A Great and Terrible Beauty (Gemma Doyle #1)(75)

“I see,” I say quietly.

There’s a knock at the door and Ann pushes through, eyes wide. She’s shocked that I’m in the parlor alone with a man. She covers her eyes with her hand to block her view of us. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I only wanted to let Gemma, Miss Doyle, know that we’re ready to practice our waltzing.”

“I can’t just now. I have a visitor.”

Tom stands, relieved. “Don’t neglect your waltzing on my account. I say, are you all right?” He’s squinting at Ann, who is still averting her eyes.

“Oh, for heaven’s sakes,” I mutter under my breath. I make the necessary introductions. “Miss Ann Bradshaw, may I present Mr. Thomas Doyle? My brother. I’ll just show him out and then we can get to our infernal waltzing.”



“That was your brother?” Ann asks shyly while I’m gliding her around the ballroom.

“Yes. The beast himself.” I’m still a bit ruffled by the news about Father. I’d hoped by now he’d be on the mend.

“He seems very kind.” Ann steps on both my feet and I wince in pain.

“Tom? Ha! He never opens his mouth except to put on airs. He’s insufferably impressed with himself. Pity the girl who gets him.”

“Still, I think he seems very nice. A true gentleman.”

God in heaven. She likes my brother. It’s so laughable that it’s somewhere beyond comedy and right into tragedy again.

“Is he . . . engaged to anyone?”

“No. No one seems to measure up to his first love.”

Ann’s face falls. She stops without warning and I twist uncomfortably before springing back to her side. “Oh?”

“Himself.”

It takes her a minute to get the joke, but then she laughs and blushes some more. I haven’t the heart to tell her that Tom’s looking for a rich wife, probably a pretty one, too, and that she will never be able to compete. If only he could see and hear her as she is in the realms. It’s infuriating that the things we can do there—all that power—must remain there for the time being.

“I cannot dance another step with you or I shall be bruised for a week.”

“You’re the one who can’t remember the rhythm,” Ann chides, following me into the hall.

“And you can’t remember that my feet and the floor are not one and the same.”

Ann starts to retort, but we’re interrupted by the sight of Felicity barreling down the hall. She waves a sheet of paper over her head.

“He’s coming! He’s coming!”

“Who’s coming?” I say.

She grabs our hands and twirls us around in a circle. “My father! I’ve just had a note. He’s coming for Assembly Day! Oh, isn’t it marvelous?” She stops. “Gracious, I’ve got to get ready. I’ve got to prepare. Well, come on—don’t just stand here! If I don’t learn how to waltz like a proper lady by Sunday, I’m doomed!”



Paradise has turned sour. Mother and I are fighting.

“But why can’t we take the magic out of the realms where it could do some real good?”

“I’ve told you—it isn’t safe yet. Once you do that, once you bring magic back through the portal, it’s fully open. Anyone who knows how could get in.” She pauses, tries to get herself under control. I remember these fights now—the ones that used to make me hate her.

I pull up a clump of berries, twirl them in my hands. “You could help me do it. Then I’d be safe.”

Mother takes the berries away. “No, I can’t. I can’t go back, Gemma.”

“You don’t want to help Father.” It’s a hurtful thing to say, and I know it.

She takes a deep breath. “That’s unfair.”

“You don’t trust me. You don’t think I’m capable!”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Gemma.” Her eyes flash. “Just yesterday you weren’t able to tell the difference between a cloud and an illusion. The dark spirit under Circe’s control is much more cunning than that. How do you propose to banish it?”

“Why can’t you tell me how?” I snap.

“Because I don’t know! There is no hard rule, do you understand? It’s a matter of knowing the spirit in question, knowing its vulnerability. It’s a matter of not allowing it to use your vulnerabilities against you.”

“What if I just used a bit of magic, just enough to help Father and my friends with it—nothing else?”

She takes me by the shoulders like a child. “Gemma, you must listen to me. Do not take the magic out of the realms. Promise me.”

“Yes, fine!” I say, tearing out of her grasp. I can’t believe we’re fighting again. My eyes are hot with tears. “I’m sorry. Assembly Day is tomorrow. I need sleep.”

She nods. “See you tomorrow?”

I’m too angry to answer her. I march off to join my friends. Felicity is poised on the crest of the hill, pulling back on her bow. She looks like the bas-relief of a goddess. With a sharp snap, she lets it fly and it splits a piece of wood cleanly in two. The huntress commends her, and the two of them huddle together in conference. I can’t help wondering what it is they talk about on their hunts or why Felicity tells me less and less. Perhaps I’ve been too engrossed in my own questions to ask any of her.