by Lev AC Rosen
“Well,” said the Queen, who was watching from the side, her soldiers having escorted her out from wherever they had barricaded her, “this has been almost as exciting as the faire with the explosion that sent that irritating earl across the room.” The Queen fanned herself idly and looked at Violet expectantly.
“I’m so sorry, Your Majesty,” Violet said, “for everything I’ve done.”
“My dear girl,” the Queen said, “you’ve saved the day. Nothing to be sorry about. And your machine is quite remarkable, certainly proving you worthy of Illyria.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Violet said. She felt her eyes begin to water.
“Oh dear,” said the Queen. “You musn’t cry, Violet. People will think you’re just a girl.”
Violet looked up at the Queen, who was smiling in a motherly way at her. She wiped the tears from her face, but they kept coming.
“Violet?” came a voice through the crowd. “Violet, my God, what’s happened?” Her father emerged from the crowd, looking tan and panicked. “Violet!” he said when he saw her, and ran to hug her. Violet clung to his chest and cried there for a long while as he stroked her hair. When she looked up again, most of the people around her were gone. Her father looked down at her. “That was a very stupid thing you did,” he said. “When I heard the fighting, I ran over, but you were fending off those things like a hero in armor. I knew it was you, because the face on that thing—” He motioned toward Pallas. “It looks just like your mother. But it was still a very stupid thing.”
“I’m sorry,” Violet said.
“We’ll talk about it later. I’m just so happy you’re safe,” he said, his voice cracking with tears. “It’s a good thing they liked me in America. We can move there.”
“I thought there was something funny about you,” came Toby’s voice from behind them. Violet turned. Ashton walked alongside Toby, who supported a limping Miriam, and Drew and Fiona were a short ways behind them. Fiona’s hair had come completely undone.
“Are you all right?” Violet asked Miriam.
“Fine,” Miriam said, nodding. “A sprained ankle, a cut on my cheek, a few bruises. How are you?”
“I’m fine, too,” Violet said, looking down at herself.
“I wasn’t asking after cuts,” Miriam said.
“I’m sorry I lied to all of you,” Violet said.
“Eh,” Toby said, waving her off. “You’re still a mate in my book, right, Drew?”
“Fiona told me she was a woman ages ago,” Drew said. “Doesn’t matter to me.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” Toby asked, turning on him.
“She told me not to,” Drew said.
“I can’t believe it,” Toby said. “Not telling me.” He crossed his arms and frowned. Drew ran forward to embrace him in apology. Fiona sighed and rolled her eyes behind them.
“Where’s Jack?” Violet asked.
“He ran off,” Ashton said. “Said he had an errand to run.”
“Oh,” Violet said.
“There’s something you should see,” Ashton said, and took his sister’s hand. Confused, Violet followed him to a wrecked table on one side of the room. There was a smashed bronze shape on top of it, and below that, a dented plaque that read
A MODEL OF A CRAFT BUILT FOR TRAVELING THE STARS, PRESENTED BY THE DUKE OF ILLYRIA AND MISS VIOLET ADAMS
Violet gasped, and felt a sob pull its way out of her chest.
“You didn’t need to dress as a man to prove anything, it turns out,” Ashton said. “You proved it all just by writing to him.”
Violet felt herself fall to her knees before the plaque, her brother still holding her hand.
“He must love you, Violet,” Ashton said.
“Not anymore,” Violet said, trembling. Not anymore. She fell into an ocean of her own tears, and then into darkness.
XLII.
CECILY felt a thousand things welling up inside her. She hated Violet, because she was Ashton, whom she had loved, but who didn’t exist. But she had liked Violet so much when they had met. Surely, Cecily thought, she was no sapphist, for when she had thought of Ashton on their wedding night, she had imagined him with generous equipment of the sort he apparently did not possess, and with those loving green eyes looking down on her … No, Ashton didn’t have green eyes. Who had green eyes? It didn’t matter. She felt foolish and betrayed by Ashton—but not by Ashton, by Violet. There was only Violet. And Violet had saved her life. Surely she should be grateful for that.
She rolled over on her bed. She had come straight home by cab and flung herself into her room, her face wet with tears, and now her dress was wrapped around her from her tossing and turning. She had slept and cried and thought and she wasn’t even sure what time it was anymore. Probably the next day. The light through her window was bright, but she knew it had been darker at one point, too. Her stomach felt tight and jumpy.
She felt guilty for not being more grateful to Violet, but surely it was understandable. She would write her a nice note, saying, Thank you for saving my life, and please never come near me again. That was the polite thing to do. Cecily sat up and wiped her face, which was sticky and felt disgusting to the touch. She wanted to take a bath. But she would write the note first. She sat down at her little desk and took out paper and quill, when there was a knock at the door.
“Yes?” Cecily called.
“Cecily, dear,” said Ada, poking her head in. “Someone just came by and left this for you.”
“Left what?” Cecily asked suspiciously. She didn’t believe anything good could come to her any longer. Ada opened the door all the way and held out a cage. In it was a small, completely white rabbit, with ears sticking straight up from its head. The cage was golden, and had the name CONSTANCE carved on the bottom of it. “Oh,” Cecily said, for the rabbit was wiggling its nose and staring up at her most adorably. “Who brought it?” she asked.
“A young man,” Ada said. “A student here. I don’t know his name.”
Cecily furrowed her brow and knelt down to put the cage on the ground and open it. Constance hopped out and sniffed Cecily’s knees. Cecily stroked her ears. Constance looked up at her, and then, as if by magic the room filled with the sound of a hundred birds, all singing sweetly and in perfect harmony. Cecily became lost in the sound of it, of the joy of it, and felt herself floating. She hadn’t thought she would be happy ever again, and then, so suddenly, so easily, here it was again, the feeling of joy. It was as if all her cares were washed away by the birdsong. She looked down at the music-making rabbit, and suddenly realized who had sent it.
“Which door did he deliver it to?” Cecily asked, standing up.
“The one that leads to the bridge,” Ada said. “Why?”
Cecily had no time to explain. She ran past Ada to the door to the bridge and flung it open. He was walking away, nearly at the end of the bridge, and she chased after him. When she was close enough, she called out his name. He turned around and smiled, his green eyes flashing.
“Jack!”
“Yes, Cecily?”
She grabbed his collar, pulled his mouth toward hers, and kissed him. It was her first kiss, and she felt as though the flower that had once bloomed inside her now exploded. Its petals flew up and everywhere, then floated down softly on the breeze. It was perfect.
“Cecily, marry me?” Jack asked.
Cecily grinned. After all, it had always been Jack. He made her laugh, he spoke to her of how he felt and understood how she felt as well, and she hadn’t been able to see it. “No,” she said. Jack’s face fell. “Not yet, anyway. We haven’t had a proper courtship. And besides, you must focus on your studies. I will marry you in two years’ time, after you have graduated.”
“You’ll make me wait that long?”
“Am I not worth it?”
“No one is more worthy!” Jack said, and threw his hands around her waist and lifted her in the air. She shrieked with laughter.
“Come,” she said when h
e had put her down again. She took his hand in hers. “We must go tell Ernest. He is my guardian.”
“I don’t know if he’ll want to see me,” Jack said. “After all, I am, or was, Violet’s roommate. I was in on her scheme from the beginning.”
“I know,” Cecily said, “and you tried to keep me from falling in love with her, which was so sweet of you, dear boy. If I can forgive you, surely Ernest can as well. In fact, you should run and get Violet. I wish to apologize to her for my rudeness yesterday. She saved my life, and I was horrible to her.”
“I’m sure she understands,” Jack said. “She felt terrible for lying to you. She wanted you so badly to be her friend.”
“And we will be friends,” Cecily said after a moment. She understood why Violet had done what she had, and now that her own heart was no longer broken—was, in fact, feeling stronger and beating more furiously that it ever had—she forgave her. “Is she in the mechanical lab?”
“No,” Jack said, “she’s gone home. After yesterday, she felt she was no longer welcome here at Illyria. Especially after all she had been through with the duke.”
“No longer welcome?” Cecily said, putting a hand on her hip. “Well, I’ll see to that. Ernest loves her, and he would be a fool to ignore that, just because of … a little trick she played on all of us. Every time he received one of her letters, his face lit up as I had never seen it. He thought I didn’t notice, but I did.” Cecily smiled slyly. She had been leading Jack by the hand back across the bridge to the residence, but stopped now. “Is she still at her house in town?”
“Yes. She’s going back to the country tonight.”
“Then we haven’t much time. Wait here. I will write her a letter. You must deliver it with all haste and see that she comes to meet me as I request.”
“Oh?”
“Wait here,” she said, pushing on his chest. It was a strong chest, firm, and she let her hand linger there. “I’ll be back in a moment.” She turned to go, then turned back again and kissed him briefly on the mouth before running inside. Jack waited with a grin on his face. All his plans had come to fruition, and he knew without a doubt that at that moment he was that happiest man in the world. He couldn’t keep still; his happiness was pouring out of him. And so he danced back and forth on the bridge above the Great Hall until Cecily emerged again with a letter for Violet.
“Take it to her quickly,” she said, and pressed the letter against his chest. He took it, kissed her, and ran back down the bridge to deliver the note. Cecily stared after him in wonder, and then turned around again to go back inside.
Ada was standing in the doorway, watching. “Feeling better?” she asked.
“Love is complex,” Cecily said.
“Yes,” Ada said, putting her arm around Cecily’s shoulder, “it is.” She and Cecily walked back inside.
“I’ll need your help ironing out some of those complexities,” Cecily said, “for Ernest.”
“I’d be glad to.”
“You knew the whole time, didn’t you?” Cecily asked.
“I did.”
“And you didn’t say anything?”
“Violet had a point to make, and she made it. You are truly lucky, Cecily, to be a genius, and a woman, but to still be allowed in this place. Violet had to disguise herself as a man to take what your birth gave you. I supported that.”
Cecily nodded. “I’m old enough to be a student here next year,” Cecily said. “Perhaps I should apply.”
“I think you should,” Ada said. “I’ll gladly write a recommendation for you.” Ada went into the sitting room and lit a cigar.
“Where is Ernest?” Cecily asked.
“With the police, I believe. Volio is in prison, but things still needed explaining.”
“He’ll be back soon, though?”
“I would imagine.”
“Good. And where is Miriam?”
“Resting in bed, with her leg up, on my orders. She seems quite put out about it, though. She’s not the sort who rests well, it seems. I gave her pen and paper and some books. She was quite involved in The Woman in White when I left her. And she’s had flowers sent. From one of the students.”
“Oh?” said Cecily, raising her eyebrows.
“Yes,” Ada said with a knowing look. “Apparently, Volio caught them together and threatened to tell the duke about it if Miriam didn’t bring you his letters and make you love him in return—as though she could do that. So she wrote him false letters, and when he found out, he went quite mad. He’s been raving about it from his prison cell.”
“Oh,” Cecily said. “That was my fault. He tried to speak to me and I laughed at him.”
“It’s not your fault, dear.”
“I suppose. But I feel horrid anyway. She wouldn’t have been hurt if not for me, if what you say is true.”
“Go see her, then. I’m sure she’ll forgive you. She’s in her room.”
Cecily nodded and went to Miriam’s room. Miriam was on her bed, with her leg elevated on some pillows, reading.
“Miriam—,” Cecily began.
“Did Jack deliver his gift?” Miriam asked.
“Yes,” Cecily said, startled.
“And?”
“He asked me to marry him. I said yes, but in two years’ time. He must focus on his studies.”
“Oh, good,” Miriam said. “He is a good young man. And he loves you wildly.”
“And,” Cecily said, smelling the large bouquet of flowers on the nightstand, “it seems you are loved wildly as well. By a student, Ada says.”
“Yes,” Miriam said, looking down. “Toby Belch.”
“Has he asked you to marry him?”
“No,” Miriam said, “and he never will. And if he did, I would say no. He is a baron. I am a dark-skinned Jewess.”
“Oh,” Cecily said, staring down at the flowers. They were red and in full bloom.
“It’s all right,” Miriam said. “I’m happy with the way things are. He’s offered to buy me a house.”
“But you live here.”
“Not for much longer. Your cousin will fire me soon—he’s been kind to let me come back at all. And besides, you don’t need me anymore.”
“Ernest won’t fire you,” Cecily said, aghast. “I won’t let him.”
Miriam laughed. “Then I shall quit,” she said. “I can no longer be your governess, Cecily. You’re a woman. You don’t need one. I will always be your friend, though. Une amie pendant la vie.”
Cecily leaned down and hugged Miriam as tightly as she could, and Miriam squeezed her back.
“Now let me rest,” Miriam said, “and read my book. It’s very exciting.”
Cecily smiled and left. She heard the front door to the residence slam shut downstairs, and Ernest mumbling as he came in. He was in a foul temper. Cecily ran back to Ada, who had gotten up and was heading toward him.
“Auntie Ada,” Cecily said, “tell Ernest I wish to see him in the garden, in half an hour’s time, and that I am quite upset. Promise?” Ada looked her up and down and nodded, and then walked off. Cecily ran to her room and quietly shut the door. She knew her plan would go smoothly in the end—it had to. She felt so full of love and happiness, and could not imagine a world in which others could not be filled with it, too.
* * *
VIOLET read the letter Jack handed her, feeling relieved but sad that it was from Cecily, not the duke. Her father and Ashton were sitting near her, sipping tea.
Dearest Violet,
I hope you will excuse my behavior yesterday. I owe you many many thanks for saving my life and I will do all I can to repay you. I admit, I was upset, but I understand now why you had to deceive me, and that you were only trying to be my friend. I asked you once to call me sister, and I hope you still will. Please come and meet me at the garden outside Illyria, so that I may make amends.
Sincerely,
Cecily Worthing.
“I should go,” Violet said. “I owe her an apology.”
“I agree,” Ashton said. “After all, lady geniuses such as yourself and Cecily ought to be friends, so as to make the rest of us quake in our boots with fear aroused by your combined potential.”
“You should make amends,” Mr. Adams said, “for all you’ve done. But come back here afterwards. We’re going home tonight. You need some fresh country air to clear your head.”
“Of course,” Violet said. She had spent much of the night crying, and her eyes were tired, but by now she had resigned herself to her new life. No more Illyria, no more letters from the duke. Just back to her lab in the basement of their country home. Toby, Drew, Fiona, and Miriam promised they would visit her, so at least she had that. But it was not going to be the same. She stood, and everyone in the room saw how her shoulders had fallen and how she looked as though she had been defeated by a strong blow to the stomach.
“I’ll go,” she said. She took a silver hat to match her gray dress from the side table and put it on.
Jack walked out with her. “Cecily said she’d marry me,” Jack said, “in two years.”
Violet smiled. Jack glowed with joy. But it still wasn’t enough to overpower her own sorrow. “I’m so happy for you, Jack. And for Cecily, too. I will tell her.”
Jack had kept the cab waiting for her. They climbed into it and rode in silence to Illyria. Ashton had reported that the scandal Violet had expected wasn’t as bad as anyone had feared. The Queen’s forgiveness, and Violet’s heroic actions, had retold the story, painting Violet a tragic heroine. She did not feel heroic, though. For the first time in her life, she felt lost. She knew that her gears and springs would never be enough to satisfy her ever again. She would spend the rest of her life empty and alone.
Illyria loomed up in front of them as they got out. Violet had to stop for a moment as she gasped with pain and nearly burst into tears at the thought of never being able to enter it again.