by Nancy Warren
I wasn’t going to argue. I thought it would be nice for as many people as possible to be surprised by my gown. So, in spite of some grumbling by Theodore and Alfred, and Christopher Weaver muttering that if he’d known, he wouldn’t have worked so hard on the train, they agreed to make themselves scarce while I had my fitting.
I was wearing the pretty new lingerie I had purchased in Paris and never yet worn. It was ivory silk and cost more than my first car. The dress had been put together so beautifully, I couldn’t find a seam. When I complimented them, Sylvia said, “Mabel did it. The poor woman has no idea of color, taste, or style, but she’s an excellent seamstress. We must give her that.”
Mabel didn’t look overjoyed by the most backhanded compliment I’d ever heard, but I hastened to thank her for all her meticulous work.
Sylvia also wanted to do a practice run on my makeup and hair, so I arrived with my hair freshly washed but unstyled, my face clean and free of all cosmetics except the day cream I got from Karmen the witch. It did feel strange using her skin cream when she wasn’t here anymore, but I had to admit it was beautiful stuff. I wondered if there was anyone who would be able to take over from her. And once again puzzled over who had ended her life.
The media had little to report, only the facts of her death. The police had obviously not shared many details. I would love to delve into the mystery more, and maybe once I was married and back from our honeymoon, I’d have time. Maybe by that time the police would have solved the crime and no one would need my interference. That would be nice.
But for right now, I was not worried about murder. I was much more interested in my wedding gown.
Sylvia set to work, and it was like an undead hen party, as these female vampires I’d grown so close to chatted and giggled while Sylvia expertly did my hair and makeup. Silence Buggins kept trying to tell some boring story about how different weddings were in Queen Victoria’s time, but mostly I tuned her out. Hester went dreamy-eyed watching Sylvia get to work. I suspected she was fantasizing about a wedding, perhaps with Carlos.
I’d been absolutely clear I didn’t want anything too formal. It wouldn’t suit me. And while I knew she was listening, Sylvia was not a person who gave up her own ideas easily. I suspected I’d get whatever she thought would look good on me, and if I wanted something different, I was going to have to argue my case. However, this was only a practice, so I could relax and enjoy my underground family. We chatted happily, mostly about the move. Sylvia and Gran had been down to Cornwall and just returned.
Gran said, “Wait till you see it, Lucy. It’s the most beautiful countryside. And on Rafe’s property there’s a tin mine that is as nicely set up as our apartments here. There’s almost nothing to do but move in. I shall take all my personal effects, of course, but it’s perfect. No one knows me there, and I won’t be far from you, my dear. You will come and visit very often, won’t you?”
I couldn’t move my head, as Sylvia was currently putting eyeshadow on my eyelids, so I reached blindly out towards her, and she grasped my hand in her cool one. “I’ll visit you as often as I possibly can.”
Sylvia said, “You’ll want to oversee some redecorating and renovation of the manor house, too. It’s a very comfortable bed-and-breakfast, but there have been a great number of tourists through there, and the décor is a little tired. You’ll want to turn it back into a family home.”
“I can’t wait to see it.” It was mind boggling to go from someone who lived in a two-bedroom flat above a shop to being married to someone who had more than one manor house. I had no idea of the full extent of Rafe’s wealth. I wondered if he even knew it. And I hadn’t been in a rush to ask. First, I didn’t want him to think I was gold digging, and second, I thought I was going to have to take Rafe’s world and life a little at a time. We’d gotten over the biggest hurdle, obviously. I, a mortal witch, was marrying a five-hundred-year-old vampire. Get past that and everything else was going to be easy. Still, I would have to adjust. I mean, the man had a private plane that he never bothered to tell me about until an hour before I got on it. Knowing him, there were houses in other countries, too. I suspected he always needed to know there was a safe place he could escape to.
I wondered if he owned anything in the States. I bet he did.
A few more minutes of smoothing, brushing and penciling, and Sylvia stood back and nodded. “I won’t do your lips until you’ve got the dress on. Heaven forbid you should mar it with a stray smear of lipstick.”
Now my genuine excitement turned to nerves. If I mucked up this wedding dress, I might never see my wedding day. I’d witnessed Sylvia angry, and I never wanted to see that again.
“Oh, hush,” Gran said to Sylvia. “If she gets a little smear on it, we’ll fix it. It’s her wedding.”
Sylvia merely said, “No reason not to take proper care of things.”
Meanwhile, Clara and Mabel had the dress ready. The moonstone buttons gleamed in the soft light as I carefully stepped into the gown. “Did Mr. Herrick do as good a job on recreating the moonstone buttons as the first person who carved them?”
Gran answered. “His are equally as good. He’s a real craftsman. We picked up the buttons only yesterday. It was such a thrill.”
They’d taken all my measurements, so as I slid my arms into the sleeves, they hugged me but not too tight. The dress felt wonderful. The fine silk thread that had been crocheted with such care whispered against my skin. It was Gran who did each of the tiny buttons up and then, turning me around, took a step back. She clasped her hands together under her chin and said, “Oh, my.”
Silence interrupted her own story to say, “You look so beautiful.”
Mabel said, “It could have been made for you.”
“It was,” Sylvia snapped. Never one to gush prematurely, Sylvia took a slow walk all the way around me, stopping to squint behind my left shoulder and then make an infinitesimal shift in the way the fabric sat. She came round to the front and then nodded. “Yes. Perfect.”
I let out a breath. I didn’t know why I’d been so anxious to please her, but I had. “Can I see?”
For this one night only, they had brought in a mirror. I had no idea where it came from, but it was a proper triple mirror like you’d find in a dress shop. I was dying to go and look at myself, but Sylvia put up a single finger and then went to fetch lipstick. She applied the creamy pink that we’d chosen and then blotted it carefully before standing back once more and giving me a nod. Then she said, “Now you may look.”
I trod over to the mirror, and I thought, how did I ever get so lucky? I had the kind of friends who would crochet me a wedding dress and was marrying someone who would love me forever. Above ground, I had slightly eccentric and deranged parents, but I knew they loved me. I had good friends. I had a life. My shop was never going to set the world on fire, but it made a lot of people happy. It made me happy.
I tried not to be vain and was always too quick to note my own faults, but in that moment, looking at myself in that dress, my hair swept up but still loose and casual and my face made up so that everything looked slightly better than what nature had given me, I felt beautiful. The dress had simple lines. All the fanciness was in the handiwork—the individually crocheted flowers that were as delicate as the finest lace, the train that swept behind me but not so crazy long I’d need three people to hold it up. It was perfect.
Sylvia said from behind me, “Now don’t go spoiling that makeup with tears.”
That was exactly what I needed to stop me. I burst out laughing. And then I turned and put out my arms, planning to hug each of them in turn, but Sylvia jumped back, horrified, and put her hand up.
“Out of the dress. You’re not to touch anything until you’re safely out of that dress.”
Abashed, I waited while they carefully took me out of the gown, and only then was I allowed to hug them all.
Gran said, “Do you really like it, dear? Because if you don’t, we won’t be at all hurt. You could go
to a boutique and buy something else.”
“I could never find anything as beautiful as this. And besides, it was made with love. Every bride should be so lucky.”
The next morning, I was standing over orders that needed to be mailed out, but my hands were still. I was daydreaming. I saw myself again in that beautiful wedding dress and pictured Rafe’s face when he first saw me coming up the aisle. I was pretty sure he was going to approve.
Then I pictured Margaret Twigg standing there, getting ready to marry us, and thought, What on earth am I going to do?
She’d probably do a really good job. And, when she wasn’t being sarcastic and belittling me, she’d been an excellent mentor and taught me just about everything I knew about being a witch.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. As I thought about my wedding day, I wondered if we should have a wedding rehearsal. It was going to be very casual but I wondered if I should get my dad to practice the walk up the aisle since it was going to happen on grass and I didn’t want either of us to trip.
Rafe called, and I said, “I was just thinking about you and our wedding.”
“That’s nice.”
I told him about getting Dad to practice walking me down the aisle.
“Good idea, but don’t call your father today.”
“Why not?”
“He’ll be in a delicate condition, I suspect.”
“My dad? What happened to him?”
“We had my stag do last night.”
I nearly laughed thinking of the vampires and the Egyptologists whooping it up. “You did? What did you do?”
“Lochlan has a business acquaintance who owns a private collection of astonishing quality. Egyptian treasures mainly. Your father was fascinated.”
“So fascinated he has a weak head this morning?”
“I suspect that was the brandy.”
I chuckled. “Was it here in Oxford?”
“No. Amsterdam.”
“You know, when guys head to Amsterdam for a stag party, they don’t usually go for the mummies.”
“Of course not. Few people in the world will see that collection of antiquities.”
So not what I’d meant.
We finished the call and then Nyx jumped up beside me and needed attention. I told her about Margaret Twigg officiating at the ceremony, and she nodded her little chin up and down, though that could have been her way of telling me that she would like to be scratched there. That’s usually what that movement meant. While I complied, my phone rang.
“Lucy Swift,” I said. I didn’t even bother to see who was calling. Between the shop and things for the wedding, I always answered that way these days.
A soft, breathy voice said, “Hello, this is Tilda Ramsay. From Wallingford Botanicals?”
Wallingford Botanicals? What? And then I realized who she was. “Oh, Karmen’s assistant. How are you?”
I didn’t know what else to say. The poor woman had lost her boss to a violent death. No doubt she was struggling a bit. Was she even still employed?
“I’m all right. Thank you for asking. I wanted to let you know that your bridesmaid gifts are ready.”
“Oh, right.” I had completely forgotten about them in all the chaos. “Where should I come and pick them up?”
“I’m still operating the business. If you’d like to come to Wallingford, you can pick them up there. Or I’d be happy to drive them to Oxford for you. I know it’s what Karmen would want me to do.” Her voice trembled at the end, on the edge of tears. I hastened to assure her that it was no problem at all for me to come up to Wallingford.
It wasn’t only that I didn’t want to put the poor woman out of her way, but I hadn’t done a single thing about trying to solve the murder of a woman who had sent me a deadly gift. There was something very strange going on, and as Rafe had reminded me, Karmen might have tried to murder me, but someone else had much more successfully done the job on her.
Solving one murder might prevent a second one.
Mine.
Planning a wedding was all very well, but I’d quite like to survive long enough to actually walk down the aisle, especially now I had that beautiful dress.
It might have been shallow, but those really were the thoughts going through my mind at that moment. Nyx, obviously sensing that my attention had wandered, ceased purring and gave an annoyed brrp and then stalked off to the front shop.
On impulse, I called Rafe. He picked up on the first ring.
“Lucy,” he said, his voice filled with pleasure. “Did you speak to your father?”
“No. I’ll wait until he’s recovered.”
“A sound plan.”
I told him that Tilda had just called to say she had bridesmaid gifts ready for pick up. “I was thinking, if we went together, we could look around a little. I could keep her chatting while you poked into corners to see if there are any clues to what happened to Karmen.”
“That’s an excellent idea. Can you give me half an hour to finish up here and then I’ll come and fetch you?”
“Perfect.” That would give me time to get my mind out of the clouds and finish packing up the orders.
When I went back out front to tell Violet the bad news, that I was actually going to leave her alone for a couple of hours, my mother was coming in the front door.
“Hello, girls. Wasn’t that the most glorious tea?”
“It was. And the massage I had was amazing,” I said. “I didn’t know how tense I was.”
Mom flashed her manicure at us. “It’s such a treat to have pretty nails. Not very practical for my work, of course, but so pretty for your wedding.”
Violet showed off her pedicure. Her purple toenails were very pretty, but I’d assumed she’d chosen a facial, since her skin looked so dewy and fresh. I moved closer to her, pretending an interest in her pedicure, and by concentrating, picked up a faint but familiar scent.
“And I’ve been having the most wonderful morning at my old college,” my mother said. “Quite a walk down memory lane.”
I told Mom I had to run soon, and she didn’t seem to mind. “I can keep Violet company then.”
“Right. Could you excuse me and Violet for a few minutes? I need to show her something upstairs.”
Violet looked surprised, since I never took her upstairs for work chats, but Mother didn’t know that and said she could certainly manage to hold the fort. “Perhaps I should take up knitting,” she said, picking up one of the newest magazines.
I ushered Violet upstairs. She appeared uncomfortable, a little nervous even, when I didn’t offer her a seat and stood there with my arms crossed.
“Where’s Jennifer?” she asked, looking around.
“She’s at Crosyer Manor helping Olivia plan the garden decorations.” I loved how quickly Jennifer had jumped into her bridesmaid role, and she and Olivia had bonded at my hen party. I’d worried that she’d be bored, but between sightseeing and helping with wedding prep, she was as busy as I was. Also, not here to shield Violet. “I know you’re wearing face cream from Wallingford Botanicals, so don’t even try to deny it.”
“So what?” she said, trying to brazen it out.
I was coldly furious. “So you lied to me. You went there that day, didn’t you? You went to see Karmen. And yet when I asked you, you claimed you’d been to see William.”
Her color fluctuated from red to white and back again. “I did go to see William that day.”
Then she looked down at her purple toes peeking from her sandals. “But, okay, I also went to see that witch.”
“On the day she died.” I didn’t know how bad it was, but I didn’t have a good feeling about this.
Vi glanced up at me and snapped, “I didn’t know she was going to die.”
Had she had something to do with it? I didn’t want to accuse her, as she might stomp back downstairs and hide behind my mother. I could tell she was thinking about it. I forced myself to relax and tried to sound calm. “Tell me what happened.”
She let out a breath, obviously trying to calm herself. “It was Margaret Twigg’s idea.”
Why was I not surprised? “Go on.”
“There’s not much to tell. I went to see Margaret and told her you’d seen Karmen and that she’d admitted to selling the hex. Margaret said we had to stop her from selling her wares in Oxford and harming another witch. She was angry, and you know how Margaret gets when she’s angry.”
I nodded. I did. But I’d never seen her murderous. “What did Margaret do?”
“We drove out to Wallingford together…that day.”
“The day Karmen died.”
“Quit rubbing it in. We didn’t know she was dying, and we had nothing to do with it.”
“You just dropped in for tea?”
“No need to be sarcastic. No. Margaret told her she’d nearly killed me and what did she have to say for herself.”
I wondered if Karmen had treated Margaret to the same blasé attitude I’d been subjected to and doubted it.
“Karmen said she hadn’t known it was meant for one of her sisters, and while she never said she was sorry, she did give both me and Margaret a jar of her special recipe face cream.” She touched her cheek. “I wasn’t going to use it, but you’d raved about it, so I tried it, and I can already see the difference in my skin.” She shook her head. “I wish she hadn’t died. Now what will we do when we run out?”
She looked at me like this was a serious question. “Never mind that. When were you there?”
Now she looked at me sheepishly. “We passed you on the road.”
“We?” I’d seen Margaret in the car but no passenger.
“I saw the car coming toward us. I felt your energy, so I ducked down so you wouldn’t see me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”