For a Servant and a Master

Part 2: Chapter 2

The next morning, Isabelle was waiting for them as Jace and Alexander turned the corner in the garden. The tall shrubs practically made it a maze, and the boys had spent the latter part of the morning walking and talking.

"Good morning, Isabelle," Alexander said.

"We missed you at breakfast," Jace said, smirking. Isabelle had been noticably absent that morning, which was surprising given her love of food.

Her face temporarily seized up. "I slept late," she lied.

"And how is Simon?" Jace interjected before she could continue with her point.

"You must be mistaken," Isabelle said, hitting him with her folded up parasol. "Alexander, this is for you," she said, handing him an large envelope.

"What is this?"

"Lydia's information. And your backstory."

"Isabelle--"

"Jace knows," Isabelle said, reading Alexander's panic. "I told him yesterday."

"You think this is a good idea?" Alexander demanded of his brother.

"Obviously I don't want it," Jace said. "But people will get suspicious if you don't marry. "

"You told him everything?" he asked turning back to Isabelle.

"In person, in private," Isabelle explained. "I needed his help."

"Do you two think I'm incapable of running this family?"

"Everyone can use help," Jace said.

"And after--" Isabelle stopped, mid-sentence, because Jace's hand clamped down on her arm.

"I'm fine. I'm better," Alexander insisted.

"That's not what Mr. Davies is saying," Jace said carefully.

"So now you're conspiring with the servants?"

"Al--"

He turned and stalked out of the garden, his heart racing. He held the envelope close to his chest and his eyes down. He barely saw Mr. Davies before running into him.

His anger got the best of him.

"Did you tell my sister I've been having nightmares--"

"Sir--"

"I don't care to listen to your excuses about my well-being. I'm fine. Everyone has nightmares. If Isabelle asks again, you will tell her I'm fine."

"Of course, sir," Mr. Davies said. Alexander pressed forward into the house. "Mr. Lightwood, sir, we still need to finalize some details--"

"Go over them with Isabelle," Alexander ordered. "I'll be in my room but don't let anyone disturb me."

..........

The envelope contained a letter and a story.

The story was one of a boy and a girl, who met in a psychotherapist's office. The boy was there to cope with his trauma, and the girl her grief.

They were both there by force, and resented the stuffy old psychotherapist is the stuffy old office.

It was naturally a bonding moment.

They began talking outside of the office, explaining their stories and their place in life. Then they fell in love, despite their difficult pasts.

Alexander burned it when he had read it all.

..........

Jace knocked a little after ten.

They sat as they always had growing up: Alexander on the bed his arms wrapped around one of the bed posts, and Jace on the couch across the room.

"You weren't at dinner."

"My head is bothering me," Alexander said. It was mostly truth.

"Isabelle and I think you should start seeing a therapist."

"To cooberate Lydia's little story?"

"Because you need to talk about it," Jace said. "Clarissa knows an excellent one here in London, an old family friend."

"I am not interested in talking about what happened," Alexander said, wringing his hands in his lap.

"Then you're not going to get any better. You're going to keep having nightmares and--"

"I wasn't alone," Alexander confessed. He glanced up at Jace.

If he couldn't tell his brother, who could he tell?

"What do you mean?" Jace asked.

"I was running away to New York with someone."

"Someone?"

"Yes, a someone."

"And did they-- did they--"

"Yes," Alexander said. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to hold himself together. His fingers balled into fists. He wouldn't cry in front of Jace now. He had spent years dealing with this. He had spent years burying his grief. "Yes, he died."

"Did I know them?"

"You met, but you didn't know them."

"Oh," Jace said, nodding.

Alexander released the tension in his hands.

"I'll go. To therapist," Alexander said. "And Lydia. . . I'll marry her."