Sylvia also wanted to do a practice run on my makeup and hair, so I arrived with my hair freshly washed but unstyled, my face clean and free of all cosmetics except the day cream I got from Karmen the witch. It did feel strange using her skin cream when she wasn’t here anymore, but I had to admit it was beautiful stuff. I wondered if there was anyone who would be able to take over from her. And once again puzzled over who had ended her life.
The media had little to report, only the facts of her death. The police had obviously not shared many details. I would love to delve into the mystery more, and maybe once I was married and back from our honeymoon, I’d have time. Maybe by that time the police would have solved the crime and no one would need my interference. That would be nice.
But for right now, I was not worried about murder. I was much more interested in my wedding gown.
Sylvia set to work, and it was like an undead hen party, as these female vampires I’d grown so close to chatted and giggled while Sylvia expertly did my hair and makeup. Silence Buggins kept trying to tell some boring story about how different weddings were in Queen Victoria’s time, but mostly I tuned her out. Hester went dreamy-eyed watching Sylvia get to work. I suspected she was fantasizing about a wedding, perhaps with Carlos.
I’d been absolutely clear I didn’t want anything too formal. It wouldn’t suit me. And while I knew she was listening, Sylvia was not a person who gave up her own ideas easily. I suspected I’d get whatever she thought would look good on me, and if I wanted something different, I was going to have to argue my case. However, this was only a practice, so I could relax and enjoy my underground family. We chatted happily, mostly about the move. Sylvia and Gran had been down to Cornwall and just returned.
Gran said, “Wait till you see it, Lucy. It’s the most beautiful countryside. And on Rafe’s property there’s a tin mine that is as nicely set up as our apartments here. There’s almost nothing to do but move in. I shall take all my personal effects, of course, but it’s perfect. No one knows me there, and I won’t be far from you, my dear. You will come and visit very often, won’t you?”
I couldn’t move my head, as Sylvia was currently putting eyeshadow on my eyelids, so I reached blindly out towards her, and she grasped my hand in her cool one. “I’ll visit you as often as I possibly can.”
Sylvia said, “You’ll want to oversee some redecorating and renovation of the manor house, too. It’s a very comfortable bed-and-breakfast, but there have been a great number of tourists through there, and the décor is a little tired. You’ll want to turn it back into a family home.”
“I can’t wait to see it.” It was mind boggling to go from someone who lived in a two-bedroom flat above a shop to being married to someone who had more than one manor house. I had no idea of the full extent of Rafe’s wealth. I wondered if he even knew it. And I hadn’t been in a rush to ask. First, I didn’t want him to think I was gold digging, and second, I thought I was going to have to take Rafe’s world and life a little at a time. We’d gotten over the biggest hurdle, obviously. I, a mortal witch, was marrying a five-hundred-year-old vampire. Get past that and everything else was going to be easy. Still, I would have to adjust. I mean, the man had a private plane that he never bothered to tell me about until an hour before I got on it. Knowing him, there were houses in other countries, too. I suspected he always needed to know there was a safe place he could escape to.
I wondered if he owned anything in the States. I bet he did.
A few more minutes of smoothing, brushing and penciling, and Sylvia stood back and nodded. “I won’t do your lips until you’ve got the dress on. Heaven forbid you should mar it with a stray smear of lipstick.”
Now my genuine excitement turned to nerves. If I mucked up this wedding dress, I might never see my wedding day. I’d witnessed Sylvia angry, and I never wanted to see that again.
“Oh, hush,” Gran said to Sylvia. “If she gets a little smear on it, we’ll fix it. It’s her wedding.”
Sylvia merely said, “No reason not to take proper care of things.”
Meanwhile, Clara and Mabel had the dress ready. The moonstone buttons gleamed in the soft light as I carefully stepped into the gown. “Did Mr. Herrick do as good a job on recreating the moonstone buttons as the first person who carved them?”
Gran answered. “His are equally as good. He’s a real craftsman. We picked up the buttons only yesterday. It was such a thrill.”
They’d taken all my measurements, so as I slid my arms into the sleeves, they hugged me but not too tight. The dress felt wonderful. The fine silk thread that had been crocheted with such care whispered against my skin. It was Gran who did each of the tiny buttons up and then, turning me around, took a step back. She clasped her hands together under her chin and said, “Oh, my.”
Silence interrupted her own story to say, “You look so beautiful.”
Mabel said, “It could have been made for you.”
“It was,” Sylvia snapped. Never one to gush prematurely, Sylvia took a slow walk all the way around me, stopping to squint behind my left shoulder and then make an infinitesimal shift in the way the fabric sat. She came round to the front and then nodded. “Yes. Perfect.”
I let out a breath. I didn’t know why I’d been so anxious
