Chapter Four

Frankie, breathless and drenched in sweat, meets them halfway through the woods on their walk back to the estate.

He places his hands on the top of his head and stands very straight to support the flow of air to his lungs. His blue eyes squint in the morning light. "We have a slight problem."

Marigold scrunches her nose. "Mother?"

"Mother."

The three of them move as quickly as they can to get back to the estate. Once inside, Marigold sees Aster and her father getting scolded by her mother.

"… after I clearly said that she should never—"

"Mother," Marigold says. Her mother gasps as she looks up.

"Marigold, tell me you did not do this," she says, rushing over and taking Marigold's face in her hands.

Her mother surveys her, and Marigold can see the moment that her mother realizes it is too late.

A darkness comes over her mother. "How could you?"

"I had to," she says. She does not turn away. She does not look down. She stands tall and proud and certain that she did the right thing for herself.

"And you?" her mother says as she turns her head to Althea like a viper. "You betrayed me. Every person in this room betrayed me."

"You were trying to control a fate that was not yours to decide, Raina," Althea says, taking a step toward her daughter.

"Don't you dare come near me right now, Mother. I mean it. You clearly understood my position on the matter. You knew why I forbid this to happen. And yet, you did it anyway, with no regard for my feelings or Marigold's safety." Her mother steps back, gasping, as if she is drowning in her own words.

"Her safety is the exact reason why I am here, Raina. You think that after I'm gone, if Marigold had no access to her magic, she would stay safe for her entire life? You think that it is a coincidence that your estate has remained hidden from the Ash Witch all these years? No. It was me. It was magic. Always magic."

Her mother's hands turn to fists at her side. "You're lying. I protected her myself."

"I am not. And you know that I am not. You forget, Raina, that you are not powerful like you used to be. You gave it up. That was your choice, and yet you continue to believe that you can protect her from evil on your own," Althea says as she moves into the sitting room toward a gallery wall of Lord Claude's paintings. "The way a protection ritual works—and pay attention, Marigold; consider this the start of your training—is by the use of ancient runes. When the runes are placed, I can channel magic through them." She reaches up to one of the smaller frames and takes it from the wall, turning it around to reveal the back of the canvas where there is an intricate arrow pointing from corner to corner.

Her mother's eyes widen as Althea continues pulling the artwork from the wall.

Runes, on the backs of every single piece.

Raina looks at her husband and says, "All this time, we were in danger, and you said nothing? You worked with her in secret? Why?"

"I tried, my love, and you cannot say that I didn't. Every time we attempted to have the conversation about Marigold, about her magic and future, you panicked. And I understand why! I always understood your fear, but I also saw our daughter wilting, so I did what I thought was best. When Marigold first asked to go out during a full moon, I wrote to Althea. She wrote me back. I let Marigold follow her instincts. It seemed like it was best for everyone, and no one got hurt."

"I am hurt. I've been lied to for years, by everyone I thought I could trust. How do you expect me to heal from this? And what happens to our daughter now?"

Althea moves toward her daughter and says, "Marigold will be able to keep herself safe now. She is a powerful witch—"

"My daughter is not a witch!" she screams.

"Yes, I am," Marigold says loudly over them. "I always have been. And it's my turn to speak." She centers herself in the room. "I have tried, all my life, to be someone I am not; a lady, an artist, a jewel. I'm sorry I could not be any of those things for you, but I was never meant to be."

"Mari, all I ever wanted was for you to be safe and happy and loved. Above all else, loved! And now you've ruined that for yourself!"

"I have not ruined anything! My life has been a series of closed doors, but I've found an open window. I hope that you'll forgive me in time, but it's already done. I am a witch. I'm going to Innisfree."

The longest silence fills the room, weighing on their shoulders, pressing into the paintings on the floor so that they will be forever tainted by this moment, this memory.

Frankie sighs loudly and says, "Well, I think—"

"Do not speak. I'll deal with you later," their mother interrupts.

Frankie raises his hands above his head like a hostage and says, "Yes, Mother." Aster tries to hide a laugh under her breath, but her mother's head whips around to stare her down.

"What was that?"

"Sorry," she says, looking at the floor.

Another silence, somehow worse than the first one. Finally, her father stands and says, "Marigold, gather your things."

"Now?" She looks at her mother, who can't bear to meet her gaze.

"Now," her father says.

She grabs Aster by the wrist and tugs her along upstairs. They rush into her room and close the door, grateful for a moment to breathe. As Aster promised, her things are mostly packed in her trunk, though it's clear that Aster was interrupted before she could finish. The two of them move quietly through the room, grabbing tiny trinkets that she cannot leave behind: her diary, her mother's gilded hairbrush that was gifted to Marigold years ago, and her favorite yellow hair ribbon.

"I'm happy for you, and I'm proud of you. But you must write to me as often as you can," Aster says.

"Of course, I will. Think of the adventures we will find after we have time apart. All the stories we will have to share with each other. I'll tell you and Frankie everything. I promise," she says as she embraces her sister.

"You should probably change into something a little less… mine," Aster says, and she laughs as she pulls away. Aster helps her out of the dress and into one of the last dresses waiting in Marigold's wardrobe.

It's yellow—how fitting for a Honey Witch.

"Mother will forgive you soon, you know. She'll miss you too much to stay mad."

Marigold sighs and tenses over the closed trunk. "I hope so."

They carry her trunk back downstairs to find their mother ready to walk out of the room.

"Raina," Althea says. It's the weakest that Marigold has ever heard her voice. "This is the last time we will see each other. Please let it end with love."

Her mother pauses in the doorway and turns her head gently over her shoulder. "I do love you, Mother." She turns to her daughter and says, "And I love you, Marigold. But I can't."

She walks out of the room, leaving everyone in the endless echo of her words.

The rest of the evening is filled with teary goodbyes between Marigold, Frankie, Aster, and her father. She and Althea have promised over and over again that she will write as much as possible, so the goodbye is not quite as painful as it could have been. Beyond that, Althea assures them that it won't be long before Marigold can visit, although Marigold is not so sure how welcome she will be. After seeing that last look on her mother's face, it's nearly impossible to imagine their reconciliation. The last thing that she wants is to further her mother's hurt, so maybe staying away forever is the right thing to do, even though it doesn't feel that way.

To help her remember her home, her father gifts her one of his paintings that depicts the gardens of their estate at the height of spring. After parting hugs and words are exchanged, she and her grandmother fit themselves into their carriage, and the journey to Innisfree begins.

"How long will the travel take, Grandmother?" Marigold asks after hardly any time, indicating her already thinning patience. She's filled with a sense of excitement for her new life, as well as the desperation to be as far away from Bardshire as possible. The estate now feels like a lockbox eagerly left behind, containing all her mistakes and regrets and embarrassing moments that had to happen as she grew up. The problem, though, is that mistakes are not tangible trinkets that can be locked away. They are awfully hard to outrun.

"Once we reach the dock, we will board the ship that will carry us across the sea. It will take the entire day. Then another carriage will bring us to the coast of the lake, and we will take a short boat ride to Innisfree."

"Goodness, Grandmother. I can see why you were put off by the idea of travel," Marigold says.

Althea smiles. "It's not so bad with company."

The carriage ride to the dock is short, and the ship they board is quite luxurious. They have their own suite to themselves, paid for by the generous Lord Claude. Once they have shared a spot of tea and made themselves comfortable, Althea lies down in the perfectly plush bed. The moment is awkward—do they talk about everything that was said between them and her mother? Do they talk at all? Or does it hurt too much to even think about? Marigold can dream of making amends one day, but she cannot even bear to imagine how her grandmother must feel now, knowing that those were the last words she'll ever share with her only daughter. She shifts her weight between her feet, searching for something to say, but Althea beats her to it.

"We both need rest. You were off in your meadow all night. You haven't slept in a whole day," Althea says as she gestures to the second bed in the cabin. She's right—exhaustion weighs Marigold down without mercy. Her knees wobble as she moves to her bed, and she collapses as soon as she is close enough. When her head hits the pillow, she turns to watch Althea, taking comfort in her whistle-like snore. She looks incredibly peaceful and still—it is almost unnatural, like watching a person turn to stone.

Marigold's eyes twitch as she fights to keep them open, but finally, she relents and falls asleep. It is a wonder she stayed awake as long as she did, given the energy that the ritual took from her coupled with the exhaustion that always follows a big argument. She manages to sleep through almost the entirety of the journey, waking only in time to enjoy a few of the amenities of the high-class cabin—a hearty meal, and salty sea air from the privacy of their own balcony.

When the ship docks, the deepest hours of the night are upon them.

"We are here, darling. Come on," Althea says as she moves gracefully toward the door. Marigold struggles to carry her things until members of the household staff come to their aid and follow the two women as they depart the ship. A carriage waits for them at the dock, and Althea wastes no time greeting the driver as their belongings are placed inside.

He is an older gentleman with a remarkably long beard and an eccentric outfit. Bright red suspenders uphold his loose black trousers that are adorned with knee patches. His pale blue eyes are shadowed by a bleached straw hat that he respectfully removes upon seeing Althea approach. His white hair falls around his sunburned face as he smiles widely at the woman in front of him.

"Benny," Althea says sweetly as she struggles to wrap her arms around his neck. He moves to catch her waist and hold her in a gentle embrace.

"Hi, Althea," he says with a gentle rasp in his voice. "How are you feeling, lady?"

"I'm not my best, Benny. I won't lie to you. But I'm very lucky to have my granddaughter Marigold here taking over my work for me," Althea says as she gestures to Marigold, who knows not what to do other than curtsy. Althea and Benny erupt in laughter as she bows her head, so she stands herself up straight immediately. Something about being referred to as only a granddaughter instead of a sister, a friend, or the oldest Claude girl makes her feel much younger than she is. And when a young lady is before her elders, she curtsies.

"She's a proper lady," Althea says to Benny, who extends a hand.

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Marigold. You can call me Mr. Benny. I'm here to take you both home to Innisfree."

"Pleased to meet you as well, Mr. Benny."

Althea places her frail hand on Benny's shoulder. "Mr. Benny is our neighbor."

She nods in understanding. "Oh, I see! I didn't realize that we had any neighbors."

"Well, I'm not exactly next door, but I have a farm on the coast. I'm never too far away, so if you need anything, give me a shout. If my hearing is still good, I'll come running," he says with a gruff chuckle. After the trunks and bags are put into the carriage, Benny takes his seat on the driver's bench as she and Althea pile in the back.

Marigold immediately leans in close to her grandmother, cupping her hand around her lips and whispering in her ear, "I thought we were cursed so that no one could ever fall in love with us."

Althea gives her a confused look. "We are, darling."

"But, Grandmother," she says as she sneakily points at their driver, "Mr. Benny seems quite… fond of you."

Her grandmother's tired eyes linger on Mr. Benny and she sighs. "Fondness is very different from love. He's a treasured friend," Althea says as her eyes fall back to Marigold, so glassy that she can see the very stars swimming in them. "We work together. The lands by the lake are not often fertile, but I've been using spells to keep his farm thriving for years. In return, we have access to all that he grows. That is the extent of the relationship."

"If you say so," she says, but Althea does not take her joke lightly.

"Marigold, I do not want you to let anything get your hopes up about this curse. In all of my years, through all the known literature regarding our magic, I have found no way to break it. Do not ever let yourself pretend that someone is capable of something impossible."

She nods slowly. This may be the first time that she has felt the weight of the curse, but she resents her grandmother's choice of words. Anyone can be capable of something impossible—as a witch, she must believe that.