1 – What Remains
Looking out of her misted-up bedroom window, Lady Chuffrey decided once again that winter was the worst time of the year. The raw weather kept most Ozians trapped inside their houses, which meant that she rarely got in touch with people other than her staff or Sir Chuffrey.
She had grown less fond of social gatherings as time passed, no longer driven by the thrill they once brought. Yet, she still found pleasure in impressing others—with her fashion, her poise, even her magical prowess. It was an art she had mastered, and she rarely missed the chance to showcase it. Though the admiration of strangers and passing acquaintances was a cold salve for her loneliness, it was still a salve.
Winter also meant fewer business trips for Chuffrey. Not that he usually bothered Glinda much—when he was home, he spent most of his time in his study, buried in trade newspapers or occupied with bookkeeping.
Still, being stuck at home with him for long stretches had always felt wrong. She had grown accustomed to playing the role of his wife at formal events, where she performed the part of an ordinary married woman with practiced ease. He had never pressured her to show more affection than she was willing to give, and for that she was grateful.
But spending days together at home, sharing routines, exchanging polite conversation over breakfast, or commenting on newspaper articles—those things felt strangely intimate. And intimacy was the last thing she wanted with him.
And then there was the annual Lurlinemas holiday, of course. Her parents insisted that they visited them to have dinner together each Lurlinemas, even though they had long been aware that all she and Chuffrey shared was a marriage certificate. Glinda assumed that they probably wanted to avoid the scandal it would create if their daughter stopped showing up by their house with their wealthy son in law. While she had never been particularly close with her parents, she cared about them enough to spare them all the looks and hushed whispers, and so she would just keep playing their game each year, even though she cringed every time she thought about those dinners or Lurlinemas in general.
Winter months were the worst.
It was only three weeks until Lurlinemas Eve and the staff had decorated the house in the traditional green and gold colours. The scent of freshly baked gingerbread filled every room, settling everyone into a solemn mood. Everyone except Glinda. The cheerful atmosphere and the overabundance of love and care everyone displayed during the festive season only deepened her loneliness.
When she hadn't felt like pretending to be fine one evening, she had chosen to skip dinner and had stayed in her bedroom. After dinner, Chuffrey had appeared at her door, asking half-heartedly if she was all right. It wasn't, it rarely ever was, but there was no reason as to why he should know. He wouldn't have understood, so she had simply told him that she had had a headache and had planned on going to bed early.
Now, in the stillness of her room, she wished for the umpteenth time that she could change the way things were—or at least make the pain go away and pull herself out of this endless cycle of self-pity.
Perhaps, she often wondered, Elphaba had been disappointed in her. Disappointed that, during her time at the Wizard's Palace, she hadn't done something, anything, to weaken his power. She had never wanted to support someone as reckless and arbitrary as the Wizard, of course.
Yet whether it had been the sheer intimidation of the Palace or the simple truth that she was a coward, she couldn't say. For whatever reason, she had been unable to break free from the role she had played—a friendly face for the citizens of Oz, a symbol meant to keep their suspicions low.
Even when the Wizard had declared that every Animal must submit to his so-called new social system, 'slavery' he had named it, or else be thrown into prison, she had remained silent. She had stood by and let it happen.
The chilliness in the room shook Glinda from her thoughts. She went to the other side of the room, took a few wood billets out of the nearby basket and put them into the fireplace. With a swift wave of her hand, she lighted a fire and filled the room with warmth and light.
She turned toward the long case clock by the window. She mused that indulging in melancholia before bedtime was a bad idea, yet her gaze still drifted to the wooden chest beside her.
Aiming her linked hands at its lock, she whispered a spell almost too hushed even for herself to hear and unlinked her hands again. A gentle click gave away that it was now unlocked and ready to present whatever it retained.
Glinda kneeled in front of the chest and opened it, revealing an old pointy hat that lay upon a book. She picked them up and carried them to her bed, taking a deep breath before setting the hat beside her and opening the book.
The symbols written down on its pages in their various colours and sizes were fascinating to look at, and to think about what powers inherited in them filled her with awe, but no matter how long and concentrated she tried to make any sense of them, their meanings remained a mystery. She wouldn't have known that the book was a 'Grimmerie', hadn't Elphaba told her so long ago. Glinda had always admired the way her friend had been able to bring these symbols to life. She wished there was a way to use the book for something good like getting rid of the Wizard or for something selfish even like bringing Elphaba back to her.
Her heart ached as the words blurred before her eyes. She wiped away a tear, closed the book and sighed. After she had stored the Grimmerie back inside the chest, she grabbed the hat and let her fingers run over the material. There was nothing mysterious about the hat, but Glinda treasured it like an artefact nonetheless.