That Inevitable Victorian Thing

by E. K. Johnston

  “But it’s the quiet I love best,” Helena concluded. “It seems like it should be terrible, but it isn’t. I hope you love it as much as I do.”

  Margaret reached out impulsively, as Elizabeth might have done, and took Helena’s hand. She did her best to ignore the sudden flush of skin-to-skin contact, and if her heart sped up, it was only that the music had changed, surely.

  “I am sure I will,” she said.

  And then Elizabeth appeared beside them, the haughty expression on her face belied by the delighted sparkle in her eyes.

  “The pair of you will be my end,” she said, and Margaret was glad to see how readily Helena laughed. “Come, come, there is dancing to be done.”

  “Are you really so confident as all that?” Helena asked. “That you can have no doubts at all about the course on which you’ve set yourself.”

  Elizabeth smiled, her true smile, not her public one, and leaned in for a confidence.

  “I wasn’t, to be honest,” she admitted. “But I’ve talked a great deal with Andrew and with Mother since he arrived, and they have done a world of good in terms of giving me peace of mind. I hate to be sanctimonious about it, but it turns out that good conversation solves a great many problems.”

  “What problems did you have to solve?” Margaret asked, genuinely curious.

  “Well,” said Elizabeth, “I know we joked about it, but I was not too keen on the impression that I would give as a white woman coming to the Bahamas to make an advantageous match, for starters. It smacks of ugliness that the country has spent a great deal of time erasing.”

  “What did you decide?” Helena asked. It was not the same as her problem, not by a long shot, but she felt that hearing how others solved their issues might make her feel better.

  “If we do end up getting married, and frankly, I would take that bet, I’ll take Andrew’s name,” Elizabeth said. Margaret did her best to cover her shock. “I know, I know,” Elizabeth continued. “It’s not at all fashionable for our generation, especially not by someone like me. But don’t you see it? Now anything I do in the Bahamas will have a Bahamian name attached to it.” She paused, a small frown on her face. “No, wait, that sounds terrible as well. I’ll have so much to learn and I am sure I’ll foul up, but I’m hopeful that sooner rather than later I’ll be able to say what I mean and not have it be insulting. I want to do well.”

  Margaret’s heart swelled.

  “You’re a wonder, Elizabeth Highcastle,” Helena said, and meant it.

  “One does what one can,” Elizabeth said, and she revived an altogether false hauteur in her countenance that had both Margaret and Helena on the edge of giggles. She held out her hands with all the imperiousness of Margaret’s mother at her most formal, and pulled the both of them to their feet. “Now, dancing.”

  In the slight pause before Elizabeth dragged them off, Margaret leaned close to Helena.

  “Soon,” she whispered, and Helena blushed as the air of Margaret’s whisper swept along the shell of her ear.

  “Soon,” said Helena.

  And they danced until the simulated fire in the lights burned low.

  PART II

  THE STATE HAS NO BUSINESS IN THE BEDROOMS OF THE NATION.

  PIERRE ELLIOTT TRUDEAU, 1967

  CHAPTER

  14

  The first day of true freedom dawned more grey than pink, but Helena couldn’t help feeling lighter of spirit than she had in weeks. The debut season was over. Her final obligation to Lady Highcastle had been completed the previous night at the ROM Gala, and now it was time to head northwards, to celebrate Victoria Day Weekend with the Callaghans. She had heard more than one person at the party lament how early May 24 fell this year, signalling the end of the debut season, but Helena could feel the pull of dark lakes and deep nights, and wished for both as soon as possible.

  Her things, and Fanny’s, were all packed, and Thomas had wrestled the cases downstairs, where they sat in the parlour. Half of the cases waited for the taxi that would take the girls to the train station. The other half contained most of Helena’s debut wardrobe—save a few pieces that were suited to the Bala social scene—to be sent back to New London and redistributed as her mother saw fit. Margaret was to meet them at the train station, but August was going to be in the city for another week on business. He had, he confided to Helena, not got as much work done as he’d hoped to. Helena knew that was mostly her fault, but he’d been quick to remind her that he’d had just as much fun as she, and now his business connections were immeasurably better.

  “This whole season has been very strange,” Helena said, as she fastened the last of her essentials into her small carry-on bag.

  “Fun, though, don’t you think?” Fanny asked. She was checking under the bed, so her voice was slightly muffled. “I certainly had a good time of it.”

  “I’m glad,” Helena said. “Are you sure you don’t mind coming north with us? It might be very dull and you won’t have as many options as you would in New London.”

  “You say that like you don’t know the Callaghans,” Fanny said. “They’ll have something planned for every Friday.”

  “True,” Helena said. “And we can all dance with whomever we like, and no one will keep track of how many times.”

  “I can spend all day with Sally and the others, and sit on the dock—when you don’t need me, of course,” Fanny said.

  “Helena,” came a shout from below, “breakfast is ready!”

  “Go,” Fanny said. “I’ll finish up here.”

  Helena descended to the first floor, and sat down with her aunt for the last time. They didn’t speak very much, as it was still early and Theresa’s coffee was only half drunk, but by the time they had finished, Helena felt more at peace than she had since she logged on to the –gnet for the first time. If some secret had to be revealed, it would no longer be on display for the entire world to gawk at. Of course, if a secret were revealed in Muskoka, it would be on display for Helena’s entire world to gawk at, but she refused to think that far ahead. She would meet Margaret, they would go north, and it would be peaceful.

  “Thank you so much for asking me to do this,” Theresa said. “I had a marvellous time. The rest of the summer will be empty without you.”

  Helena knew this was a bald-faced lie: Finn-the-Younger was coming home for at least a week, and on top of that, Theresa was hardly one to be idle. Still, she appreciated the sentiment.

  “Thank you for having us,” she said. “And thank you for all the work you did to find dresses and shoes.”

  “That, my dear,” Theresa said, “was most of the fun.”

  Fanny appeared in the doorway, holding a large basket that Louisa had packed for them. The Northlander was reputed to have excellent food, but Louisa wouldn’t hear of consigning Helena or Fanny to eating any of it. At least they would have Margaret to share with. Judging by the way Fanny was straining to lift the basket, they would need her.

  “The taxi’s here, miss,” Fanny said, her eyes sparkling over the last bit of Toronto formality.

  “Thank you again,” she said, both to her aunt and to Louisa.

  “Write to us about what you get up to at the cottage,” Theresa said. “Not just the proposal, mind you, I want details about the dancing, too. And the fish.”

  “Yes, Aunt,” Helena said. She kissed her cheek and went to sit beside Fanny in the taxi.

  “I’m not going fishing with you,” Fanny said. She spoke quietly because the window was down and Thomas was standing right beside it, but he still laughed.

  It was good to leave a place laughing, Helena thought.

  UNION STATION was much calmer upon Margaret’s second visit. She was able to secure three –bots with ease, and guarded them while she waited for Helena to arrive. Even though it was only nine o’clock, she bought a hot dog from the street vendor, hoping that i
t wasn’t left over from the previous night. As she paid for it, using the anonymous –card that had been set up for her, she thought about Helena. Elizabeth’s friendship had been a pleasant discovery, but it still felt as though some measure of predestination had been involved. Helena, though, was entirely Margaret’s, and she found that quite delightful.

  Just as Margaret was starting to worry about the time, she saw Helena and—for a moment, Margaret cast about in vain for a name—Fanny exiting their car in the taxi stand. She hurried over with the –bots and helped Fanny load them while Helena paid the driver. Fanny smiled at her while they worked, and Margaret smiled back, as thrilled as ever both for her disguise and for the stories it would someday allow her and those she encountered to tell.

  “Thank you,” Helena said rather breathlessly. “There was a snarl at Queen’s Park.”

  “It wasn’t a problem,” Margaret replied. “The Admiral is rather chronically punctual.”

  Also, her security team had to screen the station discreetly, as she would be travelling mostly alone now. Only two of them would be coming north with her, undercover, though the rest would be on standby and able to fly in quickly.

  The girls went down into the station. The line for the platform had already formed, so they joined it and stood waiting for the boarding to begin. Margaret was able to pick out both agents of the Windsor Guard in the crowd—the way they stood, constantly monitoring the area while trying to remain unobtrusive was noticeable, if you knew what to look for—but she didn’t imagine anyone else would spot them. Finally, they were allowed up onto the platform, and onto the train. The Northlander was for tourists, but still had a large-enough luggage compartment for them to store their things. Once the cases were secure, Margaret found a quad-seat that was free, and for a moment she was overcome with anxiety over whether she needed to invite Fanny to sit or if the older girl would prefer a place of her own.

  And indeed, Fanny did make a show of walking down the aisle for another open seat. But as she did, Helena grabbed her arm and laughed. She was so serious most of the time that her bright laugh gave Margaret a thrill. “Oh, no you don’t. Margaret, don’t let her get away. She’s got the food!”

  Margaret played along, grabbing the basket from Fanny and soon the girls settled in. Helena made sure the curtains were open so that Margaret would be able to see every rock and tree between Union and Bala, should she wish it. Margaret was surprised to find that she rather did. Toronto was lovely, but it was still a city, and Canada was hardly famous for its cities.

  When the train lurched forward, Helena let out a sigh, and Fanny put her head on her shoulder. They were friends, Margaret realized, even though Fanny was technically an employee. She was glad they were all able to sit together, and made a note to herself to be sure to include Fanny in whatever conversation they had.

  “You’ll see him soon enough,” Fanny whispered, and Helena smiled at her.

  It was a small smile, but it still made Margaret oddly jealous. She was to be a guest, after all. Even though it had all happened quite quickly, Margaret saw the tactics clearly. She had been invited specifically to avoid infringing on Elizabeth’s time as Andrew—and the Bahamas in general, if the magazines were to be believed—courted her. She squashed that feeling immediately, and was ashamed for even having it in the first place. Besides, Helena and August were so far beyond courting that it was hardly going to be an event. This was somehow even more off-putting a thought, so Margaret drew herself up and forced herself to change the subject.

  “You mentioned a New London party, Helena?” she said. “Did you hear from any of your friends about how it went?”

  Helena began to talk about the University Ball that she had missed. Margaret could detect no regret, and indeed Helena seemed relieved when Fanny chimed in to relate a story from her own debut, which had been made in a town so small that when there had been a scheduling conflict with a goat show at the spring fair they hadn’t been able to secure use of the county barn.

  “Only the fairgrounds were very strict about bookings, and gave precedence to the goats,” Fanny said while Margaret and Helena giggled uproariously. The Windsor agent seated across the aisle from Margaret was also looking suspiciously amused. “We had to use my cousin’s drive shed for the dance at the last minute.”

  “What a spectacle it must have been,” Margaret said.

  “At least it was different from every other debut ball ever held in Egmondville,” Fanny said. “Even if three of the debuts still had straw in their hair.”

  “They went to both?” Margaret asked.

  “She won it,” Helena exclaimed, patting Fanny’s arm. Margaret savoured a true smile from Helena.

  Fanny nodded. “But the ribbon didn’t match my dress, so I had to leave it off.”

  They dissolved into giggles again.

  “When did you move to New London?” Margaret asked. Beside the train, the city was sliding away to reveal the suburbs.

  “Right afterwards,” Fanny said. “My whole family has been farmers for several generations, but I like people more than pigs and beans.”

  “Mama had told Beth, our housekeeper, to find someone interesting,” Helena said. “And so Beth put Fanny’s résumé on the top of the pile. And we have certainly never regretted it.”

  “Nor I,” Fanny said.

  It struck Margaret then, as the last of suburbia disappeared behind them, that people found adventures however they could. Fanny had left something, and so would Elizabeth in all likelihood. Helena had planned to do the same thing, if Margaret’s understanding of her arrangement with August was accurate. And Margaret would have this one adventure, and then a life of duty. Perhaps that was why her mother had agreed to it, in spite of the difficulties, to say nothing of the cost, of arranging the trip. If this was to be her one summer of freedom, she would enjoy it as much as possible, and use the memories of it to fuel whatever her tenure of Queen of the Empire brought before her.

  She settled her back against the seat, her knees brushing Helena’s. She would have the summer, swimming and sun. And secrets. She regretted the latter, but knew that it was the cost of her position. It made her feel a bit better to know that they would all learn who she was eventually. She could only hope they would understand, and not feel resentment. Ah, but there lay thoughts she didn’t want to entertain again. Trying not to dwell on her own problems, Margaret watched the landscape fly by as the Northlander picked up speed. It wouldn’t go too fast, she knew, and she was glad of it. It was only mid-May, and the summer was going too fast as it was.

  You Are Invited

  Please join the Callaghan family as we welcome the summer season with music, dancing, and catching up with friends and family

  7:00 PM ON THE FRIDAY OF VICTORIA DAY WEEKEND

  RSVP BY 15 MAY

  CHAPTER

  15

  August’s mother met them at the train station in Bala. Charlotte Callaghan was fourth-generation Canadian, but she was the first member of her family to marry outside of Hong Kong Chinese descent. Her family had not been particularly pleased with the match, even though it was Computer approved and the Callaghan logging dynasty was considered one of Canada’s most up-and-coming businesses at the time. (The addition of her money had rather catapulted it forward.)

  “Family and tradition were important to my parents and grandparents,” Charlotte had once told her, before Helena was really old enough to understand. “But they had forgotten that there is more to the Empire than free trade.”

  And so, the story went, Charlotte had stood her ground, and married her lumberman, and, together, they had essentially built not only the commercial success of the region, but also the social accomplishments, from scratch. Neither Bala nor Port Carling were particularly busy in the winter, but in the summer, they were bastions of art, music, sun, and money. In addition to the lumber workers and their families, there
were shops and galleries, and, not the least, the Ojibwe First Nation–owned RMS Segwun made berth at the Port Carling pier.

  “We can’t have the opening ball there, of course,” Charlotte said, for Margaret’s benefit. “But we rent the ship for at least one family party every summer.”

  Margaret looked intrigued at the idea of a party on board the ship, but Helena caught Charlotte’s eye in the rearview mirror, and realized what August’s mother intended that party to be.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Helena,” Charlotte said. “Everything will be fine.”

  Except that people with Y chromosomes did not bear children, Helena thought. And children were an important part of family and tradition. She was starting to think she should have gone back to New London and faced her parents—at least there she would have support—but then Margaret reached across the seat and took her hand.

  “There is one slightly unfortunate thing,” Charlotte said. “I’ve –grammed your father about it, but when I went to check over your cottage and make sure it was aired out, I discovered that the window in the back bedroom had rotted out.”

  “How bad is it?” Helena asked.

  “Well, if it were truly summer, you could get by with a screen,” Charlotte said. “But it’s still too cold at night to sleep with the window open, and there will be bugs. I’ve hired someone to fix it, of course, but the local carpenters are all backed up getting places ready for the summer, and we’d already dispatched most of our skilled workers before I discovered it.”