The pirate crew all knelt and bowed their heads in submission. “‘We yield at once, with humbled mien, because, with all our faults, we love our Queen.’”
Was it her imagination, or was Jason singing that song to her? He was supposed to be gesturing at the statue of Queen Victoria that stood in a corner of the stage. Marjorie felt herself blush.
“‘Yes, yes, with all their faults, they love their Queen.’” The policemen all took out big white handkerchiefs and started sobbing into them. The audience bellowed with glee.
Mrs. Proctor took to the stage then, holding her arms up in a dramatic gesture. “‘One moment! Let me tell you who they are.’”
Somehow or other, Jason had again managed to get himself close to Marjorie. “How the devil did you come up with the notion that I love Jia Lee?” he whispered harshly from the side of his mouth. The other pirates tried to ignore him.
Caught somewhere between total confusion and absolute joy, Marjorie stammered, “Well . . . but you embraced her.”
Jason rolled his eyes heavenward the moment before Marjorie joined in the chorus, singing, “‘They are all noblemen who have gone wrong.’”
Mr. Proctor warbled, “‘No Englishman unmoved that statement hears—’”
“I can’t believe you thought I loved that woman. I felt sorry for her, for God’s sake.”
“‘Because, with all our faults, we love our House of Peers.’”
As Jason knelt in mock solemnity before the statue of Queen Victoria, Marjorie wondered if she’d been mistaken when he’d declared his love for her. She’d like to ask him, but her pride held her back.
Mr. Proctor sang energetically, “‘I pray you, pardon me, ex-Pirate King! Peers will be peers, and youth will have its fling.’”
With head bowed, Jason again spoke to Marjorie in a grating whisper. “For God’s sake, I love you.”
She hadn’t been mistaken! Rapture filled Marjorie’s bosom as the Major General sang, “‘And take my daughters, all of whom are beauties!’”
Her heart full to bursting, Marjorie sang, “‘Poor wand’ring ones! Though ye have surely strayed, take heart of grace, your steps retrace, poor wand’ring ones!’”
How she managed to sing her final solo, Marjorie never did know, but sing it she did, and the audience loved it. And then, as the entire cast robustly sang the final chorus of “Poor Wand’ring One,” and she was supposed to waltz across the stage with Frederic, she suddenly found herself in the arms of Jason Abernathy.
He, who was supposed to be waltzing with Ginger Collins, sang directly to her. “‘If such poor love as ours can help you find true peace of mind, why, take it, it is yours!’”
And, as the orchestra struck its final chord and the audience leapt to its feet, clapping wildly, Jason Abernathy and Marjorie MacTavish kissed each other. Right in front of God, their audience, and the entire cast of the Pirates of Penzance.
Marjorie was sure she heard Loretta’s voice above the rest, shouting, “Brava! Bravo!”
Chapter Eighteen
The faint fragrance of sandalwood hung, elusive and enchanting, above the bed. The first musical cries of early-rising Chinese street vendors floated up from Grant Street. The first few motorcars of the day passed beneath the window. A bump and the metallic chink of a tea kettle being placed on an electrical hot plate told Jason that Lo Sing was up and about in the clinic. Soon, Jason knew, the click of Mah Jongg tiles would be added to the mix of harmonious notes that made this neighborhood San Francisco’s—and Jason’s—beloved Chinatown.
In other words, the world was waking up, and Jason, who had just made passionate love to the woman he adored, knew it was a kinder and better place than it had been only twenty-four hours earlier. Sunshine tapped at his window, asking to have the curtains drawn aside so it could enter and brighten his bedroom.
What the sunshine didn’t know was that Jason’s bedroom was already as bright as bright could be. Because Marjorie was in it. Marjorie. His own bright and shining star. The woman he loved. The woman who loved him.
“You do love me, don’t you, Marjorie?” He already knew the answer, but he needed to hear her say it.
“Of course, I love you, Jason, you bluidy man.”
“It’s a good thing. If you didn’t, I might have to change my opinion of you after what we just did.” He held her luscious—and lusciously naked-body tightly in his arms, not intending to let go of her any time soon. “Anyway, even if you don’t love me, it’s too late. We’re getting married whether you love me or not.”
“Don’t be daft,” she advised him.
“Too late for that,” he whispered into her wonderful, wonderful hair. “I’m totally mad. Madly, passionately in love with you.”
“Och, Jason.”
She turned into his arms and his masculinity stirred to attention yet again. He was pretty sure he’d never get enough of her. “I love you, Marjorie.”
“I love you, Jason.”
Their kiss was just getting interesting when it was interrupted by the shrill jangling ring of the candlestick telephone on his desk in the corner of the room.
“Damn.”
“Ye needn’t answer it.” Marjorie’s voice was a sweet whisper.
The damned phone rang again.
“If I don’t answer it, it’ll keep doing that, and it hurts my ears.”
“Aye, ‘tis annoying, all right.” With a sigh, Marjorie rolled off his body.
Although Jason felt a shaft of disappointment, he reminded himself that they could resume this pleasurable activity any old time they wanted to.
With a sigh of his own, he climbed out of bed, his feet coming to rest on the warm Chinese carpet, then, led by his own personal shaft, which had been coaxed to rigid life by Marjorie’s gloriousness, he went to his desk and picked up the phone. Detaching the receiver from its cradle, he spoke onto the horn on the candlestick. “Dr. Abernathy.”
His eyebrows lifted, his manhood drooped, and he turned to grin at Marjorie even as he listened. After a moment, he said, “Don’t you know it’s impolite for a gently bred lady to call a bachelor’s establishment before—” He eyed the clock on the mantelpiece. “—half-past seven in the morning?” To Marjorie, he mouthed Loretta.
To his delight, Marjorie swung her own heavenly legs over the side of the bed and sat there, naked, without even looking self-conscious. Astonishing. He listened for a second, chuckled, put his hand over the mouthpiece and told Marjorie, “She says she’s no lady.”
Her musical laugh made his manhood stir again. “We both know that, Loretta, dear. Why—”
Loretta interrupted him, he chuckled again, and he didn’t bother covering the mouthpiece this time. “She says that if she has to be awake at this ungodly hour because of the twins, we can jolly well suffer, too.”
Another smile from his darling Marjorie made Jason weak in the knees. Therefore, he sat. The wooden seat of his desk chair was chilly on his naked rear end, but he endured. After listening for quite a while, he sighed. “You probably ought to talk to Marjorie about this, Loretta. I don’t know anything about weddings.”
Still smiling, Marjorie got up from the bed, donned Jason’s Chinese silk robe, and went to him. She deposited herself on his lap and took the receiver from him. His attention to the ensuing conversation was divided, as he fondled Marjorie’s breasts.
“Good morning, Loretta.” She slapped Jason’s hand lightly. He didn’t desist, deciding to wait for a firmer indication that she wanted him to stop what he was doing.
Fortunately for him, Loretta was a first-class gabber. He’d untied the silk robe, turned Marjorie on his lap, and was nuzzling her breasts by the time she had to speak again.
“Aye, that would be nice,” Marjorie said, as Jason gently took her right nipple between his teeth and nibbled. As he did so, he pushed the robe from her shoulders.
“You will? Thank you. That would be vurra nice of you.” A pause ensued, during which Jason lifted Marjorie from his l
ap, pushed the robe aside, slid it from her free arm, and gestured for her to take the receiver in her other hand so he could get rid of the damned robe altogether. Bless her, she did exactly what he wanted her to do, and without even an argument first.
“Aye. I’d like Reverend Sargent to conduct the service.”
Jason didn’t know how she could concentrate on her conversation with Loretta. It was all he could do to keep listening, under the circumstances. He repositioned her on his lap so that she straddled him.
“Your house? That would be so nice, Loretta.”
Marjorie’s gasp as he slid into her ended the telephone conversation as far as Jason was concerned. Taking the receiver from Marjorie’s hand, he spoke into it.
“Marjorie will have to finish this conversation with you later, Loretta. Something’s come up.” And he replaced the receiver on the cradle.
Laughing softly, Marjorie said, “How rude of you!”
Jason said, “Too bad.”
And then they both lost themselves in the timeless rhythm of love. Right there on Jason’s desk chair.
# # #
Four weeks later, at seven o’clock on the eve of Christmas, 1915, Marjorie MacTavish walked slowly down the grand staircase in the Quarleses’ mansion on Russian Hill. Captain Malachai Quarles was at her side, intending to give her away to Jason Abernathy. A string quartet, cunningly located in an alcove off the hall, played a lovely Vivaldi piece that Marjorie preferred to the more traditional wedding march. Before the marriage ceremony had commenced, Mr. and Mr. Proctor had sung a lovely rendition of “I Love You Truly.”
Loretta Quarles, clad in crimson satin (in honor of the season) and a broad-brimmed hat, served as Marjorie’s matron of honor. Isabel FitzRoy, another survivor of the Titanic disaster and a good friend of both Marjorie and Loretta, was a bridesmaid. So was Jia Lee, who looked quite lovely in her own crimson gown and hat. Marjorie couldn’t help but notice that Lo Sing could scarcely take his eyes off her.
Eunice FitzRoy, Isabel’s ten-year-old daughter, served as Marjorie’s flower girl. A sober child, she yet smiled as she carried her white wicker basket of fir twigs and red roses. The entire house was decorated for Christmas, with swags of pine boughs and red ribbons cascading down the banisters of the broad staircase, wreaths everywhere, and candles glowing from wall sconces and candelabra decorated with red ribbons, pine branches and pine cones.
Jason, in black tie and tails and an intensely white shirt, his hair cut short and his eyes sparkling like blue diamonds, awaited his bride at the foot of the stairs. Lo Sing, similarly clad, stood beside him, as his best man. Marjorie watched Jason as closely as he watched her while she descended the staircase.
Thanks to Loretta’s munificence, Marjorie wore a cream-colored satin gown with beaded lace trim and with a veil that trailed behind her down the stairs. She carried a bouquet of white orchids and red roses with accents created of pine needles.
The only slightly odd note to the occasion was the soft grinding of a motion-picture camera that was capturing the entire ceremony on film. Loretta had bought the camera several years earlier, in order to assist Isabel and her then-to-be husband, Somerset FitzRoy, in preparation for a dance contest.
The huge hallway itself was filled with rows of chairs, and the chairs were filled with people. Everyone from the cast of Pirates had come, even Ginger Collins, who had commenced weeping even before the music started. Mr. Kettering and Kathleen O’Riley sat next to each other, Marjorie noticed as she scanned the crowd. Pleased, she hoped they’d be the next couple to marry. She liked them both. Most of the congregation of the Columbus Avenue Presbyterian Church was also in attendance.
Dr. Hagendorf, holding the hand of his wife Irene, smiled benevolently, as if he believed he’d had a hand in the successful reaching of this conclusion. Marjorie had to agree with him.
She’d never been happier in her life. And to think that not four years earlier, she’d thought she’d never be happy again. Yet, here she was, in San Francisco, California, being married to the most wonderful man in the world in the most luxurious setting she could imagine.
Marjorie didn’t think life could get much better, although she aimed to make the attempt. She and Jason had discussed things, and they’d agreed that, as much as they loved Chinatown, they would only live above his clinic until they started a family. They’d already begun looking for a house to buy on the outskirts of the city.
A family. When Leonard had left her in that bluidy lifeboat on that tragic night more than three years since, Marjorie had believed her hopes for a family had been wrecked forever. But now she had Jason, and soon she would have a family.
Indeed, when she thought about it, she had a family already. With Loretta and Malachai, Isabel and Somerset and Eunice, and Jason and Lo Sing, she’d created a family. Right here. In America. The notion made her heart swell as she reached the foot of the staircase, Malachai stepped aside, and Jason took her hand. Beaming upon the two of them, Reverend Sargent began reading the vows.
Four hours later, as the clock struck eleven and the guests, full of food, champagne, good fellowship and the happiness of the season and the ceremony, began to depart, Jason and Marjorie stood beside Loretta and Malachai in front of the massive fireplace. An enormous blue spruce tree, decorated with electrical Christmas lights and hundreds of ornaments Loretta had collected over the years, took up nearly a quarter of the huge front parlor of the Quarleses’ mansion.
“We’ve done it,” Jason said, hugging Marjorie to his side.
“It’s not so bad, once you get used to it,” Malachai said with a wink.
Loretta smacked him on the arm. “Beast.”
Marjorie, her heart brimming and with joy overflowing, held her hands out to Loretta. “I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for me, Loretta. If it weren’t for you, I’d not have met Jason.”
“For several years, you were sorry you had met me,” he reminded her.
“Aye. That’s so. Because you were such a cappit auld gagger.”
“Was I?” Jason opened his eyes very wide.
This time, it was Marjorie who smacked her man. “Aye. That means you were a mean old joker, ye haggis-headed gameral.”
Jason’s broad grin made Marjorie giggle.
“It looks as if I’m going to be learning a new language, doesn’t it?”
They all laughed. Then Loretta sighed. “It all went very well tonight, didn’t it?”
Tearing herself away from her husband—her husband!—Marjorie hugged Loretta hard. “It was perfect, Loretta. It was an absolutely perfect wedding!”
Everyone agreed.
Author’s Note
The Chinese Exclusion Act was finally repealed in 1943.
Perfect Wedding Page 29
