Dear Bartleby, page 21
His first spell was an expansion of a wind spell. He made a narrow gust of wind blow in a very controlled course all over the room. The wind carried a few light objects so we could see its progress. I could tell he had tight control on it for he had it pass right over our heads and I didn’t even feel it. His illusion spell was a whole show, practically. We could see a whole image of spellcasters using magic to build a bridge. It was incredible. I was very annoyed by how awed I was, but I grudgingly applauded him when it was over because, dash it all, it was very good.
I looked at Pip, hoping to hear something else, but he shrugged and said, “He has excellent control. That was arguably the best so far.” Can’t have everything, I suppose.
Mrs. Fossett then took her turn. She talked about improving magical education and providing it to more people. Her first spell was a large-scale warming spell. It was frightfully impressive. She only had to place a single spell and the whole room was positively roasting. I could tell it had a large scope because I could see people everywhere tugging at their cravats and fanning themselves. Can you imagine it, Bartleby? Casting one spell for an entire room? She really ought to publish that one even if she doesn’t get the appointment.
Her illusion spell was very sweet. She made smoky, shadowy people appear in the air and then they all started to dance. I could see facial expressions and hairstyles. And the dance was very precise. It was a whole set practically. It was superb! I was very pleased when I got to applaud her.
I looked at Pip with hope and he said, “That’s one of the ones you like, isn’t it?”
I nodded.
“She’s very good,” he said.
Finally, it was Laurence’s turn. His speech was about making magic more accessible to everyone, regardless of station and financial situation. His speech was a little different because he went on to say that even if magical supplies are affordable, it will not be helpful to people if they do not have the proper education, so he talked up Mrs. Fossett’s goals as well. Which I thought a very nice thing to do.
His first spell involved the most bizarre ingredients: a potato, a feather, some string, and a piece of plain broadcloth. When he cast the spell, I realized it was an alternative sort of levitation spell, for he had a painting come unhooked from the wall and float all over the room before gliding back and gently setting itself back on the wall. After having trained with Bertie, I can appreciate the control that took. And to imagine he did it with such ingredients!
But I must confess—and I’m saying this only to you, Bartleby—I was a trifle worried his spell was…I don’t know…a little less flashy than the others. Pip seemed to know what I was thinking for he leaned over and said, “That was much harder than it looked.” Which made me feel better.
Then Laurence did his illusion spell, and all he did for it was light a match. He muttered an incantation as he lit it and the whole room went dark, including all of the candles, so all we could see was his face. Then, with the match still burning, he swirled it in a smooth motion in front of him and the light from the match split up into hundreds of little lights. Those lights flitted across the room and over our heads. When one got close to me, I realized that it was shaped like a butterfly. All of the little butterflies fluttered around the room, alighting atop various things as real butterflies would before taking off and fluttering somewhere else. Then, Laurence recited another incantation, and the butterflies all swirled together and swooped around him and then, almost as one, flew through the windows. The amazing thing was, we could see them all flying out the other side. Then the lights came back on inside. The applause was very loud that time.
Bertie joined Laurence on the stairs and beckoned the other four to come up as well. Bertie made a little speech about the future of magic in our country being in our hands and that we had witnessed castings by some of the most talented and powerful spellcasters in the country. He said he knew all of them would go on to do great things, regardless of whether they were chosen. And then, finally, he announced the final three who would be going to London:
Mr. Voss, Mrs. Fossett, and Laurence!
Bartleby, I’ve never been so proud of someone (other than myself). My hands stung from how hard I was clapping. Afterward, there was a mob of people clamoring to congratulate them. I rather desperately wanted to get to Laurence and tell him how proud I was, but I also didn’t quite have the nerve to push through all of the people. To my surprise, Mr. Robert found me, put an arm around my shoulders and guided me through the throng.
When we reached Laurence, he was already hugging Mr. Algernon, and then he turned and hugged Mr. Robert with equal fierceness. Mr. Robert turned so that Laurence could see that I was there too and Laurence grabbed me and pulled me into a searing kiss. He broke off, laughing. Frankly, Bartleby, I very much wish I could preserve that moment forever: Laurence’s arms around me, with the most perfect and beautiful joy all over his face. Of course, I couldn’t actually stand there forever, so I stepped away to let other people congratulate him.
I found my family, and we and the Ayleses toasted to Laurence’s success. Charles wrapped one arm around my shoulder into a crushing side hug.
Finally, the music started up again, and people drifted back to the dance floor and the refreshment tables. I stepped over to one of the windows to see if any of Laurence’s butterflies were still outside, but it was all darkness and my own reflection in the glass. When I turned back around, Laurence was walking toward me. He reached his hand out and I closed the distance between us to clasp it.
He pulled me close. “Come out to the garden with me?”
It was a little chilly outside without our coats. But I didn’t mind the excuse to curl my arm around Laurence’s and press up against his side. When we rounded the corner of the house, my breath caught in my throat.
The butterflies were still there, fluttering around the garden. The lanterns had been lit for the party, but they were all out, like the lights inside had been during Laurence’s spell. It looked enchanting. Laurence pulled me forward again and led me right to the center of the garden. I held on to him but looked up and around me, a little wonderstruck at the sight.
“Laurence,” I whispered. “This is incredible. You should show Bertie—”
“He knows,” he said. “I told him they would continue for a while.”
I looked back at him and he was watching my face, a soft smile on his lips.
“Is this why you wanted me to walk in the garden with you?”
He nodded. Then, without a word, he unwound his arm from mine and wrapped it around my waist. His other hand reached up to cup the back of my neck and I could feel his fingers winding into my hair. He pulled me close and kissed me, rather like he had in the treehouse—softly, tenderly, slowly. I’ll admit, I kept trying to make it more intense, but he smiled against my lips and pressed gentle fingers against my jaw, wordlessly telling me to slow down, and then continued to make me feel cherished.
I very much wanted to keep that moment forever too.
When we finally broke off the kiss, he leaned his forehead against mine.
“I’m so proud of you,” I said. “I didn’t know I could be so proud of somebody else.”
He smiled and stroked my cheek, fingertips skimming over my skin. “I’m so glad I could share this with you. This…moment. This accomplishment. It makes it even more special.”
“I don’t want to keep you from your admirers,” I said after a moment’s pause. “But can we sit here for a minute?”
With an arm still around my waist, he led me to a bench and we sat down together. He reached for my hand and we sat in silence for a long moment, watching the butterflies dance across the darkened flowers.
“It’s so beautiful,” I said softly, as if noise would scare them away.
“I’ve been practicing for ages,” he said. “The spell inside was meant to be impressive. But this part—” He squeezed my hand. “This part was meant for you.”
I regret to say I suddenly felt very weepy. I hastily wiped my eyes, but Laurence cupped my cheek. “Angel,” he said softly.
I looked at him. “So embarrassing,” I said.
He smiled. “Not at all.” He framed my face with both hands and gently rubbed under my eyes.
“I love you,” I said.
His thumbs stilled and his smile was slow and broad. He kissed me again, and curses if it didn’t make me a little weepy again. He pulled away and then kissed my cheeks that were now absurdly damp.
“I love you too,” he whispered.
I pulled his hands away from my face and clasped our hands together, looking around the garden again. “I should probably tell you,” I said in an airy tone. “I love it when you call me ‘angel.’”
He chuckled and lifted our hands so he could kiss one of mine. “I know you do.”
“Also,” I went on. “You’re the only person who calls me ‘Sebastian’ and doesn’t make me hate it. The only people who ever call me that are my parents and my horrid oldest brother.”
Laurence rested his head against my shoulder. “That is good to know,” he said. “I like your name. It’s lovely.”
I snorted. “It’s not lovely when it’s usually followed with, ‘Why can’t you grow up?’ or ‘You’re such a disappointment’ or something.”
He hummed thoughtfully. “That is something we shall have to work on, I think.”
“What, me getting scolded all the time?”
“No,” he said. “You associating your name with getting scolded.”
“Oh.”
A butterfly landed on my knee and I don’t know how there were details on its wings and body, but there were.
“How did you do that?” I asked him.
“Hm?” I felt his head shift. “Oh, the butterflies? I’ve been working on some similar spells for ages now. I adapted it when his lordship first told us about the ball and the castings we would have to perform. I was delighted when he said one of them could be an illusion spell.”
A breeze drifted by and I shivered. “And now we get to go to London together.”
“Come on,” he said, nudging me gently with this shoulder. “Let’s go inside.”
“I rather hate to leave this,” I said as he pulled me to my feet.
He smiled. “My love, regardless of what happens in London, this—” He gestured around us. “—will always be available to us. To you.”
I kissed him and let him lead me back inside. We found our little group and joined them.
“It’s a good thing you came in when you did,” Charles said with a grin. “Julian here was getting ready to go looking for you.”
The dukex rolled their eyes. “Don’t be absurd, Charles. I was doing no such thing.”
Bertie was standing next to Charles and smiled at me. “Did he show you the garden, darling? Isn’t it lovely?”
“Very,” I said.
“Do you mind if I have a look?” Pip said to Laurence.
“Not at all.”
Bertie and Gerry followed Pip out the door.
“How long will they last?” I asked Laurence. “The butterflies?”
“Another hour or so.”
I wrapped my arm around his and leaned my head on his. Charles noticed and smiled. “Are you getting tired, darling?”
“What? No, of course not.”
Gavin rolled his eyes. “Give it an hour,” he said to his husband.
Charles smirked and led Gavin away for a dance. Laurence’s parents followed them to the dance floor. Laurence led me to a sofa by the wall, where we could sit together while we watched everyone. I scrunched myself against the side so I could lay my head on his shoulder. I noticed that the dukex took a seat on Laurence’s other side. I was relieved when they struck up a conversation with him and both seemed to get along.
However, I’m ashamed to report, Bartleby, that I actually fell asleep sitting next to Laurence. I woke up when Charles attempted to pick me up. I was dreadfully embarrassed and apologized profusely to Laurence, who seemed to think the whole thing both amusing and adorable.
“All right,” Charles said, laughter in his voice. “Kiss your young man good night, Seb. Let’s go home.”
I did as I was told—it was no hardship—and then Charles put an arm around my back and walked me out to the carriage.
Bertie has already told me to take tomorrow off. So I imagine I shall be busy packing and preparing for my trip to London. I’d better stop thinking about it or I won’t fall asleep at all. Too tired to even soak my hand.
20 September 1817
Dear Bartleby,
Woke up this morning feeling wonderful, as if the butterflies from last night had all migrated into my stomach. Laurence is one of the three finalists and we get to go to London together. I cannot believe it! Only I can believe it. He is so very talented, you know. And Mrs. Fossett and Bertie will be there too, which will be very nice. Mr. Voss might keep it from being a merry sort of party. But with the other three in attendance, I daresay I can withstand even his unpleasantness.
I slept in since last night was such a late evening. Fortunately, most of the household seemed to sleep in late. To my surprise, Charles had been up at his usual time. He looked fresh and cheery when we all sat down to breakfast. He had already eaten, but kept us company.
We all talked about the ball and the castings. Gerry admitted she was very glad Miss Locke did not get selected. “Her views on magic are old-fashioned and dreadful,” she said.
“I can’t say I’m displeased that the military fellow wasn’t picked either,” Charles said. “I’m sure magic will be integrated more and more in the military. But I don’t like the notion.”
Then the talk turned to how impressive the castings were, particularly the last three. Everyone talked a great deal about Laurence’s spells, pointedly telling me as if I had been the one working the magic rather than him. But it was nice. I think they are almost as proud of him as I am.
After breakfast, Gavin asked me to come to his study for a moment. He had me sit down in a chair and that sat down in the chair next to me, which was surprising. He looked unusually nervous.
“Father wrote back,” he began.
I felt my heart clench in my chest. “Oh Lord. Did he refuse to give his blessing?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Gavin said. “Don’t be silly. Of course he didn’t. But he hasn’t given his blessing either yet. I daresay he will, for he sounds inclined to like your Mr. Ayles, but…” He took a deep breath. “He wants to talk to you first. And meet Laurence. He, er…he said he’d be staying in London in order to catch you while you’re there.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. “You’re not serious.”
He sighed. “Don’t look so stricken, Seb. It’s a good thing. Laurence makes a wonderful impression and I’m sure he will impress Father immediately. Even if he isn’t selected, the fact that he has made it this far speaks volumes to his talent and genius. I daresay he has a promising career ahead of him, regardless of how London goes.”
I knew Gavin was right, but I couldn’t shake the fear gripping me. I haven’t seen Father in months. And quite frankly, I haven’t minded. The man genuinely terrifies me. The thought of having to meet with him on my very first trip to London makes the whole venture seem significantly less appealing.
Gavin put a hand on my arm. “Stop worrying,” he said. “He is very pleased with how well you’ve done since you moved here. He was relieved when I told him you intended to stay on, even though you were no longer required to.”
“He was?”
“Yes,” Gavin said in an exasperated tone.
I was fairly sure this had more to do with Father being relieved to have someone else to foist me onto, but I didn’t say so. Instead I said, “Do you know when he wants to see me? Am I supposed to go find him or will he seek me out?”
“He didn’t say. If I were you, I’d write to him when you arrive and give him Bertie’s address. Then he will know you have arrived safely and will know where to find you.”
“Thank you for warning me.”
“Don’t lose sleep over it. I just didn’t want you to be shocked when he showed up or sent a message over for you to call on him.”
“That would have been dreadful,” I agreed. I considered a moment. “Do you think I should go tell Laurence?”
The corner of Gavin’s mouth twitched. “I reckon Father told him as well. But I imagine it will make you feel better to talk to him.”
Taking that as permission, I fetched my things and left the house. I considered telling Charles, as I’ve never walked there alone. But it felt so freeing to go by myself. I also didn’t really want to hear him tease me about being so nervous.
On the way there, I thought about my conversation with the dukex; it had been the first opportunity to really think about it since before the ball. Throughout the evening, it never occurred to me to imagine a future without Laurence. Even the promise of balls and dinner parties in London, exciting though it may be, wasn’t nearly as appealing as the prospect of sitting in a quiet garden surrounded by glowing butterflies.
This thought made me feel both giddy and a little strange. Have I really changed so much in such a short time? Or was I like this all along and merely distracting myself with other ideas? I was in a bit of a tizzy over this line of thought and nearly went back home so I could stew over it some more. But I very much wanted to see Laurence, and I had a silly hope that he would be able to talk me down from my swirling thoughts.
As I drew closer to Copperage Farm, I started to panic slightly at the thought that they might all be in bed—after all, it had been a late night for them too. But then I saw Mr. Algernon walking through the yard with another person, I’m guessing a servant. He waved when he saw me approaching.
“Good morning,” he said cheerily.
“Good morning,” I said. “I hope you don’t mind my coming so unexpectedly.”
