A Great And Terrible Beauty (17 page)

Felicity raises an eyebrow. “Sounds naughty. Mary and Sarah are probably Sapphists.”

“What on earth is a Sapphist?” Pippa is already bored. She’s twirling the ends of her black ringlets round her ungloved finger, trying to achieve a more perfect curl.

“Must I tell you everything?” Felicity scoffs.

I have no idea what a Sapphist is either, but I’m not about to ask now.

“From the Greek Sappho, a lady poet who enjoyed the love of other women.”

Pippa stops twirling. “Whatever is the matter with that?”

Felicity lowers her head and gives Pippa a baleful look. “Sapphists prefer the love of women to men.”

I understand fully now, as does Ann, I gather, by the way she nervously straightens her skirts with her hands, not meeting anyone’s eyes. Pippa squints at Felicity as if she might read the meaning in her forehead, but slowly, a blush creeps up her neck into her cheeks and she’s gasping. “Oh, my heavens, you can’t honestly mean that . . . that they . . . like husband and wife . . . ?”

“Yes, exactly.”

Pippa is stunned into silence. The red does not fade from her face and neck. I’m embarrassed too, but I don’t want them to know it. “May I please continue?”

“The Gypsies came back today to make camp. When we saw the smoke from their fire, Sarah and I hurried to see Mother Elena.”

“Mother Elena!” Ann gasps.

“That lunatic with the ragged head scarf?” Pippa wrinkles her nose in distaste.

“Shhh! Go on,” Felicity says.

“She welcomed us warmly with herb tea and tales of her travels. We gave sweets to Carolina, who devoured them. To Mother we gave five pence. And then she promised to read the cards for us, as she has before. But no sooner had Mother placed Sarah’s cards in the familiar cross pattern than she stopped and shuffled them into a pile again. ‘The cards have a bad temper today,’ she said with a little smile, but in truth she seemed taken by a sense of foreboding. She asked to see my palm, snaking her sharp fingernail along the pathways of my hand. ‘You are on a dark journey,’ she said, dropping my hand like a hot stone. ‘I cannot see the outcome.’ Then, most abruptly, she asked us to leave as she needed to make her way through the camp to be sure things were well settled.”

Ann is peering over my arm, trying to read ahead. I pull the book away and end up dropping it, scattering the pages.

“Bravo, my lady Grace!” Felicity applauds.

Ann helps me cluster the papers together in my arms. She can’t stand having anything out of order. A patch of wrist is exposed. I can see the red cross-hatching of welts there, fresh and angry. This is no accident. She’s doing it to herself. She sees me looking and pulls hard at her sleeves, covering her secret.

“Come now,” Felicity chides. “What more will the diary of Mary Dowd reveal to us tonight?”

I grab a page. “Here we go,” I say. It’s not the same page, but that hardly matters to them.

“April 1, 1871

“Sarah came to me in tears. ‘Mary, Mary, I cannot find the door. The power is leaving me.’

“‘You are overwrought, Sarah. That is all. Try again tomorrow.’

“‘No, no,’ she wailed. ‘I have tried for hours now. I tell you it is gone.’

“My heart was gripped with an icy cold. ‘Sarah, come. I’ll help you find it.’

“She turned on me with such fury that I scarcely recognized her as my friend. ‘Don’t you understand? I must do it myself or it’s not real. I cannot ride along on your powers, Mary.’ She began to cry then. ‘Oh, Mary, Mary, I cannot bear to think that I will never again touch the runes or feel their magic flowing through me. I cannot bear to think that I will be only ordinary Sarah from now on.’

“For the rest of the evening I could not rest or eat at all. Eugenia saw my misery and bade me sit with her in her own room. She says it is often that way—a girl’s power flares, then fades. The power must be nurtured deep in the soul, else it’s nothing more than grasping. Oh, diary, she confided that Sarah’s power is such, fleeting and unanchored. She says that the realms make the decision about who shall rise in the Order and learn all the ancient mysteries and who must stay behind. Eugenia patted my hand and confessed that the power is great in me, but I am lost to think of going forward without my dearest friend and sister.

“When Sarah came to me late this evening, I felt as if I would do anything to make things as they were before, with us close as sisters again and the magic of the realms within our reach. I told her so.

“‘Oh, Mary,’ she cried. ‘You’ve cheered me considerably. You know there is a way that we can be together always.’

“‘What do you mean?’

“‘I have a confession. I have visited the Winterlands. I have seen it.’

“I was shocked at this, it chilled me so. ‘But, Sarah, that is a realm we are not to know yet. There are things we should not see without the guide of our elders here.’

“Sarah got such a hard look in her eyes. ‘Don’t you see? Our elders want us to know only what they can control. They fear us, Mary. That is why Eugenia is taking the power from me. I have spoken to a spirit that wanders there. She told me the truth.’

“Her words seemed true, but I was afraid still. ‘Sarah, I’m afraid. To call up a dark spirit is to go against everything we’ve been taught.’

“Sarah clasped my hands. ‘It’s only to bring us the power we need. We will bind the spirit to us, make it do our bidding. Don’t worry so, Mary. We will be its masters, not the other way around, and once the Order sees what we can do, what power we hold by ourselves, they’ll have to let me stay. We’ll be together forever.’

“This next part I shuddered to speak aloud. ‘What will it require?’

“Sarah stroked my cheek lovingly. ‘A small sacrifice, nothing more. A grass snake or a sparrow, perhaps. She will tell us. Sleep now, Mary. And tomorrow, we shall make our plans.’

“Oh, diary, my heart feels much misgiving about this endeavor. But what can I do? Sarah is my dearest friend in all the world. I cannot go on without her. And perhaps she is right. Perhaps, if we keep our hearts strong and pure, we can bend the creature to our will, using it only for the best intentions.”

Pippa is nearly breathless. “Well, there’s a fine place to leave off.”

“Yes, the plot thickens,” Felicity says. “In fact, it may be congealing.”

Everyone shares a giggle except me. The passage has left me uneasy. Or it could be the heat. It’s unseasonably warm for September. The air inside the caves is sticky, and I’ve begun to sweat beneath my corset.

“Do you suppose Mother Elena could tell us our futures?” Ann muses.

I can’t help it. At the thought of Gypsies, my eyes find Felicity’s. She gives me a piercing glare as if I’m betraying her with this quick look.

“I’m not sure that Mother Elena could tell us the day of the week,” Felicity says.

“I have the most marvelous idea,” Pippa trills, and suddenly, I know we’re in for it. “Let’s see if we can make our own magic.”

“I’m game,” Felicity says. “Who else wants to commune with the other world?”

Pippa sits on Felicity’s right, their gloved hands intertwined. Ann plops down next to Pippa. The hair on the back of my neck stands up.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I begin, realizing at once that it sounds cowardly.

“Are you afraid we’ll turn you into a frog?” Felicity pats the ground beside her. There’s no getting around it. I’m going to have to join the circle. Reluctantly, I take my seat and join hands with Ann and Felicity.

Pippa has the giggles again. “What do we say to get started?”

“We’ll go around in a circle and each add something,” Felicity instructs. “I’ll start. O great spirits of the Order. We are your daughters. Speak to us now. Tell us your secrets.”

“Come to us, O daughters of Sappho.” Pippa dissolves into laughter.

“We don’t know that they’re Sapphists,” Felicity says, annoyed. “If we’re going to do this, let’s do it right.”

Chastened, Pippa says softly, “Come to us now in this place.”

“We beseech you,” Ann adds.

It’s quiet. They’re waiting for me.

“All right,” I say, sighing and rolling my eyes. “But I do this against my better judgment, and I’d best not hear these words come back to haunt me as private little jokes later.”

I close my eyes and concentrate on Ann’s heavy, congested breathing, willing my mind to stay blank. “Sarah Rees-Toome and Mary Dowd. Wherever you are in this world, show yourselves. You are welcome here.”

There’s nothing but the sound of water trickling along the cave’s walls. No spirits. No visions. I don’t know whether to be relieved or a little disappointed in my lack of power.

I do not get the chance to ponder this dilemma for long. The air sparkles with random bursts of light. Suddenly, it’s as if the cave is on fire, flames leaping up, so hot I can’t catch my breath.

“No!” Using all my strength, I break the circle and find myself back in the cave while Pippa, Ann, and Felicity look at me, stunned.

“Gemma, what’s the matter?” Ann asks, breathing hard.

I’m panting.

“Oh, my. I think someone got a wee bit frightened,” Felicity says.

“I suppose that’s it,” I say, sinking to the floor. My arms feel heavy, but I’m relieved that nothing has happened.

“It’s a curious thing, though,” Pippa says. “But I could swear I felt a sort of tingling for a moment.”

“So did I,” Felicity says in wonder.

Ann nods. “And I.”

They all look at me. My heart’s beating so hard I fear it will leap from my chest. I force a calm I don’t feel into my words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Felicity puts the tip of her hair in her mouth, moistens it with her tongue. “You didn’t feel anything at all?”

“Nothing.” I’m trying hard not to shake.

“Well,” she says, with a triumphant smile. “It would seem that the rest of us have a bit of magic in us. Pity about you, Gemma.”

It’s very funny, this moment. They think I’ve got no aptitude for the supernatural. I would laugh, if I weren’t so completely shaken.

“Heavens, Gemma,” Pippa says, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “You’re perspiring like a docks worker.”

“That’s because it’s too bloody hot in here,” I say, relieved to change the subject.

Felicity stands and offers me her hand. “Come on. Let’s claim the night.”

We stumble out of the cave. Miles above us, the moon has started to wane, the edges bitten off, but we bask in its light anyway, howling like wolves. We join hands and run around in a circle, breathe the cold, mossy night air into lungs that can barely hold it all in. I feel better straightaway.

“It’s terribly hot. I can scarcely breathe in this corset,” Felicity says.

“Yes, I wish we could take a dip in the lake,” Ann says.

“Why can’t we?” Felicity muses. “Who will unlace me? Anyone?”

Pippa covers her mouth and gives a little giggle as if she’s both horribly embarrassed by the idea and concerned about looking prudish. “We can’t do that.”

“Why not? There’s no one to see us. And I want to breathe freely for a bit. Here, Gemma—give us a hand.”

My fingers fumble with the laces and grommets but soon Felicity’s thin shift and the soft skin beneath it are both exposed. She gleams in the moonlight, a sliver of bone. “Who wants a dip in the lake, then?”

“Wait!” Pippa stumbles after her. “What are you doing? Felicity—this is obscene!”

“How can my ankles and arms be obscene?” she calls back.

“But you’re not supposed to show them. It isn’t decent!”

Felicity’s voice floats out to us. “Do what you will. I’m going in.”

The water looks cool and inviting. With effort, I manage to liberate myself from the tight corset. My body expands in a thank-you.

“Not you, too?” Pippa says when I pass her.

The frigid water saps the heat from my body immediately, freezing the air in my lungs into hard lumps. When I finally catch my breath, it’s to tell Pippa and Ann, hoarsely, “Come in. The water’s perfect, as long as you don’t need to breathe or feel your legs.”

Pippa responds with a high-pitched shriek the minute she gets knee-deep.

“Shhh, keep your voice down. If Mrs. Nightwing finds us, she’ll punish us by forcing us to teach at Spence for the rest of our lives like that spinsterish, sour-faced crew she’s got teaching us now,” Felicity says.

Pippa tries to cover herself with her hands. Her modesty is showing. Right now, I wouldn’t care if Prince Albert himself saw me. I only want to float here, suspended in time.

“If you’re that modest, Pip, get under the water,” Felicity says.

“It’s so cold!” Pippa answers in that same high-pitched voice.

“Suit yourself, then,” Felicity says, swimming out to the middle of the lake.

Ann stays on the bank, fully clothed. “I’ll keep a watch out,” she says.

The rest of us link our arms for warmth and let our feet lick at the sandy bottom. We’re like a band of floating nomads.

“What do you suppose Mrs. Nightwing would say if she could see us now in all our grace, charm, and beauty?” Pippa giggles.

“She’d probably fall over dead,” Ann says.

“Ha!” Felicity says. “There’s wishful thinking.” She leans her head back, lets her hair float out on the water like a halo.

Pippa’s head is up like a shot. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” The lake water in my ears makes it hard to hear anything. But there it is. The woods echo with the sound of a tree branch snapping in two.

“There it is again! Did you hear it?”

“Criminy,” Ann croaks.

“Our clothes!” Pippa scrambles out of the water on heavy legs and runs for her chemise just as Kartik steps out of the trees, carrying a makeshift cricket bat. I can’t tell who is more shocked and surprised—Kartik or Pippa.

“Avert your eyes!” she says in near hysteria, trying desperately to cover herself with the bit of lace and cloth.

Too astonished to argue, Kartik does, but not before I’ve seen the look in his eyes. Wonder and awe. As if he truly has seen a goddess made flesh. The visceral impact of her beauty is more powerful than any word or deed. The cloudiness of my mind clears long enough to record this.