That Inevitable Victorian Thing

by E. K. Johnston

  Murray took them out smoothly, steering them surely around the point and then across the bay instead of turning towards the Marcus cottage. They headed into the lake at a leisurely cruising speed, and since Murray didn’t say anything further, August was similarly silent. His father would, no doubt, have any number of things to say, and August would simply have to weather them, and hope that by the end he hadn’t been entirely disowned.

  They cruised past the little inlet where August had taken the girls to fish. Thanks to glaciation and time, Lake Muskoka had hundreds of such inlets and an equal number of islands. It was a lake of narrows and tight spaces; at some points, mere metres cut by ice millennia ago were all that stood between a good commercial lake and complete impassability. Murray took them out into deep water, where the Segwun might be found if she were on the lake, and shut off the engines on the Lightfoot, leaving them to drift.

  He rummaged in the hold for the fishing tackle, and passed August a rod and a lure, and then cast his own line out. They were certainly not going to catch anything here, but August didn’t imagine for a second that fish were actually what his father was after. He was about to apologize, unable to stand the silence any longer, when his father finally spoke.

  “I understand why you did what you did,” Murray said. He was looking out at the forest, not at August. It was quiet on the lake, and August could hear the sound of trees being cut, however muted by the distance.

  “That’s no excuse for what I did,” August said as he finally cast his own line.

  “No,” Murray said after a moment. “What you did was illegal and dangerous, not to mention ill informed and potentially disastrous for not only every member of your family, but also every one of our employees, however you might have worked the finances to keep yourself separate.”

  “I know,” August said quietly. “Everything about it was stupid.”

  “It was extortion, August,” Murray said. “They always pick the greenest targets for that.”

  “You taught me better,” August pointed out.

  “True,” his father said and he was quiet again for several moments. “But I couldn’t teach you to be older and more experienced. We Callaghans have been a little too proud of doing things our own way, no matter what. When I think of all the traps I escaped when I was your age—and through nothing but sheer luck and your mother’s connections, mind you.” He shook his head, dismissing the memories. “Well, I should have been there for your first real test, and instead I was up to my neck in land negotiations. Which we have settled, by the way, for the next hundred years of shipping through the Trent-Severn.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” August said. “And I know it doesn’t mean very much, but I was able to talk to several high-ranking Navy officers in Toronto. They will take care of the Saint Lawrence Seaway. Callaghan Limited will be set there as well.”

  “I am relieved you were able to take action,” Murray said. “Presumably you did so without incriminating yourself?”

  “I don’t believe I did,” August said. “I merely humiliated myself. I look like an idiot, I suppose, but that was unavoidable given that I did so many idiotic things.”

  An opportunistic seagull had spotted them, and began to circle above the boat. It called out to other birds unseen, but since there was no food, it soon gave up and flew off towards better targets.

  “Could anyone else conceivably be implicated?” Murray asked.

  “Helena caught me, too,” August said. “But she wouldn’t let me tell her anything. I kept Hiram free of it entirely, and Evie as well. I didn’t use our driver in Toronto when I went to meetings, and I used my own money, as you suspected. As much as possible, I am the only one who is culpable.”

  “That is a small comfort, but a good one,” Murray said. “It makes my path much clearer.”

  “I will do whatever you decide, Father,” August said. The only way out was through.

  Murray nodded. He pulled a knife from his pocket and cut the GPS transmitter from the bundle, dropped it on the deck, and crushed it under his boot heel. Then he passed him the plastic-wrapped cash, and tilted his head in the direction of the lake. Without a word, August heaved the shameful package overboard, and it sank quickly and without a remarkable splash. Since they were in the Lightfoot, August didn’t have a GPS reading on where they were. Even if he wanted to, he would never be able to find the bag again. It was a tremendous relief, even with the uncertainty of what would come next.

  “You’ll sell your shares to Evelyn,” Murray said. “If she can’t afford them, I’ll buy them back, and sell them to her when she can.”

  August swallowed hard. He loved the forest and his work, but his father was right. He didn’t deserve them anymore.

  “Hiram will stay in the household if he wishes,” Murray continued. “We really should have a groundskeeper, and he does a lot of repair and maintenance, anyway. It will be relatively easy to make that official, and it will be a promotion besides.”

  August’s hands were frozen on the fishing pole, even though his father was already slowly reeling his in. August couldn’t make his hands move to do the same.

  “You will decide that you wish to become your own man, not inherit a business ready-made for you,” Murray said. “You will have the money from the sale of your shares, and you can go out west to see if you like the oil fields, or elsewhere in the Empire.”

  August couldn’t breathe.

  “Or,” Murray said, “you might try university. You have the intelligence and aptitude for engineering, for example. You could go to school in New London, perhaps, if Helena is still interested in you after you tell her what you have decided to do. She knows the truth, of course, so you will not be taking advantage of her if you let her choose.”

  August wasn’t sure how it was possible, but the earth felt very large and very small at the same time. He felt like his world had ended, but also that it had newly begun. It was a small chance, for a small life, and it was more than he deserved, but it was his. And his father was going to let him take it. Slowly and methodically, he began to reel in his fishing line.

  “Will you be able to talk to people, if I start us back now?” Murray asked. “I don’t mind staying out here for a bit if you need some time. I’ve been hiding in the boathouse all morning myself, and it wasn’t until you appeared on the end of the dock that I knew what I was going to do.”

  “I can go back, Father,” August said. His voice was quiet, but firm. “I haven’t made a decision yet, and I think Helena should have a great deal of say in what I decide, but I can go back.”

  “I agree with you on that,” Murray said. “I suppose this is why you have put off your proposal to her, and not whatever drama your sisters and Hiram’s have dreamt up?”

  “Yes, sir,” August said. “That’s why.”

  The Lightfoot started up, as August stowed the fishing tackle, and then Murray set their course for home. This time, Murray opened the throttle all the way and the roar of the engine was beautiful—and impossible to talk over. August wondered briefly whether he would ever get the chance to drive the Lightfoot again, but immediately dismissed the notion. He had much bigger things to worry about, and even though he would soon be leaving, he could come back and visit someday, even if it would never be home again. He took a seat at the back of the boat, where Margaret had sat the night of the disastrous fishing trip. It really was the best place to sit if you wanted to see the lake.

  AS THEY neared the dock, Murray cut the engine, and in the sudden quiet he spoke. “You protected our people in the Seaway,” he said with the quiet conviction August was used to hearing from his father. But then he continued with a trembling brokenness August had never heard. “That’s not nothing. Goddamn it, that’s not nothing.”

  He would help his father put the Lightfoot away, and then make his excuses to his mother and go over to talk to Helena, private
ly, as soon as possible. After that, well, he would see.

  His plans were almost immediately scuttled when his mother met them on the dock. She was clearly confused about why he had appeared in the middle of the day only to take the boat out with his father, but after exchanging a quick look with her husband, she said nothing until they had finished securing the Lightfoot.

  “August, I’m surprised to see you home,” she said, when they were all standing in the sunlight again.

  “My business in Toronto was finished,” he said. His voice was quite level.

  “Well, why don’t you go invite the girls over for tea?” she suggested. “We’d like to see them, and since you’re home, that makes it a party.”

  “Of course, Mama,” August said. “I’ll go ask them immediately.”

  He nodded to his father, who returned an even-keeled expression that August found gave him something like determination, and set out for Helena’s kitchen door. He was, as had been his custom of late, entirely unprepared for what he found there.

  Victoria-Elizabeth was twenty-five when she chose a spouse in haste. It was not a reckless choice; it was a necessary one, but it was fast-made nonetheless, and if Her Majesty or Edmund Claremont had been petty-spirited about it, it would have been disastrous on all fronts. Thanks be to God that our Queen and her Prince Consort are as wise and patient with each other as they are with the Empire.

  Upon Victoria-Margaret—not to mention her younger sisters—there is no pressure to wed. If there was a time to discuss changes, now would be it.

  —Meditations on the Genetic Creed,

  the Archbishop of Canterbury

  CHAPTER

  28

  There were a lot of people in the kitchen. Fanny, a frying pan in one hand, stood closest to the corridor to the main house, blocking the way. She didn’t move when Margaret and Helena arrived behind her, and Margaret was impressed by the older girl’s loyalty. Between Fanny and the outside door were two people whose type Margaret knew by sight, though she had never seen either of their faces before. The taller of the two, a broad-shouldered white man, stood with his feet planted securely on the tile floor, while the woman, smaller, and with skin darker than Margaret’s own, stood behind him. Both held their hands in clear view, but Margaret knew they’d be able to get their concealed weapons in a flash. The Windsor Guard was very well trained. Behind both of them was August, who stood just inside the door with a very confused expression on his face.

  “Fanny, it’s all right,” Margaret said.

  Fanny didn’t budge until Helena put her hand on her shoulder. She lowered the frying pan, but didn’t put it back on the stovetop.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Margaret said. August was gaping at her now, and Helena was a little startled, too. She was acting like a princess without really meaning to, and it was the first time Helena had seen it.

  “We’re sorry, ma’am,” the woman said. “I’m Agent Sawalha, this is McTaggert. We should have knocked, but we didn’t realize there was anyone in the kitchen.”

  “Apologize to Fanny later,” Margaret said. “In the meantime, please explain what’s going on.”

  “Margaret,” Helena started, clearly wondering whether she ought to get Fanny and August out of hearing range. Margaret considered it, and then shook her head. They’d all find out soon enough.

  “There was a photographer,” McTaggert said. Margaret felt her heart descend to her shoes. “We got all of his files and wiped them, but he was furious with us. He’s probably calling every newspaper he knows.”

  “Why would—” August began to ask, but Fanny was miles ahead of him.

  The frying pan still in her hand, she turned and looked Margaret right in the face. Margaret saw the moment when all the pieces fell into place in Fanny’s head, and reached out to grab her by the shoulders before she could curtsey.

  “Don’t you dare,” she said. “Don’t you even think about it.”

  Sawalha shifted, and Margaret let her hands drop. The Windsor Guard didn’t like it when royals were in close contact with unknowns, even though Fanny had been within arm’s reach of Margaret for most of the past few weeks.

  “Am I in danger?” Margaret asked. “Or is anyone else?”

  “No,” Sawalha said. “Even if your identity gets out, you are all safe enough. We’ll bring more agents up from Toronto, though, if only for crowd control. Assuming you want to stay.”

  Margaret shot a look at Helena, who nodded. Fanny bit her lip, clearly torn between excitement and surprise. The girls all looked at August.

  “I just need someone to say it out loud,” he said, awe in his face as he looked at Margaret.

  Helena crossed the floor to him, and took his hand. There was a tightness to his eyes that Margaret didn’t think was entirely due to her presence. Helena led him back, passing between the agents, and stopped when he stood in front of Margaret.

  “Lam August Callaghan,” she said, using the address that August only ever heard mentioned on the most formal of occasions. Like, for example, meeting the Queen. “I have the honour to present Her Royal Highness, the Crown Princess Victoria-Margaret, heir to the throne of the Empire, and my friend and guest.”

  Margaret extended her own hand, and August took it and bowed over it. It was entirely too absurd, but Margaret didn’t feel like laughing, not this time. She had deceived too many people to make fun of their enlightenment.

  “I’m glad to meet you, officially,” he said. “And I am glad you are here visiting.”

  “Highness,” said McTaggert, “with your permission, we have work to do.”

  “Of course,” Margaret said. “Thank you for your service.”

  “We’re sorry we didn’t get him sooner,” Sawalha said.

  “It’s a big lake,” said Helena.

  “Did you keep a copy of his pictures?” Margaret asked. Standard procedure was to deploy a –bot that wiped the memory of every device in range, from a tablet to a programmable coffeemaker, but it was possible the agents had preserved copies before they went in.

  “Here,” Sawalha said, holding up a memory card the size of her thumbnail. Margaret held out her hand for it, rather imperiously it must be said, and Sawalha handed it over, albeit rather reluctantly.

  “We’re sorry we startled you, miss,” McTaggert said to Fanny. “Your instincts are very good. That pan is the best weapon in the room.”

  “Thank you,” Fanny said. She set the pan back where it belonged as the agents made their exit.

  There were several seconds of complete silence. Then Fanny looked back towards Margaret and smiled.

  “Are you still going to come to my wedding?” she asked.

  Margaret responded with a smile of her own. “If I am still invited, of course,” she said. “We’ll tell the Callaghans as soon as possible, August. Your family has been so kind to me, I’d like them to know before anything leaks.”

  “They will appreciate it,” August said. “I mean, I have no idea how they will feel, but I imagine they’ll be thrilled. Matthew’s already telling anyone who will stand still about you teaching him and Addie the steps for the Rover.”

  “He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about that,” Helena said. “But I suppose I’m not really surprised.”

  “Come over for tea, then,” August said. “That’s what I was on my way over to invite you for, anyway. Sally made a cake and everything.”

  TEA WITH the Callaghans was almost anticlimactic after the scene in the kitchen. Margaret left out the photographer and her Guards’ near-bludgeoning, and the Callaghans were delighted to learn Margaret’s identity, and quite understanding of her precautions.

  “You deserve a holiday as much as anyone else,” Charlotte said. “We’ll make sure to carry on as we’ve begun, if you like.”

  “I’ll have a word with Addie and Matthew, though,” M
urray said, quickly figuring out where the most likely weak spots were. August was in awe of his father’s capacity to balance so many revelations. He had such a long way to go. “I’ll make sure they understand that this is something to keep to themselves.”

  “Thank you,” said Margaret, and went back to her cake.

  After an hour or so, Helena and Margaret made their excuses and went back to the cottage. Fanny had gone to watch the stars with Hiram, and then to spend the night with his parents in Port Carling, where they were staying a few days in a hotel to help plan the wedding. And so they were alone as Margaret got the chip and plugged it into her computer. Helena would have left her to it, but Margaret grasped the other girl’s hand, and pulled her back to sit on the chesterfield. Whatever was in the file, Margaret wanted to see it with Helena beside her, not anywhere else.

  They flipped through the shots in quick succession. The photographer must have had an even better lens than Margaret thought; there were pictures from days she didn’t even remember hearing a boat. There were hundreds of stills, swimming, sitting on the dock, but nothing particularly incriminating, such as it was, until Margaret opened the file labeled “Night Shots.”

  The pictures were all from the night that August took them fishing. There were pictures of him handing them into the boat, pictures of Helena leaning on Margaret’s shoulder after she had cast, and several pictures of Helena holding something strange in her hands as she pulled up the anchor, after the rain had started.

  “What in the world is that?” Margaret asked.

  Helena had gone very pale. She hoped the Windsor Guard were as thorough as advertised.

  “Are there any other pictures from that night?” she asked when her voice returned.

  Margaret looked at the file names, and shook her head. After this, the rain must have been too heavy for him to get anything good.

  “What is it?” Margaret said. “Why is there something attached to the anchor? Why are you holding it?”