Philip heard you?’
‘It was a joke! Anyway, he won’t be home from the Ealdwitan for hours. They’re voting on an accord today. Something about use of magic in outwith workplaces.’
‘Well – the servants then. You know what I mean.’
‘Don’t be so po-faced, Rose.’ Clemency sat back in her armchair and looked across the table at Rosa, her eyes laughing. ‘You know me, I’m just a tease. I always have been. I adore Philip. And what’s turned you into Little Miss Prim all of a sudden?’
‘Nothing.’ Rosa twisted her handkerchief around her fingers, watching as the blood drained away and they grew pale and waxen. Then she let go and the pink flooded back in. ‘Nothing. Just . . . thinking. What’s it like being married, Clemmie?’
‘Rosa! If you mean that then it’s my turn to be shocked. Definitely not in front of the servants.’
‘I didn’t mean that !’ Rosa said crossly, feeling her cheeks grow hot again. ‘Or at least – well, not just that. The whole thing. Stop teasing me.’
Clemency looked at her, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. The dimples came and went in her cheeks.
‘Well, it’s rather uncomfortable at first, and it certainly takes some time to get used to. But after a little while you grow to rather like it. Sometimes it can be positively pleasurable, even though his moustache certainly makes matters a little tickly. But then Sebastian is clean-shaven so that needn’t worry you. Does that answer your question?’
‘Clemmie!’ Rosa couldn’t stop herself laughing. She felt her own mouth turn upwards in a reluctant smile. ‘You’re incorrigible! I meant – what’s it like to have breakfast every day with the same man, see him in his –’ she lowered her voice, and whispered, ‘ nightshirt . What’s it like to know that you’ll be with him every day until you’re old and grey, both of you?’
‘I might not be,’ Clemency said, but the laughter had gone from her eyes and her face was serious. ‘I don’t know, Rosa. I can’t answer all this. You’re asking me to tell you what marriage to Sebastian would be like, and I can’t do that. I’m glad I married Philip – he’s a dear, even if he does clip his moustache on to my bedroom carpet and snore. It’s a small price to pay for all this.’ She waved her hand at the room they were sat in, the high French windows, the chandelier above their heads, and the Meissen cups on the silver tea tray between them. ‘But Philip is not Sebastian, and Sebastian is not Philip.’
‘No,’ Rosa agreed. She thought of Sebastian, of his cool eyes, his mouth with its thin, sensitive lips smiling at her over the candelabra, of his hair, slicked to dark gold beneath his tall top hat, of the lean, deceptive strength of his shoulders beneath his beautifully cut tailcoat. No, Sebastian was not Philip.
Clemency was looking at her, her eyes lazy but thoughtful. Then, almost as if she were reading Rosa’s mind, she said, ‘He’s handsome enough, so it can’t be that. Rich and handsome: what more do you want?’
Kindness , Rosa thought. Love . But she didn’t say it.
‘I wish I’d been born a boy,’ she said instead, ‘so I could go and make my own fortune. Doesn’t it rile you, Clemmie, that we have to always be the ones to wait, while they do the fighting and the adventuring?’
‘Well, you weren’t born a boy,’ Clemency said pragmatically. ‘And short of magicking sovereigns from the air, I don’t see what you can do other than make a good marriage.’
‘Maybe I should,’ Rosa said mutinously. ‘Make magic sovereigns, I mean.’
‘If you started spending magicked gold the Ealdwitan would have you in irons under the Thames before you could say “traitor”. There’s no point in wishing things were different, Rose. You just have to play the hand you’re dealt. Anyway . . .’ She looked at her watch. ‘It’s nearly three. The dressmaker will be here soon for the final fitting. When
‘It was a joke! Anyway, he won’t be home from the Ealdwitan for hours. They’re voting on an accord today. Something about use of magic in outwith workplaces.’
‘Well – the servants then. You know what I mean.’
‘Don’t be so po-faced, Rose.’ Clemency sat back in her armchair and looked across the table at Rosa, her eyes laughing. ‘You know me, I’m just a tease. I always have been. I adore Philip. And what’s turned you into Little Miss Prim all of a sudden?’
‘Nothing.’ Rosa twisted her handkerchief around her fingers, watching as the blood drained away and they grew pale and waxen. Then she let go and the pink flooded back in. ‘Nothing. Just . . . thinking. What’s it like being married, Clemmie?’
‘Rosa! If you mean that then it’s my turn to be shocked. Definitely not in front of the servants.’
‘I didn’t mean that !’ Rosa said crossly, feeling her cheeks grow hot again. ‘Or at least – well, not just that. The whole thing. Stop teasing me.’
Clemency looked at her, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. The dimples came and went in her cheeks.
‘Well, it’s rather uncomfortable at first, and it certainly takes some time to get used to. But after a little while you grow to rather like it. Sometimes it can be positively pleasurable, even though his moustache certainly makes matters a little tickly. But then Sebastian is clean-shaven so that needn’t worry you. Does that answer your question?’
‘Clemmie!’ Rosa couldn’t stop herself laughing. She felt her own mouth turn upwards in a reluctant smile. ‘You’re incorrigible! I meant – what’s it like to have breakfast every day with the same man, see him in his –’ she lowered her voice, and whispered, ‘ nightshirt . What’s it like to know that you’ll be with him every day until you’re old and grey, both of you?’
‘I might not be,’ Clemency said, but the laughter had gone from her eyes and her face was serious. ‘I don’t know, Rosa. I can’t answer all this. You’re asking me to tell you what marriage to Sebastian would be like, and I can’t do that. I’m glad I married Philip – he’s a dear, even if he does clip his moustache on to my bedroom carpet and snore. It’s a small price to pay for all this.’ She waved her hand at the room they were sat in, the high French windows, the chandelier above their heads, and the Meissen cups on the silver tea tray between them. ‘But Philip is not Sebastian, and Sebastian is not Philip.’
‘No,’ Rosa agreed. She thought of Sebastian, of his cool eyes, his mouth with its thin, sensitive lips smiling at her over the candelabra, of his hair, slicked to dark gold beneath his tall top hat, of the lean, deceptive strength of his shoulders beneath his beautifully cut tailcoat. No, Sebastian was not Philip.
Clemency was looking at her, her eyes lazy but thoughtful. Then, almost as if she were reading Rosa’s mind, she said, ‘He’s handsome enough, so it can’t be that. Rich and handsome: what more do you want?’
Kindness , Rosa thought. Love . But she didn’t say it.
‘I wish I’d been born a boy,’ she said instead, ‘so I could go and make my own fortune. Doesn’t it rile you, Clemmie, that we have to always be the ones to wait, while they do the fighting and the adventuring?’
‘Well, you weren’t born a boy,’ Clemency said pragmatically. ‘And short of magicking sovereigns from the air, I don’t see what you can do other than make a good marriage.’
‘Maybe I should,’ Rosa said mutinously. ‘Make magic sovereigns, I mean.’
‘If you started spending magicked gold the Ealdwitan would have you in irons under the Thames before you could say “traitor”. There’s no point in wishing things were different, Rose. You just have to play the hand you’re dealt. Anyway . . .’ She looked at her watch. ‘It’s nearly three. The dressmaker will be here soon for the final fitting. When
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