That Inevitable Victorian Thing

by E. K. Johnston

  AUGUST SPENT most of breakfast mentally preparing himself to take leave of his mother again. She would be annoyed, of course. He would make sure to mention Admiral Highcastle, he decided. That might give her some idea of the seriousness of his trip. His father was no easier matter, though Murray’s time had been taken up entirely by the Trent-Severn routes of late, as the family’s lease was expiring and needed to be renegotiated with both the Algonkian and the Ojibwe First Nations, and he was less likely to question August’s decisions as a result of his own preoccupations. Having all but promised Helena that he would tell his father, August wasn’t exactly sure how to do it. He had been given free rein lately, and had all but hanged himself with it.

  Evie was looking at him oddly. He’d avoided her last night when she tried to ask him about his proposal, and he didn’t like to be on the outs with her. She was, of all his sisters, the only one who showed any interest in the lumber trade. The others were hardly layabouts, of course, but only Evie wanted to go into the family business. He was usually happy to have her, and shutting her out of that came no more easily than shutting her out of his thoughts about Helena.

  He would leave Hiram here, he decided. It was becoming increasingly clear to everyone that his valet was going to ask Fanny to marry him any day now, and someone ought to have the matrimonial success they hoped for this summer. It would be unfair to separate them again. Goodness only knew how long it might take Hiram to work up his nerve if his careful planning was in any way thwarted.

  August poured a cup of tea for Helena, who looked very nervous. He couldn’t blame her. She was now, for all intents and purposes, an accessory to his felony. He could kick himself from here to New Zealand for being so thoughtless. Worse, now he’d have to contrive how to make the drop before he left, in broad daylight. Piracy was not for the faint of heart.

  He reached for the marmalade, and cleared his throat.

  FANNY HAD breakfast by herself, which was not her usual custom. She was not by nature a solitary person, but neither did she like to be the centre of attention. In this way, working for Helena Marcus was perfect for her, and, if Fanny had read the signs correctly, that employment would not be ending any time soon.

  My predecessors have already made this argument with noted success, but I feel I should say it again: the inclusion of rabbinical thinking in the Church of the Empire has been one of our best decisions.

  Though it might have appeared pure politics to officially recognize all religions practiced in the Empire as part of its Church, the practical effects have been far-reaching. From Islam—the most numerous—to individual indigenous groups in Australia, we serve better when we talk like grown-ups and avoid petty squabbling.

  I single out Jewish traditions here to make a point: Anglicans are quite good at arguing with people, but they have never been particularly good at arguing with God.

  —Meditations on the Genetic Creed,

  the Archbishop of Canterbury

  CHAPTER

  23

  It was nearly noon before Helena and Margaret managed to make their escape from the Callaghans. The family was not particularly thrilled with the idea of August leaving for Toronto again, though when he reminded them that he had the good of the business in mind, there was not a lot they could say.

  Though in possession of two siblings of her own, Margaret did not have a brother and rather enjoyed Matthew’s company. After breakfast, he and Addie insisted on dance lessons, of all things, and Helena took the opportunity to teach them all the Rover, even though it wasn’t an entirely appropriate dance for children. She swore them to secrecy, solemn despite knowing the whole household could hear the music as they practiced. It was an entirely diverting experience, and not just because of the amount of time Margaret spent with Helena’s hands about her waist.

  The Rover bore a certain similarity to the Scottish dances Margaret already knew, but it was—there was no better way to say it—rather more handsy. Even the staid beginning of the dance, where the couple circled each other without touching, was overlaid with a certain amount of promise. Again, given the song, this made sense, but Margaret found it a bit breathtaking all the same, even before they practiced the reel portion of the dance, which was the part Matthew and Addie loved, as it was basically a free-for-all. Watching them attempt to fling each other across the room was a welcome distraction every time Margaret felt the flush that had nothing to do with exertion creep up her neck.

  “Is this dance particularly common in Canada?” Margaret asked, as they paused for a breath.

  “Parts of it,” Helena said. She was bent over to retie Addie’s slippers. “Not the Toronto parts, though.”

  Margaret tried to imagine the Highcastles or, more amusingly, her own mother and father, attempting the dance, and laughed.

  “Mother says it is a dance for young people,” Addie said. “And I am very young, but she says it’s not a dance for me.”

  “It isn’t a dance for you,” Helena said. “At least, not yet in public. But you should learn it so that in ten years, you can be good at it. That’s what your Mama told August and me, when we were too young to learn the steps and she taught them to us, anyway.”

  The children laughed conspiratorially, and Addie went to start the music again so that they could take another whirl.

  After the lesson, their mothers came to take the children swimming. The offer was extended to include Helena and Margaret as well, and Margaret was hot enough to give it serious consideration. But when Helena politely declined, Margaret was relieved. The roofless shower would be quite enough for her.

  “Just because the calendar has decided it’s summer doesn’t mean the water has,” Margaret observed as the swimmers made their exit. Helena pointed out that it was not technically summer yet, since they were still a few weeks from the solstice, and she made some comment about swimming in spite of ice on the lake and then something about a sauna, but Margaret only comprehended a fraction of it, as she found she was once again lost in watching Helena’s lips.

  August came in from his office then, and asked if they were going to stay for lunch. Helena declined that invitation, too, saying that they really ought to get home. Again, Margaret was not particularly regretful. There was something between Helena and August that Margaret didn’t like, and she didn’t think it was Helena’s secret that was the barrier. August was entitled to his own secrets, too, of course, but something about this made her decidedly uncomfortable. She was ready to go home.

  Home; now, there was an odd thought. She meant the Marcus cottage, of course, not England. Somehow, dangerously, home had become wherever she could be herself. Or, at least, she hoped that was the case. The alternative was that home was wherever she could be with Helena.

  “Mother will be sad to miss you at lunch,” August was saying, “but I do understand. I may not see you again before I head south. Is there anything you need before I go?”

  It was so dreadfully polite that Margaret nearly choked. Somehow, she didn’t think it would be any better if she weren’t present. This wasn’t restraint, on their parts: it was reservation.

  “I will give our apologies to your mother,” Helena replied. “And no, I don’t think there is anything. I hope your trip is worthwhile.”

  “Thank you.” It looked for a moment like he might hug her, or at least take her hand, but he did neither of those things. Instead he nodded, and left the room.

  Trained for politics as she was, Margaret did not need to be told not to ask questions. Instead, she took Helena’s arm, and led the way to the kitchen, where they’d left their shoes.

  “I’ve been thinking about our letter all morning,” she said. She smiled in spite of herself. “Well, when the dancing allowed me to, of course.”

  That got a smile out of Helena, too.

  “Anyway, I don’t think it will take me too long to write,” Margaret continued, “and th
en you can make whatever changes you like. Even with the time difference, I’m confident we’ll hear back today.”

  They stopped talking when they reached the kitchen, where Sally and the rest of Hiram’s sisters were holding court. As soon as they entered, the conversation stopped, but once Helena waved them off and indicated they were only looking for their shoes, the girls went back to their discussion, albeit this time in whispers.

  Margaret returned her slippers to the box from which they came. Several of the ladies in the house were knitters, and so there were always extra slippers around in case any guest arrived without their own. Helena pocketed hers.

  “My pair from last summer are nearly worn through on soles,” she said, when Margaret raised an eyebrow. “You can keep yours, too, if you like.”

  “Perhaps next time,” Margaret said. It would be nice to take those slippers home with her, all the way home, she meant this time.

  “You’re leaving us?” Charlotte said, appearing in the doorway of the kitchen. Again, the whispers at the table stopped, only this time they did not resume at all. Sally waved them away to their tasks.

  “Thank you so much for letting us stay last night,” Helena said. “But yes. We both have letters to write, and as much as I love it here, I do like writing where I can hear myself think.”

  Charlotte laughed. Usually, the house was as quiet as any in Muskoka, but when it was full of family members, it was something else altogether. “I quite understand. And I’m sorry it looks as though August will be off again. You must remember to come visit us even if he isn’t here, of course. We enjoy the company.”

  “Thank you,” Margaret said. “I like being in a large house with a large family. It’s not something I get to do very often.”

  “Next time you must tell us about your people,” Charlotte said. “It occurs to me that we only ever talk about Helena and August, and that is hardly polite of us.”

  Margaret managed a polite nod in response, and made a mental note to update her disguise with something that would pass muster when she was questioned by someone as perceptive as August’s mother. How her father would laugh if he could see her now!

  Helena was saying her good-byes, including those to the girls at the kitchen table. Fanny must have already gone home, so they walked down the path just the two of them. It was a lovely sunny day at last, all sign of the rain and thunder of the previous day gone. Margaret could hear the shrieking and splashing from the Callaghan dock. Perhaps the key was to get in and out as quickly as possible. Under the shade of the balsam needles, it was still cool. They did not hurry as they walked.

  “The beauty of this place never ceases to amaze me,” Margaret said. “It’s so green.”

  “Yes,” Helena said. “And in the autumn, when the trees turn, it’s all reds and oranges and golds. And in the winter it’s white, of course. But I like the summer best.”

  The kitchen door was open, and Helena and Margaret saw Fanny was filling the electric kettle.

  “Hello, Fanny,” Helena said. “I’m glad you were safe and dry last evening; did you have a good time?”

  “Oh yes, quite,” Fanny said. She put the kettle down and turned it on, then turned to face them. “And this morning, after breakfast, Hiram stopped in before he left to take August to the station and asked if I would marry him.”

  The squeal Helena emitted might have shattered glass, except all of the drinking cups present were melmac. It certainly shattered all reserve and decorum. She threw herself into Fanny’s arms, hugging the older girl with such unbridled delight that they both toppled onto the kitchen floor. Margaret’s own heart raced to see them. This was Helena when she was truly happy, and it was a sight that Margaret had not really seen before.

  “That is wonderful news!” Helena said. “I mean, I assume you said yes.”

  Fanny hiccoughed, she was laughing so hard. “Yes, of course I did.” Then, more seriously, she added, “Do you think I should have spoken with your parents first?”

  “No,” Helena said, and she went on to say something about how the housekeeper was the one Fanny should be worried about. But Margaret was lost trying to imagine Hiram’s proposal and Fanny’s acceptance. Had they managed a private moment? What words had he used? This too was something she would not have.

  “Anyway,” Fanny said, and took a deep breath. “I love Hiram, of course, which is the main reason I accepted his proposal. But we’re also a decent genetic match, it turns out, which is a great comfort. And, if I marry him, I can stay here. With you, I mean. If you stay, of course.”

  Helena’s face fell just slightly, but she immediately recovered. If Fanny blinked at just the right moment, it was possible she’d have missed it.

  “I would like that,” Helena said. “Oh, I would like that.”

  The kettle began to whistle, and Fanny went to get the tea. Helena got some of her cakes out of the cold box, declaring that it was not too early in the day for sweets, since they were celebrating.

  “Excuse me for just a moment,” Margaret said. She hated to break up the happiness, but was all too aware of the five hours between her and her godfather. “I’ll go and get our writing things, and then they’ll be ready for us.”

  “Oh, I’ve got so many people to tell!” Fanny said. “Let me tell your parents?”

  “Of course,” Helena said. “It’s your news, after all.”

  As Margaret left them, they began to talk about the sort of dress that would suit Fanny best. She supposed that this had been the topic Sally and the others had been whispering over when Helena and Margaret interrupted them, and they had stopped so that Fanny would be able to share her own news.

  She was going to have to work on her disguise for people other than August’s mother, she realized. That, or come clean and hope for the best. First, though, she had a letter to write.

  The Computer is sufficient if you want to know your future without taking into account your soul. I don’t mean in the eternal sense, but in the worldly. The Computer can tell you if your genes are prone to carcinoma or if you might be six feet tall, but it cannot tell you if you will enjoy dancing or if you will prefer cake to pie. I would argue that the latter is more important in terms of a long and healthy relationship.

  The Computer cannot tell you who you will love. It can only warn you what to expect with regard to the health of your children. It is a tool, and a good one, but it should not be the receptacle of your faith. I feel that someday soon, we may grow past any software updates the programmer-monks can design.

  —Meditations on the Genetic Creed,

  the Archbishop of Canterbury

  CHAPTER

  24

  By the time Margaret returned to the kitchen, Helena knew as many details about the wedding as Fanny did, which is to say: not many, though they had agreed on a canopy. The rest would come soon enough. Margaret brought Fanny’s screen along with her own and Helena’s, and they all gathered around while Fanny contacted her parents and then Helena’s to share the news. If Dr. and Dr. Marcus were surprised to be receiving news of Fanny’s engagement instead of their daughter’s, they didn’t show their disappointment. They gave their warmest regards to Fanny, and Helena knew that they were probably already thinking up some elaborate gift, now that Fanny couldn’t refuse it.

  “And how are you girls doing?” This from Helena’s mother, once Fanny passed her the screen so that she might have a moment with her parents.

  “We’re well,” Helena said, gathering her composure. “Margaret is a natural, and the Callaghans have been fantastic, as always.”

  She made no mention of August, and her parents didn’t ask her about him. They were, of course, too polite to ask if she had used her –chip.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Gabriel Marcus said. “I know you’re old enough to be on your own there, but I feel better knowing the Callaghans are keeping an eye on y
ou.”

  “And Fanny, too,” Anna Marcus said, then she smiled. “For now, at least.”

  “Write me a –gram with what you’re planning,” Helena said, very well aware that Fanny could hear her. “I want to know ahead of time.”

  “Of course, my darling,” Anna said. “Now, we must be off to the hospital.”

  “On a Saturday?” Helena asked. Her mother was high ranking enough that she didn’t often work on the weekends.

  “I can’t tell you, Helena, and you know it,” Anna Marcus said. “But yes, on a Saturday.”

  Helena gave them her love, they reciprocated, and then the call was over. She set the screen down, and reached for a cup of now mostly cold tea. Her mother was working with at least one patient today. And Helena was about to ask the Archbishop of Canterbury for help, instead of the most respected placement geneticist in Canada. She caught Margaret’s eye, and the other girl smiled. Anonymity, something she wouldn’t have if she asked her mother. That was reason enough.

  Fanny came back to the table for her screen.

  “I’m going to write the rest of my –grams on the dock, if you don’t mind,” she said. Then she took a few of the cakes wrapped in a serviette and headed out into the sunshine.

  “Well, that was exciting,” Margaret said, when she had gone.

  “And I’m so glad. I didn’t know if Hiram would ever work up his nerve.”

  “Did he lose the hand recently?” Margaret asked.

  “Yes, two years, I think? No, three,” Helena corrected herself. “His accident was three years ago, and then there was rehabilitation for a year, and he’s been with August ever since. August likes him tremendously.”

  “Has he liked Fanny the whole time?” Margaret toyed with a cake, breaking it into pieces that were far smaller than she needed. She made sure to be mindful of the crumbs.