Marmalade's Love Potion

Chapter 17 Part 3 - Returning Home

Sister Heely emerged from her workshop as Penelope stepped back inside.

She felt a little haunted by Steph's last glance back at her, before the cart had rounded the bend. Yearning, regret, something of shame. Penelope had felt a wild urge to chase after the cart and hold Steph tight until he smiled.

Heaving a sigh, Penelope peeled off her coat and hung it by the door.

The house felt too quiet, too still, with just herself and Sister Heely there. Penelope already missed the cheery clamour of so many other people sharing their home.

"I've got some tinctures and perfumes to prepare for market. I thought it might be nice to make a special fragrance for the Ball while I'm at it. Would you like to help?" Sister Heely asked Penelope, her gaze sympathetic.

"I'd be glad to," Penelope replied, relieved to have the methodical task of herbal preparation to occupy her mind, and Sister Heely's steadfast company for the day ahead.

Set up in the front room of the cottage, opposite the lounge, Sister Heely's workroom was small but meticulously arranged. Waxed wooden benches encompassed the room, mounted above cabinets and shelves brimming with bottles, books, bowls, and dried herbs.

A bench was built into the bay window overlooking the front porch and gardens, atop which sat a variety of flasks and crucibles made of quartz, copper, and heavy stone. Small pots of herbs were arranged by the arched windows set to look over the east-side flower bed, beyond which was Cynthia's stable.

More shelves and pigeon-hole cabinets were fixed into the walls above the benches at intervals conforming to Sister Heely's esoteric standards. These were stocked with bottles of fragrant essences, honey-hued oils, crystalline tree resins, liquors for tinctures, and blocks of cloth-wrapped wax.

In the middle of the room stood a square table of weathered grey wood which gleamed in the light of small glowstones ensconced in the walls. Overhead, bundles of herbs in various states of drying hung from the wooden ceiling beams.

Setting herself to a familiar task, Penelope filled a small pail from the stone basin set into the back wall and began rinsing herbs. Sister Heely smiled and started shaving various waxes into a small crucible of shining quartz, which she then placed on a warming plate of glowing amber stone.

Soon the scents of crushed herbs and sweet oils filled the small space.

They spent the day working quietly. Though the ache in Penelope's chest persisted, it became dull as together they poured warm waxes into jars, and bundled up herbs to hang from the wooden ceiling beams.

Penelope found herself soothed by the gentle grind of Sister Heely's mortar and pestle and the astringent scent of herbal liquor as she strained tinctures through cloth. The gentle clink of copper on crystal and the honeyed scent of waxed wood lulled Penelope into a weary state of calm as the day wore on.

"Now," Sister Heely sighed as she stretched out her back. "The market stock is all done. Shall we make ourselves some perfume for the ball?"

Penelope grinned and helped Sister Heely arrange a collection of small black bottles onto the table, fragrant essences that Sister Heely had distilled from flowers, herbs, and resins gathered from the Faewood.

For herself, Sister Heely chose floral notes of rose and jasmine, with a base of vanilla and a dash of a sweet, blushing flower they had only found the once in the twilit woods last spring.

While Sister Heely shaved down more wax for their perfume bases, Penelope took her time choosing her fragrances.

Penelope closed her eyes and recalled her night wandering the forest. The snow-dusted earth beneath her bare feet had smelled rich and mossy. The aromatic wood of the trees had been dark and earthen, but with a hint of something sweeter. Like winter plums and blackberry syrup. Atop all of that, coaxing Penelope down her wayward path, had been the sugar-light perfume of wildflowers and the clean petrichor of storm rain. Oh so subtle, yet intoxicating on the frozen air.