The rest of the evening is filled with teary goodbyes between Marigold, Frankie, Aster, and her father. She and Althea havepromised 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, paidfor 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.
Chapter Five
They ride for some time along a dry dirt path, jostling in the back of the carriage. Marigold stares out at the deepening sky, taking in the world without the veil, until Mr. Benny makes a stop. She peers out of the carriage and tightens her grip on her grandmother’s hand.
