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“My brother was an unkind man,” his mother told him, “We have enough unkind people in this world as it is.”
The gun she was holding in her hands, too small compared to the rest of her, was beautiful. The barrel of the gun shined as if it produced its own light. The grip was decorated with the silver outline of a swan. He traced her from beak to webbed foot. When his eyes returned to meet his mother’s, there were tears in them.
Edward Coulter and his mother never spoke of laws or politics, yet if asked about where his sense of morality came from, his mind would immediately travel back in time to this moment in his childhood home during a winter storm. Though he wouldn’t articulate that to the one who asked. Instead, he would say something along the lines of being bred for it. It was a forgettable answer. He learned early on how to subtract himself when the moment required it.
His brain was filled about big dreamy ideas of a civilized society. Civilized people didn’t need to put their necks on other people’s throats. Civilized people didn’t burn bridges, they built them. Civilized people respected these rules.
“It’s okay, mother.” he crawled into her arms. “He can’t hurt anyone anymore.”
The bachelor lifestyle never appealed to Edward. Shortly after his university days were over, he attended an event in which many of the high-minded girls of St. Sophia’s were in attendance. From the moment he walked in, the blush that threatened him at every moment began climbing up his neck. Everyone in attendance was here with anticipation of a marriage proposal. They all knew the game, but the lack of pretense made Edward’s jaw tighten.
There was a young woman who caught his eye. She was very amiable, but when the conversation drifted from anything other than university life and social engagements, she had no opinions. She merely smiled and agreed with whatever opinion she guessed Edward possessed. He found himself intensely bored.
So, when he overheard another gentleman groan to his friend, “That one has a mouth on her. I wouldn’t mind putting it to use, myself. That would get her to be quiet.” Edward couldn’t resist.
“Miss Delamare?” His hands were clasped behind his back. He forgot to reach for her. “I was hoping to borrow you for a moment.”
She was looking at him over her shoulder. The man she was facing gave the impression of a dull man, he liked to think. He only hoped she would wish to escape him. “I already have a drink.” Marisa wiggled her champagne glass at him.
“Surely, you wouldn’t mind another.” After the words left his mouth, he held his breath.
Marisa cracked a small smile. “Fine, alright.”
They walked in silence until they found a waiter serving full flutes. It wasn’t until Marisa tilted her first glass back, that he noticed the golden monkey daemon at her side. He had missed him completely.
“So, are you liking St. Sophia’s?” His throat had never been more dry.
He could see her stifle a laugh. “I like it fine.”
“That’s good.”
“What exactly is it that you do, Mr.-“
“Coulter. It’s Edward Coulter.”
“Marisa. Well?”
“I’m in politics. Currently and unofficially, I’m a sort of apprentice to the king’s current advisor.”
She cocked her head at him before her eyes dipped to consider his daemon. “Unofficial as in no pay?”
“Yes,” he chuckled, “Though I’m hoping the pay and the position changes soon. Not that I need much. My family-“
“I know the Coulters.”
“You do?”
Marisa nodded. He attempted to get a read on her face of how far her knowledge about his family went. Did she know their reputation on a professional level or had she been following everything? He found himself silently praying to the Authority that it was the former. Her expression told him nothing.
Edward was becoming desperate and he was sure his face had turned tomato red during this excruciating exchange. “The Watercourse Bill… any thoughts on which way it will go?”
“Oh!” It was the most emphatic syllable she had uttered all evening. Suddenly, Marisa’s attention had turned to Edward completely. It felt like being hit with a burning ray of sunlight. He breathed a sigh of relief as she began going on about the case for and against, never making it clear which side she preferred. He drunk up every word, even when she listed the merits of the wretched bill. “Well, what do you think?”
His response matched her passion. Edward’s back straightened as he spoke. His opinions were clear and articulate. He had always preferred to whisper his words into a powerful ear and let that man turn it into something of worth, but in this moment in front of this woman he was ready to stand behind a podium, raise his fists and take whatever punishment came from it.
At the end of the evening, Marisa took his hand. “It was wonderful to meet you, Edward. Do call.” She wrapped herself in her coat and stepped into the dark. Edward thought his heart would beat out of his chest.
Naturally, he called a few days later. Words of his old university friends about waiting long enough haunted him. Marisa was forgiving of his taste for suspense and agreed to meet again for a lunch. The words of the gentleman at the party were only partly right. Marisa had a mouth on her. She was energetic with speech and even after the first encounter he didn’t tire of hearing her voice. She encouraged him and imbued him with such confidence in his work that he was sure big things were coming for his career in no time.
He proposed within a matter of months. It may have taken less time if Edward didn’t agonize over what ring to buy her. The reflex was to give her his mother’s, but after spending enough time with her he knew he needed to find something uniquely Marisa, something that could only ever live on her hand. He would never forget the look of sympathy on her face when she accepted his proposal.
The Coulter family toasted to their new member in a private dinner party just a week before the wedding. It was the first time Marisa had been to Edward’s home, rules of propriety and concern over her reputation prevented it. Not that they hadn’t found other places to become more familiar with each other.
“What’s this?” Marisa’s eyes had caught the gun placed on a wooden plinth in the corner of the room. “Is it functional?”
“I believe so.” He placed a hand on her back. “Though the bullets inside have been there for so long, and the barrel hasn’t been cleaned for ages. I can’t imagine it is in the best shape. It’s more for show.”
“It’s beautiful.” Her fingers traced the silver swan from beak to webbed feet, just as he had.
“It’s yours.” Edward blurted.
Marisa turned to him with smile before giving him a kiss. “Of course, it’s mine. Home sweet home, in just over a week. We can put it somewhere better. It shouldn’t be here, hidden in the dark.” She left him there to go talk to the rest of the family, all of which were already in love with her. Edward received many bruises from relatives clapping him on the back in congratulations. It terrified him, their enthusiasm.
He would give her anything she asked for, anything she liked. He would find her a secretarial position to keep her busy. Maybe someone needed a woman’s help in the palace. He glowed at the idea of them going in to work at the same place. Leaving together, returning together. Marisa had chosen him, he had to make he never gave her reason to regret it.
After they married, the gun was placed in a more prominent position in one of the large halls. It sat between two large portraits of Coulter ancestors that were long past since anyone knew them on a true and honest level.
Like a blessing, shortly after the wedding vows were made and the honeymoon was well and done, Edward became the king’s advisor. With that responsibility came overseeing Jordan’s Council meetings to make sure scholastic sanctuary was being maintained by sensible minds. He had not expected to see his former school mate, not that the man remembered that fact himself, enter the room.
Lord Asriel’s reluctance to become friends was clear. It took ages to get him over, but somehow Edward managed a pleasant enough evening that the explorer was willing to return.
“I don’t know why you’re so dead set on establishing an ally with him,” Marisa told him late one evening. “He will bring you down.”
Edward waved off his wife’s concern. “It’s despicable the way people treat him. Asriel has done a great deal for this country. Academically and politically. I thought you’d take to him.”
Marisa sighed. “I don’t have the faith in him that you do.”
“It takes faith to imagine a better world.” Edward took Marisa in his arms. “He’s rude, but at least he stands for something.”
She broke away from him. “Is that a dig at me?”
“No, no never.”
“I have beliefs. I have ambition.”
“I know you do.” He sat down on the couch, better to let her have the higher ground. “I spoke to my colleague. There is a secretarial position opening up. I can put your name in.”
“A secretarial position,” she spat. “I can handle myself.”
She stomped away to the bedroom. Edward thought it better that he stayed on the couch for the evening.
There was a period in their marriage where she would switch on a dime from playing the ice queen to smothering him with warmth. The severe changes coming and going without warning aggravated him. A resentment was building underneath his skin. It began oozing out of his body like tar. He hoped she wouldn’t see.
“We should have a baby.”
The words took him so off guard he nearly broke his tea cup dropping it back in its saucer. “Now?”
Marisa pursed her lips at him. “Yes, now. I don’t see why not.”
“You hadn’t mentioned this before.”
“We would have children eventually.”
“Eventually, yes, I wasn’t expecting so soon.”
“Well,” she gestured to spotless room, “It’s not as if I have much else to do.”
“You have your papers, and I gave you the name of that man looking for help.”
“Ah, yes, this again. My fault I didn’t take him up on his glamorous offer.”
Moments like this he wanted to scream in her face. Instead, he simply bit his lip. “Work is seldom glamorous, Marisa. And neither is child rearing for that matter.”
“I know these things, Edward.” She pretended to focus on the papers in front of her. “Do you not want to be a father? With me as the mother?”
Edward interpreted a note of tragedy in her voice that softened him to her immediately. With all her moods, he couldn’t steel himself to her sadness. “I do, Marisa, and with you more than anything. You surprised me, that’s all.”
Marisa was on him, further emphasizing the surprise he just articulated. The following month he was the recipient of more passion from his wife than when the first got engaged. He was drowning in passion. Breakfast served with love, lunch with adoration, dinner with devotion. He relished it, but a seed of fear planted in his heart.
When she told him she was pregnant, he had plans drawn up for the nursery. With the dedication she had for conceiving the child, he thought she would melt at the designs. Instead, he was met with her lips pressed in a hard line and a one syllable approval. At least during her pregnancy, he could attribute the mood swings to biological sources.
Nothing compared to the guilt he felt when he heard his wife had gone into labor early while he was away. Edward traveled all night to return to her bedside. The room was deathly quiet. A choice of words, which only were uttered in his head, but felt like a crime.
“I should have been here, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Marisa.” He was only capable of holding her hand tightly. There was a wall that was up and he knew not to break it. The golden monkey watched him carefully from the end of the bed. “When you’re ready, we’ll try again. I love you.” She pulled her hand away from him as she turned over. He could see her heave even if he couldn’t hear the tears.
Edward wasn’t a fool, at least not completely, at least he hoped it wasn’t completely. A snide comment was made in front of his face. It was barely enough to lose sleep over, but that seed in his heart that was planted roughly a year before grew at the idea of it. He paid in cash. A focused investigation that looked into the current state of the estates. Every evening, as he tried to lull himself to sleep alone in the bed since Marisa had taken to one of the guest rooms since the stillbirth, he told himself he would find nothing. Servants lived off gossip, that was all.
Then his investigator sent word that a baby was most certainly seen under the care of Lord Asriel and a Gyptian woman. The timing could be a coincidence, but Edward recalled that he never saw the body of the child.
Marisa fell to her knees, sobbing into Edward’s shirt. Her fingers clasped him so tightly he thought the fabric would rip. She choked out words detailing an ordinary dinner with the usual company, a trip to the cellar to collect a special bottle of tokay, getting cornered and overpowered. She cried out descriptions of shame and guilt. He decided to believe her. He decided to hate him.
“You don’t despise me? You won’t throw me out?” Marisa looked up at him with wide eyes.
“No. Never.”
She covered her face. “I don’t deserve your mercy.”
“We have enough unkind people in the world as it is.”
The gun, the silver swan reflecting light straight into his eyes, sat in its place of prominence like it always did. It found itself in Edward’s hand.