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Baking sweets is not something Demelza has had much practice in and is very much something she would like to learn, for even when she is mildly cross with Ross for not talking to her as he should, she is still the sort who wants to make him happy. And to be able to bake him a fresh, sweet pie would be lovely.

Given her abilities in the kitchen, Demelza is of the mind she'd be able to accomplish such a thing with little effort and few mistakes, but it seems truly silly not to take advantage of having met a woman like Greta, with whom she'd felt a sort of kinship regardless of what she can do. Perhaps she would manage on her own, but some things, she knows, are simply better done with friends, and Greta knows more than Demelza does in this regard.

It's not proper custom in Darrow, to show up unannounced, but Demelza does it anyway, not yet used to her telephone except in emergency situations. The problem Demelza faces now is that she does not yet know where Greta lives and so she cannot simply arrive at her door. Instead, knowing Greta to be a baker, Demelza leaves her children and Garrick with Abby one morning, then goes to the market where she has found some the freshest and most wonderful tasting pastries and it seems as though it might be just the place where Greta would be.

She's perusing a small selection of croissants when she sees a familiar figure and Demelza bursts into a smile, then lifts her skirts, hurrying through the crowd.

"Hello!" she calls. "Greta!"

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“Oh, it was real,” Greta assures her, nose wrinkling in momentary distaste. Magic was something she’d generally tried to avoid to the extent that she could, and most of the Villagers she knew were of a similar mind. She and her husband had done the sensible minimum to keep on the right side of it, like leaving out saucers of milk on the back stoop. But she’s pretty sure that just amounted to a treat for the neighborhood cats (which was no bad thing; it made just as much sense to entice a mouser as a hob), and she’d been fine with that. Generally speaking, the less you had to do with anything magic-related, the happier you were.

“I’m not sure the Woods actually harbored as much as people thought it did,” she continues with a pensive little frown. If the Woods had any power, she suspects it was by virtue of the fact that it was so far removed from everyday life. You could find yourself there, or forget yourself entirely, without needing anyone to wave a wand at you. “But there was plenty of it in the Village. We had a Witch living just next door to us.”

Though she doesn't mind talking about it, her tone probably makes it clear that it wasn't a good sort of witch.

"A witch," she breathes, trying to imagine what that must have been like. There were always rumours, of course, stories of women who dabbled in such things, but Demelza had never paid them much mind because she'd thought them ridiculous. People in Cornwall had only ever said it about the women they considered leading the sort of lives they didn't approve of. Women who never married, women who insisted on doing their own work, the ones who wanted to take care of themselves.

"And it were real?" she asks. "I know 'ee said as much, I just... well, sometimes women were said to be witches where I'm from, too, but it was only ever rumour. If I hadn't mess Ross, I'd have probably been considered a witch." At the time he had taken her into his home, she had been too young for that, but Demelza wouldn't have married any of the men in Illugan and she wouldn't have married any of the men in Bodmin either, no matter how lovely some of them had been.

If not for the Curse, living next door to a Witch wouldn't have been so different from living next door to anyone else, Greta thinks. She had kept to herself, which had suited the two of them just fine. It was always a bit nerve-wracking, not knowing what she might be up to, but the Witch had seemed content to ignore them. Until she wasn't.

Greta nods. "It wasn't just rumor. She actually," she huffs out a breath, as if it was silly and embarrassing and not infuriating or tragic, "she Cursed us - or my husband's family, which amounted to the same thing. It happened back when he was only a boy. He didn't know anything about it." Maybe if his father had stuck it out, things would have been different. They might have wheedled her into breaking it sooner. If nothing else, she could have known what she was marrying into (though part of her wonders if she would have married him at all, had she known).

What sort of Curse is probably on the tip of Demelza's tongue, so Greta spares her the awkwardness of needing to ask. "We couldn't have children. My husband's father stole some magic beans out of her garden, so she placed a Curse on the whole family line."

Demelza is unusually quiet, moving about the kitchen for a moment as she silently curses herself for having been so thoughtless in so many ways. Her life in Darrow is a good one, one she's happy to lead, but she knows she's lucky in ways many people are not, but the days where she considers that are few and far between because she doesn't have to. Because she gets to see her children, her husband comes home to her at the end of the day, she even has Garrick here and Ross has Darkie.

All in all, she is extremely fortunate.

"I'm that sorry," she breathes suddenly, turning to look at Greta. "That's a terrible thing for someone to have done to his family and awful for no one in his family to have told him so that he might prepare himself and... well, and you. All for beans!"

Magic beans, Greta has said, but as far as Demelza is concerned, that excuses nothing. Perhaps they shouldn't have stolen from her, but there are better ways to go about dealing with such situations than punishing those who had no part in the act at all.

It was terrible, but Greta is still faintly surprised by the force of Demelza's response. It's gratifying, in a way, to have someone fuss on her behalf, not least of all because Demelza's indignation so closely mirrors Greta's own. The last bit gives her pause, though, and she winces.

"It wasn't just the beans. I guess she was Cursed as well; they had some kind of enchantment on them that backfired when they were stolen." Not that the Witch deserves much pity, and Greta adds, "Though she did steal away my husband's baby sister as some sort of restitution, so the Curse was just... extra."

Greta pauses while that sinks in, as much for her as for her friend. She'd been so focused on breaking the Curse that she hadn't given much thought to its origins, and now that she has, the whole thing strikes her as faintly ridiculous. Oh, it had been devastating at the time, and the Witch's spitefulness was nothing to sniff at, but now that time and distance have worn down some of the sharp edges, she can appreciate that it was overkill. God, it's almost absurd.

She drops her head into her hand with an incredulous little giggle. "What a stupid mess," she says - marvels, almost. It occurs to her that she could just burst into tears while she's at it, it seems appropriate, but she sniffs it back and lowers her hands before the temptation can really take hold. "We did break it," she says, as much to remind herself as anything else. Her brow furrows as she adds, "Never did find his sister, though - god, we hardly even..." and then she trails off, eyes widening as a few puzzle pieces belatedly fall into place. Because she had found a maiden in a Tower, a maiden whose hair the Witch had touched, and why would the Witch have just been pawing at some random, isolated young woman's hair, unless...?

"Oh, my god," Greta breathes, pressing her hands to her reddening cheeks. "I think Rapunzel's my sister-in-law."

The name is familiar to Demelza, though she isn't entirely sure why and she frowns, wondering why she knows it. "Is she someone who lives here?" she asks. "In Darrow?"

Ross would be the first person to tell anyone that Demelza is the sort who knows a good many people. She introduces herself often to strangers, smiles and says hello when people look friendly, and generally goes out of her way to meet everyone she can. In Cornwall, it hadn't always been looked upon favourably, especially by those who considered her beneath them, but it's different in Darrow. People here respond well to her and she's made a good deal of friends, but she still can't know everyone, no matter how badly she may want to.

"Oh, wouldn't that be amazing?" she asks, hardly able to contain her excitement even though she knows she shouldn't get ahead of herself. "If she were to be here and you could meet her after all this time."

Demelza would do anything to see her brothers again. If Drake were to suddenly appear on Darrow's streets, she would be beside herself with joy. They're the only thing in Cornwall she would wish to go back to and while she doesn't expect for any such thing to happen, seeing at least one of her brother's here in Darrow is her fondest wish.

Greta slowly drags her hands down her face. God, she'd nearly pulled the woman out of her Tower. She could have died. And if she'd actually spoken to her, they might have figured it all out sooner - she could have just asked for a length of her hair.

... And what about that hair, anyway? Is it a family thing? Is her son going to have hair out the door and down the block?

Demelza's question belatedly registers, and Greta gives her head a little shake. "No. I mean... sort of. There's a Rapunzel - I met her just the other day - but she's not--not my Rapunzel." She lets her hands drop, then gives Demelza a sheepish look. She really didn't mean to have a familial revelation in the middle of her kitchen. "I guess there's more than one."

And to think: part of her had been grateful when she realized what was happening, because it meant she wouldn't have to actually confront her own questionable behavior towards her Rapunzel. Darrow's version didn't know anything about it. But Darrow's version isn't family, either, and the last thing Greta wants is to confuse or upset the poor girl by going on about who some other version of her turned out to be. Bad enough that she mentioned the whole swamp banishment.

While she's been in Darrow long enough for her to understand that such things are true, Demelza still hasn't been able to work out the how or why of it. For Greta to have her sister-in-law here and for her to not be the right version all at once feels terribly cruel and she wonders if such things might ever happen to her. If Verity were to come to Darrow, but without the slightest knowledge who she is.

Demelza thinks such a thing would break her heart.

"Tis strange how that happens," she says. "Strange and unsettling. I don't think I'd be able to bear it if my family were to be here and yet for them to not be the right versions of themselves. Not my father, but my brothers or my cousin-in-law. I miss her so much."

"I hardly knew her back home. It was mostly by reputation, really," Greta says, not wanting Demelza to think this is too tragic. It's certainly not on par with what happened to Sam, or anyone else who might be dealing with a friend or family member from a different point in time. It does make her a bit more anxious to get home, if only to tell her husband of her suspicions (though, if she's being entirely honest, it's also the thought of having a familial connection to royalty that captures her imagination), but there isn't much it can do to impact her life here. Not with a completely different Rapunzel in the city.

"Still strange, though," she allows, shaking her head. "To know, but not be able to do anything with it." And that's assuming her world's Rapunzel would even welcome a claim from a humble baker. She might just as easily want to leave the past where it belongs. Her husband might too, for that matter.

Greta gives Demelza a sympathetic smile. "Your husband's cousin, then?" she clarifies, to make sure she understands it. "A more tolerable member of the gentry, I take it?"

"Yes, Ross' cousin Verity," Demelza says with a smile. "Had Jeremy been a girl we were going to name him after her. At first she made me so terribly nervous because I thought, like everyone else, she'd just see me as the scullery maid and not worth a moment of Ross' time or his family's name. She came to visit not long after we were married and it was that uncomfortable at first, but that were really all my fault."

She had been terrified and so she'd not made herself open and available to Verity, who had only ever been trying to do right by her new cousin-in-law.

"I was tryin' so hard to be proper, too, so I'd not shame myself or Ross, but I was getting the rules all wrong and then Verity... well, she told me she didn't care at all where I was from, only that she'd not seen Ross so happy in a long time and oh, she was so kind. Too kind sometimes, she let her brother and her father walk all over her, but she's happy now. She has the life she wanted, the one she deserves."

Demelza had seen to that. She'd destroyed the lives of several other men in the process, but she'd had no way of knowing Francis would take such revenge and give over the names of Ross' investors to George Warleggan.

Greta listens with her brow furrowed in sympathy. Much as she might have daydreamed about being a Lady - the sort who might don a beautiful gown and attend a Festival - she hasn't actually done much mingling with the gentry, and what she had experienced wasn't always pleasant. Cinderella was all right, but she's not sure Cinderella even counted. It's not as if she was a Princess when Greta spoke with her in the Woods. Rather, Greta got the impression that she wasn't so different from any of her neighbors, just blessed with a bit more youth and much fancier wardrobe.

Including slippers as pure as gold, of course.

Point is, she doesn't envy Demelza's abrupt induction to the upper class. It all sounds terribly stressful - and not the sort of stress a working class person would be accustomed to.

"She sounds lovely," Greta says, starting to nudge a few things aside and clear some counter space. "And sensible." Which isn't a trait she necessarily expects from the gentry. Glancing over at Demelza, she adds, "It's hard to wish anyone here without feeling selfish, but... I'm glad she's happy, at least, if she can't be here."

"Tis true, for all I wish to see her, I'd not want to take her from her husband after the struggles they went through just to be together," Demelza agrees, clearing more space on the counter by moving her groceries and other items aside. There's flour and sugar and butter and she rummages through the drawers before she produces two knives for cutting and peeling the apples. There are days when she's still stunned by the abundance of fruit, remembering well enough just how many children suffered from scurvy in Illugen, unable to get what they needed from fish and grain. Here there's absolutely no chance of it and she feeds Julia fresh fruit as often as she can.

"He had been married before Verity," she explains. "And he'd had trouble with drinking. One day he and his wife were fighting and he pushed her too hard and she... well, she died. He was charged and served his time in gaol and he never touched a drop of alcohol since that day and I... well, people deserve second chances, do they not? He was so in love with Verity and Ross accused me of being naive, but I believed they would be happy together and so I helped 'em."

She smiles, deciding it's best to gloss over all the consequences of that decision and skip right to the happier bits. "And now they're married and Verity's brother can no longer treat her as if she's his slave."

It's a rather harrowing story, but Greta finds herself nodding along to much of it. The exact circumstances aren't familiar to her, of course, but she does understand what it's like to want to help, to know you could make a difference -- to know it so certainly that you don't ask for permission, even if everyone else would presume you ought to get it.

"It was good of you to help them," she says. "Honestly, it's as if people forget that we can -- be of use in ways they haven't already decided we should be, I mean. When we were trying to break the Curse... well, if my husband had his way, I would've stayed at the cottage. But I wasn't about to just sit around, not when I could do something."

He'd come round eventually, of course, but she's the one who'd forced the matter. If she hadn't been out there getting things done in the first place, she doubts he would have come back to the cottage and begged for her help until it was too late.

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