He appeared a few minutes later, hair sticking up in directions Lily hadn’t even known existed, as he attempted to button his shirt. “Wassit going on?” he asked, giving up on his shirt after two buttons and collapsing into a chair by the window. Lily watched him try to rub the sleep out of his eyes, noting he had his shirt on inside out.
“I thought you’d want to know where we stand before I disappear into the library for the rest of the day.”
Sebastian made a noncommittal noise, probably intended to indicate he was still conscious, which was about as much as he could manage at the moment.
“I met with Ms. Pemberton and got all the formal arrangements taken care of.”
“Mmm.”
“Then I went to meet with Dr. Hawtrey, a wizard in the history department. He’s an expert on early medieval history in Britain, specifically Arthurian legend.”
“Mm-hm.”
Lily pursed her lips. “He was very handsome.”
“Wha—what?” Sebastian sat up, managing to look confused and aggressive at the same time.
“I said, he was very solemn,” she repeated, trying to hide both a smirk and a blush. She didn’t know what had come over her. Was this how Sebastian felt whenever he teased her? “He didn’t seem to think it very plausible that Morgan was real, though the copies of the journal got him interested enough to consider translating it properly for us.”
“Right…um…consider?” Sebastian asked, not looking entirely convinced, but too groggy to do anything about it. Leaning forward, he scrubbed his face with his hands a few times before giving his head a good shake.
“He was happy enough to translate it but said it would take several weeks. I told him we didn’t have time, so he agreed to do it in a few days, but only if, um, well”—she shifted uncomfortably—“only if we let him come with us to find Morgan le Fay.”
“What? No, that’s ridiculous! He’d slow us down. We can’t babysit some bumbling squint whose idea of mortal danger is food and drink in a library.”
Lily frowned and crossed her arms. “You mean me?”
“What? No—I meant—you’re different, Lily.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” Sebastian protested, raising his hands. “You actually do stuff. You get out and combat the forces of evil. We don’t know if this guy can even put out a candle, much less pull his weight in a fight against John Faust. This is going to be dangerous. We can’t have him tagging along.”
“Well, I’ve already given him my word,” she said stiffly. “And food and drink in the library are a mortal danger, especially here. This is one of the biggest libraries in all of Britain, and they preserve documents hundreds, even thousands of years old. One misplaced glass of water is all it takes to destroy irreplaceable history.”
“Whatever,” Sebastian grumbled. “My point is, we can’t take him. It would be irresponsible. He might get killed!”
“It’ll be fine. We can make him stay behind with Hawkins if there’s danger, but he is coming. We need his help. Now, go clean up. I have an…appointment and then I’ll be in the library the rest of today catching up on research.” She didn’t know why, but she didn’t want to tell Sebastian about her fitting. What if he laughed? Momentarily distracted, she noticed he was staring at her and scrambled to fill the silence. “You, um, you might want to find some…maps! Yes, maps. You know, to get familiar with the lay of the land, or figure out what supplies we’ll need or…something. I suspect we’ll be traveling into the countryside to old archeological sites, so we’d best be prepared. Alright?”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” He gave her a two-finger salute and a roll of the eyes before heaving himself up and exiting the room, muttering grumpily as he went.
Lily let out a sigh, hoping he would be in a better mood after a shower and some food. “Kip, stay with him, alright? Make sure he doesn’t, I don’t know, annoy a policeman and get arrested or something.”
“Who do you think I am? His babysitter?”
“Something like that,” Lily said, giving her cat a pointed stare.
With a long-suffering huff, Sir Kipling jumped off the bed and slunk after Sebastian.
Glancing at her watch, she saw she just had time to pop down for a bit of lunch before Emmaline arrived. After hastily enjoying an avocado and prawn sandwich, she headed back upstairs, reaching her room with several minutes to spare. Having nothing else to do, she fidgeted about the room, making sure everything was neatly put away and worrying about what one was supposed to wear to a fitting. She was glad she’d sent Sir Kipling with Sebastian. She could just imagine him sitting on the bed, making snide comments as he observed the procedure with amused fascination.
A knock on her door interrupted her thoughts, and she hurried to answer it. Lily opened it to reveal a woman who…well…who was very hard to describe. She didn’t seem to fit into any normal category you might use to describe a person. She was quite fashionable, but not in a modern sort of way. If anything her tastes had a Goth leaning, but in the most sophisticated, aristocratic way possible. Her face was young and smooth, but her eyes showed age beyond her years. Her hair was a brilliant auburn red that must have been quite long when it was let down. It was currently twisted up into an arrangement of braids so beautifully complex it was a work of art, pure and simple. She looked the picture of refined grace, until you got to her feet, which were clad in a pair of blood-red, calf-high Doc Martens boots.
The overall effect was so surprising that Lily found herself quite speechless and simply stood in the doorway, staring.
After a moment of suitably awkward silence, Emmaline spoke. “That’s quite alright, dear. I often have that effect on people.”
Completely abashed, Lily moved aside, inviting her guest in with a stream of tumbled apologies and wishing she could offer her a cup of tea.
“Truly, Ms. Singer, it’s quite alright. If I wanted to be treated like everyone else, I would dress like everyone else. Now, let’s not dally about,” she said, setting her shoulder bag on the bed and getting out a tailor’s measuring tape. Using motions and a few polite directions, Emmaline positioned her in the middle of the hotel room’s open floor space, feet together, back straight, head up, and arms outstretched. With practiced speed, she whipped the tape up, down, and around just about every body part Lily possessed, carefully noting her measurements in a small notebook tucked into a pocket of her skirt.
As she worked, she questioned Lily. “Now, Ms. Singer, what kind of outfit were you wanting?”
“Um, well, I’m not exactly sure. I mean, I know what I want to do in it, but I don’t know what it should look like.”
“I see. Let’s start with what you know, then, shall we?” Emmaline said in a dry voice.
Lily took a deep breath. “Well, I have this…problem. I’m used to dressing quite professionally and fashionably, but of late I’ve found myself in situations where I need to do rather, um, physical things, and my normal attire gets in the way. Pencil skirts, fitted blouses, and oxford heels aren’t exactly conducive to moving around, um, quickly.”
“That’s understandable. So you need an ensemble suitable for the outdoors?”
“Sort of, but not exactly. I…” Lily hesitated, embarrassed. “I think I need a, well, an adventuring outfit.” She bit her lip, ready for the mocking smile or look of incredulity.
But instead Emmaline looked thoughtful. She crossed her arms, one hand lifted to tap her cheek as she examined Lily, though her eyes were distant, as if seeing something else.
Unable to bear the silence, Lily continued, feeling the need to explain herself. “I know it sounds silly. Why can’t I just put on a pair of jeans and hiking boots, after all, like a normal person? But I have no idea when I might need to adventure and when I might need to be presentable. I just wish there was a way I could do both, if that makes sense,” she finished weakly, looking away.
“It makes perfect sense, Ms. Singer.”
Li
ly looked up, surprised, and saw a wry smile on Emmaline’s face.
“You wouldn’t believe some of the commissions I receive. I promise you, yours is one of the most reasonable and practical ones I’ve ever heard. It makes perfect sense to want a wardrobe that is both practical and fashionable. Now, what exactly counts as practical and fashionable varies from person to person, so I’ll need you to be a bit more precise.”
Turning to her bag, she drew out a sketch pad and took a seat, looking at Lily expectantly.
Put on the spot, Lily sank down onto the bed, thinking. “Well, I prefer wearing pencil skirts, but they restrict movement, so perhaps a pencil skirt with a slit? Or pleats?”
Emmaline nodded thoughtfully, her pencil dancing across the sketchpad.
“The shirt isn’t as much the issue. Any loose blouse would do. Though it would probably be best if it had a fitted neck and sleeves, so there weren’t any loose bits to get snagged or a low neckline to, um, reveal something at the wrong moment.” Lily coughed.
“You know, I once had to give CPR to a man who had collapsed at a dinner party. That was the last time I wore low necklines.”
Lily gave a startled laugh, surprised by the sudden remark. “Did you really?”
Emmaline smiled at the memory. “He was extremely overweight, the poor dear. Apparently CPR isn’t something many people learn these days. Personally, I like to be prepared.”
“I do too,” Lily said, smiling. She was liking Emmaline more and more. “Though, I’m not sure I could manage CPR. I’m not very good with people.”
“Oh neither am I, dear me. Can’t stand the sight of them most of the time.”
“Really?” Lily asked, curious. “But you seem so…comfortable. You’re not at all, well, um…” she trailed off, realizing it might not be polite to continue that train of thought. But she didn’t need to. Emmaline seemed to read her thoughts.
“Awkward? I used to be, but not any more.”
“What changed?” Lily asked, now extremely curious. What made this woman so sure of herself? So sure in herself?
“Well, I stopped caring what other people thought of me, for a start.” Emmaline raised an eyebrow, studying Lily critically as she sketched a few more lines.
Lily couldn’t help it, she blushed. How in the world was she supposed to stop caring what other people thought of her? Outward appearance and public decorum were very important. She wanted to always make a good impression. “But…how? Appearances are important.”
“Of course they are, Ms. Singer. Now, what about your jacket?”
“Excuse me?” Lily was thrown off by the sudden change in topic.
“You have described your skirt and blouse, but I assume you want some sort of blazer or jacket top to complete the outfit?”
“Oh, yes, um…I’m really not sure. Something elegant. I do enjoy vintage looks, but not old-fashioned. Certainly nothing with shoulder pads. I loathe shoulder pads.”
Emmaline chuckled, a soft, musical sound. “An understandable sentiment. Might I suggest something modern with a vintage twist? How do you feel about high collars?”
“That sounds fine,” Lily said, though honestly she had no idea. Art and design were not her strong points.
“Good. Now, one last question. Do you love yourself, Ms. Singer?”
Lily recoiled, startled. “What?”
“Exactly what I asked. It is a plain enough question. Do you love yourself?”
About to point out the rudeness of such a question, Lily stopped herself. Emmaline simply looked at her expectantly, expression politely interested. Detecting no hint of avarice or mocking, Lily tried to figure out what this polite, proper, but plainspoken woman wanted from her. She barely knew her and yet felt a strange camaraderie. Lily realized she wanted to be like Emmaline, with her strange sense of fashion and fearless behavior.
“I suppose I love myself,” Lily answered slowly, not entirely sure of her answer. “At least, I don’t hate myself.”
“And yet you are constantly worried what other people think. Generally, that indicates insecurity. And insecurity comes from not loving yourself the way you are. I would be the last to discourage anyone from striving to be the best they can be, but you can’t base your standards on other people’s opinions. You can’t live your life comparing yourself to others. It will leave you quite miserable. You have to be your own person, or you’ll never find peace.” As she spoke, Emmaline put the last few touches on her sketch, seemingly unbothered by Lily’s nervous shifting. “There, that ought to do it,” she said, turning her sketchbook around to show Lily what she’d created.
It was bold. It was different. It was strangely exciting. Lily’s mouth quirked in a smile as she imagined herself in it. She didn’t know if it was “her,” but then what, exactly, was her? Whatever the answer, she knew the future held hard times, and she would need all the bravery she could muster. This outfit made her feel like she could step into those shoes, be the brave person she needed to be. It was worth a shot.
“It’s lovely,” Lily said with a smile.
“I thought you might like it.” Emmaline mirrored her smile, standing up to tuck her tools back into her bag. “While clothes certainly aren’t the whole of one’s identity, they can be an important part. They are both an expression, and a shield. And one can’t choose one’s armor too carefully.”
Turning to face her, Emmaline held out a card with contact details on it. “Now, I’ll need a few days, but I should have most of the work done near the middle of the week. We can meet then for a second fitting to ensure everything is just as you want it. Is that acceptable?”
“Absolutely,” Lily said, taking the card. “The sooner the better. I need this outfit yesterday.”
“Then I shall endeavor to proceed with all speed. Thank you for this opportunity, Ms. Singer. I think I shall enjoy the project immensely. After all, it’s not every day I get to outfit someone for an adventure.” There was a slight sparkle in her eyes as she spoke, and she turned to leave.
At the door, she shook Lily’s hand. “One more thing, if I may. Have you considered footwear?”
Lily shook her head. “Not really. I just know I need to be able to run in them, possibly climb things.”
“Well, you might consider Doc Martens,” Emmaline said, turning her heel slightly to show off her own boots. “They are fabulously comfortable and quite fashionable. It’s a tragedy that heeled boots just aren’t practical when it comes to real adventure. You might see heroines wearing them in the movies, but the realities of gravity, physics, and the human body guarantee injury if you tried all that in real life. Now, if you’ll give me your shoe size, I’d be glad to acquire a pair that complements the outfit.”
Grateful for one less thing to worry about, Lily readily agreed. She bade the eccentric tailor farewell, knowing the woman’s words of wisdom would follow her for days to come, whether she wanted them to or not.
With only a short delay to check on Sebastian—there was no answer at the door, so she assumed he’d gone out with Sir Kipling—Lily gathered her bag and computer, then headed off to the Old Bodleian. Unlike yesterday’s throng of humanity, the streets were lightly populated with backpack-toting students, briefcase-carrying academics, and other “normal” folk as opposed to tourists. There were surprisingly more bicycles in evidence, however, perhaps because they were the transportation of choice for the residents. They were absolutely everywhere, filling up the bike racks found on every block and leaning in rows against the ancient buildings.
Being a weekday, as well as cold and overcast, everyone was hurrying to and from their tasks, not strolling about enjoying the sights. Lily herself was tempted to take her time and examine several interesting buildings that she passed, but the chill wind discouraged such meanderings. It was amazing how different the day felt from yesterday’s sunny glory, but then that was England for you.
She was just passing a row of narrow shops when she saw a flash of silver out of the corner of h
er eye. Turning, she noticed a stone archway leading to a tiny alley that she hadn’t noticed before. An ancient-looking oak door stood slightly ajar beneath the arch, and she just saw the tip of a silver tail disappearing through it. Curious, she took a step toward the door, then hesitated. Was the alleyway private property? Looking around and seeing no one nearby, she decided to take a peek. The door was already ajar, so it wouldn’t hurt to open it a bit further.
The hinges creaked as she pushed on the ancient wood. It was surprisingly heavy. Having opened it enough to stick her head through, she peered into the alleyway and was surprised to see it full of potted plants. Further down it appeared to open up into a lovely garden between the tall stone buildings. At the end of the alley, she thought she could see eyes peering out at her from the bushes.
She’d already pushed the door fully open and put one foot inside when her brain finally kicked in.
She stopped.
Despite the seeming innocence of the alleyway, something felt off. Lily finally realized it was the plants. They seemed greener, more…intense. As if more fully real than reality itself. Not only that, but they also appeared wild. Unkempt. Untamed. The garden in front of her didn’t look at all like the carefully tended and trimmed courtyards and quadrangles that appeared all over Oxford.
Taking a step back, she stood in the doorway, thinking. It was then that the silver fox, perhaps in response to her hesitation, poked its head out of the bush. It examined her, then emerged fully and sat in the middle of the alley, head cocked to the side as if asking why she was taking so long.
Now that was most definitely not right. No matter how curious she was, she knew better than to wander into strange gardens alone with creatures that acted abnormally friendly. That was Wizarding 101. But she couldn’t just leave. The alley had appeared for a reason, and it might be important. So, taking out her phone, she started snapping pictures of the alleyway, the garden, the fox, and the location of the archway so she could find it again. When she finished and reached for the door to pull it closed, she noticed that the fox had vanished.
Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Legends Page 9
