2 April, 1894 — Applegate House, Cotswolds

Ezra had sent a letter in to the Ministry that morning instead of going in. He had a good excuse, since his supervisor knew he needed to make regular site visits at the modiste's to wrap up the business of the forgotten women. And anyway, he'd worked through the last weekend, so no one was going to look too closely at him begging off a few hours on a Tuesday. He had too much on his mind after Miss Hunniford's unexpected visit the night before to focus on any of the mundane tasks. He needed to write her, because he had promised to, but he hadn't worked up the nerve yet. He didn't know exactly what to say in the letter.

He'd found the ring, after she left. The ring and a whole drawer full of other things — handkerchiefs, jewelry, little baubles — monogrammed with RA. What would have been her initials, if her last name had been Applegate.

He hadn't slept much after that, unsurprisingly. He didn't know what to make of it all. She was right, clearly — but even if he took everything she'd said at face value, he still didn't know what to make of it. So once the sun was up he did what he usually did when he was feeling shaky: he went to find his sister.

It was still relatively early; he came bearing a mug of tea, as a peace offering.

"I think I used to be in love with someone," he announced, once she'd accepted it.

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Johanna Applegate

  

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Johanna was stacking puzzle pieces so that they lined up, trying to even the shakes out of her hands before she started trying the corners. Her blood thrummed. She had been awake for many hours — first, trying to sleep, then, trying to get the shakes out. She'd gotten the stack up to seventeen pieces when Ezra came in with tea.

Hanna looked up at him and accepted the mug. She looked back at the tower of puzzle pieces, holding the tea with both hands. "Wouldn't you know?" she asked.

  

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This was an entirely reasonable question. Ezra considered how he could brush past it with the least amount of time spent pausing on context that did not materially matter to the situation at hand. "Not necessarily," he said, moving to half-sit on the edge of her dresser as he wrapped his hands around his own mug of tea. He didn't know if he wanted to drink it, but he wanted something to hold. "This thing I've been working on over the weekend, for work. There were some people who were caught up in this magical — thing, whatever, I'm still working on why it happened — but then everyone forgot them. Everyone. One of them had a brother at the Ministry and her own brother didn't recognize her," he explained. He half-raised his mug to his lips but didn't actually take a drink before he lowered it again. "So one of them — the people everyone forgot — broke into our house last night."

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Hanna set her tea down on the desk, but kept her hands curled around it. She hadn't taken any sips yet. The women had been forgotten, sure — Hanna understood that Ezra's work was odd, but it was still hard for her to believe that she had entirely forgotten her elder brother being in love. For the point of the conversation, she decided she had to accept that premise — but further details just offered more unsettling information.

She looked at Ezra, quizzical. "She broke in?" Hanna repeated. "Is she —?" She held one hand up and wavered it, to imply mad — a rich implication when her hands were shaking this much.

  

Ezra caught the drift of what Hanna didn't say. He shrugged: maybe, probably, doesn't matter. Well, in the long term it probably mattered if the woman he was in love with was mad — but that was an issue to be resolved later, when he had more information.

"She said she was looking for her engagement ring. A ring I gave her," he said, digging his hand down into his pocket. "And I told her to leave, and she did, but then — I found it," he finished, pulling the ring out. He held his hand out to Hanna, palm flat and the ring sitting in the center of it, so she could see.

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Hanna leaned over to Ezra's hand and looked at the ring. "Can I touch it?" she asked, having never held an engagement ring before. (A small bitter part of her brain — or something masquerading as her brain — told her that she might never have the opportunity again.)

But Ezra was not here so she could look at engagement rings. Ezra was here to talk about the woman with her. "So you were engaged," she said. "And maybe in love. Did she say what happened?"

  

Ezra nodded, but looked a bit harried by the question. He let Hanna take the ring. "It was a bit hard to follow," he admitted. Partly because he'd been trying to figure out whether or not to believe her for large portions of her explanation. "She said it was —" Special, wonderful, once in a lifetime — these descriptors seemed a little besides the point; he didn't think Hanna would be inclined to take a possibly-crazed stranger at her word. "We were engaged and then she ended things, but it seems like she regrets it. But I was — I must have still been in love with her," he said, running his free hand through his hair. "Because why else would I keep the ring?"

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"Sentimentality," Hanna said, like she was testing out the word. It was a word that made sense when applied to her brother — Ezra was moody, and when things grabbed his attention they grabbed it for a very long time. Hanna supposed that would apply very easily to a woman, even if it was a woman that things had ended with, even if she didn't deserve it.

No one who left Ezra could deserve his sentimentality, Hanna thought — she loved her brother too much to imagine anyone choosing to leave him. Hanna tilted her head up at him.

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   Ezra Applegate, Rosalie Hunniford

Ezra didn't know if he believed this; he didn't feel especially sentimental. But he couldn't remember ever having been in love with someone, and maybe that made the difference?

"I told her," he continued. "About — why I need my game." Which was still an impossible idea; he couldn't even say it plainly to Hanna, for Merlin's sake. "I don't know how, but... She knew."

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   Rosalie Hunniford

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Hanna was not sold; she shrugged. "Observations over time," she said. She didn't think it was hard to figure them out, even if they could not talk about it. "She knew you well enough to get engaged to you. And —" Hanna shrugged a second time "— she left."

  

Ezra frowned, unconvinced. Observations over time could perhaps get someone close to the truth, could produce they're not all there or something off about them. Basically everyone knew Ezra was 'moody,' so it wasn't really so far fetched. But she had specifically said curse, and she had said he told her. He didn't know. It was impossible for him to have told her, but he didn't think she was lying about it. Those two thoughts were irreconcilable, but that was where he was.

But Hanna's second point was inarguable. "She left," he agreed. Worse, he suspected that she might have left right before things got really bad — Hanna would know exactly what he was referring to if he said so, but he didn't know that for sure yet, so he held on to it.

"... I think she might still be in love with me," he said, almost reluctantly. "I told her she needed something significant, sentimental, and she came looking for this ring. And I'm worried that — if I fix this thing and people remember her again, if I remember her again, then — I'm worried I might still be in love with her, too," he admitted. The evidence seemed to be pointing that way: a drawer full of mementos he had not gotten rid of.

"And she left," he said again, strained. He assumed Hanna would understand the problems implied by the idea that he might be in love with a woman who would leave him.

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   Rosalie Hunniford

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Hanna listened to the explanation and frowned. She reached one of her hands over to the puzzle pieces and began playing with them, starting a new tower. She left; she was still in love with Ezra; he was still in love with her. Hanna had never been in love. She had an impulse to say well, stop it then but if it was so simple, then surely she would have said it back when they both remembered her.

"I'm sorry," she said, but made a face. She was too blunt for I'm sorry to have much meaning, and she knew it. She ran her thumb over the prongs of the puzzle piece.

"She loves you," Hanna said, "You might love her. But she can't handle — this." She waved one hand at herself, meaning the jitters, the drawn-out look she was bearing, all of it. Could she really blame anyone?

Yes — because this was Ezra, her first friend, and in many ways her hero.

"Did she say anything about the state of things before we forgot her?"

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   Ezra Applegate

Ezra didn't know exactly why she'd left, but Hanna's guess seemed as good as any. He hadn't thought he would have ever proposed to someone, until she'd proven him wrong on that point — this was a huge thing to burden someone with, and layering on that he couldn't even speak frankly about it, it seemed rather unfair to ask anyone to deal with it. But there was something different about her, evidently — he'd been able to tell her, somehow, about the curse. He'd proposed. He'd thought she was different enough that it would make the difference, or at least that was where the evidence was pointing him... but it hadn't made the difference, in the end, because she had left.

Which brought him to Hanna's question, about the state of things. He took a breath and closed his eyes briefly, trying to remember exactly what she'd said. It was difficult to recall exact words, because he'd traced them over so many times already and hadn't slept. "Definitely said ex-fiancee," he said. "But she said we'd talked recently. At the — that wedding we went to, I think? With the flower shop girl. So not on terrible terms, evidently." He chewed his lower lip for a moment, trying to think through if she'd said anything else relevant, then remembered. "She said she wished she could go back and change it."

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Hanna wanted to pick at her skin. Knowing she ought not to, she pulled some of the puzzle pieces over to her lap and started sorting them into piles of three over her skirts. This puzzle was too new for Hanna to start piecing things together without looking, but she could at least fidget with them — and knowing the shapes would make it easier for her when she was actually trying to build it.

She had to try to focus on Ezra over the puzzle. The girl had been at Daffy's wedding; so they'd talked to each other. "She didn't say that you didn't fight," she pointed out, feeling at least slightly contrary because this woman had left Ezra.

"Even if she regrets it now," Hanna said, "She still did it."

  

Technically Hanna was right, but Ezra didn't think it was very likely that they'd had some sort of big argument at someone else's wedding. That didn't seem like the sort of thing he would do, even if he was forced to sit next to someone he absolutely hated... but then, he had told the woman last night that he wouldn't have proposed to someone, and wouldn't have kept the ring, so maybe he didn't know himself as well as he thought he did. That was a rather gruesome idea.

"Yes," he agreed; whatever the state of things now, she had certainly left. She had admitted that much, colorfully — she'd thrown the ring at his face, apparently. He blew on the top of his tea thoughtfully. "I'll have to give her the ring. For the — to get everyone to remember her again, the ritual. I told her I'd write her if I found it, but I haven't yet."

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   Johanna Applegate

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Hanna hummed, and actually did pick at her skirt this time. She was not sure she was enthused for the prospect of Ezra remembering someone who had betrayed him, but it was presumably unfair to the woman to leave her unremembered just for Ezra's sake. "Do you want my help writing?" she said. She wished he had not found the ring.