She zoomed in on the shot while she was waiting for Helena’s answer. There was something familiar about the bag’s contents, she realized, though of course it had been a while since she’d held anything of the sort herself.
“Money?” Margaret said. “I don’t understand. Why is there money attached to the anchor? Why would . . .”
She trailed off. She was a princess, but she was a Navy officer’s daughter, too. She knew about the American pirates who plagued the Great Lakes. She knew how difficult it was to stop them.
“August was losing one ship in ten,” Helena said, her voice completely level. “He was desperate. This was before he had a clear path to Admiral Highcastle. I made him stop. He went back to Toronto to lobby the Navy. His father was short with him at tea, so I assume Murray knows now, too. I haven’t had time to talk to him again, but I assume he’s worked something out.”
“He was paying Americans?” Margaret said. “That’s illegal. Helena, I was in that boat, too.”
“I know!” Helena said. “I didn’t know about what he was doing and he didn’t know about you. I was furious with him, even though I couldn’t tell him exactly why. It’s bad enough he’d implicate me, let alone Admiral Highcastle’s niece, which is who he thought you were. He promised to fix it.”
“Is that why you’ve been so happy to kiss me?” Margaret asked. “Because you were angry with him?”
“I wanted to kiss you before all that,” Helena fired back, recoiling. “Did you think you were my backup plan? If I wanted a backup, I’d certainly pick someone simpler than the Crown Princess of the Empire!”
Margaret slumped.
“I’m sorry,” Helena said, instantly regretful. She was not usually so rash with her words. “I—”
“No, I deserved that,” Margaret said. “All my talk about love being hard work, and I go and say something like that to you. I’m sorry.”
“We all had too many secrets,” Helena said. “Some of them were bound to hurt.”
“We still have secrets to tell August,” Margaret reminded her.
“We should do it sooner rather than later,” Helena said. She took a deep breath. “I’m intersex,” she said. Her voice didn’t quaver. She said it again: “I’m intersex.”
“And I love you,” Margaret said. She put her arms around Helena’s neck, and pulled her close. Helena came, and folded against her. They were a heart-stoppingly perfect fit.
“I love you, too,” Helena said, the words almost muffled against Margaret’s shoulder, but Margaret felt she would have heard them through a blizzard.
Margaret lay back, so that Helena was on top of her, and both of them stretched out on the length of the chesterfield. Helena’s weight forced all the air out of Margaret’s lungs, but at the same time she felt like she was flying. Helena’s mouth found hers as Margaret guided her hands under her shirt. Her heart was pounding in her ears as fingertips ghosted across her skin, exploring with a touch so light it was fit to light her on fire. She wanted more.
She squirmed, trying to get out of her shirt and mostly succeeding in knocking her teeth into Helena’s nose. Helena laughed at that, low and soft, more air across Margaret’s cheek than anything else. It warmed her, knowing that awkwardness and intimacy could be held so closely together. Helena helped her pull her shirt off, and then found her lips again. They were definitely getting better at this part.
Helena moved, shifting down and trailing kisses in her wake. Her fingers dipped below the waistband of the loose trousers Margaret was wearing, and she paused. Margaret had a moment to decide. Helena pulled away, waiting for that final permission, which Margaret gave by guiding her fingers those last few inches to where they were most wanted.
THE MORNING brought both a carpenter to finally repair the back bedroom window, which was expected news, and the daily Toronto paper, which was not.
I sometimes wonder if these meditations will be enough. Or maybe they will be too much, pushing too far, and I will be the first person excommunicated by the Church of the Empire in decades.
But we must ask. We must question. We must be ready to face an Empire and a world that changes faster than we do. It will be hard. There will be a lot of shouting. And we must listen to it.
It is too much for an Archbishop. It is too much for the Church’s Council of the Faith. It is too much for the Queen or any of her Ministers or the cleverest of the programmer-monks.
But together, we might be up to it.
—Meditations on the Genetic Creed,
the Archbishop of Canterbury
CHAPTER
29
August hadn’t even managed to start unpacking yet. Hiram would never let him hear the end of it if he wasn’t settled by the time his valet returned from visiting his parents with Fanny, but it felt like he’d hardly had any moment to think, let alone sort his laundry. He’d only just arrived home when his father had upended his whole world—no less than he deserved—and then his mother had sent him off to invite the girls for tea and dessert, and then, well. It wasn’t exactly “the girls” anymore. It was Helena, and it was the Princess Victoria-Margaret.
Part of him was genuinely amused by the entire chain of events. Helena had always been a quiet, private girl, and he knew she hadn’t sought the notoriety of a Toronto debut, though she certainly deserved it, with or without her mother’s influence. He had been so proud of her, to see how she’d held her own with Elizabeth Highcastle and with the girl he thought was Elizabeth’s cousin. Clearly, Helena didn’t resent Margaret’s true position, though it would undoubtedly cast more of a spotlight on Helena herself than she would ever want.
Or, he mused, perhaps not. Since last Thanksgiving, when he and Helena had said their good-byes and made their not-quite promises to each other, she had changed. He thought at first it was the result of graduation and her readiness to step into his family business, but now he wasn’t so sure. She had always been self-confident, within her own sphere at least, as much at home with his family as she was with her own, but now he got the impression that she would willingly face the whole world, if she had to, and he couldn’t exactly claim credit for that.
He had fouled up very badly with the Americans. He knew now that it had been stupid to try solving the problem on his own, especially by funding what was sure to be an arms race. It wasn’t entirely fixed yet, by any means, but Admiral Highcastle had, by proxy, promised a greater naval presence in the Great Lakes and in Georgian Bay, and that would help. In the long run, though, the might of the Empire’s Navy would win through. And August’s father had cut him loose with more grace than he deserved. He would spend the rest of his days in some kind of service repaying that shame. It was too much to hope that Helena would endure him now, but he very selfishly let himself dream that she might, anyway.
He wouldn’t be able to do anything until he got out of bed, so he did that, and opened his suitcase before his stomach growled and he decided he needed breakfast before he could face the task. He found a pair of trousers and a summer flannel, as it was still chilly in the shade in the morning, and headed downstairs.
He knew something was wrong as soon as he entered the dining room, because all conversation ceased immediately, and every pair of eyes turned to him before his family jerked their faces back to the direction of their own plates. The only one who still looked at him was Addie, though what she was doing might be better described as glaring. She pushed her chair back before her mothers could catch her, and bolted over to him. August couldn’t begin to imagine what had made her so angry, and was therefore completely unprepared for it when she stomped on his slipper-clad foot as hard as she could with her hiking boots.
“Ow!” For a seven-year-old, she could put a lot of weight into that.
“Addie!” her mama said. Addie stuck out her tongue to the room in general, and then fled. No one reprimanded her any further.
&nbs
p; “What is going on?” August asked. It probably wasn’t the pirates. His father would be yelling if it were the pirates.
“Here,” Molly said, sliding a tablet towards him.
He stopped it at the end of the table and took a seat before he started to read. He figured out the problem immediately.
“I didn’t,” he started to say, but his mother cut him off.
“Of course not,” she said. She was furious, but not with him. “It’s all rubbish. But it’s still in the paper, so we’ll have to deal with it.”
“We’re not the only ones,” Evie muttered darkly, glancing in the direction of the Marcus cottage.
“I should go over,” August said, but his father was shaking his head.
“No,” he said. “You should give that poor girl some time. And then, I imagine, she’s going to have a very uncomfortable talk with her parents.”
Everyone at the table squirmed. They all knew that Murray Callaghan was talking about Margaret, not Helena, though undoubtedly Helena had an awkward conversation in her own future as well, no thanks to August.
“Oh, dear,” said Charlotte rather suddenly. Everyone turned to her. “I sent the carpenter over this morning. He was finally free.”
“Well, maybe he didn’t have time to read the paper,” Murray said. “Helena would have no trouble turning him away if Margaret needed time to herself.”
August was rather impressed that his mother could still think of carpentry and that his father could think of the Princess the same way he did yesterday. It made him feel much better, too, though he was long past the age where he was used to his parents solving his problems for him. It was nice to know they were still steady and relatively unflappable, even if that could not be said for every member of the family.
“Why was Addie so angry?” August asked.
“She read the whole thing before I got here,” her mother said. “And she still believes what she reads in the paper.”
“She’s angry with you for toying with her beloved Princess,” Molly said. She made a noise that may have been a snicker.
“She’s only known about that for twelve hours!” August protested.
“And yet,” said his sister-in-law.
It seemed that most of his family had been lingering over their breakfasts on his account. Now that the news had been broken to him, they all drifted away to their own tasks, or to give him space. He wasn’t sure which. Evie hovered, and then came to sit in the chair next to his.
“What is it, Ev?” he asked.
“No one really believes it, you know,” she said. “I don’t think Addie even does, really. She just wants to be angry at someone.”
“I know that,” he said.
“But you haven’t proposed,” Evie said. “We all thought we’d be wedding planning by now, and you haven’t proposed. August, what is going on?”
“I was stalling,” he admitted. It was as much as he could say. He owed Evie an explanation about the change in his fortune, but he owed one to Helena first. She had not been mercenary in her marriage aspirations, but such things had to be considered now.
“Did you change your mind?” she asked.
“No, of course not,” he said. It was so much more complicated than that. “Only there was the debut, and then the month in Toronto, and then I was behind at work, and then Margaret came up here to escape involvement in Elizabeth Highcastle’s engagement drama, and I didn’t think it was fair to plunge her into ours right away.”
He couldn’t bring himself to tell her about the changes in his future plans, and how they would affect her. Their father would tell her when the time was right, once everything was firmly settled. Then everyone’s lives would change. He could only hope she would still respect him afterwards. Evie would become one of the most powerful people in Canada, and she would share the title with no one. August found he was truly happy for her, despite what it meant for him, and that joy stood between himself and his own fears.
“August, those are all terrible reasons,” Evie said. “But I suppose you’re both young. There’s no reason to rush.”
“It’s not that,” August said. “At least, I don’t think it’s that.”
“What do you mean?” Evie reached for the coffeepot and poured him a cup. She pushed the creamer at him. Somehow, even though he was only telling her half of his thoughts, the conversation was helping to settle him down.
“It’s just my impression,” he said, stirring the coffee. “I have to ask Helena to be sure, but I think it’s almost as though I wanted her to be family and she wanted to be in this family, and we both got caught up in that.”
“But you love her,” Evie said. “And she loves you. It’s clear as day on both your faces every time you’re close to each other.”
“I do,” August said. “And I’m pretty sure she does. But I don’t think it’s that simple anymore.” He managed not to choke on his words.
“You make no sense, little brother,” Evie said. She pushed her chair back and stood up. “I’d recommend sorting out your thoughts before you try running any of that past Helena, but do it soon.”
“Yes, oh wise older sister,” August said, bowing over his coffee cup. Evie smacked him on the head as she walked behind him and left him alone with his coffee and the blasted paper.
Now that he had calmed down and everyone had left him alone, he read the article again. It wasn’t particularly damning. If it hadn’t been about the Crown Princess, August doubted that a reputable paper would have printed it. It was only a shade above something that might appear in the tabloid or, at best, in one of the fashion and gossip magazines that Elizabeth Highcastle so often appeared in. There were no named sources and no interviews. It was, as far as August could determine, entirely based on the story of the photographer that the Windsor Guard had nabbed the day before. Someone was going to be in deep trouble when the Queen of the Empire got through with them.
In the meantime, parts of the article were very strange indeed. The journalist, much as August hated to use that term with regard to this piece, claimed to have accessed a chat log that recorded communication between the Princess and a local boy. This was, in August’s opinion, the most abhorrent part of the article, and it probably explained his mother’s fury. She took their security very seriously, and would doubtlessly spend a few days searching for the crack in their firewall, which the Marcus cottage shared. The –gnet chats were not as protected as the Computer itself, but they were still meant to be private. In any case, whomever Margaret had spoken to must live very close by, because of the nature of the hack, but August knew that it couldn’t be him, and he doubted that it was anyone in his or his parents’ employ.
Which didn’t leave a lot of options, to be honest, unless it was a fabrication. Certainly, the idea that August and Margaret had been conducting a clandestine affair since the debut ball—as the paper suggested—was utterly ridiculous.
He heard a car drive past, and knew that the carpenter must have finished and headed home. August forced himself to eat three pieces of toast and drink the rest of his coffee, and then he traded his slippers for shoes. There was a definite bruise on the top of his foot. He was going to throw Addie in the lake when she least expected it.
He hadn’t entirely taken Evie’s advice. His thoughts were still muddled. He knew he loved Helena, and he knew he loved her in more ways than one. Apparently, August was destined to do things the hard way. All he could do now was be honest, and hope for Helena’s honesty in return, and they would sort everything out together, as they had always done.
As he neared the Marcus cottage, August saw the flying fox swaying gently in the morning breeze from where it hung. He remembered when everything had seemed simple, but he found he didn’t miss those days as strongly as he expected to. He liked the person he was, unadvisable business ventures and all, and he could only hope that Helena wou
ld understand and that she would feel the same way.
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful:
The Lord God made them all.
Each little flow’r that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colors,
He made their tiny wings.
The purple-headed mountains,
The river running by,
The sunset and the morning
That brightens up the sky.
The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,
He made them every one.
The tall trees in the greenwood,
The meadows where we play,
The rushes by the water,
To gather every day.
He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful:
The Lord God made them all.
CHAPTER
30
“The strangest thing is that it reads a bit like a fairy tale,” Helena said, stirring her tea absently as she perused the headline and story above the fold for the fifth or sixth time.
Margaret was cracking egg after egg into a frying pan. She paid no mind to the shells, so Helena supposed there would be no omelettes; but the destruction seemed to make Margaret feel like she was doing something, and it was better than setting her loose on the good teacups.
“A fairy tale?” Margaret said, her voice somewhat higher than usual. “It’s a disaster.”
“It’s better than anything truthful he might have printed,” Helena pointed out.
That Inevitable Victorian Thing Page 23