That Inevitable Victorian Thing

by E. K. Johnston

“Now, Margaret,” Elizabeth continued, a strange sort of mischief in her eyes, “you must secure a dance with August before our Helena wins them all.”

  “That would be unseemly,” Helena said. She was so shocked at being promoted into Elizabeth’s circle so abruptly that she didn’t really think before she spoke. “We have only the appropriate number of dances, of course.”

  “Elizabeth is only teasing,” Margaret said.

  “I wouldn’t blame you if you took them all yourself,” Elizabeth said, her eyes merry. “If you get married, you might never dance with him again!”

  “There are other things than dancing,” Helena said before she thought the better of it. This time, she and August blushed to match, and Elizabeth’s silvery giggle rang out over the introduction for the next dance.

  “Indeed,” she said, with a wicked grin, “I suppose once you go north for the winter, you can have all the dances you like.”

  “Elizabeth!” Margaret said, but Helena had already decided that if Elizabeth was going to tease her, she was going to tease back.

  “Do not pity me,” Helena said. “I shall not lack for partners. Instead, pity our Princess. She’ll not debut as we have, and dance with no one.”

  “Helena, you are right,” Elizabeth exclaimed, covering Margaret’s awkward cough. She linked arms with both girls, pulling them back towards the floor. August followed, not entirely sure if he had been summoned or dismissed. “We must dance in her honour, then.”

  Around them, dancers prepared for a reel. Helena looked to August out of habit, but Elizabeth only winked, and extended her hand to him. Rather helplessly, he followed her into the crowd.

  “That’s Elizabeth for you,” Margaret said. “She absolutely means well, though. There isn’t a spiteful bone in her body.”

  “I can tell,” Helena said. “Though I’m not sure what we’re to do for partners. Do you suppose the Queen would mind if we reeled with each other?”

  Margaret hesitated, affronted at the idea that her mother would be that judgemental—there were several same-sex pairs dancing on the floor, anyway—but quickly realized that Helena was joking in an effort to soothe her own nerves in the face of Admiral Highcastle, who was approaching to offer a hand to Helena to lead her on to the floor. Visibly steeling herself, Helena went with him.

  “Well, Miss Sandwich,” said the Prince Consort. “You won’t leave me standing here all alone, will you?”

  Margaret smiled at this unexpected chance and let her father lead her to the floor. They barely made it into place before the musicians began one of the more enthusiastic reels, and then of course there was little time or breath for talking. Edmund managed to ensure, however, that when the song concluded, he and Margaret were on the opposite side of the room from Elizabeth and the others, which bought them a few precious moments to talk.

  “Here,” he said, handing her something small. “It’s a fresh identi-chip. You’ll be able to log into the –gnet, and it won’t track you as who you are.”

  “But my DNA has been in the Computer since I was born,” Margaret said.

  “Well, yes,” Edmund replied. “But what’s the use of knowing the Archbishop of Canterbury if you can’t call in a favour from time to time? He’s hacked it up properly for you, Margaret. It’s a new identity, and it won’t ever link to your existing one.”

  “What do you expect me to do?” Margaret asked.

  The strange smile from their tea earlier in the day returned to Edmund’s face. “I have no idea,” he said finally. “You’re a grown-up now. You decide.”

  “Thanks,” she said, a bit tartly. Then she smiled, and repeated, “Thank you,” sincerely. “I’m very glad you have been so supportive of this whole thing.”

  “The chip was actually your mother’s idea,” Edmund confessed. “She figured in for a penny, in for a pound.”

  Margaret could not respond to that because they had drawn too close to where Elizabeth stood with August. Helena was returning with Admiral Highcastle, too, and though the dance had been a fast one, she looked exceedingly pale. Margaret surmised that she had done the social mathematics, and found the result daunting. The next song to begin, however, was not a traditional partner dance, which she would have most assuredly had to dance with the Prince Consort, but rather one of the DJ’s more popular group dance numbers. Margaret had a moment of passing regret that she would miss the opportunity to dance with August, who seemed to be an excellent partner, before Elizabeth squealed in excitement, and dragged Helena and Margaret into the throng that was rapidly forming on the dance floor, while the adults looked on and wondered what on earth the Empire had come to.

  When Helena managed to look back, she saw that August had been caught up in conversation with some older gentleman she did not know. She could tell from his face that he was talking business, but he seemed happy enough, so she let herself dance without worry for him. Business was a part of his world that she had not yet entered, though she had taken steps to ensure that if he invited her to, she would be prepared. She was in no rush, though, and only hoped that he didn’t think her foolish changing her mind about the summer, and deciding she wanted a bit more fun before she made her commitment to him official. She’d always known that she was younger than he, of course, but this was the first time she had truly felt it. She hadn’t had time to talk it over with him yet, though he had mentioned in his reply to her invitation for the debut ball that he understood this meant she would be slower to arrive up north than she had originally planned to be.

  The song segued into a second one, and she decided to find a drink. She was halfway to the punch bowl before she realized that Margaret had accompanied her.

  “Popular dancing isn’t really my style,” Margaret said by way of explanation. “Though Elizabeth seems to love it.”

  “I get the impression that your cousin loves nearly everything,” Helena said. “It’s not a bad way to approach life, I guess. For my part, I’m glad the DJ spared me having to dance with the Prince Consort. I’m not sure I could manage that.”

  “You would have been fine,” Margaret said. “He’s very nice.”

  “You certainly did well with him,” Helena said. “But I think I’ve got as close to royalty as I’d like to tonight.”

  There was an oddly strained look in Margaret’s eyes for just a moment, but then Helena blinked and it was gone.

  “If you stay close to me, you won’t have to worry,” she said. “He’s already asked me to dance, and danced with Elizabeth, so we can make sure you get other partners.”

  “Thank you,” Helena said. “I must admit, I thought I would have one dance with August and then disappear tonight.”

  “Are you upset?” Margaret asked.

  “Oh, no,” Helena said. “It’s been a lot of fun. I was just worried because it was new and strange, that’s all.”

  “I understand,” said Margaret, and she knew that on some level she truly did. “Is August on break from university? Does he go to school here in Toronto?”

  “No,” Helena replied as the song entered its final chorus. “The Callaghans prefer their children learn the family business in the style of an apprenticeship, and then get an MBA later, if they wish. Evie, his sister, is almost done hers, for example. It’s something of a tradition and it was important to August to continue it.”

  As Helena watched the dancers, Margaret’s eyes strayed to her father. He had not gone straight back to her mother’s side, but detoured instead to where the musicians were set up. The principal violinist spoke briefly with the DJ after the Prince Consort left, and when the current song concluded, the DJ let it end rather than starting up a new one. The young people on the floor took that as their cue to break for drinks and the buffet, so when the musicians started up one of the oldest and most traditional English waltzes in existence, the floor was nearly empty.

  Grinning broadly,
the Prince Consort led the Queen to the middle of the floor, and after a flourish that allowed the photographers on every side of the room to get a picture of her, put his hands about her waist. They stepped together, and Margaret found her heart in her throat as she watched them: they might have been the only two people in the room.

  Admiral Highcastle led his lady out onto the floor as well, and then to Helena’s surprise, her father squired her mother. The floor filled up quickly after that, but for the rest of her life, Helena would marvel at the memory of her father dancing next to the Queen, and not being nervous at the thought he might trip over her. He did, after all, come very close to tripping his wife.

  The Kensington System has, I think you will agree, backfired spectacularly. They wanted a puppet Queen, and they shall not have one. I may yet consign my own children to fates they neither wish nor love, but if I do, it will be for the strength of the Empire and not my own ambition, though I understand that sometimes they may be one and the same.

  —Queen Victoria I,

  in a letter to the Archbishop of Canterbury

  CHAPTER

  9

  Elizabeth surveyed the breakfast table with a great deal of satisfaction. Though her father had not yet made his appearance, all the other members of the family were present, with Margaret besides, and Elizabeth felt she could count on her friend’s support. Her father would probably be a little bit hesitant at first, but since it was her mother who had given her the –chip in the first place, there wasn’t a lot he could say to her directly.

  “Elizabeth, you look far too awake,” said the Princess, reaching for a scone. The butter appeared at her elbow, placed there by one of Elizabeth’s sisters. “Thank you, Edith.”

  “I’ve had two cups of coffee already,” Elizabeth said. “I didn’t drink any for weeks before the party, because of my teeth, and I fear it’s affecting me a bit more than it usually does.”

  “You’ve got several more parties to attend,” Edith pointed out.

  “Yes, but that was the only one to which photographers were invited,” Elizabeth said.

  “Anyway, Edith,” said the Admiral, who entered the room and paused to kiss his wife before sitting down, “you know how Elizabeth likes to prepare for battle. If she feels that caffeine is of more strategic importance than the colour of her teeth, we must batten down the hatches at once.”

  “Good morning, Father.” Elizabeth’s smile was no less bright for her father having guessed that she was up to something. “I have a question for you.”

  “No small talk?” The Admiral reached for the eggs and stole a piece of bacon off of his son’s plate since there was none left on the tray.

  “As you know, we trust the Computer to generate matches for us when we come of age,” Elizabeth said, deftly slicing her egg so that the yolk spread out across her toast. She made no move to eat it, though, as she would not speak with her mouth full. “Neither you nor Mother ever mentioned wanting me to stay in Canada, so I made my profile international.”

  “Already?” The Admiral sounded resigned.

  “I gave her the –chip myself two days ago,” Lady Highcastle said, preferring to cut to the chase. “I thought it might be better to get it out of the way before all the busyness started. She knows to make sure her profile is properly secured.”

  “What’s his name?” said the Admiral, recognizing that his wife had cleared the path.

  Elizabeth was a bit shocked. She had, after all, expected a bit of resistance.

  “We’re cutting through the small talk, remember?” the Admiral said. Elizabeth thought he might have been laughing at her, but her brother had noticed his missing bacon and was attempting to rescue it. The ensuing fork-fight made it difficult to determine her father’s emotional state. She discarded her well-prepared defences and went for the centre of the line.

  “His name is Andrew Neymour,” Elizabeth said.

  “Of the Bahamas?” her father demanded. He gave up fighting over the bacon and lost it.

  “Yes,” Elizabeth said. “Do you know the family?”

  “I know of them,” he said. “They have an excellent reputation amongst the merchant marines. Is Neymour in trade, like his father?”

  “No,” Elizabeth said. “Though he does still own some of the family’s land. They haven’t used it to grow sugar cane since the Bahamas were emancipated.”

  There had been a quick, bloody redistribution of arable land during the 1830s, which had ended with almost total ownership for those who had worked the fields in the first place. Young Queen Victoria, still growing into her crown, did not wish to prolong the matter with murky and pedantic legal debates, and her subsequent decree of clemency resulted in security for the new landowners, a legacy of diplomatically worded chapters in history textbooks, and the potential for incredibly uncomfortable breakfast conversation.

  Elizabeth looked at Margaret, who smiled encouragingly despite her own personal shame at the whole subject. Margaret might not have understood Elizabeth’s motivations exactly, but she wanted her friend to be happy. “Andrew owns his own business. He and his captains take tourists out in pursuit of sailfish.”

  “He’s a sport fisherman?” The Admiral’s tone was not quite disapproving, but it wasn’t exactly what Elizabeth had been after.

  “He’s an entrepreneur,” Elizabeth said firmly. “He took the parts of his family business that he was good at, and turned them into something he enjoys. He’s quite well respected, actually.”

  “How do you know so much about him already?” Lady Highcastle asked. “I didn’t intend for you to actually speak to anyone online.”

  “It’s a publicly traded company, Mother,” Elizabeth said. “I read the financials. I know he’s single and has never had a serious relationship thanks to Bahamian gossip magazines. He only uploaded his profile to the Computer a few months ago. I think he has just decided he’s ready.”

  “Why him?” the Admiral asked.

  “He seems very interesting,” Elizabeth said, returning to her most well-rehearsed lines. “And though I love you both, and Toronto will always be home, I wish to strike out on my own, such as it is. I don’t know if it will work out, of course, but I would like to meet him. With your permission.”

  Admiral and Lady Highcastle exchanged a long look. The younger children were finished with their breakfasts, as was Margaret, but they were all sitting very quietly as though they feared being dismissed from the drama taking place at the table.

  “Very well,” said the Admiral. “Your mother and I will extend an invitation. It’s quite a distance, though, Elizabeth. He might not wish to come and meet you.”

  “I am aware of that, Father,” Elizabeth said, turning to her eggs, which had quite gone cold. She ate them, anyway. “But I am going to try.”

  One of the maids brought in additional bacon, peameal this time, and the Admiral put some on his plate. His movements were nearly mechanical as he processed what had just taken place. Elizabeth passed on the bacon, but Margaret couldn’t help herself; she’d rather fallen in love with it since coming to Canada.

  “It’s all right, darling,” said Lady Highcastle to her husband. “You’ve got three other daughters. I am sure one of them will go easy on you.”

  The girls all giggled, and the Admiral turned to his papers with a somewhat defeated air. A footman came in with the early morning cards on a small tray, and delivered the bulk of them to Lady Highcastle. Elizabeth received two, and much to her surprise, Margaret found herself holding a small, plain card of her own.

  “Margaret?” said Lady Highcastle. “Who is it from?”

  “An Evelyn Callaghan,” Margaret said slowly. She activated the card’s –gram, and an invitation to tea that afternoon flashed on her palm. “I don’t remember meeting her last night, do you, Elizabeth?”

  “We didn’t,” said Elizabeth firmly. “But w
e did meet her brother, August. He was Helena’s escort.”

  “I imagine that Helena’s aunt could not accommodate a tea with you and Elizabeth,” Lady Highcastle said. “If Miss Callaghan is being hostess for her brother, and her brother is inviting you on behalf of Helena, then I think it’s a good idea to go.”

  “I would like to see Helena again,” Margaret said. “Not just at events. I think she might be more comfortable meeting us informally.”

  “We’ll send a card back immediately,” Elizabeth said. “Have you any, or shall we use mine?”

  “I didn’t have any made up with my name on them,” Margaret said. “I thought we’d be so well scheduled that we wouldn’t have time.”

  “It’s all right, dear,” Lady Highcastle said. “Elizabeth has plenty, and I’ll include a note. Have you any other plans for the day?”

  “I’ve promised to write to my sisters,” Margaret said. “They’ll want the details, especially after they read the news that Mother and Father danced.”

  “The Queen danced with the Prince Consort?” Edith shouted, quite forgetting the need for secrecy. “Elizabeth, you said nothing out of the ordinary happened!”

  “Edith, mind your volume,” Lady Highcastle said.

  “And it was hardly out of the ordinary for them to take a turn,” Elizabeth said, not bothering to suppress her eye roll. “They were at a dance, after all.”

  Margaret said nothing, but the Admiral looked up from his paper and caught her eye. They both knew that Edmund Claremont’s marriage to Queen Victoria-Elizabeth had had its rough patches, even if the rest of the Empire had been presented with a happily matched and married monarch. They did love each other a great deal, but it hadn’t been so easy a road that seeing them together, as they had been last night, was something Margaret took for granted. She wanted to tell her sisters as soon as possible, lest they think it merely an act for the reporters.

  “Can I listen while you dictate it?” Edith begged. “Or I’ll never find out what happened.”