by Emma Newman
A Little Knowledge
The Split Worlds: Book Four
Emma Newman
Copyright
Diversion Books
A Division of Diversion Publishing Corp.
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New York, NY 10016
www.DiversionBooks.com
Copyright © 2016 by Emma Newman
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
For more information, email [email protected]
First Diversion Books edition August 2016
ISBN: 978-1-68230-290-3
For the lady who LARPs, she of the flaming sword, who took a dream that had died and made it live again.
1
Cathy listened to the argument, weighed its merit, and considered her response carefully, as the Duchess of Londinium should. “This is bullshit.”
That also summarised most of what Cathy had discovered about being Duchess of Londinium. She’d had high hopes—once she’d overcome the sheer dread of having such high status—that the title of Duchess would confer upon her enough power to really make a difference in Fae-touched Society. In reality, the only power Cathy had was confined to areas in which she had no interest whatsoever.
What was the use of setting Londinium fashion when she didn’t give a stuff about necklines and fabrics and whether things should have lace trims or not? What was the point of being the woman all the others looked to for social cues when they were lost on her in the first place? Cathy still cringed at the memory of the first soirée they’d held at the Tower; one of the Buttercup ladies had fainted because she hadn’t eaten. Appalled, Cathy had discovered that none of the female guests had gone near the feast laid out for them because she, as Duchess, hadn’t yet had the first bite. Having the power to dictate when all of the women in the room could start eating was the tragic pinnacle of her influence. She should have known that only the Duke would have any real power.
Everyone kept telling her how influential and important the Duchess was, but whenever Cathy tried to pin down exactly how she could wield that influence and importance, it was all vague comments and shrugs. Margritte Tulipa, who had been Duchess for less than an hour and frankly, still should have been, had tried to explain it to her. Apparently, it was all about presenting an image of stability and strength whilst indicating who was in favour and who was not. Margritte had patiently described the subtleties of whom Cathy should look at or talk to in different situations and how to respond, but it was like another language. Theoretically, it was to help the ladies in the Londinium Court know who was worth speaking to and who wasn’t. Cathy couldn’t for the life of her fathom why that would be so. Surely they could make up their own minds!
It didn’t help that at social events she just wanted to sneak off and read a book, like she had as a child. Although Cathy understood that wasn’t possible anymore, it was too much of a leap to suddenly acquire all the social delicacy and insight now required of her. Cathy had the delicacy and insight of a cat with its head stuck in a box moving backwards to try and escape it, and she knew it.
Even in the library Will had created for her, with three women she loved and respected, Cathy felt impotent. No one was listening to her. She didn’t want to stamp her foot and shout “Who’s Duchess?” in a shrill voice, but it was sorely tempting as the argument circled again and again.
Margritte’s eyes, round as pennies, were fixed on Cathy. “This is the best compromise we can reach. I think it’s too early, but if you’re determined to go into the Court and be controversial, this is the best we can agree on.”
“I’m not determined to be controversial,” Cathy said. “I’m determined to make some bloody changes, and setting up a women’s court is the wrong way to go! We should have the right to speak in the Londinium Court just like the men do. A crappy girl version reinforces the idea that women have to have something separate and special.”
“Who said this new court would be a ‘crappy girl version’?” Margritte asked.
“No one, but it’s obvious that’s what it will be.”
“Is it?” Margritte pressed. “I was hoping it would be a space where women can gather with the sole purpose of discussing matters of import without fearing male censorship. Forgive me, Cathy, but I thought that was what we all agreed was sorely needed here.”
Cathy looked at Natasha Rainer, her former governess, for support. This was the woman who had taught her about the suffragists and Peterloo, the single most influential person in her life. Natasha’s lips were pressed in a tight, thin line, as if she were using them like a dam to hold back a torrent. She still didn’t have the confidence to argue passionately against Margritte, no matter how many times she agreed with Cathy when they were in private. Cathy suspected that Natasha hadn’t fully recovered from the years of being cursed to forget who she was. Thanks to Sam she had been restored, but that time as a brainwashed scullery maid had scarred her.
Frustrated, Cathy looked to Charlotte Persificola-Viola. Surely she would understand? Charlotte had marched as a suffragette in Mundanus; how could she think that anything less than full equality in the right to speak would be acceptable? Charlotte’s perfect brow was furrowed between her eyes as she met Cathy’s gaze. “I agree with Margritte. You’ve already put some noses out of joint. Anything you say is going to be scrutinised. Why not wait just a few more weeks? Let them get used to the idea of an active Duchess, and then make the announcement.”
Unbelievable. Had her friend forgotten the years of being trapped in her own body, turned into nothing more than an animated doll to sing her husband’s praises? If it hadn’t been for her and Sam, Charlotte would still be that! “How can you say that after all you’ve been through?”
“That’s exactly the reason why I think you should be cautious!”
“But Will isn’t like your husband!” Cathy said. “He’s supporting us.” Will knew she wanted change in Society and could have shut their meetings down weeks ago. Unlike Charlotte’s husband, the odious Bertrand Viola, Will could cope with her having opinions of her own. “He’s not going to do anything like that to me.”
“There are other men that would, without your husband’s knowledge,” Margritte said. “Just because he’s the Duke of Londinium, it doesn’t mean he can protect you every moment of every day, not when so many have access to powerful magic.”
That made Cathy pause. That git from the Agency, Bennet, had managed to curse her without anyone else finding out, and blackmail her as well. She hadn’t seen him since Will found out and had him taken away. She pushed the thought aside. The Londinium Court would gather in less than an hour, and they were still arguing. “I’m not going to let the fear of men trying to silence me—with violence or magic—stop me from doing what I need to do.”
Cathy went to the fireplace. She felt safe in her library but it didn’t make their discussions—or the decisions she had to make—any easier. Leaning against the mantelpiece, her back to them, she tried to hold on to the positives.
None of these women would be with her, discussing how to change Nether Society with such passion, if it hadn’t been for her and Will. None of the staff in her household would have rights and wages without her efforts. Even now, over a hundred people were enjoying freedom after decades of imprisonment in a mundane asylum because of her actions.
It wasn’t enough.
A mere fortnight ago, Cathy had stood up in front of the Londinium Court
and announced that there were going to be changes. She’d said that her being able to speak at the Court as Duchess, instead of only the Duke having a voice, was only the beginning. Filled with the drive to finally make a difference, she’d offered all of the women there the opportunity to approach her with anything they wished to discuss, as a fundamental right of all female Londinium residents. Thinking it wasn’t enough, judging by the silent stares, she’d added that should any of those concerns be ones that affected Londinium or be as a result of residency in the city, she would raise them with the Duke.
That had elicited a ripple through the crowd, one that had pleased her at the time. At last, she’d thought, a woman has finally had the chance to speak in the Londinium Court and be heard.
But when they returned home, Will had made her aware of just how far she’d apparently overstepped the mark.
“You’ve just told every man in that room that his wife can bend my ear without having to go through him.”
She shrugged. “So? That’s a good thing. Any one of those women may have concerns—valid concerns—that are just dismissed by their husbands because they’ve voiced them. Why should their husband be the sole judge of their merit?”
“Cathy, you’ve just stood up in front of that court and told everyone there that you place your own ability to judge what should reach the Duke’s ear above that of every man in that room.”
“Oh, come on. That’s not what I meant.”
“That’s how they feel about it.”
“I don’t give a shit about how they feel. I give a shit about how those women are silenced.”
His voice dropped then, sinking into the cold anger that she still hadn’t got used to. “Perhaps you could muster a care about the fact that I didn’t agree to it, and the fact that all of those men now see you as a problem.”
They’d argued late into the night. It was still frosty between them the next morning, and Cathy had barely seen him since. Being a duke was demanding, it seemed, and while she missed the times they were together and not arguing, she couldn’t deny the fact she was relieved to be left to her own devices.
As frustrating and hollow as being Duchess was proving to be, Cathy hadn’t been idle. There was the pamphlet she’d created with Natasha. Just the thought of it made her smile. It contained everything she felt a woman should know about her own body, the rights for women that had been fought for and won in mundane England, and thoughts on how women living in the Nether were held back by not having the same opportunities as the men. Above all else, Cathy hoped it would educate, empower, and inspire the women in the Great Families, making them want more than the intellectually and emotionally impoverished existence they were permitted.
Natasha had agreed that keeping it secret from Charlotte, Margritte, and Will would give them plausible deniability—critical when a Truth Charm could be used by anyone opposed to the true education of women, which amounted to the majority of people in Society. Over a dozen letters from concerned women in Londinium had been sent to her, complaining about how they’d found their daughters reading facts about sex, contraception, and what life is like for women in Mundanus. Cathy wanted to frame every single one after highlighting the most hysterical terms. Dangerous, disgusting, and damaging were the three that appeared the most. She wanted to get a T-shirt printed with those words on it and wear it to the next Court with a pair of jeans.
Cathy was proud of what she’d written. Natasha had edited it, typed it on a computer in Mundanus, and arranged its printing and distribution via her network of secret feminists, some of whom Cathy had already met at the bookshop in Bath. People had tried to use magical means to trace the author to someone in Society and had failed, thanks to the involvement of the computer and printers. By the time furious husbands and fathers were casting their Charms on any copy, it had been passed between so many hands that it was impossible to determine even a source of the distribution, exactly as she and Natasha had planned it.
And it had done more than just upset people. Charlotte’s daughter, Emmeline, told her the pamphlet’s impact was evident at the end-of-season ball in Aquae Sulis just a few days ago. Young women were fired up, speaking in hushed whispers and passing the pamphlet between each other at great risk. Some had even arrived at the ball dressed as men! Even though the Censor of Aquae Sulis had laughed it all off as just the fun of a masquerade ball, traditionally more raucous and daring than most, Cathy knew there was more to it. Surely this was the beginning of something?
So why did she feel like she was getting absolutely nowhere?
“This court for Londinium women just doesn’t feel like a step forwards,” Cathy said with a sigh.
“I feel the same way,” Natasha said. “But we have to consider every man in that room hostile to any sort of equality. While I don’t relish the idea of a separate court, I can’t help but think that the majority of women need a social space in which they’re encouraged to raise issues and debate without fear of reprisal.”
“And my hope would be that it would give the gentlemen time to grow accustomed to the idea that women may hold and discuss opinions in topics outside of the domestic sphere,” Margritte said. “In time, we could hold formal debates and invite a speaker from the women’s court to present an opinion to—”
“Urgh!” Cathy rounded on them. “No! This isn’t the way to do this! The men will automatically disregard anything the women’s court proposes or raises and it will just entrench everyone on opposing sides.”
“Then what do you suggest?” Margritte asked.
“During a discussion I could ask a woman to speak, just like Will invites the gentlemen to share their thoughts on any topic.”
“Oh, no, Cathy,” Charlotte said, appalled. “No lady would dare speak up and you would be left looking a complete fool!”
“We aren’t the only ones who feel this way,” Cathy said, thinking of her sister-in-law, Lucy. “Maybe we should have some faith in them.” She’d wanted to involve Lucy more, but the others had vetoed it most forcefully. The wife of the Marquis of Westminster simply couldn’t be trusted; her husband’s job was to neutralise any threats to the Dukedom and stability of Society. Everything they had done and planned to do could easily be interpreted as such. Hell, threatening the stability of Society was what she wanted to do most.
“It’s too much of a risk,” Charlotte said. “I know you think me cowardly, but I can’t be seen to do anything like that in public. I daren’t risk my husband realising the curse he put on me is broken. Women offering an opinion risk being cursed into silence too.”
“Which is exactly why we need to encourage a separate court,” Margritte said. “To give women the confidence to speak—”
A knock on the door stopped her from saying any more. Cathy listened to the rhythm. “It’s Will,” she said to Margritte, who had already stood, ready to dash to the mirror and make her escape to her hiding place in Jorvic.
Cathy turned the key and admitted Will. Carter, her bodyguard, gave her a polite nod before she closed the door and locked it again.
“Good evening,” Will said with a warm smile. The slight blush that crept across Charlotte’s cheeks didn’t escape Cathy’s notice. If her handsome husband was aware of the effect he had on some women, he never showed it.
Margritte curtsied and returned to her seat as Natasha and Charlotte greeted him politely.
“I trust you’re ready, my love?” Will asked with a smile. There was no hint of their previous argument. Cathy marvelled at how different he was from the other men of Nether Society. Yes, he’d been angry with her, but he hadn’t put an end to these meetings and was still willing to support change. Whether they would ever agree on how to achieve that was another matter.
“We were just discussing a potential court for the women of Londinium,” Cathy said.
“Oh, yes,” Will glanced at Margritte as if he knew of it already. “And are you going to announce it this evening?”
Cathy frowned. “I don
’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why not? Margritte and I discussed it at length earlier this week.”
Will was helping to keep Margritte safely hidden away from his brother. As far as the rest of Oxenford and those in the know in the other Nether cities were concerned, she was still locked in the tower in the reflection of Oxford Castle. They must have discussed it when he delivered the Shadow Charms.
“I think it will be less controversial than your first statement to the court,” Will continued. “I’ve smoothed the feathers you ruffled and made sure no one got the wrong idea.”
“And what idea would that be?” Cathy asked, folding her arms.
“That you want to encourage wives to go behind their husbands’ backs.”
Cathy suspected Margritte had deliberately gone behind her back to persuade Will to support the idea before their meeting.
Will misinterpreted her scowl. “Don’t worry. We can discuss the best way for you to announce this court for women in the carriage on the way to the tower. I think if you put it to the room in a certain way, no one will be concerned.”
“Don’t you mean ‘if I tread carefully around the men’s feelings, none of them will try to stop me’?”
Will leaned forwards and kissed her forehead. “Darling, there’s no need to be so prickly about this. It’s just good diplomacy.”
Cathy sucked in a breath, feeling her latent rage rise up at the way he was managing her. So often lately she felt as if Will treated her like a feverish child, one to keep quiet and soothed with a cold compress, lest she work herself up too much. This wasn’t the time to make a scene, though. She had to pace herself and work out a way to bring him round, without showing the others how strained things were between them. Bloody hell, was this what Margritte had meant when she’d said that being Duchess was about presenting an image?
