Page 12 of Be-Djinn At The Beginning

It’s not likely I’ll be able to write you after I’m wed, not unless you leave me with some other manner of speaking to you.

Please, do not make me go off to be married without even the assurance that I have your friendship.

We have only until All Soul’s Day tomorrow.

Dear Jack,

I see now our friendship was entirely my own imagination.

Whatever passed between us last night must have also been so, or else it was your attempt to send me on my way to married life with a better understanding of how to cope with my future.

I thank you for this and wish you the best health and happiness.

No, actually, I do not, I am furious with you and I never wish to see you again and should you ever awaken from whatever drunken stupor you have got yourself in, under whatever perfumed doxy or three, take care never to write me again or my husband will know of it and challenge you directly.

Beatrix told herself she had given up any hope of a response, and that her walks past the letter tree every hour or so were only day-before-her-wedding nerves. But when she caught a flash of white after the sun set, her heart shot out of her mouth and she leapt upon the letter ravenously.

It was one line, written so ferociously that there were places the pen had ripped through the paper.

YOU MUST NOT MARRY.

Crumpling the letter in a fist, Beatrix let loose a growl of rage that rolled into a roar. She winced as she looked back up the hill to her home where someone peering outside had lit a candle.

“Insufferable pompous arrogant fickle creature of the night,” she muttered under her breath, stomping back up to the house. “I hate you, hate you, hate you.”

When her mother met her in the hallway with the lit candle and a questioning look, Bea said, “Those foxes are in a fine mood again tonight!” Then shut herself away in her room, lying awake until sunrise brought a flurry of sisters and servants to prepare her for her wedding day.

“A soul, a soul, a soul-cake, please good Missus a soul-cake! Apple, pear, plum, or cherry, any good thing to make us all merry! One for Peter, two Paul, three for Him who made us all!”

Beatrix pinched up her face as if it could keep the singing out, but it only made her eldest sister flick her ear and scold her for smudging her rouge.

All Soul’s Day had always been exciting for Beatrix—the whole town, one group after another, singing door to door and gathering up cakes or apples and beer in exchange for prayers for the departed—filling her with a delight no other holiday could match. There was a jovial mischief in it and a delightful, tingly sort of fear. Everyone was out with lanterns after dark to walk with the souls crossing over.

It had been Bea’s favorite holiday even before she associated it with her letters to Jack. All the more reason to ask for her wedding to take place this evening.

Jack O’ the Tree had nothing to do with it. Some vain hope that he might finally come for her had nothing to do with it. These were the lines she repeated as she allowed herself to be dressed up like a doll for a wedding she had no hope of escaping.

Mrs. Ashwood looked in on her when the other girls had finished curling and plaiting her hair.

“You’ll make a fine looking bride when you’re all finished,” she said. It was the closest thing to a compliment she had ever paid her youngest daughter.

Bea looked at her mother, unable to return her smile.

“Please do not make me do this,” she finally said.

Mrs. Ashwood sighed and took a few steps closer, reaching out to pluck at one of Bea’s hanging curls.

“Time to join the rest of us in reality, my dear,” her mother said. “Marriage is not some prison. In time, you may even come to like your husband. He’s been very generous to ask for you at all.”

“I do not want to like my husband,” Bea said, flinching away from her mother’s hand. “And I do not want to be considered a burden to be pawned off!”

Mrs. Ashwood’s lips thinned and she turned back for the door.

“As I said. Time to join us in reality.”

It was a short walk to the church where the ladies would arrive together and the men already waited, but Bea had to make one small detour before they started.

Sahar was watching it all from the safety of their tree. He kept hidden when he saw her approach. He almost forgot about the letter entirely at the sight of her.