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Sitting in the plush confines of Lady Danbury's carriage as it rattles along on its journey home, Galinda finds herself shooting looks of concern in Elphaba's direction. She has been quite unlike herself since the ball. In fact, they are only on their way home so early because halfway through the dinner set, Elphie had come striding into the ballroom from the patio looking quite furious.
She had been quick to temper her emotions. No sooner had Galinda blinked than Elphaba's mask of perfect propriety was back in place. But she knows her, better than anyone, and Elphaba is not so easily upset.
Something had happened to hasten that reaction and Galinda had felt instantly nauseated. Another guest must have made a cruel comment. Elphaba was so insistent that people's stares and whispers did not concern her any longer. But Galinda knew they hurt her. Deeply.
She feels uncharacteristic fury overcome her. How could anyone dare to make one as selfless, as clever, as funny, as beautiful as Elphie feel pain?
She had instantly feigned illness, swooning and begging her mother and father to return to Lady Danbury's. Her parents, and Elphaba in fact, had been instantly concerned, commanding a footman to fetch her a seat while they waited for the carriage. Elphaba had run the back of her hand across Galinda's forehead, checking for signs of fever, care shining in her eyes. And for the duration of the carriage ride, she has had Galinda's cool hand clasped in her warm ones.
It had all been a necessary ruse, for Elphaba is far too stoic to admit her upset in front of the Viscount and Viscountess. But if she could speak to her alone, while they completed their nightly rituals, she might be able to coax it out of her and, hopefully, reassure her. The thought of Elphaba retiring to her chambers with unkind words echoing in her mind makes her throat thick with emotion.
When they arrive at the house, Galinda's father helps her out of the carriage. She has to insist that she is feeling much revived, lest they insist on calling the doctor. She requests that Elphie help her to her room. Elphie, in return, reassures her parents that she will see to it that she is well.
Finally in her ornately furnished chambers, Elphie rounds on her before she can even open her mouth.
“Glin, are you sure you are quite well?” Concern drips from her words as her eyes flicker across Galinda's face, searching for signs of sickness.
Waving her hand placatingly, Galinda says, “I am quite well restored now, but Elphie, whatever happened at the ball?”
Elphaba looks away from her. “I do not wish to talk on it tonight,” she murmurs softly.
Elphaba is often not permissive to the direct approach. She will have to draw it out of her carefully.
“Shall I comb your hair, darling?” Galinda offers gently.
Elphaba turns back to her, concerned once more. “I think it best that you rest, Glin; you have not been well,” she replies, motioning to leave the room.
Galinda stops her with a hand to her shoulder. “I assure you, Elphie, I am quite well,” she promises gently, “but I can tell that you are not. Let me take care of you.”
Elphaba’s body sags slightly in acquiescence. She turns around silently, and Galinda sweeps the heavy weight of Elphaba's hair to one side. With practiced fingers, Galinda begins to undo the small, hidden buttons and the drawstring at the neckline that hold the gown in place. Eventually, it loosens, fluttering down Elphaba's frame until it pools in a soft navy cloud at her feet.
Galinda swallows thickly, her attention shifting to the stays. Each tug of the silk laces through the hand-stitched eyelets releases a bit more of the tension held in Elphaba’s spine, while sending a flicker of heat down Galinda's spine. As the lacing slackens from top to bottom, the garment breathes open, revealing the thin linen shift beneath and the soft curves of Elphaba's body and the rhythmic rise and fall of her breath.
Finally freed from the structured cage of her gown, Elphaba turns to smile at her softly, and it takes significant effort for Galinda to keep her eyes off the swell of her breasts beneath her shift, and the firm peaks of her nipples that peek through. Fortunately, Elphaba makes her way to collapse into the chair affront the dressing table, and Galinda has a moment to collect herself.
Back under control, she makes her way to stand behind Elphaba, reaching for the lily oil and the comb. They had been combing each other's hair since they were girls. It was a ritual Galinda eagerly awaited every evening. Pouring a measure of the oil onto her palm, she rubs it gently into the ends of Elphaba's silky hair, before moving her fingers up to massage the rest into the cradle of her scalp. She feels Elphaba relax, the tension seeping out of her frame.
“Elphie, what happened tonight?” she asks softly as she begins to run the comb through her locks in languid strokes. “You know you can tell me.”
She feels Elphaba tense once more, and she meets her sharp gaze in the looking glass. Elphaba holds her gaze before she lets out a deep sigh, slumping back against the chair. She closes her eyes.
“I don't wish to upset you, darling,” she mutters in a pained voice.
“You have my word that I won't be upset, Elphie,” she reassures gently. “You can tell me anything.”
Elphaba opens her eyes again, but they remain cast down. “I overheard Lord Tigelaar having a truly awful conversation with some of the suitors. I know you are fond of him, darling, but I don't believe his character is kind. I don't—” she pauses as though it hurts her to finish her thought. “I don't believe he will ever love you, Glin. I think he is just looking for a wife of duty,” she finishes, looking away as though she cannot bear to meet her eyes.
Galinda struggles to reconcile the relief she feels at these words and the anguish it has clearly caused Elphaba to share them with her.
Galinda's plan is going to come to fruition. How completely perfect to have found a match who is kind, titled, wealthy and will not hold her lack of affection against her? She can provide him with heirs and he can provide her with a life with Elphaba. It is something of a dream.
She exhales in relief. “Is that all, darling? I am none too bothered by his lack of desire for a love match. I am satisfied to marry a man of good reputation who will be kind to us.”
Elphaba's eyes dart sharply to meet hers in the looking glass. Galinda is quite stunned to see fury in her eyes.
“How can you say such a thing?” she questions in a low voice. “You have been dreaming of your perfect wedding and husband since the tender age of seven.”
Galinda feels wrong-footed by her reaction. Why should this upset her so?
“Dreams change, darling. Now, my greatest wish is security, and Lord Tigelaar will provide this. For both of us. If all he asks for in return are heirs, I will be happy to oblige.”
Elphaba stands abruptly and the comb clatters from Galinda's hand.
“I don't believe that you are willing to sign yourself away to that heartless brute to be wedded and bedded. Don't you want more than a pretty face that is so entitled, he believes he can get away with treating you so carelessly?”
“Elphie…” she murmurs tremulously.
But Elphaba is hastening across the room to the door. “No, Glin. I—I can't do this with you. I must retire at once,” she interrupts quite brokenly.
And then she is gone.
Galinda takes a deep breath and wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. Elphie had never spoken to her with such anger. It has her quite overcome. Crossing the room, she rings for her maid, before collapsing onto the settee to await her.
Elphaba's words have pained her, but she cannot change course. One day she will see that it was for the best. Anything that kept Elphaba with her could only be the right path.