And yet, though Claire had so often taken the weight of the world upon her shoulders, she had never once been spiteful. Alexandra could never again claim such a thing.
Laying atop the strange bed she was meant to share with her dearest friend—perhaps for the last time ever—she sobbed inconsolably into a fat, fluffy pillow.
Claire sat beside her, patting her tangled hair, and for the briefest instant—so fleeting an instant—it felt as though nothing really had changed, that they were still young women, fresh-faced and ignorant of all the ills life held in store. Except… that was no longer the case… they were not in familiar surroundings. These bedrooms with their oak-paneled walls and shuttered windows were not at all brightly lit or cheery. Never mind all the scandals they had seen; Alexandra herself had never behaved so poorly!
Claire’s life was taking a beautiful, magical turn—she was marrying a prince, quite literally. And meanwhile, Lexie was left to choke on her grief. And here, again, she lay sobbing on account of Ben—that terrible, heartless cad!
How many tears had she shed over him by now?
And mostly over these past six months.
“I am so, so sorry,” said Claire. “I didn’t realize… I should never have asked you to play for us.”
“No! Please! Don’t be sorry,” Alexandra wailed. “We are celebrating, after all!”
“Yes, well,” said Claire, tilting her head. “Still, I didn’t realize you were feeling so… melancholy. And I really should have remembered… this time of year has always been so difficult for you.”
Alexandra swallowed convulsively, rolling over onto her back, swiping tears from her eyes as she faced her best friend.
Who else in her life would know such a thing—that she cried despondently nearly every single Christmas?
“Please, Claire… don’t feel badly,” she said. “You had every right to ask.”
“Oh, Lexie… I do hope you will come to spend holidays with me in Meridian. I promise you; I will see to it you are pampered and adored.”
Alexandra wiped her eyes yet again and then hiccoughed, realizing that, no matter how many tears Claire had watched her shed, Claire could never truly understand.
It had never been easy with her parents so at odds, but it was downright miserable after her mother refused to allow Ben and Claire to join them in Shropshire. In retrospect, Alexandra had only ever been despondent when not in their company, and only ever aware of her misery because of the stark comparisons of their households. In so many, many ways, their relationship was a double-edged sword, and even so, Alexandra couldn’t bear the thought of losing her dearest friends—and, yes, this included Ben.
Somehow that was the worst of it all. “I’m only sad to be losing you,” she confessed.
Claire’s expression softened. She tilted Lexie a questioning glance. “Losing me? Why ever would you think so?”
Alexandra swallowed yet again, only this time with great difficulty, because the knob in her throat seemed to have grown large enough to choke her.
“You are not losing me,” insisted Claire, and she reached out to take Alexandra by the hand, squeezing very gently. “You will never lose me, Lexie! You’re my oldest, dearest friend, and this you will always be, no matter where I live. And really, I have so much to thank you for…”
Alexandra grimaced, only thinking about all her father had done to Claire. “Equally as much to spite me for as well.”
“This is not true,” said Claire, shaking her head. “I already told you, Lexie. I do not blame you for what your father did. He was a despicable man, but you, his only daughter, are no less his victim. And if you do not mind me saying so, your mother is a selfish prig!” She lifted Alexandra’s hand and pressed it to her breast, hugging it fiercely.
Lexie swallowed yet again. “Your brother blames me.”
“He does not!”
“Oh, but he does, Claire! I see it in his face whenever he looks at me.”
Despondent over the thought, Alexandra began to sob again, tears spilling from her eyes as she remembered the bitterness in Ben’s words and that horrid look in his eyes as he’d tossed away that drupe. Bittersweet though it might have been, that kiss was a memory Alexandra cherished, and he was willing to throw it away so easily!
“Ben…” Claire paused for a long moment to better consider her words. “I must admit, he’s still quite troubled by his time in Fleet. I cannot imagine what atrocities he endured there. But I promise you, Lexie, he will get over it, and I must confess, I did hope that in close proximity you two might find a way to come together.”
Lexie remained silent, fervently wishing the same. It was bad enough that Claire would be leaving London… only with Ben she might bear it…
“It would please me immensely to know you were… close. Supporting each other in my absence.” She squeezed Lexie’s hand yet again, then let go, and then she, too, laid down on the bed to gaze up at the ceiling.
“When will you leave?”
Claire sighed. “The end of February.”
“How wonderful,” said Alexandra, and then… really… she didn’t know what else to say.
She had always dreamt Claire would stand for her at her own wedding, and she would stand for Claire…
“I’ve asked Chloe and Lady Morrissey to stand as my bridesmaids,” Claire said finally, as though reading Alexandra’s mind.
“How nice.”
“Very,” said Claire, reaching out and taking her again by the hand, lacing her fingers through Alexandra’s. “And you… I rather hoped you would stand as my first bridesmaid… will you?”
“Me?”
Claire nodded.
Bleary eyed, Alexandra tightened her throat so she wouldn’t sob like a baby, and then they laid together without speaking, holding hands.
“I don’t have a dress,” Alexandra said after a while, but that wasn’t a refusal… to the contrary, nothing would give her more pleasure.
“Oh, but you do,” said Claire, with a smile in her voice. “I was going to give it you when I asked… not here, but at home. The dressmaker from Courtauld’s made it in your favorite color.”
“Blue,” said Alexandra with a hitch to her voice. It wasn’t a question.
“Blue,” said Claire.
“Nothing would give me more pleasure than to stand at your wedding.”
“Good,” said Claire. And then there was nothing more to say. They were two old friends lying side by side, staring at the ceiling, and nothing would ever change that—not even marriage.
“Shouldn’t you go down and tend to your guests?”
“Oh, no,” said, Claire, with a smile in her tone. “They’ll fare well enough without us. It’s time to retire anyway, and…” She placed a hand to her belly. “I’m afraid you’re not the only one who overindulged.”
Alexandra giggled drunkenly, thinking of the first time Claire ever tried arrack punch—that night of her party at Vauxhall Gardens, at some gala planned by the Duchess of Kent. “I did warn you,” Alexandra said.
Claire giggled softly. “But you didn’t heed your own warning.”