And somewhere far away on the ley lines was Cheetham Hall, and the sleeping ghost of Elsie—to whom Jack had told the story of the equinox and George’s death, as she’d asked. And then let her rest.
Adelaide had now dragged Edwin back down to the blanket and sat with her head leaned on his shoulder, the two of them carrying on a conversation with Maud that sounded suspiciously like they were getting a head start on the reinvention of magic regardless.
Robin hadn’t noticed yet. He was distracted by Violet, who was performing for Alan an unfortunately dead-on impression of the elderly vicar who’d performed the wedding ceremony. Alan, Jack’s stick loose in his hand, had a wicked gleam in his eyes that said he was considering joining in—perhaps to play the part of Lady Dufay, who’d sat with Lady Cheetham beside Jack and Alan and muttered critical commentary throughout the whole thing.
Family.
Jack didn’t have Robin’s optimism. He wouldn’t call this collection of beloved and fascinating chaos uncomplicated, nor did it stand much chance of ever being so. But—as Edwin liked to say, it was the way of magic. Broken items wanted to be whole. Sets yearned to be complete.
Twilight fell, and magic spread. Jack could feel it.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Even more than the other two in the series, I think this book deserves some quick historical notes. Nobody with a speaking role on-page is a real historical figure, but Randall Kenyon is a fictionalised version of Fabian Ware, the editor in chief of the Morning Post in 1909. The Post was indeed owned by the Countess Bathurst, and they did indeed try to raise money for an airship to be used for national defence.
Pretty much everything around the People’s Budget except for the exact aristocrats debating it is also accurate. People have been trying to drag a functioning welfare state into existence for a very long time, and other people have been throwing tantrums about it for just as long.
In building the life and background of Alan and his family, I drew heavily from the book Round About a Pound a Week, a piece of astonishingly detailed and practical sociological research into the lives of working-class Edwardian London families, published by Maud Pember Reeves and the Fabian Society’s Women’s Group in 1913.
I have to extend some thanks to the Italian island-palace of Isola Bella, whose garden terraces, sea grotto, peacocks, and golden pheasants I shamelessly stole for the Cheetham estate’s landscaping project. And speaking of which: mild apologies to the locale of Cheetham, which I ennobled and dragged from Manchester to Essex.
My publishing teams have made the process of producing my first trilogy a voyage of delights despite all the stress. Thank you times a million to Diana and Ruoxi for making my books better, and for your patience when the pandemic killed my productivity for months and this book was produced in a wild rush towards the deadline. Thanks to the rest of my agenting team (Ari, Isabel, David, and Betty Anne), the Tor team in the US (Oliver, Sanaa, Irene, Devi, Caro, Jocelyn, Michael, Renata, Becky Y., Sam F., Yvonne, Jess, Megan, Steven, Sam D., and Lauren) and the Tor UK team (Bella, Georgia, Becky L., Grace, and Lydia). Rock stars all. And a special shout-out to Christine Foltzer for this beautiful cover and Heather Saunders for the sneaky and brilliant internal design.
This is a book about family, and I’ve been lucky enough to both love the one I got and to have built my own around it.
Sara and Magali: having two inboxes into which I can shoot scenes and chapters as they’re written has become such an integral part of my writing process, I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank you for your unstinting belief in me and my characters. Parisians do it best, bien s?r.
Macey, without whom this book’s magic system would be even more of a mess. Thanks for telling me what my series was about. All the trees are your fault.
Leife and Sam: thanks for coming down the coast with me during the time of maximum panic and generally being absolute stalwart friends.
Tegan and Stuart, my other stalwarts: you’re simply the best.
Mei-ing Nieuwland, thank you for the gorgeous art and incredible eye for detail. You may claim sole credit for the on-page existence of Arthur Manning.
Iona Datt Sharma: thanks for your thoughtful sensitivity read and feedback in regards to Adelaide Morrissey. This read and the research mentioned above have hopefully allowed me to engage with the real and often fraught history of the setting in a meaningful way. Any remaining errors are my own.
To the early readers whose enthusiasm kept my spirits up, I can’t thank you enough for being part of my community. Special thanks to Alix E. Harrow, Grace D. Li, Alyshondra Meacham, and Lex Croucher.
Thanks to my parents and siblings, for everything.
Enormous thanks once again to all of the booksellers, bloggers, librarians, reviewers, fan artists, and fan writers who’ve helped to spread the word of the Last Binding trilogy. I’m still a fandomer at heart, and seeing a fandom grow up around my own works has been unspeakably cool.
And thanks, beyond measure, to the readers who’ve found me and stuck with me through the journey so far. It’s because of you that there’ll be, I hope, so many more worlds and adventures to come.