“A-ha!” said my sister-in-law, and straightened in her seat. “You’ve been talking to Honoria.That’swhat’s sparked all this!”
I winced. “You really needn’t—”
“Oh, I can speak her name perfectly well,” said Amy, “whether or not she deigns to speak tomeanymore. But if she’s been threatening my daughter through you—!”
“Not specifically,” I said hastily. “Only in the general sense of all the young women in Angland now doomed to lose their futures and end up locked up by their husbands and kept voiceless forever, only because I opened this school.Youknow.”
“I certainly do.” Amy settled back in her seat. “Trust me, I’ve heard that speech from her before.”
I eyed her warily. “But it didn’t stop you from supporting me?”
Everyone in the nation seemed in unanimous agreement that my own motivations could only be selfish, no matter how they felt to me—but no one couldeverclaim such a thing about Amy. My sister-in-law cared fiercely and undeniably for the good of other people. That was the motivation that had driven her entire career, from her fight to allow more refugees from the continental wars into Angland to the speech she’d given the Boudiccate only three months ago on the need for more common land in the countryside. Yes, she was loyal to our family above all, but still...
“Oh, Cassandra,” said Amy, “have you never paidanyattention to the politics of the Boudiccate? Yes, Honoria and I were friends for many, many years, but that hardly means that we’ve always—or even usually—been in agreement.”
“I do think,” I said cautiously, “that Annabel Renwick is holding some sort of threat over her right now. Miss Fennell thinks so, too. So that might explain—”
“Oh, Honoria doesn’t need any special explanations for her feelings onthismatter,” said Amy briskly. “When it comes to any question of change, you must know she’s one of the most conservative members of the Boudiccate and always has been, despite all the forward-looking fashions that she wears. She cares deeply and sincerely for the safety of Angland and for our rights as women—and I respect her passion on both subjects—but that doesnotmake her the final authority on what may or may not happen in the future.”
She shook her head, reaching across the desk to scoop Miranda back from me as my niece’s gurgles turned into wordless grumbles about the unforgivable lack of milk to be found on my chest. Two months ago, both Amy and I would have panicked at her sudden distress; now, after nine weeks of practice, Amy casually unbuttoned her bodice and attached her daughter without even glancing away from my face.
“Trust me,” she said firmly. “If I thought Thornfell would be the downfall of our nation, I would have told you so in no uncertain terms.DidI?”
“No,” I said, “but you might have privately felt—”
“I didn’t enter politics,” said Amy, “with the aim of keeping Angland exactly as it always has been. I came to make changes for the better, andthatis what we’re doing right now, here at Thornfell.”
She waved her free hand sweepingly at the room around us as her daughter nursed. “Yes,of coursethe current situation is exceedingly comfortable for women like Honoria and I, who were born into just the right families and the right positions for what we wished to do with our lives. But what about you? What about your brother? And what about every man or woman in the nation who grew up without all of your manifold advantages?”
She shook her head vigorously as she adjusted Miranda’s position. “It’s not good enough for things to be easy for us. They have to be fair foreveryonein Angland. And no, we won’t achieve true parity this year, with this particular school, or even in our own lifetimes. But wemustdo what we can to move forward as a nation—and give our descendants the chance to dobetter.”
“You wild radical, you!” I couldn’t help smiling as I gazed across the desk at my sister-in-law, taking in the ferocity and love that emanated from her in equal measure as she cradled my niece in her arms. “Has anyone in the Boudiccate ever realized what a rebel you truly are at heart?”
“Not until this year, apparently.” Her own smile was rueful. “But if I gave up my principles and my family only to achieve personal power for myself...then what kind of politician would that make me?”
“Annabel Renwick’s kind,” I said. “Obviously!She’dgive up anyone and anything for power...and she has, too.” I sighed as I thought back to Miss Fennell’s frozen expression the night before, under Annabel’s insinuating pressure. “Is there anyone in the political realm whom sheisn’teither blackmailing or trying to blackmail?”
“She certainly enjoys being in control,” Amy said judiciously. “And you must know this particular mission is personal for her. She never forgave your mother for sacking her; me for taking up her former position; or Jonathan for persuading your mother to drop her in the first place.”
“Orme,” I finished heavily, “for being my mother’s daughter without wanting the legacy that came with it. Besides, I was the real reason she was sacked, and she knows it.”
“Regardless...” Amy shrugged. “We can safely say that she would be delighted to strike a blow to our whole family. The only question now is: how do we stop the other members of the inspection team from voting with her?”
After the two lectures I’d endured in the past twenty-four hours, it wasn’t a particularly hopeful question.
I tapped my quill pen restlessly against my notes as I thought, leaving new droplets of green ink across the pages. “I would say that you should talk to Honoria,” I said, “but as she’s been blackmailed into cutting you off completely... Whatdoyou think Annabel is holding over her, anyway? She doesn’t have any private scandals that you know of, does she?”
Amy’s face tightened. “If she did, it would have happened during her time as ambassadress to the Elven court, years ago. I always wondered...” She paused, pursing her lips, then gave her head a sharp shake. “No. I won’t gossip about her private history, even if she isn’t speaking to me at the moment. It wouldn’t be kind or fair to our old friendship—and unlike Annabel, wedon’tengage in personal blackmail to achieve our ends.”
“I suppose not,” I said glumly, “although if there were anything we could hold overAnnabel...” At Amy’s meaningful look, I groaned and tossed down my pen. “Oh, come now! You can’t blame me for wanting to serve her some of her own medicine.”
“Blackmail,” said Amy primly, “is highly illegal.Which means, of course...” Her eyes narrowed in thought. “If we could only prove, without a doubt, that sheisblackmailing anyone for her own political gain, then the Boudiccate would be forced to dismiss her. They wouldn’t have any choice—in fact, she’d be lucky to escape a prison sentence. But in order to prove that case—”
“We’d need someone to admit that they’d been blackmailed,” I finished for her. “What politician would ever confess to such a thing?”
“Whoever it was would losehercareer as well,” Amy said. “Not only for whatever secrets she’d been blackmailed with in the first place but for the fact that she’d allowed blackmail to affect her political decisions.”
“So it’s useless,” I concluded grimly.
