Instead of curling her hair, they had spent at least an hour discussing Henry’s aunt, whom he greatly admired despite her fictionality. Lizzie also had an interest in the Empire’s talent-to-work programs (Helena’s mother loathed that name, as she loathed all attempts to popularize her job, but it did well at fundraisers), and for the first time since she had arrived in Toronto, Helena had felt almost like her own self. That she had to masquerade as a boy on the –gnet to do it, and lie a great deal besides, made her very uncomfortable; but for an hour, she had almost forgotten about her genetic code, and that had made her happy.
Now, looking at herself in the mirror while Fanny clucked and tried to style her hair quickly, she felt very strange again. She’d always been slightly built. Just a few days ago, Fanny had used the corset to its fullest to give her any shape at all. She wasn’t wearing it tonight. She looked over her own shoulder at Fanny, who was moving behind her. The other girl was curvy in a way that Helena was not, and though she had never truly noticed it before, Helena suddenly couldn’t stop staring, and wondered whether her own appearance was blatantly obvious to everyone who looked at her.
“Are you all right?” Fanny asked, stilling her hands on Helena’s shoulders. “You look dreadfully worried about something. It’s not August, is it?”
“No, it’s nothing,” Helena said. “I’ve never been to a theatre on quite this scale before.”
“You curtseyed to the Queen and danced with an Admiral two days ago,” Fanny reminded her. “You can sit in the dark and watch other people sing.”
“Yes, but then I have to talk about it.”
“August will keep you safe, don’t worry,” Fanny said, but she was laughing. She also knew August was not much of a defence in conversational combat.
“Helena, the car is here!” shouted Theresa from the first floor. She had an intercom, but rarely used it because, as she put it, what was the point of being elderly if you couldn’t shout at whomever you wished?
“Off you go,” Fanny said. “Bring me back the programme, if you would.”
“I’ll buy you a hat with a set of red braids attached,” Helena promised. “You can wear it on the dock in Muskoka, and everyone will think you’re well travelled.”
“I’d be delighted,” Fanny said, but Helena knew she really would. Fanny had come with her to nearly every show she’d ever been to in New London, and usually Helena only went because she knew how much Fanny enjoyed it.
She hurried down the stairs, kissed her aunt, and got into the car with August and Evie. The traffic wasn’t terrible, but they only just made it to the Princess of Wales in time to meet the Highcastles and Margaret in the lobby and go to their box. Edith wanted to take a picture of everyone by the marquee, which greatly amused Elizabeth for some reason, but their mother herded them up the stairs, promising the younger sister that they would have time later.
“Do you dislike photographs?” Helena said to Margaret, who had looked discomfited at the idea of posing for a shot.
“In crowds,” Margaret replied, which Helena could understand.
EDITH GOT her photograph during the intermission, while they all stood about eating ice cream, and so they were free to wait in the box after the play had finished, and avoid the crush of people exiting the theatre. August chatted with Edith about her favourite songs, while Helena listened.
“Was adoption in Canada this worrisome in the past?” Margaret said. “I mean, forgive me if I assume too much, but is the story simply set too early?”
“I suppose it is,” Helena replied. “It’s set during the early days of Victoria II, so she was much more focused on consolidating her own power than she was on the orphans of the Empire.”
“Transitional periods are usually difficult, for that sort of reason,” August said. There was a tightness to his face, and Helena knew he was thinking of his own family’s history, which had been difficult in that era. She put a reassuring hand on his arm. “In Canada, at least, it is thought that there was a general decline in the Empire’s welfare programs during Victoria II’s reign—though history generally regards her as a good queen.”
“No one trusted her as much as they had come to trust her mother,” Helena said. “So, for a brief time, Canada suffered from American influence.”
Edith was studying her shoes with great interest, but Margaret looked entranced, so Helena kept speaking.
“It was an uglier time than we like to remember,” Helena said. “There was a regression to colonialism of the worst sort.”
“Victoria II stopped it eventually, though,” Edith said, with sudden vehemence. “She made sure her son married for the Empire, and she fought even harder than her mother did to push for equality for all of her subjects.”
“No one is saying that she didn’t, darling,” Margaret said, smiling at the younger girl. Helena felt very strongly that she was missing something. “Only that it was hard for a while.”
“Well, King Albert’s marriage opened many doors for anyone from Hong Kong,” August declared. “Including my mother’s family, who were able to come to Canada.”
Elizabeth, who had been talking quietly with a woman in the next box, returned to them.
“Are we talking about politics or dancing?” she asked, looking at their serious faces.
“Can’t we do both?” Margaret asked.
“Only until we get in the car,” Elizabeth said. “I have a strict no-politics-while-driving policy.”
Helena smiled back at Margaret, as August’s hand came down on top of hers on his arm. Elizabeth Highcastle was single-minded in her every pursuit, and Helena found her increasingly delightful.
“Come, then,” said Lady Highcastle, “your carriage awaits.”
They talked about politics in the car anyway, of course, because Elizabeth had her own intelligent opinions on the matter. Helena thought that Margaret’s face looked both strained and amused, which was a pleasant distraction until Helena thought about telling Lizzie all about the evening the next time she saw her on the –gnet. Then, all Helena could think about was her own genes and her own lies, and she couldn’t help but wonder how accepting the Empire would be of her, after all.
As I sit here, taking tea on a ship in the Hong Kong harbour, I think I understand what Grandmother intends for us to do and, I must say, I agree with her. It has been announced that I have come seeking a bride, and that she will be Queen of the Empire someday. Mother, yours will be the hardest battle, I believe. Mine will be easier, and it will be easier in every generation after me. This will work, I know it. We won’t erase our past wrongs, and we must endeavour to make sure we do not take ourselves so seriously we forget to make more progress, but we have begun it, Mother, and the world will follow us or fall behind.
—Albert, later King of the Empire,
to his mother, Victoria II, of the same
CHAPTER
13
Andrew Neymour arrived in Toronto by the end of the week and in spite of the supposed anonymity of the Computer’s genetic matching protocols, it seemed that everyone in the city knew immediately why he had come. His dark skin and dashing good looks were in steep contrast to the typically British and Hong Kong Chinese features that were more commonly found in the city. In public, he bore his family’s wealth and reputation like a well-worn but exquisitely tailored coat, and his accent could turn the heads of the most staid society ladies—even as he reminded the proudest Torontonians of one of the Empire’s greatest fuckups. Still, if he thought it would be an easy thing to steal away Elizabeth Highcastle, the newspapers proclaimed, it was possible he had underestimated the limits of the politeness of the Canadian nation. It was, Helena reflected, far more likely that the newspapers had underestimated the limits of Elizabeth Highcastle.
For her own part, Helena was rather selfishly glad of Andrew’s arrival and that he had proven all Elizabeth Highcastle had h
oped for. Simply put, the gentleman’s presence gave August someone to talk to besides herself. She was not avoiding August, precisely, in that she physically could not do so, but she also hadn’t told him about the Computer’s designation for her. It was, she reminded herself almost nearly constantly, only his business if she chose to make it so. At the same time, if he was going to ask her to marry him—and all signs indicated he was working his way up to it—he would find out eventually, and it would be far better if she told him beforehand. It was only that she was terribly, terribly confused.
The Computer had relayed her genetic assay and hadn’t raised any medical issues with it—she was fundamentally healthy—and so Helena had slid rather steeply into denial. She would wait, she decided, until she went north for the summer. This was the practical thing. Her parents would come to visit her, and she would tell them, and, in the relative isolation offered by Muskoka, they would make a plan. So, she did her best to put it out of her mind and focus on the diversions offered by the Toronto season.
It nearly worked, at times. Margaret was delightful and Elizabeth continued to include Helena in her own invitations. The three of them, with August and Andrew in tow as often as not, attended the theatre, museum exhibitions, teas, breakfasts, and balls, though nothing was quite to the standard of the original debut event. They did not see the Queen again, though she attended nearly as many events as they did. It was, Helena reflected, almost as though they were avoiding her directly. She couldn’t understand why Elizabeth was doing that, but since it meant there were far fewer photographers and journalists present, she didn’t mind it in the least.
At last, the whirlwind drew to a close. Helena’s things were mostly packed up to be taken to the train northwards, and her gown for the final ball, a full gala at the Royal Ontario Museum, was laid out on the bed. Aunt Theresa had invited Elizabeth and Margaret for a quiet tea before the party, and the gentlemen had come with them, along with Evie and Edith, who was delighted to be included once more. Theresa’s small parlour was, as Lady Highcastle had guessed those weeks ago, crowded—several folding chairs had been brought up from the basement for the occasion—but their camaraderie made them comfortable in close quarters.
“Wait until you see the Bahamas,” Aunt Theresa said, once they were all seated with teacups on their knees and the plate of cakes had been passed around. “You think photographs do it justice, but not even a –gram can capture the island’s true colour and vivacity.”
“When did you see it, Aunt?” Helena forced a smile to her face as she looked at August, who returned it.
“My Finnegan was stationed there when we were first married,” Theresa replied. “I was only there for a short time, but I have never forgotten.”
“It’s true,” said Andrew. “There hasn’t been anything invented yet that can take a proper picture of my home.”
“Then Elizabeth should go and see it!” declared Edith, with all the enthusiasm of her fourteen years.
There was a moment of awkward silence.
“Edith,” Elizabeth said quietly.
“Oh, I didn’t mean right away, of course,” Edith said. Her face immediately revealed that she knew she had misspoken. “Only that you ought to see it. Before. You know.”
She stumbled through the end of her sentence, but Andrew smiled kindly at her, and Helena’s opinion of him rose considerably.
“It’s unfortunate that you can’t come right away,” he said, turning his dazzling smile on Elizabeth, who blushed. “Summer is hot, but the fishing is magnificent.”
Elizabeth straightened, and Helena was reminded again how shrewd her seemingly vapid friend was. “I think that sounds like a marvellous idea,” she said. “Would you consider extending an invitation, if my parents are amenable?”
“Of course,” said Andrew, who did not appear at all taken aback. “For your whole family, of course, including your cousin.”
Everyone turned to Margaret, who rather looked like she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. Helena couldn’t begin to imagine the reason for her chagrin, but she did notice that Elizabeth also looked momentarily flummoxed before she schooled her face back to its customary openness. Edith coughed.
In that moment, Helena saw the summer open up in front of her. Her parents would visit in July and she would tell them, but it was some weeks until then; she would have to endure in the meantime by herself, with only Fanny and the Callaghans for company, and that would be awkward. The solitude she had once longed for seemed heavy and oppressive, and she saw a summer of long nights by herself, with nothing to do but fret about the Computer. She could face that, and August’s reaction to her disclosure, alone, or she could change the narrative of it, right now.
“Or you could come stay in Muskoka,” Helena said. All eyes now turned to her. “Only, it will just be Fanny and me at my family’s house for most of the summer. I would love for you to be my company. And of course the Callaghans will be directly across the road. I know August’s mother won’t let us want for diversion.”
Margaret swallowed her tea, and looked at Elizabeth, who shrugged with all the delicacy of a butterfly and all the guile of a chess master.
“I will have to speak with my parents, in either case,” said Margaret, who saw her friend’s gambit with perfect clarity. “Though I believe they will be more supportive of my staying in Canada,” she concluded carefully, before turning to Elizabeth with a smile.
“If you wish to go, I think you should. I will manage.”
Helena looked at August, who nodded encouragingly. She did her best to make her smile genuine, at least to all appearances, and hoped he didn’t realize the truth of her motivations.
“Young people,” said Theresa, passing the cakes around again. “I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun.”
THE GALA that evening was the social coup of the season for the ROM and its patrons. The Queen put in a brief appearance, and the Prince Consort stayed for the entire evening. Elizabeth Highcastle danced every set, beginning with her godfather and then the University of Toronto docent, before spending a truly scandalous amount of time dancing with Andrew Neymour. The Admiral and his lady watched them with smiles, though, so there wasn’t anything anyone could say about it.
Margaret watched, almost breathless at the sight of the pair. Elizabeth’s blonde hair and pale blue dress fairly glowed in the soft light cast by the vintage lamps set around the ballroom floor. Andrew was all handsomeness and grace beside her. Elizabeth laughed rather frequently at whatever it was he was saying to her, and her carefree demeanour infected all the other attendees.
Only Helena seemed unaffected by it. She had danced with Andrew once as well, and twice with August, but then she had retreated to a corner and sat alone, apart from even her aunt. August had been cornered at last by the Admiral, and was neck-deep in a discussion of piracy and shipping, so Margaret decided it was up to her.
“Are you feeling well?” she said, taking a seat next to Helena and passing the other girl a glass of lemonade.
“Oh yes,” said Helena, turning politely to accept. “I’m only tired. It has been a long few weeks.”
“You’ve done admirably,” said Margaret. She could only imagine the stress Helena was under, even though some intuition told her that it ran slightly deeper than a mere state of social exhaustion. “As has Mr. Callaghan, of course.”
She meant to lighten Helena’s mood, but at the mention of August, the other girl’s brow furrowed.
“Oh, are you upset with him?” she asked. “Did you hope that he would propose?”
“No!” Helena exclaimed, Margaret imagined, rather more loudly than she meant to, and then bit her lip. “No, I always knew he would wait until he was home. Family is very important to him.”
Some emotion nearly choked her on the last part of her statement, but she swallowed around it.
“Well,
I shall find out soon enough,” Margaret said. “My father has given permission for me to visit you after all.”
In truth, it had been her father, her mother, the Windsor Guard, and the Archbishop of Canterbury, but Margaret felt that might be overwhelming.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Helena said, and she truly was. Something relaxed in her face, and a flash of the girl Margaret had first met showed through.
“To be honest, I’ll be glad of the quiet,” Margaret said. “I adore Elizabeth, but this was altogether more exciting than I anticipated.”
Helena nodded, and Margaret wondered how the other girl was passing the time she wasn’t spending with Margaret and Elizabeth. For her part, Margaret had been exploring the world as Lizzie, spending pleasant hours conversing with Henry on the Computer. She had quickly decided to make herself unavailable for any other chats. She was sensible of the limits of her capacity to juggle lies, and also talking with Henry was more than enough to maintain her interest. Callaghan was a common-enough name in Canada, but she couldn’t help but wonder whether the boy she had been speaking with was somehow related to August. She wouldn’t ask Helena now, though. Something about August’s family was clearly upsetting her. Perhaps it was the impending proposal. Even if Helena had been anticipating it for some time, there was a certain finality involved, and Margaret could well understand sudden and seemingly irrational reluctance about a fast-approaching future.
“Come then,” she said. “Tell me all the places we’ll go and things we’ll do together.”
Helena brightened again as she described her family’s cottage. Since it came from her father’s side of the family and not her more affluent mother’s side, it was a modest building, shaded by hemlocks against the summer sun. But it had deep water off the dock, and that made it popular for diving with all the local children, of which August and his sisters had once been. The Callaghans, Helena explained further, did not have a cottage, but a house—a large one, built to withstand the winter snows. Margaret could almost feel the swaying of the train that would carry them northwards tomorrow, and she fancied she could smell the pine needles.
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