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The longest walk of my life is under way. I hold my breath as I travel the stretch of carpet, which seems to lengthen with each step. Her Majesty is a solemn monument of flesh and blood in the distance. She is so very like her portraits that it is startling. At last, I reach her. It is the moment I have both wanted and feared. With as much grace as I can muster, I lower myself like a soufflé falling in upon itself. I bow low to my Queen. I do not dare breathe. And then I feel her tap upon my shoulder firmly, compelling me to rise. I back slowly from her presence and take my place among the other girls who have just become women.
I have done what they expected of me. I have curtsied for my Queen and made my debut. This is what I have anticipated eagerly for years. So why do I feel so unsatisfied? Everyone is merry. They haven’t a care in the world. And perhaps that is it. How terrible it is to have no cares, no longings. I do not fit. I feel too deeply and want too much. As cages go, it is a gilded one, but I shall not live well in it or any cage, for that matter.
Lord Denby is suddenly at my side. “Congratulations,” he says. “On your debut and on that other matter. I understand from Fowlson that you were quite magnificent.”
“Thank you,” I say, sipping my first glass of champagne. The bubbles tickle my nose.
Lord Denby lowers his voice. “I also understand that you gave the magic back to the land, that it exists as a resource for all.”
“That is true.”
“How can you be certain that this is the right course, that they won’t misuse it in the end?” he asks.
“I can’t,” I answer.
His horrified expression is quickly replaced by a smug one. “Why don’t you let me help you with all that, then? We could be partners in this—you and I, together?”
I hand him the half-empty glass. “No. You do not understand true partnership, sir. And so we shall not be friends, Lord Denby. On that one point, I am certain.”
“I should like to dance with my sister, if you please, Lord Denby,” Tom says. His smile is bright but his eyes are steely.
“Of course, old chap. There’s a good man,” Lord Denby says, and drinks the last of my champagne, which is as much of me as he shall ever have.
“Are you all right? What an insufferable ass,” Tom says as we take a turn on the dance floor. “To think I once admired him.”
“I did try to warn you,” I say.
“Will this be one of those ghastly ‘I told you so’ moments?”
“No,” I promise. “And have you met your future wife yet?”
Tom waggles his eyebrows. “I’ve met quite a few promising candidates for the position of Mrs. Thomas Doyle. Of course, they will have to find me charming and utterly irresistible. I don’t suppose you could aid me in that pursuit with a little bit of…?”
“I’m afraid not,” I say. “You’ll have to take your chances.”
He twirls me a bit hard. “You’re no fun at all, Gemma.”
Later in the evening, I approach my father before he can slip off with the other men for brandy. “Father, I should like to have a word, if you please. Privately.”
For a moment, he regards me warily, but then his apprehension seems to be forgotten. He does not remember what occurred the last time we had such a talk, the night of Spence’s party. I did not need magic to take that memory from him; he has denied it to himself.
We duck into a musty sitting room whose draperies smell of ancient cigar smoke. There are many things we could speak truth of just now: his declining health, the battles I have seen, the friends I have lost. But we shan’t speak of them. It will never be any more than this, and I suppose the only difference now is that I know that. I must pick my battles, and this is the one I have chosen.
“Father,” I begin, my voice quavering. “I ask only that you hear me out.”
“That is an ominous tone,” he says with a wink, trying to lighten the mood. How easy it would be to forget everything I mean to say. Strength, Gemma.
“I am most grateful for this evening. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, my dear….”
“Yes, thank you…but I shan’t attend any other parties. I don’t wish to continue my season.”
Father’s brows knit together in consternation. “Indeed? And why not? Haven’t you been given the best of everything?”
“Yes, and I am most grateful for it,” I say, heart hammering against my ribs.
“Then what is this nonsense?”
