Chapter 21
The email is all anyone can talk about over the weekend.
While Ellerby noted they’re seeking alternative options, she expressed there’s little the board can do to legally ensure Ivernia can stay on our current land.
Negotiations are ongoing, she wrote, but it wasn’t anything Sumner and I didn’t already know—it just didn’t feel as final as it does now.
Our grades and classes will continue to count toward our overall educational curriculum, and we’re told to proceed as usual.
This, of course, is all Analiese wants to talk about.
Her stressed reaction is what I’d expected.
She spirals. Asks me questions no one can answer.
Tries to get a meeting with Ellerby, but can’t, so she resorts to passing her anxiety on to me.
By Sunday I need a break, so I intentionally avoid her by going on a long hike with Lionel and William.
To make matters worse, Ellerby hasn’t replied to my fundraising email.
So when I drag myself to the Ladies of Polite Society welcome tea in Langley Center on Monday, I am not the least bit joyous or hopeful.
On the upside, at least I don’t have another terrible one-on-one with Mrs. Vidar-Tett, especially since I haven’t bothered to redo the assignment.
Langley is Ivernia’s only non-traditional auditorium large enough to transform into whatever space you might need.
It’s where our assemblies and other events are hosted.
Wood flooring takes up the surface area, scuffed and dinged from folding chairs dragged across it over the years.
Thick oak beams run across the ceiling and large sash windows welcome the natural light.
Today, four circular plastic tables are positioned near the stage, which holds a podium and a mic.
The tables are set with porcelain teacups, tiny bowls of sugar cubes, and trays of dainty finger sandwiches. A teapot sits in the center atop a laced doily. I find an empty seat with Sabine and Inessa, who both look as bummed as I feel.
Inessa kicks out a chair for me. “Welcome to the funeral.”
“Don’t even joke,” Sabine chides. “I’m still hopeful.”
“I’m not,” Inessa declares.
Sabine gives me a sympathetic smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You doing okay?”
“Not really,” I admit.
I talked to my mom and Jared on Friday. She was adamant about trusting the process and hoping they’d find a solution. If not, I could come home and finish the school year with Madelene. It wasn’t ideal, but it was my only option. What I couldn’t quite articulate was that this was my home too.
Jared didn’t tell me everything would be fine or lie and say they’d figure it out. He just told me he wished there was more he could do. It wasn’t fair, but like Sumner had said, it doesn’t matter if it’s fair or not. It’s reality.
Three solid claps gather everyone’s attention to the front of the stage. Headmistress Ellerby clacks over to the microphone and adjusts it before speaking.
“I know all of you are feeling unsettled about the email I sent on Friday,” she begins.
“But I do hope you can give your full attention to the welcome program our mentors have planned for you.” Scattered, unenthusiastic claps echo around us.
I join in half-heartedly. “I’ve known our school to rally fiercely in the face of adversity.
And while things may look bleak, we won’t give up.
Which is why we’d like to do the presentation ball a bit differently this year. ”
She looks right at me as she says it.
“Mrs. Vidar-Tett.” Ellerby steps aside, gesturing for her to come up.
Mrs. Vidar-Tett takes her place. “Thank you, headmistress.” Her gaze sweeps around the room. “I’ve spoken with the other mentors, as well as some of my mentees, who are in agreement that Ladies of Polite Society would benefit from a rebrand. Starting with the name.”
On the projection screen behind her, a logo ignites with bold text underneath: Student Leaders of Tomorrow.
“This organization welcomes seniors to participate in activities geared toward servicing community, your school, and yourselves,” she continues.
“Our program is designed to impart values, confidence, and skills you may require in your future endeavors. And while this does still include a presentation ball to reward your hard work, we’d like to extend our thanks to Delaney Carmichael for the idea of having this event act as a fundraiser for the school. ”
Multiple heads rotate in my direction. It takes me a moment to process what I’ve just heard. They thought my idea was worth exploring. Well, William’s idea, really.
“The presentation ball will also act as an alumni gala,” she continues through the murmurs.
“You will be the ones reaching out and inviting our former graduates, letting them know their contributions will directly benefit the future of Ivernia on this campus. The gala will take place on December sixth. We hope the proceeds will be enough to secure the deed to this land, though we can’t guarantee it will. ”
Sabine’s hand flies up. Mrs. Vidar-Tett points to her.
“We can ask the community to sponsor the event.” She sits up straighter. “We can list them on the program—or on a banner depending on the size of the donation.”
“Excellent,” Mrs. Vidar-Tett says warmly. “Community outreach is a wonderful way to expand this initiative. I’m going to have our mentors pass out our new itinerary.”
I accept an agenda from Ellerby as she comes by. She clasps me on the shoulder. “Well done,” she says before quickly moving along.
Overlapping voices rise in volume as excitement builds. This could actually be a viable solution to saving Ivernia.
“Delaney, this is brilliant,” Inessa says, then promptly stuffs an entire cucumber sandwich into her mouth.
My smile drops when I reach the bottom of the page.
Under the details of the presentation ball it states, Escorts required.
I understand keeping some tradition, but this one seems pointless.
They’ve also kept etiquette and dance lessons on the agenda, but they’ve tweaked the dress code.
White formal wear and gloves are no longer mandatory.
“Seriously.” Sabine reaches for the tea. Everyone’s mood seems to have improved, like it was the morale booster we needed. “I know my dad will donate—and he can probably talk his colleagues into giving.”
“Delaney?”
I whirl in my seat and find Mrs. Vidar-Tett motioning for me. “I’ll be right back,” I tell them.
I follow her toward the back of the room, away from the chatter and instrumental music humming through the speakers.
“I wanted to apologize for our last meeting,” she explains. “I can’t understand what you’re going through, and I won’t pretend to, but I do want to support whatever you want for your future.”
This takes me by surprise. I don’t quite know how to react, so I say, “Oh—thank you.”
“I just hope that, if you do need someone to talk to, you find that. It doesn’t have to be me, though you know my offers stands.” She smiles. “One of the great things about this place is that it’s full of people who care about you.” She nods toward my table, then begins to walk away.
A hollow emptiness expands inside me. I don’t understand why. She’s supporting what I want for my future, but maybe that’s the terrifying part. Pinpointing what I want.
Inessa calls me back over, so I push the thought from my mind and try to enjoy this tiny slice of success.
Later, when the welcome tea is over, I’m making my way toward the dining hall when a figure barrels toward me. It takes me a moment to realize it’s William.
“I’ve been searching for you,” he says once he’s closer. “I must speak with you. Urgently.”
My eyes widen. “Was there a breakthrough with the equations?”
He shakes his head as he pulls a library book from his shoulder bag, turns a few pages, then positions it toward me.
There’s an image I don’t recognize, mostly because it’s a clearing made of grass and dirt and not much else.
The text underneath reads, Formerly Dunbry Park, the residence of the Right Hon. Lord and Lady Cromwell.
He’s found his family’s estate.
The text offers nothing else, nothing of William or his ancestry, which leads me to believe he hasn’t accidentally stumbled upon his future.
“It’s gone,” he says, voice empty. “It was demolished. The expense of maintaining it became a burden and so they…destroyed it.”
I lift my gaze. His round eyes hold oceans of concern, his expression completely crushed.
We learned about this in world history, if only briefly.
Country manors and estates in the United Kingdom were seen as unnecessary financial burdens to those who’d inherited them because they didn’t have the means to pay taxes and staff, which resulted in abandonment or demolition.
The heat of my hand sinks onto his sweatshirt sleeve. “I’m so sorry.”
There’s nothing I can say to rectify his misery. It’s a helpless feeling.
He blinks rapidly at the page, as though it’s an illusion that might fix itself.
“I had hoped to return,” he says quietly.
“If we were unsuccessful in our attempts at manipulating time, I hoped I could at least return home. Even if my family—” He doesn’t finish that thought. “I thought home would remain.”
A lump rises in my throat. The devastation of this revelation makes lead of my bones, heavy and fraught.
It’s what I’d felt back at wish night, hadn’t I?
That reassurance you could return to a place that would always exist. Because if a place filled with memories could be forever taken away, destroyed with the passage of time, then what’s left?
Nothing.
No one will remember it.
And everything that once mattered no longer will.
William’s eyes dip to my hand. I’m still touching his arm. Reddening, I hastily remove it.
“I heard about Ivernia,” he says, moving an inch closer. “And I do not wish to lose this home, too.”
His eyes are ablaze, lips slightly parted, revealing imperfect teeth and tender volition.
When I’m around him, my nerve endings sparkle like the last dregs of fireworks popping and shimmering across the night sky.
I know pieces of him, but there’s an urge to learn more.
This otherworldly mystery with impeccable manners and a desire to save this place even though it hasn’t been home for very long.
“Remember when you mentioned the charity bazaar?” I say. “We’re implementing our own version. An alumni gala that’ll happen at the senior presentation ball. And if we can raise enough funds, it might be okay.”
A smile reaches his eyes. “That’s wonderful.”
“It’s going to take work, but I’m hopeful.” I find myself smiling, too. “Except I need an escort.”
“I’m afraid I do not understand,” he says. “I thought young women no longer found escorts necessary?”
“No, like—” I search for the right phrasing. “Someone to attend the ball with. It’s a requirement.”
“Oh.” Then, after a beat, he says, “It would be my greatest honor to accompany you.” He presents it so simply, so matter-of-fact, that I think I’ve misheard.
“You’d want to go with me?” A fluttery lightness races down my fingertips. “What about getting you back home?”
“Well, I daresay we don’t give that up,” he says. “But I see no harm in assisting you through this practiced societal tradition while completing the isoborometer.”
The golden flecks in his eyes glisten in the last breath of the day’s sunlight.
Maybe he’s right. We have until December sixth to try to pull off the most successful gala Ivernia has ever seen.
If we secure the deed for the school, then we can remain here until graduation, which buys us more time to focus on William. And if we don’t—
I can’t think about that. We can’t fail.
“You’d do that?”
“Of course.” He laughs. “Delaney, if there is anything I am capable of passing on, it is the skills my governess bestowed upon me. That includes dance lessons.” His eyebrows rise. “I’m quite good.”
A rich fullness fills me from the center. This is absurd, and yet, it’s also a completely rational proposition. I need an escort. William needs a way home. We’re helping each other. I won’t let him lose more than he already has.
“All right,” I agree, feeling optimistic for the first time in ages. “Okay.”
There’s a tenderness to his smile that sends the lightest flicker up my spine. “Excellent.” He offers me an arm. “Then allow me to accompany you back to Hyde.”
And, despite my cartwheeling heart, I take it.