He had developed a crush on the neighbour's son, and he had been far too obvious about staring at him dreamily.
Louis saw him one day. "Be careful, Davey, or someone will think you're in love with that boy," he said. He laughed but there was a knowing look in his eyes.
David gave himself away. He blushed and stammered and couldn't have been a more obvious example of a love-struck teenager if he'd tried.
"It's alright," Louis said when David stopped talking incoherent nonsense. "I won't tell anyone. You see, I'm the same."
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Louis is in love. He makes David his confidant when he wants to sing his lover's praises. Well, he calls the man his lover. He reveals that he has only spoken to him once, and then only at a party held by Louis's father.
His name is Alexander Lennox. Son of the Viscount of Kilskeery.
Louis has a photo of him cut from the society pages. David doesn't think much of him. He certainly isn't the most handsome man in the world, as Louis believes. But that's all right and Louis doesn't even mind him showing his disinterest, because David isn't the one in love with Alexander.
He has his doubts about whether Louis is in love with Alexander either. So far Louis's behaviour shows more infatuation than love.
It doesn't matter. It's none of his business. And it's not as if he'll ever meet Alexander Lennox.
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Fate has a sense of humour.
Time proves David right: Louis isn't really in love with Lennox. About a week later his infatuation wears off and he changes his affections to one of his classmates. David forgets all about Alexander Lennox.
Then Reverend Grantley tells him he can have three days' holiday from his studies, because an author is coming to consult him on church history. David thinks nothing of it at first.
It's May 1915. Early evening, Monday the third of May. David opens the Grantleys' front door and finds the reverend in the hall, chatting to a young man. Before David can decide what to do, the reverend has spotted him.
"Come in, Eames! This is one of my students," he says by way of explanation. "Eames, this is Mr. Lennox. He'll be a famous author some day."
Lennox smiles awkwardly. He ducks his head and a faint colour shows on his face at the reverend's words. Then he looks at David.
David is frozen in place. He recognises him, of course. But Louis' photos didn't do him justice. Alexander Lennox looks plain, forgettable even, in black and white. In real life? The sun casts golden highlights through his light brown hair. His eyes are deep blue. His face is... David can't find the words to describe him but he's the most handsome man he's ever seen.
He can't stop staring and he must look like an absolute imbecile at best but Lennox is staring back and he looks as stunned as David feels and oh no the reverend is still there—
Thank God, he isn't paying any attention to them. He's turned and is shouting orders into the kitchen, and Cook is shouting back, and that jolts both David and Lennox out of their daze.
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Eames," Lennox says faintly, clearly hardly aware of what he's saying.
He offers his hand. David practically grabs it. Lennox's grip is strong but his skin is soft. He's never had to do a day's hard work in his life. David catches himself just before he does something utterly ridiculous, like kissing Lennox to see if his lips are as soft as his hands.
"Likewise," he manages to say, then bolts up to his room and locks the door.
Fate has a sense of humour, and it's laughing at David.
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They meet again in the garden the next morning. No, that's too vague. David offers to show Lennox around the garden the next morning. First they wander around Mrs. Grantley's carefully-planned flowers. Towards noon they sit in the gazebo under the shadow of the oak trees and talk.
David talks most, at first. About Cambridge, the Grantleys, everything except his past. Lennox listens with genuine interest. Sometimes he manages to ask a question, and always seems surprised that David answers.
He's skittish around people his own age, David notices. At breakfast he barely managed to say a word to the reverend's other students. (Louis, thank God, is visiting his father and has no idea of the drama unfolding in Cambridge.) The Grantleys are the only people he's said more than five words to. When David suggested this garden walk, Lennox had visibly wavered between wanting to accept and wanting to run away.
David wants to ask him about himself, to get to know everything about him, to reach across the five inches separating them and take his hand, to kiss him. But he forces himself to behave like a normal person instead of a seventeen-year-old with a crush roughly the size of the Atlantic. No point in scaring Lennox away.
He tries to look at the situation logically. Tells himself he doesn't know for sure if Lennox even likes men, though there's no mistaking the way Lennox looks at him. Tells himself that out of all the men in England there's no reason Lennox should choose him.
It doesn't work. Lennox is here, with David, alone, and apart from some lingering shyness he seems much more at ease than he did in the house. David can't stop himself hoping.
His hopes grow even more when Lennox finally manages to talk too. Slowly at first, stumbling over his words and constantly darting glances at David to make sure he isn't bored.
If only he knew he has no reason to worry. He could read out the telephone directory and David would hang on his every word. His voice is lovely; deep and steady and with just the slightest hint of a different accent underlying his Eton-educated one. It's something David hasn't heard before, not quite Scottish and harsher than Irish, but he likes the way Lennox is the only person he's met in England who pronounces his Rs[2].
Lennox gains more confidence as he talks about his research. "I'm compiling an encyclopaedia of all the major events in church history and all major doctrines," he says.
David hasn't had much time for religion since 1909. He goes to church with his foster parents and the Grantleys and he went to an Armenian Apostolic church in London[3], but he goes mainly to avoid gossip.
It's hard to believe in God when your nightmares are full of blood.
It must be hard for Lennox too. How do you hold onto religion when your romantic inclinations are condemned by your scriptures?
David is thinking of that when he says, "Your religion must be very important to you." Too late he realises this sounds more derogatory than he meant. He blushes. "I didn't mean—"
Lennox doesn't look at David, but he smiles. "I know what you meant. I... I wish it was. I can understand it all in my head, but..." He raises his head but keeps looking straight ahead. He's frowning faintly. "At church I hear people talking about how God has changed them, how they feel His presence and know He's listening. And I... I've never had that. I've memorised half the Bible. I could deliver a lecture on Calvinism versus Arminianism and the support for both at a minute's notice. But it's only intellectual knowledge. Those people know much less but they understand far more." He darts a glance at David. Whatever he sees in David's eyes makes him look back, and hold his gaze as he continues. "And there's. There's another reason why I can't truly believe."
David reaches out and takes his hand. Lennox doesn't pull away.
"I know," David says.
Lennox tightens his grip on David's hand.
Before the silence can become awkward David says, "Tell me about your home."
During the religious discussion a gloomy air has come over Lennox. It disappears now. He starts to talk about the river, and the forests, and the fields — everything, David notices, except his house and his family.
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If Reverend and Mrs. Grantley knew what was happening under their noses they would probably die of shock.
Lennox — Alexander — is only in Cambridge for three days. (Five, if you count the night he arrived and the morning he leaves.) Then he's going to visit some relatives in Scotland. David tells himself it's for the best, that he is just as infatuated as Louis and in a few weeks he'll have forgotten about Alexander. He can't quite make himself believe it.
Alexander spends two days mostly with Reverend Grantley and other ministers, discussing dates and places that go over David's head. He can't find an excuse to hang around the house for long after breakfast, so he reluctantly leaves. He goes to the library and the cinema, but spends most of the time daydreaming about following Alexander to Scotland.
On the second day he also learns Alexander's age. He spends that night using all the maths he knows to try to reduce the difference between being born in September 1894 and being born in December 1897.
On the third day he volunteers to show Alexander around Cambridge.
"Of course, of course," Reverend Grantley says. He beams at David. "It's good to see you're making friends, Eames."
David's face heats up as his mind conjures up images of exactly how friendly he'd like to become with Alexander.
----------------------------------------
Alexander is the only person David knows who owns a car. He navigates through the streets while clinging to the steering wheel for dear life. It's only when they get out of the city that he starts to relax.
"I hate driving in cities," he says by way of explanation. He gives David a questioning look. "Have you ever driven?"
David shakes his head.
They're on a narrow road stretching straight ahead as far as the eye can see. There are no other vehicles near them. Alexander pulls over. He leaves the car running.
"You can try if you want," he says.
He gets out and goes round to the passenger door while David climbs over to the driver's seat. He stares blankly at the levers beside him.
"This is the gear," Alexander says, "and this is the handbrake." He guides David through the nerve-wracking process of putting the car in gear and taking the handbrake off. "Now raise the clutch."
David does, and brakes sharply when the car lurches forward.
Alexander covers his mouth. "Do it more slowly."
Two more false starts later, and they're finally moving. The car creeps along at the death-defying speed of five miles per hour. Alexander isn't even trying to hide his grin any more. David doesn't mind, because Alexander's smile does something to his heart.
He makes the mistake of looking too long, and drives into the hedge.
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"Will you ever come back to Cambridge?" David asks as they stop outside the Grantleys' house.
"Not for a few years, probably," Alexander says.
They sit in the car in silence for a minute. David feels an absurd longing to offer to go with Alexander to Scotland.
"May I write to you?" Alexander asks.
David's instinctive reaction is to shout "Yes!" and possibly kiss him. He restrains himself. Much more calmly he says, "Yes, I'd like that."
----------------------------------------
Four months pass. They exchange letters. At some point Alexander becomes Alec, and he starts addressing his letters to "David" instead of "Mr. Eames".
Louis has returned by now. David had been afraid of an explosion when he found out that his fellow student is in love with his former crush. Quite the opposite: Louis is now in love with an actor and finds the whole thing hilarious.
He bears both the credit and blame for starting the sequence of events that end in murder.
No one suspects it at the time. Louis simply wants to do David a good turn. His older brother has just done something remarkable in Parliament (David, who isn't remotely interested in politics, neither knows nor cares what) and their parents are hosting a house party to celebrate. They've invited Alec. When Louis finds out he immediately asks David to accompany him when he goes home.
Alec hadn't answered the invitation at first. But when he hears David will be there, he accepts immediately.
Later David learns that Alec's mother had a word with the countess, which resulted in another name being added to the guest list. It's a name he and Alec will become horribly familiar with: Miss Gwladys Whare.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
(When David first sees her name he thinks someone has misspelt both Christian name and surname. Later he discovers he was wrong: her parents actually christened her Gwladys, and they thought the spelling Ware was too plebeian for them.)
It's a mercy humans can't see the future. As he and Louis drive to Framley Manor he has no feeling of impending disaster. His thoughts are taken up with Alec: wondering how to act when they meet again, worrying if his feelings are an infatuation after all, afraid he might not come after all.
His worries are groundless. Alec arrives five minutes after they do. David's heart skips a beat when he sees him. Then Alec smiles at him, and he smiles back, and he knows it's more than a crush.
Louis is looking from one to the other and grinning knowingly. David elbows him in the ribs.
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The first shock comes after he has paid his respects to the earl and countess and been shown up to his room. Louis appears in the doorway with an uncharacteristically serious face.
"Can we talk?" he says, and shuts the door without waiting for an answer.
Now David feels foreboding. "What's wrong?"
"My mother has taken it into her head to do some matchmaking. She's invited an American heiress."
Is that all? David feels sorry for the heiress. "Poor girl. Poor you, too."
Louis shakes his head. "No, not for me! She wants Lennox to marry her! And his mother wants it too!"
If he had punched David in the face he could hardly have shocked him more effectively. David sinks down onto the window-seat and stares at him in a daze.
Louis does his best to make things better. "I'm sure he doesn't like the girl. She isn't here yet. I bet you twenty shillings she's one of those unbearable shrill brats. She wouldn't be Lennox's type even if he was interested in women. And I saw how he looks at you."
The confirmation that Alec is interested in him makes the possibility of his marriage even worse. David makes up his mind on the spot that he hates this unknown American heiress.
He finds Alec out in the gardens, sitting under a tree. He's reading a letter with a grim expression.
"Have you heard about the American woman?" he asks, and can't quite keep the distaste out of his voice.
"Unfortunately yes," David says. He sits down beside him.
Alec folds up the letter. "My mother tells me all about her here. How much money her father makes every year, how eager he is for his daughter to have a title. I don't think my mother suspects about... about me. But she wants to see me married, and my father wants me to marry money."
David listens with a sinking heart. He always knew there was never any future for him and Alec. The best they could hope for was if Alec stayed a bachelor and let his "best friend" live with him. But marriage... David can't imagine Alec being happy with a woman. And he has his pride. Some men might be happy with being the secret lovers of married men. But not him. He won't share his lover with anyone.
After a pause Alec seems to come to a decision. "It would be cruel to her and unfair to me. I won't marry her."
"Thank God," David says without thinking.
Too late he realises he's given too much away. If Alec didn't already know, then he certainly does now, and there's no way to take it back. They stare at each other. Alec's face is impassive but a storm of emotion is raging in his eyes.
He reaches out. Slowly, as if he thinks David might run away, he reaches out and cups David's face in his hand. David clasps his hand over Alec's to stop him pulling away.
"David," Alec whispers, and it sounds like a prayer.
He leans in, and David meets him half-way, and his lips really are as soft as David had wondered.
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"We have to find some excuse to keep meeting," David says.
They've moved further away from the house just in case any other couples decide to go for a romantic walk in the gardens. Now they're sitting on the grass outside the old overgrown summer-house.
Well, Alec is sitting. David is lying with his head in Alec's lap. Alec is running his fingers through David's hair.
Alec says, "I'll find a reason to visit Cambridge again."
David thinks for a while. "Have you anything about Oriental Orthodoxy in your encyclopaedia?"
Alec blinks, but accepts the apparent change of subject. "Never heard of it. Is that another name for Eastern Orthodoxy?"
"A division of it. I suppose you could call it a denomination."
"Oh. No, I don't know enough about Orthodoxy."
An idea is beginning to form. David doesn't believe in God and hasn't been to an Armenian church in three years, but if it means he can stay with Alec then he'll become the most regular church-attender in the British Isles. "I'm Armenian."
"Really?" Alec looks startled. "I assumed you were Greek."
David briefly loses his train of thought. He stares incredulously at him. "You thought— Why?"
"I've never met any other Armenians," Alec says, "but I went to school with a Greek boy who looked a little bit like you..."
"...You could've asked."
"It seemed rude! If you wanted to talk about it you would've."
David rolls his eyes. "Anyway, I'm in the Armenian Apostolic Church. You can tell everyone I'm your research assistant. It would be true; I can tell you about how we worship." Though he'll have to do some research of his own if Alec ever asks about church history, or the differences between Armenian Orthodoxy and other Oriental Orthodox churches, or the distinction between Eastern Orthodoxy and Oriental Orthodoxy.
Alec says nothing for a while. He resumes stroking David's hair.
"It would be wrong to... If you were my employee..." Alec stops and tries to gather his thoughts. "If I was paying your wages, you would be dependent on me. It would be wrong for me to have a... a physical relationship with you."
David hopes Alec doesn't notice the reaction David's body has to the thought of a physical relationship with him. His mind conjures up images of exactly what that means.
His mouth is dry and it takes him several tries to answer. "I won't be an employee then. You can call me your business partner or co-writer."
"Do you have any money of your own?"
Only £100 a year from his adoptive parents, but he has saved most of it. David estimates he currently has more than £1000 in the bank. "Yes. You don't have to pay me anything."
Alec thinks for a while. "All right. But only if you're credited as the co-author."
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Miss Gwladys Whare arrives two days later. David hated her on principle before he met her. Now he hates her for good reason. She's rude and demanding. She fawns over him when she thinks he's someone important, then ignores his existence when she finds out he isn't a millionaire, a prince, or even a duke. She yells at the servants.
But by far the worst is how she behaves towards Alec.
She's clearly aware of the matchmaking scheme. And she's clearly taken with the idea of being a viscountess. She sits next to him at every chance she gets. She bats her eyelids at him in a truly ridiculous way. She hangs on his every word.
Maybe she thinks Alec is flattered. David knows better. He sees how Alec tenses when she comes near him, how he suddenly becomes very interested in talking about horse-races with the Earl of Framley when he sees her approach, how fond he is of taking long walks in distant parts of the garden.
Well. That last one isn't entirely because of Miss Whare.
Certain things happen in fine houses that are politely not spoken of. David knows perfectly well that most of the guests spend their nights in someone else's bedroom. But those relationships are between men and women. If a man was to spend the night with another man, the servants wouldn't be so discreet.
Framley Manor is surrounded by a large park. If you pretend to be very enthusiastic about fresh air and exercise, and if your lover is already known for being reserved and preferring to spend time alone, you can manage to get some privacy anyway.
Not nearly enough — so far they've only kissed and cuddled — but better than nothing.
David has sent letters to both the Grantleys and his adoptive parents, informing them of his "new job" and that he and Alec plan to travel to Stranraer and over to Belfast from there. He damn well hopes they're going to take a sleeper car on the train.
In hindsight they were far too careless. They assumed that because no one had discovered them yet, that meant no one would discover them ever.
David can't remember what they were talking about. He remembers sitting on Alec's coat spread as an improvised blanket, next to Alec with his head on Alec's shoulder. He remembers really wanting to kiss him. And he remembers Alec kissing him back.
They end up lying on the ground. David is half on top of Alec. They're still kissing. Alec wraps his arms around David's waist and pulls him completely on top of himself. David can't wait any longer. He starts to unbutton Alec's shirt. Alec reaches for David's belt.
"Jesus H. Christ!"
They disentangle themselves and leap to their feet at the first word. David's vain hope that the newcomer hadn't got a good look at what they were doing dies when he sees who it is.
Gwladys Whare has just appeared at the side of the summer-house. From where she's standing she had a perfect view of them. And there was really no way to mistake what they'd been doing.
She stares at them both as if they're something she's scraped off her shoe. Alec rebuttons his shirt. David tries to smooth his hair down into something approaching respectability. A profoundly awkward silence descends.
Alec breaks it. "Miss Whare, I apologise for— We had no idea you were nearby. I beg you not to speak of this to anyone."
Miss Whare begins to smile. Her smile widens into something truly sadistic. "Oh, I bet you do. But what if I go right back to the house and tell them all? Maybe you can buy your way outta trouble, but your little tart will go right to jail."
David has never seen Alec so furious. He advances on her with a downright murderous expression. Her eyes widen and she clearly begins to regret the chance that brought her here. David wraps his arms around Alec's chest and holds him back.
"We'll both be in trouble if you kill her here," he says, while already starting to plan where and how to kill her.
Alec stops, but he doesn't relax. "What do you want?" he practically spits at her. "Money?"
Miss Whare recovers. Her cruel grin returns. "'Course. But more than that. My pa wants me to marry one of you lords with your fancy titles. Problem is, you lot don't seem so eager to marry me."
"I can't imagine why," David says under his breath.
"Now here you are. A lord with a title, and a secret that could send you to prison. Even if you bribe the police, I can go to the papers and ruin you in a day. So how about it? I get a title, you get money, I keep your secret, and you can keep him around to warm your bed. Lord knows I won't do it any more than I have to."
There's a stunned silence. David can't believe what he's hearing. Alec is shaking.
"Are you blackmailing me into marrying you?"
Miss Whare nods as if there's nothing unusual about the situation. David would like to punch her in her smug face.
"Think about it," she says. "Answer me tomorrow. If it's no, I'll phone the police."
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This is not how David wanted to bring Alec into his bedroom. Alec is still shaking. He collapses onto the settee and stares into the fire. David pours him a glass of water and sits beside him. He wraps his arms around Alec's waist and rests his head on his shoulder.
"You'll have to marry her," he says. Alec makes a noise like a wounded animal. "Listen to me. She can destroy us both. You'll have to marry her, collect evidence against her — do you think a slut like that will be faithful? — and divorce her the first chance you get. Ruin her reputation so well that no one will believe anything she says against you."
Alec cranes his neck to look at him. "But David..." He closes his eyes and visibly steels himself to continue. "No church will marry us, no law recognise us, but in my heart I'm married to you. I can't stand in front of God and man and swear to take that woman for better or worse, forsaking all other. It would be a monstrous lie."
David kisses him. He tries to pour all his unhappiness, all his rage at the situation, all his love for Alec into the kiss. Alec responds in kind.
When they break the kiss David presses his forehead against Alec's. Alec wraps his arms around David and pulls him closer. They watch the fire together.
"I couldn't continue this relationship with you," Alec says sadly. David knows him, knows his efforts to reconcile his sexuality with his religion, and was expecting this. "I'd be legally married to her, so I would be breaking a commandment."
"Aren't we already breaking commandments?" David asks. He doesn't want to be a married man's secret lover, but when the marriage is a sham built on blackmail it can hardly be considered binding.
Alec smiles ruefully. "Not one of the ten commandments, unless you count this as covetousness. I can list every reference condemning us, but only adultery is forbidden in the ten commandments."
They fall silent for a while. Alec has stopped shaking. David can guess what's going through his head, and knows his decision before he declares it.
"In the morning I'll tell her I agree to marry her," Alec says, and he says it as if he's reading his own death warrant.
David tightens his grip on him. The morning. It's afternoon and morning is getting rapidly closer. He calculates how long it will be before their absence is commented on. Not long enough. Especially if they miss dinner. But after dinner...
To hell with restraint. He can sneak out of Alec's room and back to his own before the servants start their rounds.
"You know, we haven't had our wedding night yet," he says.
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Their wedding is a very quiet business. They're the only people present, and it's held in front of David's fireplace instead of in a church.
"Which vows do you want to use?" Alec asks. "Church of England or Armenian Orthodox?"
It dawns on David suddenly that he doesn't know the Armenian wedding vows. He has only the vaguest memories of witnessing an Armenian wedding. It feels like a knife plunged between his ribs.
"David? David, what's wrong?"
The pain ebbs. He can speak again. "Davit." He straightens up. "My real name is Davit Altounian."
"Dah-veet Ahl-too-nee-ahn," Alec repeats slowly, watching Davit's expression to make sure he gets it right.
It's strange to hear his real name spoken. Dzovig was the last person to use it. A thrill runs down Davit's spine at hearing it from Alec.
"Church of England," he says. "We both know those." He leaves his lack of knowledge unsaid.
They don't have a minister to ask them to repeat their vows, or parents present to give them away. When they get to "With this ring", Alec takes off his ring marked with his family arms.
"With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."
Davit puts his index finger, middle finger and thumb together, and touches them to his forehead, stomach, right shoulder, then left shoulder. "Amen," he repeats.
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Going down to dinner afterwards and pretending nothing has happened is much harder than Davit expects. He hides Alec's ring in his pocket. They aren't seated together. He has to listen to foolish old politicians debating the merits of a bill that was passed in 1870 when all he really wants is to gaze at Alec like a love-struck fool. Alec steals glances at him from time to time. Their eyes meet, and Davit feels his face heat up at the thought of this afternoon, and oh god, tonight.
He almost manages to forget about Miss Whare. Then he spots her half-way down the table, large as life and twice as ugly, and all the misery she's caused returns at once.
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Davit counts down the hours before he can say he's going to bed without prompting comment. At ten he can't wait any longer. Morning is getting closer and closer. Alec has already retired and is waiting for him.
First he goes to his own bedroom. He doesn't bother to change into nightwear. He arranges the quilt to make it look like he's slept there, just in case, then he locks the door behind him.
The other guests are still downstairs. Someone is playing piano badly and someone else is singing worse.
Alec opens the door at his first knock. Davit steps in. His stomach is suddenly full of butterflies. Alec locks the door and turns to face him, and he sees the same nervousness in his eyes.
"What do you want to do first?" Davit asks.
A flicker of panic crosses Alec's face. "I... I don't know."
Back in Cambridge Louis had taken it upon himself to find literature — god knew how or where — to instruct on how this worked between two men. Davit had never admitted he'd read it. He'd turned scarlet every time he saw Louis for weeks afterwards. But now he feels quite grateful to him. At least one person in this room knows what they're doing.
He starts with learning how much Alec does know. "Are you a virgin?"
Alec blushes. "More or less." Davit starts to wonder how that's possible before he explains, "There was a boy at Eton. We... well, we... Only once. And we didn't... not properly..." He's bright red now, and carefully not looking at Davit, and it's adorable.
Davit wraps his arms around Alec's chest and kisses him. "I'm a virgin without any more or less," he says. "We'll figure it out together."
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They do. Several times.
"Exactly how much stamina do you think I have?" Alec asks with fake indignation after their second round, when Davit tries to coax him into a third.
Davit grins at him. "This is what you get for marrying an eighteen-year-old, old man."
"I'm only twenty-one!"
To be strictly accurate Davit's two months away from his eighteenth birthday. Less than two months, because it's the 12th of October and his birthday is the 3th of December. And Alec isn't quite one month past his twenty-first birthday, on the 19th of September. Davit wastes a ridiculous amount of time thinking about this before Alec gives him something better to think about, and then he loses the ability to think at all for several minutes.
They don't get much sleep that night.
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The clock chimes six. It's still dark outside. The room is cold and Alec is warm, but Davit forces himself to get up anyway. The servants will be along soon to light the fires. It won't matter if they find his own bed empty, but it most certainly will matter if they find him in Alec's.
Alec gets up too. He buttons Davit's shirt for him. They hold each other's gaze. It feels like they have an entire conversation in silence. Alec smooths the wrinkles out of Davit's shirt. He's wearing only his dressing gown, and it leaves a v-shaped portion of his chest exposed. Davit pulls it closed, then brushes a strand of hair away from Alec's eyes.
He takes the ring out of his pocket and puts it on.
"When are you going to tell her?" he asks.
Alec flinches. "It'll have to be early. Before she has time to tell anyone." He turns abruptly and goes over to his desk. He rummages through it until he finds his cheque book. "There's a house in London. Belonging to my father, but I use it when I'm in town and my father never leaves home any more. I'm giving it to you. Here's two thousand pounds— No, I won't take any argument. You should have much more; everything I own is yours now." He finds a writing pad and begins to scribble a letter. "This is to the housekeeper telling her that you have my full permission to live there."
"You'd better give a reason," Davit says, moving over to lean against the back of Alec's chair. "Tell her I'm your research assistant and gathering information on Orthodox Christianity."
Alec addresses the envelope and seals it. "I'll post this today. We... We can't spend too much time together. Nothing to give her more against us."
Davit sits down beside Alec — difficult when the chair was only meant for one. He ends up in Alec's lap. Neither of them is complaining.
He buries his face in the crook of Alec's neck. Alec pulls him close and holds onto him like a drowning man clinging to a rope.
"When do you think the wedding will be?" Davit whispers.
Alec shudders. "Early next year, I expect. My father is very ill. The doctors say he won't last more than five months. He'll want to see me married before he dies."
Early next year. Probably no longer than three months. Davit contemplates the possibility of Gwladys meeting with a tragic accident before the wedding.
From downstairs comes the rattle of a coal shovel. The servants are awake.
With great reluctance Davit disentangles himself from Alec. "I've got to go now."
They kiss one last time. Then Davit steals out into the coldness of the corridor.
His room is on the third storey. He tiptoes up the stairs, and almost collides with Louis coming down. They stare at each other in the dim light. Louis's hair is a mess and his lips are swollen. Davit has no idea what he looks like, but after last night he's bound to be an equally disreputable sight.
Louis grins at him once the initial surprise wears off. "Congratulations, David. Hope you had a good time!"
Davit blushes and pushes past him without answering.
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At dinner the countess tells everyone how pleased she is that her old friend's son has gotten engaged in her house. Miss Whare gives a very fake laugh and complains that the countess has spoiled the planned announcement. Everyone congratulates the "happy" couple.
Davit has never seen anyone look less happy than Alec does today.
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They get very little time together after that. Alec has to go back to his home to make wedding arrangements. Miss Whare goes to join her mother in London. Davit stays out of the way until she leaves. Every time he sees Miss Whare he feels the temptation to do something violent.
He and Alec have only one short meeting in private before Alec leaves too. They meet in the garden again and make their own arrangements: Davit will live in London until Alec divorces Gwladys. Alec is optimistic it shouldn't take too long. This shows every indication of being the shortest marriage in history.
"I know she's already writing to another man," Alec says. "As long as we stay apart she'll have no evidence against me."
Davit is slightly less optimistic. Once Gwladys has her claws in Alec, he can't imagine her letting go easily. "What if you have a child?"
Alec makes a disgusted face. "There's no chance of that. I have no intention of ever consummating this marriage."
"If you don't she'll use that against you." Davit pulls leaves off a stem of ivy clinging to the old summer house. "Consummate the marriage, play the loving husband when others are around, make sure she has nothing she can use against you."
Alec looks at him in surprise. Davit can guess what he's thinking. That this is odd advice for him to give. But Davit knows Gwladys is a genuine threat to both of them. The best way to deal with threats is with deceit.
"What do you want to do as soon as I get the divorce?" Alec asks.
Davit knows it won't be nearly as easy as that. But for once he allows himself to dream. "I'd like to travel. Visit Armenia[4]. I've never been there."
"You're not from Armenia?"
He shakes his head. As he answers he can almost smell the blood and death and fire. "I was born in Adana."
From Alec's lack of reaction he can tell he doesn't recognise the name.
"We could go there too," Alec suggests.
Davit forces a laugh. "No. I wouldn't like that at all."
He doesn't look at Alec, but he knows Alec is staring at him.
"Davit? Davit, what's wrong?"
Ever since that night Alec has called him Davit. Sometimes he forgets how to pronounce it and says it like David with a T.
Davit rubs his eyes. He isn't crying, but his eyes sting. Alec puts his arm around him and pulls him close. He doesn't say anything. Davit takes a deep breath. He rests his chin on Alec's shoulder so he can't see his face.
"Have you heard of the Adana massacre?" he asks. His voice is flat. His chest feels like it's going to cave in.
Alec inhales sharply. "I remember now." He tightens his arms around Davit. "You were there?"
Davit nods. "I can't talk about it."
They say nothing for a while. Alec simply holds Davit, and Davit tries to piece himself back together.
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Alec leaves on Monday the 18th. Davit stays until Thursday. Louis borrows his father's car and drives him to the train station.
"Will you be alright?" Louis asks. "You don't know anyone in London."
Davit has his husband's ring on his finger, a cheque for £2000 and the address of his new house in his pocket, and his luggage. He had much less when he first arrived in England.
"I'll be fine," he says.