Upon A Midnight Dream (London Fairy Tales #1)(42)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

"Good day." Mr. Fitzgerald tipped his hat and walked off.

Stefan turned Samson back down the street. "Don’t know if I should congratulate you or strangle you for sneezing on a man. Whatever has gotten into you, old boy?"

Samson’s only response was to huff and continue trotting on.

Gwen looked again at the tiny scribbles and sighed. "I’m sorry Rose, I just can’t make out what it’s saying. I believe it may actually be in German, not Russian as you assumed, and by the markings, it seems to not be a riddle but some sort of directions. The only thing I can make out is the words beware the Black Forest."

Rosalind mumbled an oath. They had been sitting and discussing what to do of the past two hours, and neither of them had any inclination as to what the cryptic words meant!

It didn’t help that Rosalind’s mind was thick with worry for her sister and selfishly, for her upcoming wedding that night. Hadn’t she always sworn she wouldn’t marry a man based off of the stupid curse? And here she was doing that very thing. Sure, her heart was involved she possibly even loved Stefan, but did he love her? Or was he merely offering his protection and his bed?

Gwen was still talking, "Rose, did you hear what I said?"

"Hmm? What? I’m sorry, woolgathering, I guess."

With an exhale Gwen folded the paper and put it on her dresser. "Rose, I miss her too. I don’t know if mother’s merely mad or if we truly are cursed, but let us try to be happy. After tonight everything should be over with. The curse and the madness with it, and then mother will be able to tell us about her whereabouts."

Rosalind looked at her sister’s porcelain face. Such a beautiful girl. "I’ll try, for your sake, I’ll try. Shall we begin to ready ourselves for tonight?"

"Yes." Gwen kissed Rose on the forehead and moved to close the door.

"What were you discussing?" their mother asked, barging into the room. "If you mean to go after your sister, you’ll never find her. I ask that you trust my judgment in this. She is in good hands. After all…" She walked to the window and began moving back and forth as if in a trance. "I am a mother. It is my job to see all my girls married off. Isn’t that right Rose? And see how much you’ve pleased me today? The curse will be broken. I will no longer be ill, and you’ll be a duchess. Yes, yes, it has worked out perfectly." She wrung her hands together until Rosalind’s own hands began to hurt. "I imagine everything will be perfect by morning." She turned around to face them, her face haggard and worn. "Yes, by morning everything will return to normal, my loves, and Edward, yes he will be back too. He loves me you know."

"Mother," Rosalind took a tentative step towards the dowager. "Father’s dead, remember?" Never mind that his name was not Edward, but possibly her mother was just confused.

"Oh yes, yes, he is, isn’t he?" She clapped her hands together as if excited by the idea. "Now, we must ready you for your wedding! Yes, we must get ready for the ceremony." With a gleeful laugh, she left.

Gwen and Rose shared a look of pure horror before Rosalind rushed to the door and locked it.

"She’s mad!" Rosalind lifted a shaking hand to her temple.

"She is…" Gwen licked her lips. "And I’d die before I’d let her ruin this for you Rose, I swear it." Her sister walked over to ring for her maid.

"What are you doing?"

"I’m calling for the valet. He has some sort of tea that he’s been giving mother to subdue her. I’m going to ask him to double the dosage."

"Is it dangerous?" Rosalind asked putting her hand over her sisters.

Gwen shrugged. "He says it’s a mild sedative. Mother and father used to put it in our tea when we were young to help us sleep. I’m sure it will be fine."

Rosalind nodded, but in the back of her mind a memory flared to life. The tea she was forced to drink every night when she was young and how her body would feel sluggish in the morning. She had stopped for a few years until her first debut into society when she had trouble sleeping again; her mother began putting it in her tea saying it would ease her nerves.

The maid entered, and Gwen gave instructions, but Rosalind’s mind continued to wander.

"Shall we begin with your hair?" Gwen asked reaching her hands into the silky locks flowing down Rosalind’s back.

Rosalind looked at her reflection in the mirror and fought the urge to cry. What was the matter with her? In all her haste, she had agreed to marry a man who botched every marriage proposal given, and to be quite frank he had been given many chances to be romantic. Did he love her? Was it merely to break the curse? Or get her in bed?

If she was to be introspective about her own feelings she would admit that yes, she was marrying to break the curse. It had to be. Perhaps if they had more time, to court, and to woo as she has originally asked, but now it seemed they were out of time, if her mother’s strange murmurings were any indication.

Tonight she would be the Duchess of Montmouth. Why, she wondered as Gwen began brushing her hair, did it leave her sick in the stomach?

"Ready?" Stefan asked as his hand reached for Rosalind’s.

Her heart thumped in her chest, she was shaking so much she was sure Stefan could feel the nervousness. "Ready."

Both turned towards the front of the small church where only their respective families lay in wait.

Forgoing tradition, Stefan had wanted to hold Rosalind’s hand as he walked her down the aisle, for she hadn’t a father to escort her, and he had no father to offer her. It was as if two sad orphans made their way to the final destiny laid out before them.

He squeezed her hand and stole a glance at her beautifully adorned dress. In that moment, Stefan hated himself, for in the end he took full blame for the deaths of their families and the weight settled over his shoulders as he watched his soon to be wife, shaking next to him. Rosalind, the woman was perfect, untouchable, pure, and she above all women deserved to be worshipped by the ton, deserved to have her father kiss her hand and demand that Stefan be a good husband.

I swear it, Stefan thought to himself as they reached the front of the church. I swear on my life that I will make you proud, deceased parents of ours. That your blood line will be strong, that I will spend every waking moment of my life making hers better, and every dream filled sleep holding her in my arms.

The ceremony was short and to the point. The vows were read, and Rosalind wore a sad smile as she looked to her mother, who still looked as mad as ever. The church was near empty, and Stefan felt indignation rise in his chest, along with failure. And Stefan cursed the curse, if that were possible, all over again. She deserved flowers, a woman with such red hair and beautiful nature — well it wasn’t right that she didn’t have the wedding she deserved surrounded by all her sisters, friends, family…