He raised his glass of wine. “I do not know two finer people,” he said, “and could not imagine better news. May your lives together be happy and long.” His eyes sought Tessa’s, then slid away from her, fastening on Jem. “Congratulations, brother.”
A flood of other voices came after his speech. Sophie set the pitcher down and came to embrace Tessa; Henry and Gideon shook Jem’s hand, and Wil stood watching it al , stil holding the glass. Through the happy babble of voices, only Charlotte was silent, her hand against her chest; Tessa bent worriedly over her. “Charlotte, is everything al right?”
“Yes,” Charlotte said, and then more loudly, “Yes. It is just—I have news of my own. Good news.”
“Yes, darling,” said Henry. “We won the Institute back! But everyone does already know—”
“No, not that, Henry. You—” Charlotte made a hiccuping sound, half laughter, half tears. “Henry and I are going to have a child. A boy. Brother Enoch told me. I didn’t want to say anything before, but—”
The rest of her words were drowned out by Henry’s incredulous whoop of joy. He lifted Charlotte entirely out of her seat and threw his arms around her. “Darling, that’s wonderful, wonderful—”
Sophie gave a little shriek and clapped her hands. Gideon looked as if he were so embarrassed that he might conceivably die on the spot, and Wil and Jem exchanged bemused smiles. Tessa could not help smiling as wel ; Henry’s delight was infectious. He waltzed Charlotte across the room and then back again before suddenly stopping, horrified that waltzing might be bad for the baby, and sat her down in the nearest chair.
“Henry, I’m perfectly capable of walking,” Charlotte said indignantly. “Even of dancing.”
“My darling, you are indisposed! You must remain abed for the next eight months. Little Buford—”
“I am not naming our child Buford. I don’t care if it was your father’s name, or if it is a traditional Yorkshire name—,” Charlotte began in exasperation, when a knock sounded on the door, and Cyril poked his tousled head in. He stared at the scene of gaiety going on in front of him, and said hesitantly:
“Mr. Branwel , there’s someone here to see you al .”
Henry blinked. “Someone to see us? But this is a private dinner, Cyril. And I did not hear the bel ring—”
“No, she is Nephilim,” said Cyril. “And she says it’s very important. She wil not wait.”
Henry and Charlotte exchanged bewildered glances. “Wel , al right, then,” said Henry at last. “Let her up, but tel her it wil have to be quick.”
Cyril vanished. Charlotte rose to her feet, smoothing down her dress and patting her disheveled hair. “Aunt Cal ida, perhaps?” she said in a puzzled voice. “I can’t fathom who else . . .”
The door opened again, and Cyril came in, fol owed by a young girl of about fifteen. She wore a black traveling cloak over a green dress. Even if Tessa had not seen her before, she would have known who she was instantly—known her by her black hair, by the violet-blue of her eyes, by the graceful curve of her white throat, the delicate angles of her features, the ful swoop of her mouth.
She heard Wil draw a sudden, violent breath.
“Hel o,” said the girl, in a voice both surprisingly soft and surprisingly firm. “I apologize for interrupting your dinner hour, but I had nowhere else to go. I am Cecily Herondale, you see. I have come to be trained as a Shadowhunter.”
Acknowledgments
Thanks as always to my family: my mother and father; Jim Hil and Kate Connor; Nao, Tim, David, and Ben; Melanie, Jonathan, and Helen Lewis; Florence; and Joyce. Thanks to those who read and critiqued and pointed out anachronisms or inconsistencies: Kel y Link, Clary, Delia Sherman, Hol y Black, Sarah Rees Brennan, Justine Larbalestier, Robin Wasserman, Maureen Johnson. Thanks to Lisa Gold, Research Maven (lisagoldresearch.wordpress.com) for her help. Thanks to Joey Yeung and Huan Yu for the Mandarin translations. Thanks to Wayne Mil er for Greek and Latin help. My always gratitude to my agent, Barry Goldblatt; my editor, Karen Wojtyla; and the teams at Simon & Schuster and Walker Books for making it al happen. And of course, thanks to my husband, Josh, for keeping Linus and Lucy from eating the manuscript.
A NOTE ON TESSA’S ENGLAND