A Great and Terrible Beauty (Gemma Doyle #1)(63)

“You do know ’ow to get us back, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” I say, irritated. Dear God, please let this work. With Sally’s hand in mine, I concentrate hard on the lecture hall. Nothing happens. I open one eye and we’re still in the woods, Sally in a state of complete panic beside me.

“Holy Mother of God! You can’t do it, can you? Sweet Jesus, save me!”

“Will you be quiet?”

She settles into singing old hymns again. Beads of perspiration break out along my upper lip. I close my eyes, and think only of the lecture hall. My breathing grows louder and slower. There’s a pulling sensation. The edges of the forest fold into mist; the mist folds back into a great hole of light, and then we are once again on the lecture hall stage. It has worked! The ticking of the pocket watch is a comfort to my ears, as is the time: 9:49. Our whole excursion into the spirit world has taken only a minute, though Sally Carny’s face seems to have aged ten years in that brief time. I’ve been changed too.

“Madame Romanoff” is back, speaking in a shaky voice.

“I am receiving a communication now from another part of the spirit world for someone named Polly. Reggie wishes her to know he loves her with all his heart. . . .” She trails off.

“Muffler,” I prompt, through clenched teeth.

“That he has the muffler from Christmas and that she must live happily without him. That is all.” She makes a high moaning sound and falls slumped against her chair. Seconds later, she “awakens.”

“The spirits have spoken, and now I must rest my gifts. I thank you all for coming this evening and remind you that I will be communing again in Covent Garden next month.” As the audience applauds, Sally “Madame Romanoff” Carny leaps from her seat and retreats off into the wings, where her confused lackeys wait for an explanation of tonight’s deviation from their plan.



“I knew you were up to something!” Cecily whispers, taking my arm. “Was it extraordinary?”

Elizabeth cuts in. “Did you see the spirits enter Madame Romanoff’s body? Did her hands go ice cold? I’ve heard that can happen.”

I am suddenly the most popular girl at Spence.

“No. I saw no spirits. Her hands were warm and far too moist. And I’m fairly certain her rings were paste,” I say, walking quickly, putting as much distance between Mademoiselle LeFarge and me as possible.

Elizabeth pouts. “But what shall I write my mother of tonight’s experience?”

“Tell her to stop wasting her money on such nonsense.”

“Gemma Doyle, you are an absolute horror,” Cecily grouses.

“Yes,” I say, ending my one-minute reign as Queen of Spence.



“What a fake,” Felicity announces as I join the throng making its way out of the lecture hall. “She believed that bit about Sarah being your mother’s name. And then instead of the real Sarah Rees-Toome we get some lovesick Reggie calling for his Polly.”

“Whatever is the matter with Mademoiselle LeFarge? I thought by now she’d be threatening to give us forty bad-conduct marks each,” Pippa whispers.

“She’s probably waiting for the ride home,” Ann says, looking terrified. “She’ll most likely tell Mrs. Nightwing what we’ve done and we won’t be able to attend the tea dance next month.”

This makes even Felicity blanch, and I’m certain to end up in the stocks or the equivalent. Mademoiselle lags several paces behind us. She doesn’t seem particularly grim. Instead, she dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief and smiles at Inspector Kent, who offers to escort us to our carriage.

“I think everything will be just fine,” I say.



The crowd is a thick knot of people all trying to get to their carriages without getting wet. I’m separated from the rest of them when an older couple charges ahead of me and slows down to a near halt. I can’t get around them and I can just make out Felicity’s blond head moving farther away.

“Can I help you, miss?” The familiar voice is followed by a familiar hand yanking me into a small alley beside the grand house.

“What are you doing here?” I ask Kartik.

“Watching you,” he says. “Care to tell me what tonight’s little stunt was all about?”

“It was just a laugh, that’s all. A bit of schoolgirl fun.”

My name is shouted out on the street.

“They’re looking for me,” I say, hoping he’ll let me go.

He grips my wrist tighter. “Something happened tonight. I could sense it.”

I start to explain. “It was an accident. . . .”

“I don’t believe it!” Kartik kicks hard at a stone on the ground, sends it flying.

“It’s not what you think,” I babble, trying to defend myself. “I can explain—”

“No explanations! We shall give the orders and you shall follow them. No more visions. Do you understand?” His smirk is contemptuous. He’s waiting for me to tremble and agree to his terms. But something inside me has changed tonight. And I cannot go back.

I bite his hand and he yelps, dropping my wrist.

“Don’t you ever speak to me that way again,” I snarl. “I am no longer content to be the scared, obedient schoolgirl. Who are you, a stranger, to tell me what I can and cannot do?”