by Emma Newman
“Darling, that’s the second time you’ve said that. It’s a formal test. No one will drag me off. I’ll go willingly, and our family will be well compensated. And in a few years, when I’ve found my feet and chosen a specialisation, I should be able to earn far more than I ever would as a civil engineer. Mother and Father will want for nothing, and I’ll be able to pay you back and help you instead!”
The tears ran faster now, stealing the words from her throat, all the strain from the morning finally being released. Her father was risking Ben’s life to pay off his debts. She was of a mind to go downstairs now and—
“Charlie, if you’re also gifted, don’t you think you should come forward?”
She shook her head.
“It’s the only decent thing to do.”
“No!” She looked at him, frightened now. “Don’t tell them. Please, Ben, don’t tell anyone!”
He sighed. “But there’s a good reason the law is the way it is. You could become a danger to everyone. George, Mother, Father.”
Charlotte scowled. “That’s not true. That’s just been made up to frighten people into coming forward.” She could feel her cheeks burning, making the tears feel cool as they slid down her face. She was always careful, she was always in control. How could she possibly be a risk to anyone?
“What sort of talk is that?” He sighed. “That’s what that madman said at Speaker’s Corner the other day.”
“He wasn’t mad!” Charlotte didn’t feel it was the right time to mention that she’d gone back to listen to that man several times since she and Ben had happened across him. “He made a great deal of sense. And the things he said about what the magi do to people who don’t want to be one of them . . .” She shivered.
“Whether someone with the gift wants to become a magus or not is irrelevant, Charlie. It’s their duty to come forward and learn how to control what they are for the good of the Empire.”
That’s what he felt she should do. “I’m not one of them,” she whispered. “I can’t be like them.”
Ben pressed his lips together. “If you came forward, too, we could be together. We could help each other through our training.”
It felt like he’d grabbed a string in her heart and pulled it. She could take care of him and the family would be financially secure. It made so much sense! But then she thought of George and the end of her private life and the rest of her heartstrings pulled in the opposite direction. She shook her head, hating herself as she did it. If only she weren’t so selfish!
There was an awful silence, punctuated by an occasional sniff on her part. Ben fetched her a clean handkerchief from her bedside drawer and she dabbed at her nose.
“I know you’ll do the right thing, Charlie Bean,” Ben said softly. “In your own time. I trust you and I won’t say a word to anyone. I know what you’re like. You can’t be pushed into anything. You have to be ready, and it’s clear that you’re not.”
She managed a small smile, relieved. Should she tell him about the debt? What use would it do? She had to think carefully now and find a way to get Ben through the test. “So you think you can pass their test? Do you know what they ask people to do?”
He shook his head. “No idea. Do you?”
“No. Show me what you can do. That’s as good a place to start as any.”
“Well . . .” He looked away. “I made a pen roll off a table once.”
“Are you sure you didn’t knock it with your elbow?”
“I was feverish at the time, so I was in bed, not at my desk. I was staring at it, thinking it had moved, and then off it went.”
Charlotte blew her nose, hoping to hide her despair. “I see.”
Detecting that she was far from impressed, he added, “I can make a candle flame burn brighter. That’s undeniable.”
She didn’t agree. If he’d been staring at a flame, hoping to be a magus, he could easily have fooled himself into thinking there was a change. “Anything more than a candle flame?” When he shook his head, she said, “Well, what made Father think you were one of them?”
“Ah! Yes! The watch. The one belonging to the magus that he’s been illustrating for that book about her. Remember, he showed it to us last week over dinner? Well, I confess I went and took a closer look at it whilst you were having lunch with George yesterday. I just couldn’t resist! It’s such an exquisite object and when would I ever get the chance to actually hold a real timepiece? Well, it turns out that when Father went back to finish his illustration, the hands were in a different position. He didn’t change them; he’s not permitted to open the case and I certainly didn’t alter the hands so when he pressed me about it, and I confessed to examining it, the conclusion was obvious! I must have set it ticking again with latent magic.”
Charlotte feared she was going to be sick. Most of the time she was happy to be constantly overlooked; it gave her such freedom to draw and paint and form her own opinions about things. Only now was she appreciating just how little her father—and Ben, to a lesser extent—noticed her and her talents. Wordlessly, she went to the wooden chest beneath the window and retrieved her sketchbook, hidden as it always was beneath her steadily growing bridal trousseau.
She took the book back to sit next to Ben and flipped to the relevant page. She turned the book to show him her detailed illustration of the timepiece’s internal workings.
Ben gasped. “You drew this?” When she nodded, she saw sweat sparkle on his forehead. “I didn’t change it. You did. It was you all along!” His hands went to his head, squeezing it. “What am I to do? You have to step forward, Charlie! They’ll understand Father’s error and a prosecution can be avoided if they leave the house with a new recruit!”
Charlotte slammed the sketchbook shut. Now that Ben was falling apart, she discovered an untapped well of fortitude. One of them had to come up with a solution. “Calm down. You’ll make yourself ill, and we need to think.” Stunned into silence, Ben just stared at her, so she shut her eyes, focusing instead on the pounding of her heart. “I agree that it was my fault the hands moved on the watch. I should have been more careful and checked them before I put it back in the box. But that doesn’t mean you can’t move objects or alter a flame. If you can do those, you can pass the test.”
“But if I’m only a weak candidate, they won’t pay the family much compensation at all. It won’t be worth it.”
“One thing at a time,” Charlotte replied, a plan forming. “First, light that candle whilst I put this back.”
Once the sketchbook was hidden away again, she returned to Ben’s side who had lit the candle she kept in a holder on her nightstand. She moved it to the other side of the room and returned to the bed. “Now try to make the flame brighter.”
He stared at it and she did, too, desperate to see any change at all. When it brightened she beamed at him, but he was frowning. “That must have been you!” he said with frustration.
She couldn’t deny it was a possibility. It seemed that nowadays she didn’t have to really try very much at all to achieve a small effect. “I’ll leave the room. You practise for a couple of minutes, and then I’ll return and you can show me.”
Her parents were still arguing downstairs, so Charlotte sat on the top step and rested her head on her knees. She could see a solution, but it all hinged on whether Ben had any latent ability at all. If not, she would have no choice but to put herself forward in his place. What a royal mess. Her father had taken it upon himself to find a different solution to his money woes, but she couldn’t blame him for the mistake he’d made. If she’d been more honest, none of this would have happened.
There was a faint cheer from her bedroom and her heart soared. Please, please, please be right, she whispered to herself and went back in when he called for her.
“I did it, Charlie! Watch. I’m going to count to a secret number in my mind and then alter the flame. You tell me when you see the change.”
She nodded, sitting herself beside him and actively willin
g herself not to try to wish any difference in the flame. Then she was scared she might accidentally suppress whatever impact he could make, so instead she concentrated on counting silently, trying to be patient. When she got to eleven, the flame brightened and stretched upwards. Ben looked at her with a huge smile. “Did you see that?”
“I did!” She cheered and threw her arms about him. They laughed in the embrace, and she felt the worst of the terror leaving her stomach. She pulled away from him, steadying herself for the ordeal ahead. “I have a plan, Ben. This is what we’re going to do . . .”
Chapter 6
“WE CAN’T ASK THEM to have the plates on their laps,” Mother said, twisting her handkerchief so tightly it creaked.
“We can’t magically make our house or dining table any bigger, either,” Charlotte said.
“But what will they think of us?”
“That we’re a normal family in a small house? I don’t think they’re really going to care about plates and laps, are they?” Charlotte immediately regretted her tone. “I’m sorry, Mother, I didn’t mean to be so rude.” She understood that her mother’s nerves were at breaking point, and this time, there was a genuinely good reason for it. And it was obvious that fretting over how the eminent visitors were going to be able to take tea was easier to focus on than the prospect of Ben being taken away. As soon as the thought hit Charlotte, she, too, felt tearful again. Then her mother saw and the sniffling started again. Trying her best to put her own emotions aside, Charlotte put an arm around her mother.
“I shall never forgive your father for doing this,” her mother said, dabbing at her eyes. “He should have discussed it with all of us first. I simply don’t know what possessed him.”
Charlotte suspected it was something to do with the debt. Perhaps the man who delivered the letter had lurked nearby afterwards and threatened Father when he returned home. After seeing the business premises, she wouldn’t put it past him. “Whatever the reason, we have to make the best of it all now,” Charlotte said, surprised by how steady her voice was. Perhaps if her mother was calmer, she would feel safe enough to really show how upset she was, but right now, she had to be the strong one. “I suggest we lay out the tea on the table folded up in the living room, against the wall, and put the dining chairs out amongst the living room chairs. Then there will be somewhere for everyone to sit and it will be clear that it’s a buffet, so no one will mind.” Charlotte didn’t have anything left within her heart to care about whether anyone would be upset by their inability to cater for more than two guests at a time; it was so much less important than the reason they were coming. But she was determined to settle her mother as much as possible, and eliminating these seemingly irrelevant obstacles was the best way to achieve that.
“You are such a sensible girl,” her mother said, kissing her on the cheek. “Whatever will I do when you marry George? Oh . . . both of my children will soon be gone . . .”
“I’m not going anywhere yet,” Charlotte said, reaching even the limit of her patience. “Besides, we will be living very nearby, all being well. And once Ben is a fully recognised magus, he’ll visit, too. Let’s get the tea laid out.”
There was no denying that the practical task was good for both of them. They moved furniture, carried things between rooms and sternly told Ben to lie down and rest when he came to help. Charlotte stayed on her feet when her mother had a brief sit-down, fearing that if she stopped, she’d never get up again. Just as she was starting to worry that her father had fallen afoul of the debt collectors, she heard the front door open.
“I’m back!” Father called from the hallway. “The bakery was closed! I had to walk to the one with that awful dog that growls when you point at the loaf you want.”
Charlotte grimaced. She should have warned him their usual one would be closed. She wondered how the baker was coping. Then she was swept up in panicked sandwich making, lamp lighting and managing her mother’s worries about whether to cut off the crusts and before she knew it, there was a knock on the door.
It was like someone cast a spell over the house, freezing them all where they stood. In the silence, Mother looked over to her with reddened eyes, the little colour left in her cheeks draining away. Charlotte drew in a deep breath, imagining that this must be what it was like for a singer before going out onto a stage. A glance in the mirror reassured her that her dark brown hair was neat, the bun at the back still tight and the plaits on either side of her parting even. She looked at herself with the same brown eyes as her brother’s, the shape so familiar because of talking to him, rather than staring at herself. She looked pale and tired but at least her eyes weren’t bloodshot. Small mercies. She untied her apron, smoothed down the front of her dress and checked that the waist pleats of her crinoline were neat. Then when she was fully ready, she reminded her mother to take off her apron and went out into the hallway.
Father was staring at the door as Ben came down the stairs, smoothing his hair back into place where the pillow had pushed it into disarray. Charlotte looked at her father, noting how his hands shook. He was a tall, thin man, someone a caricaturist would sketch as an undertaker, rather than an artist. His hair was fully grey at the temples now but still brown elsewhere, and unlike many men his age, he still had a full head of it. She saw how he’d tried to tame it with some hair oil, with limited success. “Father?”
“What if I’ve made a terrible mistake, Charlie?”
Charlotte tried to swallow but her mouth and throat were too dry. “It may not amount to very much, but I don’t think you have, Papa.”
She hadn’t called him that for so long and it jarred his gaze from the door to meet her eyes. She smiled at him, wanting to show him he wasn’t alone, and then there was another knock which made them all jump, breaking the moment.
Father opened it to reveal a man standing on the doorstep, wearing a bold red coat that looked like it would cost more than their coal bill for a cold winter. His skin was dark brown, as were his eyes, and he wore a hat similar in style to those worn by the Beefeaters at the Tower of London, only with an additional red triangle stitched within the circle embroidery at the front of the hat. “Mr Jeremiah Gunn?”
Charlotte watched her father nod and appreciated just how awestruck he was.
“I act with the authority of Her Majesty, Queen Victoria, and on behalf of Her Majesty, I greet you and thank you for your vigilance. Your co-operation has been noted. I am to be addressed as Master Judicant for the duration of this process.”
Father just nodded again.
“May I come in?”
When her father nodded dumbly a third time, Charlotte stepped forwards. “Good afternoon, Master Judicant. My name is Charlotte, this is my brother, Benjamin, and my mother, Edith. Please do come in. May I take your coat and hat?”
Master Judicant smiled at her and seemed human again after the terrifying formality of his introduction. Charlotte liked the way his smile made the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Thank you, Miss Gunn.” He shrugged off the coat, revealing a black frock coat with the same symbol from his hat embroidered on the lapels. The plump cravat at his throat was pinned with something red that sparkled, his collar starched to perfection. Beneath the hat his curly hair was cut very short with a few grey strands sprinkled throughout.
No one so finely dressed had ever been in their house before. Charlotte found herself noticing the threadbare patch on the runner and the cracked floor tile near the front door that Father had been meaning to replace for as long as she could remember. She took the coat—so heavy!—and the hat and arranged them on the coat stand, in such a way as to hide the crack in the plaster behind it, as Master Judicant shook hands with her father and Ben.
“So you’re the Latent?” she heard him say to her brother. “Older than usual. Most manifest in their early teens.”
Ben looked momentarily panicked, before Father said, “He’s been away, studying.”
“Even so . . .”
“Ben has be
en unwell, too,” Charlotte said, going to Ben’s side. “Long illnesses with extended convalescences. He didn’t really have an opportunity to show anything.”
She ignored the glare from her father; it was all going to come out one way or another, and when the authority of the Crown was involved, it was best to be as truthful as possible. When it came to her brother’s medical history, at least.
It seemed to satisfy Master Judicant, who nodded and then cast his eye over the small hallway and up the stairs. It was as if they were all holding their breath, waiting for some sort of judgement. Mother, who seemed to shake herself back into life again after being statue-like since the door had opened, smiled at him. “Where do you come from, Master Judicant?”
The man raised an eyebrow at her. “I was at the Tower this morning, the Palace this afternoon and then I made my way here.” At her slight frown he added. “I live in Kensington.”
“Forgive me, I meant the place of your birth.”
Charlotte could see Master Judicant’s jaw clench, and if they’d been seated around a table, she would have kicked her mother’s shin. “I was born in Colchester, Madam, though I hardly see why that should be relevant to the testing of your son.”
“Will you be testing me, sir?” Ben asked, eager to shift the focus away from Mother.
Master Judicant shook his head. “No, that is the province of the magi who will be with us very shortly. It’s my role to see that the testing is carried out in accordance with the law and without any interference from external parties. Should the claim prove to be false, I am tasked with executing the course of justice.”
Charlotte saw her father’s Adam’s apple bob up and down several times. “How long will the test take?”
“Today is a preliminary consultation to determine whether there are grounds for a formal test. Your son will be interviewed by each of the magi who represent the three colleges of magic. Should he satisfy them that he does indeed have latent ability, they will return tomorrow for the tests proper. Should he pass, the three magi will withdraw to consider the offer they wish to make to your son, incorporating the compensation made to your family. He must accept one of the offers, as decreed by law. Once he has chosen the college to which he will submit himself for training, he will leave with the appropriate magus, and the payment will be made to your family within seven days. Ensuring that payment is made in a timely fashion is the last of my duties.”