Chapter 37
A fter spending her morning organising the sacrificial goblets in the vault, Lucy found three missed calls on her phone from Gwendoline, which were followed up with a message telling her to be at Margot this would be their last night together before the binding tomorrow night. This urgent visit to the dress makers was presumably because she’d failed to choose a gown for her binding.
She’d found two in the basement of Hawthorne House, one a champagne shade and the other a blush pink that would go nicely with the navy of the Matherson cloak, but she loved both too much to pick. The cloak would cover most of the dress for the binding ritual, but for walking to the altar and for the rest of the evening, she wanted something special. She’d meant to find a spell to somehow combine elements of each dress into one gown, but with the stress of the festival, getting her element back under control, and the drama with the wolves, it had completely slipped her mind.
She couldn’t blame her mum for not reminding her, either; Wilhelmina had been rather upset with Lucy’s dad, since he’d called to say he couldn’t get away from the dig for the ritual. Lucy understood that the dig came first, but she still wanted him there. Even if she’d tried to explain her understanding, her mum was still pissed, and Lucy had figured giving her some space would help ease her mind. She had plenty to deal with, anyway, considering she was retiring in a matter of days.
“I have an idea in mind, but it hasn’t been finalised,” Lucy told Gwendoline when she called back, not going into the detail about the wolf ordeal.
“You don’t have it altered yet? I was sure your mum would have finished altering it by now.”
“It’s not her fault… she can’t alter a dress I haven’t picked yet.” Lucy winced, waiting for a scolding – for Gwendoline to tell her how irresponsible it was, and how the ritual must mean so little to her if she’d forgotten such an important element.
Instead there was a moment of silence, before a small sigh. “Bring the two gowns to Margot and Murph’s, and we’ll come up with something. We need to match your chosen outfit to Benedict’s suit today, and he has a final fitting at five,” Gwendoline said, her tone softer than Lucy had ever heard. Gwendoline had always been guarded, as though protected by thick stone walls cemented with iron. Then again, Lucy couldn’t even imagine the sorrow and heartbreak she’d experienced throughout her life. She’d caught a glimpse of it through what Benedict had told her, but to be a mother and lose your husband and son in so short a time – to have to give up your home, to sustain your family alone… She couldn’t help respecting Gwendoline, even if her methods of fortifying the Matherson name could be rather morally grey.
She realised she hadn’t replied, but Gwendoline went on anyway. “I’ll see you at four. We’ll just have to try and not let Benedict see you!”
The excitement in her voice was contagious. I never thought the day would come when I’d be talking about binding outfits with Gwendoline Matherson, let alone be looking forward to it! She’d have to close up the library early so she’d have time to get home and grab the gowns.
“Thank you, I really appreciate your help. I’m sorry again for leaving it to the last minute,” she said, wondering whether to include Grams and Mum in the final decision. She decided to go alone. She felt she owed it to Gwendoline to get to know her: not just as the Matherson matriarch or the stern right hand of the High Priestess, but as the woman welcoming her into her family.
“Don’t be late. Margot and Murph have closed their boutique just for us.”
The dresses Lucy had brought with her were quickly discarded on the back of an antique chair in the corner of her dressing room. She hadn’t expected Gwendoline to bring other options. To touch the gowns of the Matherson ancestors was terrifying, let alone to be trusted to wear them. They were a piece of history, but Gwendoline refused her refusals, and it was clear she was never going to get out without trying on every dress. In fact, it meant a lot to her to see how excited Gwendoline was by the whole process.
“Are you going to come out of there or am I going to have to pull you out?” Gwendoline asked, waiting on the other side of the curtain.
“I’m struggling with the buttons. There are dozens of them, and the bodice is on the tighter side,” Lucy panted, stretching and reaching, but the boned bodice refused to allow much movement.
“I’ve got a spell for that – just step out. No one is going to see you, and Margot needs to see what work needs to be done,” Gwendoline called.
“I’m sorry to be taking up so much of your time. I’m going as fast as possible.” Lucy couldn’t stop staring at the floor-length gown in rich navy that complemented her pale skin. The off-the-shoulder sleeves attached at her bust line made her feel like royalty. Like a high priestess. She could barely believe it was her own reflection.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Your mum has some matters to deal with before she steps down, and Margot is the best tailor in town. Aside from your mum, that is. We should be glad they were willing to close the shop. Now stop stalling! I want to see how the dress sits on you.” Gwendoline rustled the dressing room curtain as a final warning.
Benedict would be arriving soon as well. Taking a deep breath, Lucy pulled back the curtain to see Gwendoline sitting on the velvet maroon couch with gold trim. Margot, the seamstress, coming through with her measuring tape, stopped still and gawked at Lucy like she was an angel appearing from the heavens. She resisted the urge to fidget. A high priestess did not fidget.
“That navy is divine on you! Thank goodness for your dark hair and pale skin– you look positively glowing. The Matherson cloak will work beautifully with it; the shades are identical. The lighter colours wash you out, and a high priestess on the day of her binding should stand out above everyone else,” Gwendoline announced, adjusting the skirts so they weren’t caught under Lucy’s feet. “We’ll have to take it up a few inches – Matherson woman are on the taller side.” Her command was directed to Margot, who quickly got to pinning without a word. Gwendoline circled them like a shark circling its prey. “We can let out the bodice an inch or two by adding another panel. We don’t want you passing out from lack of oxygen at the altar. Hawthorne woman have always been curvier.”
Gently, Gwendoline turned Lucy towards the mirror, and together they looked at the sheer navy sleeves that glittered and shimmered in the low light.
“It really is a beautiful gown,” Lucy breathed. “Are you sure you don’t mind me wearing it?” The satin skirts, overlaid with the same shimmering fabric, swished and glittered effortlessly as she moved, and she loved the little satin buttons that ran down her back before disappearing into the skirts.
“Do you love it?” Gwendoline asked, arching an eyebrow.
Lucinda smiled and nodded, playing with the ends of the sleeves.
“Then that’s all that matters.” Her future-mother-in-law’s tone was curt, but in the long mirror, Lucy could see a small smile in the corner of her mouth. Clearly the moment meant as much to her as it did to Lucy.
They drifted into silence while Margot and Gwendoline discussed the changes to be made.
“Do you mind if I have a moment alone with Lucy?” Gwendoline asked at last.
“Of course. I’ll make a start on the new panel,” Margot said, getting up with ease as if she wasn’t in her eighties.
“This is overdue, but I wanted to thank you for allowing me to do this for you. Given how this binding came about, I’d have understood if you didn’t think kindly of me. However, I wanted to show you this,” Gwendoline said, taking out an envelope from her bag on the couch. “This is this week’s Travel Digest .”
Lucy scanned the short retraction and saw nothing but glowing praise for their small town.
“Benedict told me you wrote to them, and I know I overreacted.” Gwendoline sounded ashamed. “I want you to understand that the Manor is one of the last things I have to remember my late husband. I can still hear his laughter in the hallways, and the chaos he used to create in the kitchen.”
Lucy took a seat next to her on the couch.
“I didn’t want anyone to think poorly of what we’d created here, but seeing how you reached out to the woman and her family out of the kindness of your heart made me regret my hostility, misplaced as it was. I think it was the thought of your mum stepping down – I felt like everything was slipping away. I wanted Benedict’s future to be secure for the day when I no longer held my position in the coven.”
“You were worried about your son. After all that’s happened to your family, I can’t blame you for being protective, but you’ll always have a place in the coven. The other members value your opinion– not only because of what the Manor has done for the town. You and Benedict are our most fierce protectors, and never afraid to make the hard decisions,” Lucy said, resting her hand over Gwendoline’s. “I promise you, this town and Benedict mean everything to me.”
“Despite your quarrels, you’ve always been there for him when I should’ve been,” Gwendoline murmured. “He shouldered too much responsibility, and I’m ashamed to admit my part in it. I hope we can move on from the past. I see how much Benedict loves you; Peter always used to tease him about following you around, pulling your pigtails. He’s been so afraid to be close to anyone after losing his brother, but you’ve lit up his world. I wish you both never-ending happiness, and I want to promise you that whatever happens, I will support you both. All I ask is that you don’t swap elements again. I don’t think the old foundations can handle another flooding.”
Lucy froze. “You know about our elements? We’ve swapped back, it was all a big mistake—”
Gwendoline shook her head. “It’s okay; Benedict explained everything to me after what happened with the wolves in the town square. Not that I didn’t already know.” She winked. “Nothing happens in the Manor or Foxford without my knowledge.”
“You aren’t angry that they tried to stop the binding?” Lucy asked, worried about causing a rift between her mum and her oldest friend.
Gwendoline laughed. “Are you kidding? Your grams is the best potion master from here to who knows where. Willa is the most powerful witch in the country. You think they’d make an error? I think everything went exactly to plan.”
“I think it was everything not going to plan that brought us together.” Lucy didn’t have the mental or emotional energy left to decipher exactly what the hell the matriarchs of Foxford had been up to.
“Fate can be rather amusing in that sense; sometimes a wrong turn can lead us to where we’re meant to be,” Gwendoline said, smoothing down her sleek black suit trousers as she got up. She towered over Lucy in her stilettos, even when Lucy got to her feet too.
Without any hesitation, and much to Lucy’s surprise, Gwendoline embraced her like a daughter. Lucy let out a long sigh of relief. She couldn’t believe she’d been so fearful about their elements being discovered. In the future, she vowed to trust those around her and not let fear guide her decisions.
“Sorry I’m late,” said Benedict from the front of the shop, and both women froze. Gwendoline released Lucy. “There was a argument between a vampire and a shifter at the early bird buffet,” Benedict continued obliviously as he walked through to the back of the boutique.
Gwendoline jumped in front of Lucy.
“Turn around!” both women screamed in unison.
Benedict jumped, then covered his eyes and turned his back. “Okay, I’m deaf,” he said over his shoulder. “Why can’t I look?”
“Because we don’t want you to see Lucinda’s gown before the binding!” Gwendoline fussed, helping her back into the changing room.
“It’s not like a magless wedding – it’s not bad luck to see the bride and all that nonsense,” Benedict protested, turning round as Gwendoline quickly shut the curtain.
Safely inside, Lucy couldn’t stop herself from blushing with embarrassment. She glared at herself in the full-length mirror. How in the hell had she gone from feeling like a powerful high priestess to a blushing bride in a matter of minutes?
Once she’d handed off the gown and got dressed, she found Gwendoline chatting to Margot about the binding preparations. She could’ve sworn Margot say something about a reception, but she was distracted by Benedict’s muffled voice echoing in the other room with Murph, and she was dying to sneak a peek. She’d seen him in a suit more times that she could count, but this felt different– special. She couldn’t help the giddiness swelling up inside her at the thought of tomorrow.
“Are you listening to me?” Gwendoline asked as she settled up at the counter with Margot. Lucy hadn’t wanted to let her pay, since she was already allowing her to wear such a precious heirloom, but of course Gwendoline wouldn’t hear of anything else.
“Sorry. I was thinking about—” She couldn’t come up with a lie fast enough.
“About the groom?” Margot teased, handing her the receipt slip to pick up the dress in the morning. “Don’t worry, we’re going to take good care of him.”
Lucy blushed again and followed Gwendoline outside, determined to pay attention.
“As I was saying, I know how you Hawthornes like to dilly-dally. However, I expect you to be at the Manor by nine pm sharp, so there is plenty of time to get ready. And you don’t have to worry about running into Benedict. He’s getting ready elsewhere.”
And there’s the Gwendoline I know. Lucy wondered where Benedict was getting ready. Probably a guest room –or maybe Grams had convinced him to get ready at Hawthorne House, since they wouldn’t be there.
“I’ll be there at 8:59 and not a minute over,” she promised, crossing her heart. The ritual wasn’t taking place until midnight, so between Gwendoline and the Hawthorne women, they should have plenty of time to pull off a Cinderella moment.
Gwendoline disappeared down the street, but Lucy waited for Benedict. She missed the warmth of his element, but it felt good to have her own back. It wasn’t too long before he came out to join her.
“If it isn’t my blushing bride,” he said, kissing her hand tenderly.
“I wasn’t blushing,” she scoffed.
“Pity. If we weren’t getting hitched tomorrow, I could spend the night finding ways to make you blush.” He winked.
“I’m sure you can survive one night without me,” Lucy said, rolling her eyes as they crossed the street busy with evening traffic.
“I know tonight is your last night of freedom, but try and get some rest,” Benedict said when they got back to her house.
“Do you want to come up? I’ll let you use the front door,” Lucy offered, suddenly changing her mind about spending the night apart.
Benedict stepped into her space, and she thought he was going to follow her in. Instead, he placed his hand over hers on her gate and pressed his lips against her cheek. She knew it meant goodbye.
“As much as it hurts me, I must resist. I’ve got some matters to sort out before our big day, and we’re not to see each other before we reach the altar. We wouldn’t want to break tradition.”
She didn’t know how long they stayed there; all she knew was that her nose and fingers were turning red and she couldn’t feel her toes, even though she was hugging a life-sized heat blanket.
“You should get inside. I can hear your teeth chattering, and if you don’t go I’ll be tempted to warm you up.” A small laugh escaped Benedict, and the sound meant she could breathe again.
She knew how sad she was that her dad couldn’t be there, but knowing neither his brother nor father would be present had to be playing on his mind, even if he hadn’t said it. She’d considered asking him if Peter would like to attend, but she doubted Grim Reapers got vacation days. She’d never really understood before that loving someone meant taking on their pain and their past, but she’d take it all if it meant lessening the sorrow in his soul.
“Are you okay? You went all quiet,” Benedict said, tipping her chin up to meet his eye.
“I’m fine– tired.” She gave him one last squeeze.
“You’re a terrible liar, Lucy.”
She gasped in surprise. “You called me Lucy?!” He’d always called her Lucinda, or pumpkin – which, unfortunately, was growing on her as a nickname. The actual food itself never would. At least they’d never have to argue over the last slice of pie.
He rolled his eyes. “Get inside. I’ll see you at the altar, pumpkin.”
“If you’re lucky.” Lucy kissed him chastely before hurrying up the garden path before he could grab her.
When she glanced over her shoulder, he was already walking down the road, head down and hands in his pockets. She didn’t know how she’d never noticed how much weighed on him, never able to see past the perfect wall he’d built around himself. But even if he wanted to keep the wall around his heart, she understood. He’d let her in, and what was a wall without a garden to protect?