Who: Maggie and Mrs. Edwards (NPC) What: Taking part in the old ways Where: Black Park When: November 25th, 1888 Ratings/warnings: NA
Mrs Edwards was bundled up within an inch of her life, wearing a large, outdated bonnet, and a muffler wrapped thoroughly around her neck and shoulders, as well as a pair of fingerless gloves.
“The cold gets t’ me more with every passin’ century,” she said to Maggie, smiling a little. “Miss my fur coat, this time o’ year. I spend most of winter curled up in the hearth, truth be told,” she added. “Have to prod me t’ get me human again come March. Emma Lewis, she decided t’ stay wolf year round after she reached her sixth, might follow in her footsteps.” She shook her head. “Don’t mind me goin’ on,” she added, reaching out her hand, “take this old lady for a stroll. You bring your supplies?”
“A fur coat sounds good right about now.” Maggie replied with a smile, bundled up against the cold herself although not quite as much as her elderly companion. “This isn’t quite as bad as you can get in New York, but I suppose I’ve acclimated to English winters.”
She patted the bag at her side. “Everything’s accounted for. Coin, ribbon and all. Lead on.” The younger woman still couldn’t quite believe she was doing this, but there wasn’t any harm in it and it bought her goodwill with the elder ladies of the pack. Besides, considering what had happened the last time she’d been with child Maggie had decided that a little extra luck couldn’t hurt if everything worked the way it supposedly did.
“America seems such a big, open place,” Mrs Edwards replied. “You must’ve seen a fair bit of it too, hm? And come all this way to our little damp island with our funny ways,” she added, patting Maggie’s arm. “You are a good lass, for comin’ here,” she said, looking up at the young woman. “You should’ve seen how unhappy th’ young Lord Black were, before. Oh, he loved us, and this place, and he did his best, but his soul were hurtin’ before you came along.”
She patted Maggie’s arm again. “Do you miss it terribly?” She asked. “America, I mean? And your parents?”
“I do, sometimes.” Maggie admitted softly. “But my parents are regular humans and soon enough I’m going to have to either explain why I don’t seem to be getting any older, tell them the truth, or simply stay away. And as much as I loved the blue skies back home, I love the islands here. I love the history, and the people who live here.”
She smiled fondly at the thought of Lucien. “And if my mother hadn’t been so determined to get an invitation into Mrs. Astor’s circle then I wouldn’t have been here to meet Lucien, so I can’t say it didn’t work out for me in the end. I was missing the other part of my soul, I just didn’t know it yet.”
Mrs Edwards laughed at that, a low, rusty chuckle as they made their way into the woods. “You two,” she said, shaking her head. “I know’d you took a roundabout way to get here, with your share of heartache too, but you’re a well matched pair, no doubt about that.” She shook her head. “And when you’re both young of heart and body, well, ent nothin’ like that in the entire world. Don’t I know’t.”
She looked up thoughtfully at Maggie. “Mercy knows, though, without somethin’ else to anchor a body, s’ all too easy to get wrapped up in it all.” Her look shifted to something a touch more serious. “Th’ late Lady, God rest her, Lord Black were her moon, and when he died, she was lost. But this? This’ll plant your feet solid,” Mrs Edwards continued, firmly. “Give you roots. Let the land stake her claim on you. And you come such a long way t’ get here, so you need it more’n some would.”
“You ever meet one of th’ Fair folk, Lady?” She asked, suddenly, curious.
“The Sidhe? Once. At a party Lord Black and I were invited to over the summer. Truly a mysterious and powerful people.” Maggie didn’t know how to explain the feeling of power that came from Una and Mac, and to a lesser extent from their retainers. “Not ones I’d want to have upset with me given a choice.”
She thought of Mrs. Edwards earlier words. About being ‘rooted’ and claimed by the land. It didn’t make much sense to her, but again, the supernatural was relatively new to her. What did she know? And if it helped her and helped Lucien weather the political storms that came with his seat in the House of Shadows all the better.
“Oh, la,” Mrs Edwards replied back, looking up at her, “thou art blessed indeed, dearie. And who could ever be upset with th’ likes of you? Tch.” She grinned. “It were them what danced about our tree, made it a holy place, and them who’ll be listenin’ as you make your wish. Not the lords and ladies, nothin’ so fancy, but th’ little ones do come, they do listen, and if it strikes their fancy, and they like what you brought, they’ll give you a boon.”
She nodded her head. “And they keep th’ place green and sturdy, and we give ‘em bowls of bread and milk and wine in thanks. You been to the Preserve, I heard,” she added, conspiratorially. “That’s one of Theirs. Betty had to go there once’t, when she were stuck in London over a moon, she said it smelled like no place she’d ever been before.”
“She’s right.” Maggie wasn’t sure about the rest of Mrs. Edwards claims (yet again, what did she know? It could all be true) but the Preserve was something she knew quite well. “I used the Preserve every full moon I could until I wed Lucien. It’s a wonderful place for wolves in the city, but nothing about it smelled like anyplace I’d ever been. Even the plants and animals smelled different.”
Curiosity got the better of her: “Have you ever met any of the little folk?”
“Not more’n a glimpse out o’ th’ corner of my eye,” Mrs Edwards replied, “and my eyesight’s still quite sharp, I’ll have you know. Here we are, then,” she said, nodding her head towards a tree set against the banks of a small trickle of a spring.
The leaves on it were turning crimson with the fall, and the branches were covered in ribbons of every possible shade, and a bowl nestled in the roots had a variety of offerings -- buttons, pins, and beans.
“Well, then,” Mrs Edwards added, looking up at the decorated branches, “here we be. Make your wish, dearheart.”
A nod was Maggie’s reply as she opened her bag to remove the ribbon and pin. She dropped the pin into the bowl as she reached the tree, and stood on her tiptoes to reach the top of a nearby branch. Layers of ribbon covered the branch, and it was evident that the tree had been used this way for generations as some were quite weathered and bleached by the sun while others could have been placed moments ago.
She tied the ribbon around the tree, wishing silently for a long happy life with Lucien surrounded by several children, grandchildren and great grandchildren by the end.
Mrs Edwards nodded, pleased. “That were well done, my Lady,” she said, “well done indeed. And the fallen ash, it ent far, now. Just a little further in. I can smell it.” She looked up at Maggie, grinning, and leaning in a little. “I have it on good authority that Lord Black came by here a few months back, b’fore you came by t’visit the first time round. I think he might’ve got his wish.”
She laughed a little, a creaky, whistling sound as they made their way through the wood. “He used t’ come round beggin’ for a taste o’ pie when he were a pup. Him and his crew. Mercy, they et themselves sick one summer in a contest of some sort -- five pies b’twixt the four of ‘em, and could hardly walk home, holdin’ their little bellies all the way and groanin.” She shook her head. “And when I put out the bakin’ th’ next week, who was there again, beggin’ for pie. And when I looks at him, he looks up at me an’ goes, ‘Just a sliver, then, Missus Edwards.’”
“Lucien does love his sweets.” Maggie laughed with the older woman as they started on the next leg of their little journey. “But then again so do I.” She could imagine a future with little boys resembling Lucien begging for pies and cookies along with their sisters, and she couldn’t help but smile at the mental image. One day, maybe sooner than she’d first thought if all went well, it would be reality.
“What was he like as a boy, aside from the lover of sweets?” His parents were no longer around to tell tales, and Matthew would remember things as a childhood friend, not as an adult would.
“He were a quiet boy,” Mrs Edwards replied, “quiet, and always respectful. Never took on airs. He’d go over t’ Old Stephen Miller, back when he were still living, and would read t’ him for ages, and were ever so patient even when Stephen’d get confused, God rest his soul. Loved t’ run,” she added. “Of a full moon, he’d be out with the scouts runnin’ miles and miles even back when he were half everyone else’s size, tongue hangin’ and pantin’ like mad, but prouder’n anythin’.”
She frowned a little, and shook her head. “It were a shame, about the eldest Foster children,” she said, quietly. “They was thicker’n thieves, the four of ‘em, but those two… hm,” she ended, patting Maggie’s arm. “Least the younger ones seem to have more sense,” she added. “Anna’s a sweet girl. Looks in on me once a week.”
Maggie held her tongue on the subject of the older two Fosters. If she’d been in Katherine’s shoes she might have felt the same way so she honestly couldn’t blame the other woman for what she’d said and done so far. As for Peter though, Maggie had no forgiveness in her heart for him trying to kill her husband for little more than hurt feelings. “Anna is a delightful young lady I agree,” she responded after a moment, “I can’t say I’ve ever had a bad moment with her or the remaining Foster family.”
She let the conversation lapse a moment, pondering what had been said so far and what might still need to said. Before the pause could turn uncomfortable she looked speculatively over at her older companion. “I imagine you’ve seen quite a bit of change over the years, any tips on how to adjust or does it all just happen naturally?”
“It’d require an adjustment from a body such as yourself, I’d reckon” Mrs Edwards responded, thoughtfully. “I’ll admit,” she added, leaning a little on Maggie as they went around a particularly brambly part of the woods, “London can be a bit much for old dogs like me. I seen those ships floatin’ in the sky over head, from time to time, and Lordy. I don’t know if it’s having stayed in th’ country for most of it, but it seems far too fast fer me t’ keep up with. But Betsy, she’s in the household, you know, she’s just a little younger’n I am, and she’s been back and forth to London for a good long while, and doesn’t seem bothered by it in the least. So bein’ in the middle of change makes it easier, I’d imagine.”
“Ah!” She called out, pointing. “There ‘tis, over yonder -- that ash there, on th’ ground.”
The thick fallen tree was studded liberally with coins, and she looked over at Maggie, excitedly. “Oh, Lady, it’s a good day indeed.”
“Why?” Not that Maggie disagreed with her, but she couldn’t fathom why the tree would get Mrs. Edwards so excited. It was truly an interesting sight, so many coins pounded into the wood of the tree that she wondered where she would find a spot to pound in her own. That thought in mind, she reached into her bag and removed a mallet along with a gold dollar she’d brought with her from the States. If the land could recognize the significance of what the supplicants sacrificed then she imagined this would be a thoughtful gift indeed.
“I’m just over th’ moon you’re here, is all, Lady,” she replied with a smile. “Here with us, here at th’ tree, it feels like it ought, and it’s been such a long while since it has.” She rubbed her hands against her arms. “I’ve a feelin’ this’ll work wonders, and it’s been ninety year since a baby at th’ Lodge, and you two will have such beautiful pups.”
“Let’s pray you’re right Mrs. Edwards,” Maggie smiled at her and turned to add her coin to the collection. She bowed her head and offered a silent prayer that this wasn’t all for nothing, that it meant something beyond just trying to ensure conception and delivery of a healthy child. Important goals to be sure, but not the only ones she had set out today to achieve. Opening her eyes again she set to work, and soon had the coin half buried into the wood.
“Ninety years.” She murmured to herself as she rejoined her guide. “I know he’s that much older than me, but it's hard for me to see it.” A snort. “I guess I can’t help but still look at it from a human point of view, even though I know better.”
Mrs Edwards laughed a little. “For all that, he’s still a green lad.” She shook her head a little. “He has a full, long life ahead, God willin, wi’ you alongside.” She patted Maggie’s arm. “You’re both young of body and young of soul, and you love one another. That’s what matters.” She leaned in. “And here I am, six hunnert and five, and traipsin’ through th’ woods.”
“And here I was thinking you didn’t look a day over sixty.” Maggie laughed alongside her elderly companion and returned the pat on the arm. She looked back at the tree in satisfaction, seeing her coin freshly pounded into the wood alongside all the others. “Now that we’ve gotten that taken care of, I think it's time we got to that dance before the others decide to do it on four legs instead of two!”