by Rigel, LK
With mock awe he’d said, I know not what secrets are kept by the sacred key of Lady Dumnos. And I don’t want to know. Female secrets, I imagine. He wasn’t far from the mark.
The key opened a Louis XVI roll top secretary in Beverly’s room. It had been a wedding present to Miss Lydia Pengrith from Donall, Lord Tintagos. Inside was a treasure trove, including the leather-bound volume she held in her gallery portrait.
The complete title, partially obscured in the painting by the countess’s arm, was Tales of Wyrd and Fae. It contained wyrding history and spells and theories about fairies. Charles Sarumen was right when he joked that Lydia was a secret wyrding woman.
The entries about the fae were interesting, but those about the wyrd were a revelation. The Great Wyrding, the war between wyrd and fae, the Dumnos ghosts—it was like coming home to learn about these things, at once fantastical and familiar.
Lydia posited that the cottage on the threshold of the woods was not abandoned at all but was in fact occupied by the great Frona’s daughter Elyse, made immortal by Igdrasil. Notwithstanding a few mistakes, Beverly’s skin tingled with the recognition of many truths while reading the account.
She believed Elyse still lived.
The next countess, James’s mother, had made two entries in the journal. The first:
I acknowledge receipt of this journal. It is a Bausiney family treasure, not my own, and I will do nothing to end its existence. But my Christian soul cries out Abomination! Today I received the key, and today I lock the secretary, nevermore to be opened in my lifetime.
Years later she wrote:
I am an old woman, no longer consoled by cant and Sunday sermons. I write here what I have admitted nowhere, not even to my beloved son.
I dropped the cup.
What relief to now drop the weight of my secret!
One night in the final month of my confinement with my son James, I roamed Faeview’s halls, unable to sleep. As I approached the glass case in the gallery, moonlight shone through the window and struck Bausiney’s Abundance.
I was filled with a fierce and undeniable desire to touch the cup, to hold it if only once. I opened the case. What did it matter? If cold iron and holy cakes failed to protect the object, then there was nothing magical to protect.
The cup is beautiful in its case, but holding it is a different experience altogether. Let me assure you, who read these words, the magic is real.
The cup slipped from my hands to the floor. Miraculously, it did not shatter. So I believed.
The next morning, shortly after breakfast, word came that my husband, Lord Dumnos, had been killed in a freak hail storm on his way home from Lords.
Both our daughters died later in London during the Blitz. Of three cousins, two were killed in France in the war and the third when his Spitfire ditched in the Channel in ’41. James, the sole remaining heir, has never shown an interest in marriage.
I examined Bausiney’s Abundance with a loupe and discovered a hairline crack at the base along the red inlay. It is so congenial to the design it appears to be a part of it.
I am the author of Bausiney’s End. I regret this, as I regret a life lived in denial of the world’s mysteries and delights. I am aware of my cowardice in admitting this only here.
It is the best I can do. May someone read this one day and bear witness to my shame.
Tucked in at the back of the journal were several loose pages, notes scrawled by Donall Bausiney after Lydia’s death. He wrote of Morning Glory at the Temple of Joy and Wonder and the love potion she gave him.
Beverly found the bottle he described in a cubbyhole in the secretary, half empty. To the end of her days, she would wish she hadn’t. She could well sympathize with the former countess’s regret. Beverly would add her own story of regret to the journal, but not today.
Lydia’s account of the fae didn’t sit well. She painted them in a bad light, wrote of the mischief they caused, changeling incidents, pranks—and worse, their treachery during the war of the wyrd. She recorded nothing in the journal of a fairy’s sheer joy in living or delight in children or music.
Beverly had decided to remedy this gap. She was Lady Dumnos now, and she’d actually met real fairies. She had the right to add to the accounts.
She set the box Dandelion had given her on her desk and ran her fingers over the carved design. She opened the journal to a blank page and began to describe the fairy prince’s mission to bring the Dumnos fae back to the light.
It was a mistake.
The more she wrote, the sadder she felt. This isn’t over, he had said. We aren’t over. But in almost six years, she hadn’t seen him once.
The bedroom door flew open and Cade burst into the room. “It’s here! It’s here!” he cried. “Father and Moo are waiting.” His green eyes sparkled, and his bright copper curls were as messy as ever.
He grabbed her hand and tugged, but his attention immediately snapped to the blackthorn dandelion box on her desk.
Dammit. She shouldn’t have left it out in the open. Cade reached for the box, but she scooped him up before he could touch it.
“Come down now, Mama. Come have your happy birthday!” His eyes didn’t leave the box.
“I’m so excited!”
Lies, all lies. She was bloody terrified. He never should have seen the box. Her heart pounding, she carried him out of the room.
“Let’s go,” she said cheerfully.
He clung to her, his little arms around her neck. She felt him staring over her shoulder, fixed on her bedroom door, and she hugged him tightly all the way to the gallery.
“Surprise!” Marion stood behind a huge rectangle wrapped in fancy paper. She was twenty now, home from university and working at the Tragic Fall for the summer.
“Happy Birthday, my dear.” James was awkward and pleasant as usual, holding a wrapped present about the size of a jewelry box.
“This is your little present.” Cade wriggled away from Beverly and ran over to the big rectangle. “It’s from Moo.” He never could say Marion, and now half the time everyone called her that.
“And this is your big present from me and Father.” Cade indicated the box in James’s hands and laughed. “It’s a riddle.”
“Thank you very much for both presents,” Beverly said. “I’m sure I’ll love them equally.”
Marion rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far,” she said as Cade helped Beverly tear the wrapping off the large rectangle.
“Oh, Moo.” Beverly caught her breath. She’d never seen the picture from Piccadilly Circus. “How did you…”
It was the shot Dandelion had taken of her standing at the Shaftesbury fountain. Bittersweet sadness washed over her. The Anteros statue did hover above her shoulder. All kinds of love.
“I was going to use that camera you brought back from London since you never do,” Marion said. “There was a roll of film in it, so I had it developed. It was mostly leaves and flowers and the odd statue, but I thought this one was lovely.”
Beverly hugged her, and Cade said, “Now the big one.”
The little box contained an Aston Martin key ring. With a set of keys.
“A new chariot for your picnic today,” James said. “Something fun.”
Outside a gleaming silver DB5 was parked at the front door. “It isn’t new.” James handed her the keys, as excited as Cade. “This is one of the actual vehicles used to film Goldfinger. Of course the weaponry has been removed.”
“Of course.” Beverly felt such tenderness for the earl. They’d become good friends, each grateful for what they could bring to the marriage and each at peace with what the other could never bring.
“The basket is packed, and we’re ready to go,” Marion said.
“Coming?” Beverly asked James, but she saw the answer in his eyes. He would take advantage of their day trip to take a long walk and meet with Goldy. She hadn’t seen Goldy since her time at Mudcastle, but she had no doubt he was the earl’s secret special friend
.
“Never mind.” She kissed James’s cheek and whispered in his ear, “Have a lovely day.”
“Let’s go!” Cade climbed into the child’s booster seat installed in the back. “Where’s Nanny?”
“It’s Nanny’s day off, sweetheart,” Beverly said. “I think the three of us can manage.” The engine kicked over flawlessly and they pulled away. Beverly waved to James. “It’s wonderful!”
Even more wonderful was the fact that Cade had forgotten all about the blackthorn box.
The car was indeed fun to drive—Beverly would have to get used to so much power compared to the Beetle. She turned onto the Ring road and then right instead of heading on toward the cliffs.
“We’re not going to Igdrasil?” Marion said.
“I have a better idea.”
In truth, Beverly longed to go to Igdrasil. Her soul cried out to meditate in the shade of the world tree, to reconnect with the vision which had filled her with wonder—and an awesome feeling of power. She’d longed to see Igdrasil since that night at the Dorchester.
But she was terrified too. For all she knew the portal was still intact, and she had a third wish remaining. She couldn’t risk being near it and accidentally wishing for something she’d have no power to reverse.
“Let’s get away from the mist for a change,” she said. “We’ll go to the Temple of Joy and Wonder.”
Writing in the journal and thinking of James and Goldy had made her lonely for Dandelion. She led Cade and Moo to the grassy area beside lake. She spread out their blanket near the shore while Moo helped Cade look for skipping rocks.
Did Dandelion know they were there? Perhaps he watched them from the rhododendrons even now.
Moo called to her. “We’re going to go through the maze. Do you want to come with?”
“Love to.” The smell of spring lilacs wafted by—despite the fact that it was late August. “Never mind. You two go on ahead.” Her pulse raced as an idea took hold of her. “I’ll be fine.”
As soon as Cade and Marion disappeared into the maze, she was on her feet. She dashed through the massive rhododendrons. It had to be here somewhere.
Dandelion had spoken of threshold places and rifts in the veil between the fae and human realms, like those at the woods’ border near the old abandoned cottage. He’d told her Mudcastle was on a threshold. Normally it was in the realm of fae, but when Dandelion was there Mudcastle existed in the human realm.
The smell of lilac grew stronger. When she passed a patch of chamomile, she knew she was near the portal. So close. She could feel it.
“Dandelion!” she cried out. Oh, sun and moon, let me see him, just once! “Dandelion!”
“Mama, a magic house!”
Cade was behind her. He ran past at full speed, headed toward a mound of dirt no taller than a lilac bush. What was he doing here?
“Look, mama!” Cade said. “A chimney!”
There was no house. There was no chimney. It was a mound of dirt, not big enough to be called a hill, covered with snowdrops and ivy. But this was Mudcastle. She knew it as surely as she breathed. Mudcastle in the human realm with no fae to render it visible.
Yet it was visible to Cade.
“Cade, stop!” Beverly raced after the boy but he was so fast. In desperation, she called out a spell she’d read about in Lydia’s journal. “Cage!”
Cade stopped and fell to the ground as if he’d run into an invisible wall. The wyrding spell worked. Beverly snatched him up into her arms. “Cade, Cade.”
“I want to go in, mama.”
“No, darling.” Tears streamed down her face. “Never,” she whispered—more to herself than to him. She could feel something, something fae, all around them. It wanted Cade.
She raced back through trees and bushes to the open.
“Oh, thank the gods, there you are,” Marion said. “Cade, how did you get out of the maze so fast?”
“Let’s go,” Beverly said. “Now. Forget the basket. I’ll come for it later. We’re going.”
Beverly strapped Cade into his seat and jumped in behind the wheel. As the DB5 peeled away and the feeling of the fae realm dissolved, her terror damped down to mere fear.
Marion and Cade stared at her like she was a crazy woman.
“I’m sorry.” She inhaled a deep breath and blew it out. “I don’t know what got into me.”
After a few minutes of silence Marion said, “Are you really all right? Because there’s something I was was going to tell you at the lake. I’m not going back to university. I’m going to stay here and work at the Tragic Fall.”
“Right.” Beverly loaded all the sarcasm she could into the word. “Like I’m going to let you give up on your education.”
“I don’t want it, Beverly,” Marion said. “Ian says I’d make a great concierge.”
“Ian.” That was it. Marion had always had a soft spot for the git. “Ian is married.”
“That has nothing to do with it,” Marion said, but her face turned deep purple.
Beverly stopped the DB5 in the same place near the front door and took the keys. In the entry hall she said again, “I’m not letting you throw away your education.”
Cade headed for the stairs and she called after him, “Leave Nanny alone, sweetie. You can play in your room for a while.” She hoped she hadn’t traumatized him with her fear. She still felt pretty traumatized herself.
“The Tragic Fall was good enough for you, Bevs. Why not me?”
“It’s no use, Marion. There’s no happiness chasing a man who’s isn’t available.” A more bitter truth was never told. She should listen to herself.
“I have to go to work,” Marion said. They both knew that was a lie. “Can I use the Beetle?”
Beverly tossed the DB5 keys on the credenza and picked up the VW keys, handing them to Marion. With a dull ache in her heart, she watched her sister go.
And the day had begun so nicely.
She went up to her room to finish her journal entry, but she couldn’t concentrate. She took Dandelion’s tether out of its box and went to the window, pressing the black cords against her cheek, careful not to touch the jewel. She didn’t think it could affect her, but she was superstitious.
The view from her window seemed unfamiliar, as if she hadn’t seen it a thousand times. With thick trees as background and the day’s mist settled low to the ground, the cottage was barely visible. The place had the look of lifelessness about it.
But today she had felt the wyrding power in her own body. She’d used the caging spell from Lydia’s journal—a boundary, she called it—on Cade. Elyse was supposedly the most powerful wyrding woman ever. What if she had put a wyrd on the cottage to make it seem abandoned?
The sound of wood sliding against wood brought her out of her reverie. Cade was sitting on the floor with the blackthorn box in his lap.
“Cade.” She might as well tell him the truth—as much of it as he could understand for now. “This is mama’s special necklace. It’s a tether, and someday it will be yours. But you must make a solemn vow never to wear it even then when it comes to you.”
He grimaced in horror, and she almost laughed. Of course he would think necklaces were for girls. “I promise,” he said.
“No, Cade. Not a promise.” She had to make him understand this was serious. “You must vow. If you break the vow, all the fairies and wyrders left in the world won’t help you, and neither will the Earl of Dumnos.”
The weight of it was too much. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She knew she was scaring him, but she couldn’t help herself. She knew deep in her bones: eventually Idris would come for Cade.
“I vow, mama.”
She kissed his forehead and brushed his lovely red curls out of his green eyes. “I believe you, my darling boy. Now go find Nanny and ask her if she can play with you as a special favor. Mama has to run an errand.”
She drove the DB5 along the Ring road, past Igdrasil and as close to the old cottage as she dared, then pull
ed off. She’d go the rest of the way on foot. If Elyse was there, the less noise she made the better.
She approached the cottage through the garden where a crow scolded her from a high branch in an amazing ancient yew tree. “I would answer you,” Beverly said congenially, “but I don’t understand the language of crows.”
“Silver and gold find you.”
Someone grabbed her hand.
“Silver and gold bind you.”
An old woman, yes, but certainly no older than in her sixties. Her grip was ferocious, and she slipped a ring onto Beverly’s finger.
“Serve not desire, but enhance delight.”
Great gods! This wasn’t happening…
“All will be well. All will be right.”
Wyrding Woman
BEVERLY'S EYES WERE OPEN, but she saw only memories. The ring the old woman had put on her right hand was still there, and someone was in her head. She was in Hyde Park again with the fairies.
The person in her head was the old woman with the ring. Elyse. Elyse watched—and felt—Fen and Violet kiss and touch Beverly’s naked body and was both repulsed and fascinated.
A wrenching feeling tugged at Beverly as Elyse moved to obliterate the memory. No! Beverly tried to yell. She mentally threw a boundary over the memory, as she’d thrown the cage over Cade. Elyse seemed satisfied and let go.
It wasn’t that Beverly treasured this memory or ever meant to revisit it, but she didn’t want to risk losing the memory of what had followed—Dandelion rescuing her and their night together at the Dorchester.
Another memory came into focus. Cade had found a dandelion gone to seed and held it up for Beverly to blow. His cherub face started to fade.
No! Beverly tried to scream again, but nothing came out. If Cade faded here, she knew she’d forget him. Not this. Don’t take this.
Elyse relented. “Enough,” the old woman said—or thought. She flung Beverly out of her conscious thoughts, away into a dark crevice of the brain.
The gold and silver ring was simple, elegant, and powerful. It wouldn’t let Beverly separate from Elyse, the wyrding woman of Glimmer Cottage. But neither would the ring allow Elyse to separate from Beverly.
