Chapter 16
“PLEASE, Hermione!”
“Evelyn, do you seriously want every single guest asking about your bridesmaid’s scars or would you like them focusing on you, the bride?” Hermione and Evelyn were epically frustrated with each other. Evelyn was trying to get Hermione to agree to any of the dresses in the bridal shop, and as of yet had not seen a single one that wouldn’t showcase Hermione’s scars front and center.
“You KNOW I don’t care about the attention being on me. Just try one on so I can at least judge for myself.”
“No.”
“Why not?!” Evelyn finally yelled.
“You would have too many questions that I do not have an answer that I can give!” Hermione yelled back. Specifically the one shaped like a time turner. Hermione couldn’t even conceive of how she would provide an explanation for Evelyn, let alone an entire group of guests. If it wasn’t a magical injury, Hermione would be able to cover it up; but that clearly wasn’t the case. Hermione couldn’t even cover it up with makeup. Her skin had melted around it. The ridges were defined and absolutely awful. Other than polyjuicing as another person, there was literally nothing Hermione could do to hide them except clothes.
“Ladies! Have some decorum or I shall toss you out!” Hermione gave the shopkeeper a glare that immediately had her shifting nervously. Hermione really wanted to tell her where she could shove her ‘decorum’. Evelyn picked up her sweater and purse.
“Fine! We are leaving,” Evelyn huffed. They walked out and Evelyn let out a huge breath. “You can’t just wear what you wear everyday,” Evelyn sighed. Hermione froze as she saw a bedouin woman passing.
“What about Egyptian wear?” Hermione pointed at the woman and Evelyn smacked herself on the forehead.
“Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? And you will match PERFECTLY with Ardeth. Because HEAVEN KNOWS that man would look EXCEEDINGLY odd in Western clothes with all those tattoos. Come on Hermione!” Evelyn dragged Hermione behind her until they were within one of the nicer market stalls. Hermione just let Evelyn do the rest of the choosing now that they had found a reasonable alternative to low neckline British fashion. Evelyn finally pulled out a blue and gold bedouin dress. “This one is perfect.”
“So long as everything is covered, as the bride wishes, it is perfect for me,” Hermione said.
“You’re sure?” Evelyn said with uncertainty. “You don’t want to look around? We can pick another one with a different style if you like.”
“I am going to be honest, I could not care less about the color or style as long as people aren’t pointing and asking unnecessary questions about my body,” Hermione said frankly. Evelyn felt a jolt of guilt. Hermione did not come off as insecure in any way, shape or form. But… it certainly sounded like she was… just not openly insecure.
“I am sorry. I just didn’t know what to do and it was making me frustrated,” Evelyn said apologetically.
“Please,” Hermione said. “I know that you don’t care all that much more about clothes than I do, but this is one of the occasions where clothes actually matter. And it isn’t your fault that the British can’t hide the girls.” Hermione pointed at her boobs. “Some things should wait till the wedding night in my opinion.” Hermione grinned widely. Evelyn shook her head and chuckled.
“That is the first time I’ve ever heard the British even mildly being referred to as indecent,” Evelyn said honestly.
“British women used to wear white muslin dresses and get them wet so they could look naked without actually BEING naked,” Hermione said with a flat look. “The British are more than capable of being indecent.”
“Well, that aside, this is the dress,” Evelyn said with confidence.
“Thank Merlin,” Hermione said with relief. As the bedouin woman wrapped up the dress, Evelyn looked at Hermione with curiosity.
“Why do you say that? ‘Thank Merlin’? Who is Merlin?” Evelyn could see the slight tension in Hermione’s shoulders, but other than that; there was no indication that anything was amiss.
“I really couldn’t say. I’ve just always said it. They would say it a lot at the boarding school that I went to… and I sort of just started saying it before I knew it.” Hermione kept her eyes looking through dresses as they talked, and Evelyn didn’t know what to think. It WAS a strange phrase, and it felt like some sort of clue that Hermione was actually concerned Evelyn would catch onto.
“Kids really do the oddest things at times, don’t they?” Evelyn attempted to reason out loud. “There probably was some reason originally, but adults really don’t think the way children do.”
“My mother,” Hermione grinned. “Used to say she wanted to ‘shoot a penguin’ when she was angry.”
“Why would she say that,” Evelyn said with slight horror.
“She said,” Hermione continued. “...that it was because my grandma used to say ‘you make me want to shoot myself’ when Grandma was really angry and upset with her. But several of my Mother’s classmates actually committed suicide. So, she didn’t want to say that even if it was just an exaggeration. So,” Hermione said with a smile. “... she said she wanted to shoot a penguin instead because only someone who is truly furious would want to shoot one.” Evelyn shook her head with a smile. The stall owner passed over their parcel and they began heading to Evelyn’s apartment. Evelyn couldn’t get the phrase out of her head though.
“Actually, Hermione…” Hermione stopped to look at her. “Would you mind if we worked on the wedding later? I’d like to get a book from the library and you should go home and try your dress on.” Hermione tilted her head at Evelyn.
“Alright. No problem.” Hermione took the dress from Evelyn. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow,” Evelyn smiled apologetically. As soon as they parted, Evelyn went to the library just as she said she would. She didn’t have any idea what she was looking for, but…. maybe she should look through British influences by the name of Merlin? Hermione WAS British. Evelyn scanned through several historical books, but the only Merlin she could really find… was Merlin the Wizard. Why would Hermione be nervous about Evelyn finding out that as children the kids had thanked the Wizard Merlin? It was perfectly harmless. Children loved the concept of magic. Maybe…. Evelyn shook the notion from her head and put the books back. Ridiculous. Evevlyn must have imagined it.
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Rick watched as Evelyn daydreamed. She was supposed to be finalizing the last of the details for the wedding, but at some point began staring out the window. Something had clearly been nagging at her the last couple of days… but Rick couldn’t think of a single thing that had happened. Rick got up and put a hand on her shoulder.
“Evy?”
“Hmmm?”
“What’s bothering you?” Evelyn looked up at Rick a bit conflicted.
“It’s nothing,” Evelyn sighed. Rick pulled a chair next to her and took her hands.
“It’s something if it is causing you to be unhappy,” Rick said comfortingly.
“I’m not unhappy,” Evelyn said quickly. “It’s just…” Rick waited patiently for her to continue. “Hermione… She is quite odd. And, I’ve never thought twice about it.”
“But?” Rick urged.
“But,” Evelyn started to talk quickly. “She has no other friends. No family. Hermione says she went to a boarding school, but she is clearly careful about not giving a single detail where. Hermione is apparently covered in scars she WON’T show me and also implied she was a soldier of some kind. But what army would employ a woman, how young must she have been, and what is so impossible about telling me any of it? And Hermione has adamantly REFUSED to go to England! Says it is unsafe.” Evelyn began to cry. “Does she not trust me?” Rick shook his head and put a finger to Evelyn’s mouth to stop her continuing.
“Why haven’t you told her about Hamunaptra?” Evelyn began to protest, but Rick again put his finger to her lips. “Because it could put her in danger. She trusts you Evelyn, but she also loves you like a sister. And, I personally would never put my sister in danger just to have the comfort of sharing my problems.”
“I’m ashamed of what happened in Hamunaptra,” Evelyn finally said quietly. Rick watched her steadily. “I know Hermione wouldn’t breathe a word if I asked her not to, even if she thought I was mad. So she wouldn’t BE in danger if I told her. I’m ashamed.” Evelyn started to cry again. “The Americans would be alive if I hadn’t read from the book.” Evelyn began to sob. “It’s my fault! I don’t WANT Hermione to know about that! She’s like the big sister I never had. She would be disappointed in me.” Rick rubbed circles in Evelyn’s back as she cried.
“I doubt that she would, Evelyn.” Evelyn shook her head in denial and Rick sighed. “Why don’t you get some sleep? You’re stressed. You’ll see Hermione tomorrow.” Evelyn finally nodded.
“Will you lay down next to me?” Evelyn asked shyly. Rick was surprised, but nodded. After Evelyn had settled under the covers, Rick laid on top of the blanket next to her and slung his arm over her waist. Evelyn still cried for a few more minutes, but eventually fell asleep along with Rick.
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Hermione knocked on Evelyn’s door politely at first, but frowned when nobody answered. She would leave and try again later, but Hermione had promised to take care of the wedding payments for Evelyn today. That was going to take time. Hermione pounded a bit more persistently. And again. Finally after the fourth pounding a disheveled Jonathon opened the door.
“Good morning starshine. The Earth says Hello!” Hermione said brightly. Jonathon was clearly struggling to physically keep his eyes open.
“And Jonathon says, ‘bloody well go to Hell’!” Jonathon slammed the door in her face and Hermione started pounding again. “What?!” The swung open again and Hermione could clearly see that Jonathan was uncharacteristically irate… probably due to a gnarly hangover.
“If you just let me in, I can annoy Evelyn instead and YOU can go back to bed.” Jonathon grumbled, but opened the door to Hermione anyway.
“Evelyn isn’t already awake?” Hermione frowned as she looked around Evelyn and Jonathon’s apartment.
“She was asleep when I got home… an hour ago,” Jonathon said as he blurry eyed his pocket watch. Hermione shrugged, and opened the french doors to Evelyn’s bedroom. Hermione’s eyes widened and then a shit eating grin spread across her face.
“Oh… she’s asleep alright.” Jonathon did not like the look on Hermione’s face. It bode ill for his sanity. He peered into Evy’s room and immediately began spluttering. Evelyn was sharing her bed… WITH O’CONNELL. Jonathon looked about ready to explode, but Hermione acted before he could.
“Good Morning!” Hermione sang operatically… and LOUDLY. Evelyn jolted upright groggily and O’Connell lazily opened one eye.
“Evelyn Carnahan!” Jonathon roared.
“Oooo… He pulled out the full name,” Hermione grinned.
“This is NOT funny Hermione!” Jonathon was clearly on a British Gentleman, older brother trip.
“You having the audacity to be upset with Evelyn IS funny, Jonathon,” Hermione snarked.
“I have every right as her older brother and patriarch of this family to be upset!” Jonathon continued.
“Oh, really?” Hermione grinned sharply. “Well Jonathon, before you continue… How many women have you slept with before matrimony… AND didn’t marry?” Jonathon gaped like a fish.
“That…” Jonathon blustered. “That is completely different.” He nodded firmly.
“Every woman that you slept with was someone’s daughter or sister… how is it different?” Hermione waited for his response, but it never came. Jonathon opened his mouth several times and attempted to push something out, but he couldn’t get the words to form. Eventually he just yelled with frustration and marched to his bedroom slamming the door behind him. “You are welcome,” Hermione said to a shocked Evelyn and impressed O’Connell. “Why don’t you get dressed Evelyn and we’ll finish the last of the preparations for the wedding?” And Hermione closed the doors.
“I like Hermione more each time I see her,” Rick said sleepily. “It is too bad that she can’t move with us to England.”
“I thought you were against it,” Evelyn said as she threw back the covers.
“Think about it… who else could get Jonathon to shut up so effectively, not to mention quickly?” Rick snorted. Evelyn grabbed a fresh set of clothes and made her way to the bathroom.
“You could, but I don’t encourage that level of violence to simply shut up family members,” Evelyn said with a warning look in Rick’s direction.
“It is a shame,” Rick said mournfully.
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“Thank you for having us, dear brother.” Terrence looked wearily at his brother and his family. Ardeth bowed to him.
“Thank you for having us, Uncle.”
“Yes, yes,” Terrence said grumpily.
“You ARE going to smile during the wedding ceremony?” Basmas said critically.
“A pleasure to have you in my home as well dear sister,” Terrence said with a fake smile.
“That’s the spirit, Terrence!” Adham said with a snicker.
“Will you please just come in?!” Terrence growled.
“I have to leave to greet the Carnahans, but I will try to be back soon,” Ardeth said with a small smile.
“Don’t rush,” Basma smiled.
“I’m sure that you will enjoy the… Carnahan’s company far more than ours,” Adham said with a smirk. Ardeth shook his head. He never should have told his parents about Miss Evans. Now, it would be all he could focus on throughout the wedding. How things looked through their eyes and constantly being under scrutiny. Ardeth gratefully left his family to make his way over to the Carnahan home. Jonathan Carnahan answered the door looking like he was ready to murder someone.
“Hello, my friend,” Ardeth said kindly.
“Hello,” Jonathon said with less enthusiasm. “Come on in, Ardeth.”
“Is everything alright?” Ardeth asked with mild concern.
“Peachy, just bloody peachy,” Jonathon muttered with a clearly foul temper.
“Jonathon is just being a twat,” Hermione said as she walked in.
“A twat?” Ardeth asked with confusion, but his question was thrown to the side by Jonathon’s loud exclamation.
“This is all your fault!” Jonathon burst out.
“And how do you figure that?” Hermione said serenely.
“Before you came around my sister didn’t even curse!” Jonathon raged and continued ranting as he got himself a glass of scotch. “Evy had never kissed a man… and then you came along as; and she is in bed with a man!” Ardeth’s eyebrows raised.
“Her fiance.” Hermione said to Ardeth and he nodded. “And how many women have you been in bed with? In general not at once,” Hermione questioned Jonathon sardonically.
“Don’t change the subject!” Jonathon pointed a finger dramatically at her. “That is NOT a valid argument.”
“And if you think about it,” Hermione continued as if Jonathon hadn’t even said anything. “...it might be your own whoring ways which is to blame for your sister waking up with a man in her bed.”
“I bet,” Jonathon argued desperately. “I bet you’ve slept with a man, and THAT is why” Jonathan was clearly losing the argument and trying to grasp onto straws, but Ardeth lost his breath at her answer.
“Yes, I have. What’s it to you?” Hermione said as if they were discussing the weather. Ardeth and Jonathan stared at her as if she had two heads, but Hermione just calmly sipped her tea. “And I highly doubt that’s why Evelyn felt comfortable sleeping in a bed with O’Connell. Seeing as how, she doesn’t know that I’ve had sex or heard my opinion in general. Whereas you, Jonathon Carnahan make no attempts to keep private life… well private.” Evelyn walked into the awkward and stunned silence that followed.
“Is everything alright?” Evelyn said with uncertainty.
“I’ve had sex and your brother is contemplating having a priest over to cleanse both our souls,” Hermione said bluntly.
“You’re a widow?” Evelyn said with a frown.
“No,” Hermione said with a roll of her eyes.
“M-married?!” Evelyn burst out and Ardeth nearly knocked over the table he had his arm leaning on and only barely grabbed the edge before it went toppling over.
“I know I am a private person,” Hermione snarked. “... But do you really think I have a husband hiding in my attic?”
“I’m sorry! You just don’t seem like the type to…” Evelyn tried to find a way to tactfully say it. “... just…”
“Well, I’m not,” Hermione said honestly. “But it was right after I had nearly died in numerous painful ways AND was captured and tortured. I wasn’t terribly concerned about maintaining my chastity.”
“By the way,” Evelyn began to blush and stammer. “...how was it?” Hermione turned to Ardeth and Jonathon and raised her eyebrows meaningfully. “Oh my goodness! Of course you wouldn’t want to talk about it in front of Jonathon and Ardeth. I’m so sorry Hermione!”
“It’s fine. We’ll talk later,” Hermione chuckled.
“Just when you get a bloke interested,” Jonathan muttered. Ardeth was sitting in silence. He thought he was experiencing jealousy when he thought that Hermione was engaged to Jonathon, but now; Ardeth had never felt the red hot burning in his chest before. He wanted to drag the man who touched her by his neck and repeatedly kick him in the crotch until he lost all abilities to procreate. Ardeth’s mind over and over and over all the things that he would do to the man who had taken advantage of her in what was clearly a tumultuous time. Hermione made the mistake of catching Ardeth’s eyes with her own, and immediately felt a painful clench in her abdomen. His eyes… were so angry. Hermione felt her pulse quicken and she immediately turned away.
“Are you ready, Evelyn?” Hermione said quickly. “The men probably want to have some sort of stag party while we finish paying people and making sure everything is ready for tomorrow.”
“Of course. And maybe we can continue our previous conversation over coffee?” Evelyn asked hopefully and Hermione finally was able to laugh.
“Of course.” Jonathon brightened considerably at the thought of a stag party.
“Yes!” Jonathan said with excitement. “I had completely forgotten. We will give O’Connell a night to remember. Dead man walking, am I right Ardeth Old Chap?” Ardeth’s murderous thoughts were disturbed by a jolly shove by Jonathan. Ardeth finally processed the conversation that had gone on while he was plotting.
“What is a stag party?” Ardeth said in confusion.
“Considering your response to a brothel,” Hermione called behind her as she and Evelyn walked out the door. “...your worst nightmare. Don’t run away this time. Have fun!”
“Run away? What is she talking about?” Jonathon asked. Ardeth sighed. How many times could one be tortured by a single experience before the hilarity had run its course?