The cottage was a wreck. Gran and Constance were piling clothes and anything of value into a couple of old, battered trunks.
"There are one and a half million people in London," Simon said, pacing the living room.
Constance was exhausted. She'd barely slept, her and Gran working late into the night and when she had finally fallen asleep she'd fallen straight into moonlit nightmares.
"He's right," mother said. "London is much too big for our Simon. We better stay in Bunsall."
"We're not staying," Gran said sharply.
Simon started to hum a low tonal note deep in his chest. Constance pressed her palms into her eyelids. He was spiraling, and it was her fault. Gran squeezed her shoulder as she walked by with a bundle of linens.
"My watch," Simon said, panic in his voice. "Where is it? We can't leave it behind!"
"It's here." Gran took it out of her apron pocket and pressed it into Simon's hand. "You're in charge of making sure it gets brought to London."
He went back to humming while he snapped the watch open and closed.
"We should stay. There are too many supernaturals in London. It's unseemly," Mother said with a worried look at her son.
Hurt needled Constance. Mother had always been partial to Simon. He was her baby after all, and Constance knew it wasn't mother's fault that she didn't fully understand what had happened, but it stung anyway.
"Simon, why don't you take your journal out and see what fungus you can find," Gran said.
"There won't be any mushrooms in London," he said darkly.
"Of course there will," Gran said with a nod at his journal.
"I'll go with you Simon," Mother said.
"Don't let her wander off," Gran said firmly.
"I know," Simon retorted. "I didn't want Constance to stay at the manor, but no one listened to me." He stormed out of the house, Mother skipping out behind him.
Constance rubbed her wrists, her lungs squeezing.
Gran placed her hands on Constance's cheeks. "Constance Anne, you are not at fault for this."
"Yes, I am," she whispered, tears burning her eyes. "I was foolish enough to believe that our fortunes had turned. Foolish enough to believe in their friendship." She bit back a sob. "And now the rest of you have to pay for my stupidity. London will be a terrible place for Simon."
Gran pulled her into a hug. "What happened to you was awful, and I hope your cousins get what's coming to them. And you, Constance Allen, are worth a hundred Huntsmans. You are our cherished girl and we would move across the world to know you're safe. Don't you, for one minute, believe the lies that are whispering to you right now."
Constance wiped at her eyes with her palm. Looked around the only place she'd ever called home.
"London is a better idea than him getting snatched or hurt because of your cousins. We can't live in a home owned by people who think so little of human life. Simon will adjust."
Constance wasn't sure he would, but she gave Gran a small nod, anyway.
The sound of a coach rolling into their drive met her ears.
"This cottage was always causing us pains anyway," Gran said, closing the lid on a trunk.
Constance let the driver and footman in. Her heart dropped a little. She should have known Hugh wouldn't be with them. The men made quick work of their meager luggage. Gran handed Constance her bonnet and then set about securing her own. She took Constance's hand and led her out the door.
"Simon!" the old woman called.
Constance took a moment to study the tiny house, the overrun vegetable garden, the forest she and her brother had spent so much time in.
Simon and Mother wandered back.
"What an expensive-looking coach," Mother said, her resistance evaporating as she climbed in happily.
"Have your watch?" Constance asked Simon softly, wishing she could make him see how sorry she was.
He patted his vest pocket, gave her a curt nod, and then climbed in. She helped Gran in next.
"Constance!"
Mary was hurrying up the drive with Edward next to her.
The blood drained out of Constance's head, fear clamping to her insides. "Don't wait," she said to the driver. "Please, as soon as I'm in go, no matter what they say."
The driver gave her a serious nod. "We was hired to get you to London, no matter what."
"Constance, wait!"
She scrambled into the coach; her sleeves riding up, exposing her wrists. The footman slammed the door shut, and they began down the drive with a jolt.
Edward was standing in the carriage's way, trying to flag them down. Constance squeezed back in her seat as far as she could, even though she knew they'd seen her get in.
"They have some nerve," Gran said, looking murderous.
Constance's breathing was uneven. I'm alright, she told herself. I'm alright. They can't hurt us, the drivers won't let them. Blood was rushing through her ears.
"Constance, you are safe now," Mother said gently. "Breathe through the fear."
Constance blinked at her in surprise.
"It will get easier," Mother said, patting Constance's knee. "I won't let them hurt you."
Constance wished that were true. Wished so badly that she could count on her Mother, but at least in some small way she understood what was happening wasn't Constance's fault.
Edward jumped out of the way at the last second cursing at the driver.
Constance forced herself to breathe.
Simon was looking at her bruised wrists. Constance pulled her sleeves down self-consciously.
"I suppose," he said carefully, "they probably have some mushrooms in London."
"If I recall, Hyde Park will have lots of lovely mushrooms," Mother agreed.
Simon scooted toward Constance so that they were touching. "Hyde park mushrooms," he said resolutely, looking at Constance for confirmation.
"And fungus," Constance said, her voice quiet.
He smiled at her. "Yes, and fungus."