The Chemickal Marriage

I thought the three of us might be together. If there are things we ought to say. Aren’t there?’
    Chang saw Cunsher watching from the far end of the carriage. On being seen, the man retreated.
    ‘What things?’ asked Svenson.
    ‘I do not
know
,’ she replied. ‘But so much has happened and we have not talked.’
    ‘We have
never
talked,’ said Chang.
    ‘Of course we have! At the Boniface, and at Harschmort, and on the airship – and then at Parchfeldt –’ Her eyes met his and she swallowed, unable to go on. Svenson took Miss Temple’s arm and indicated the nearest compartment, which was empty.
    She sat in the middle of one side, leaving Chang the choice to sit next to her, which seemed too forward, or opposite – where he installed himself against the window. The choice passed to Svenson, who settled on Chang’s side, leaving a seat between them. Miss Temple looked at each man in turn, her face reddening.
    She took a deep breath, as if to start again, but only let it out with a slump of her shoulders. Svenson slipped out his silver case.
    ‘Did you not just have one?’ asked Chang waspishly.
    ‘They
do
sharpen the mind.’ Svenson clicked the case shut and tapped the cigarette three times upon it, but did not light it. He cleared his throat and addressed Miss Temple, far too stiffly. ‘Indeed, it
has
been some time since we three were together. All the days with Sorge and Lina – but you were not strictly with us then, were you Celeste?’
    ‘You both
left
me!’
    Chang rolled his eyes.
    ‘O I know you had
reasons
,’ she added, with an impatience that made Chang smile. She saw the smile and went on with a venom normally reserved for disobedient maids. ‘I have said this to the Doctor, but perhaps you will appreciate that I have passed the last five weeks believing you had both been killed through my own foolishness. It was a
terrible
burden.’
    ‘Now we are alive you may unburden yourself, I am sure. Do you wish to dissolve our little covenant and go our separate ways, is that it?’
    ‘
Go?
’ She glared at him. ‘How? Where? We all heard that white-haired serpent – that you were the
property
of a jealous man. Can
you
walk away? Can the Doctor, after Elöise? Can
I
? Is
that
all you think of me?’
    Svenson cleared his throat. ‘Celeste –’
    ‘Our agreement
holds
. To the death of the Contessa. To the death of the Comte – whatever body holds him. After these things, I do not care.’
    Her last words carried an air of drama, and the men exchanged a tactful glance. Again, Miss Temple reacted with fury.
    ‘Elöise is a corpse because we were not stronger, and both of you – and I – would be rotting too but for blind chance – how many times? I will not have it. Who else will do our work? Who else will stop them?’ She flung herself back and appealed to the ceiling. ‘O this is not what I wanted to say.’
    Chang did not require Svenson’s look to know he must say nothing. The Doctor’s voice was gentle. ‘We have all been frightened –’
    ‘Being frightened is
appalling
,’ Miss Temple whispered. ‘There is nothing for it but rage, and I am so tired of being angry.’ She looked down at her hands, flushing red, though her eyes remained fierce. ‘I’m sure it is easy for you to laugh.’
    ‘No, Celeste.’
    ‘I do not believe you. I do not believe either of you.’
    Chang jerked his head to Svenson. ‘What has
he
done?’
    ‘He is unpleasantly kind. As if I could forget how I have failed – as if I ought to. You have no idea.’
    ‘Idea of
what
?’ asked Svenson.
    ‘How late. How late it already is.’ Miss Temple abruptly stood, and reached the door before the Doctor had gained his feet.
    ‘Celeste, wait –’
    ‘She has Francesca and the book.
He
has the money to make his madness real.’
    But Svenson held out an open hand. ‘All that is true. But please … what else did you want to say? The three of us. When you say it is “late” –’
    ‘I’m sorry. I would not want to further bruise Mr Phelps’s feelings,’ said Miss Temple. The door slid shut behind her.
    Svenson struck a match and puffed his smoke to life. ‘She is agitated.’
    This did not strike Chang as worth reply. He recalled the sabre scar across the Doctor’s chest and wondered, not for the first time, what truly drove the man.
    ‘Celeste has changed. Her sense – her
moral
sense.’
    ‘Did she tell you this?’
    ‘Of course not. I cannot explain it otherwise. She has