As Lydia watched Tobias with Marguerite, never had she seen such tenderness of a man for his wife. Was this what love could look like? Tobias turned to them and motioned for them to come into the room. Jon Paul gave her shoulder a squeeze. Her hand flew down and he released her. Tobias remained kneeling on the floor. His hand entwined in Marguerite’s. He looked up at his brother and said, “I am staying here for the night.”

“Of course,” said Jon Paul.

Weakly, Marguerite said, “Please make sure you tell Peronelle a bedtime story and let the cat sleep with her. She’s been begging for that for weeks. It will comfort her.”

“I will. Is there anything else I can do?”

Marguerite nodded. “Please bring her to me first thing in the morning and pray for me, for us.” She held out her free hand to him and he took it. Lydia had thought he did not care for his sister-in-law, but he did.

“I will.” He smiled and released her hand.

“Thank you,” Tobias said. His gaze returned to his wife. Her eye lids were heavy and she was beginning to drift off again.

Quietly, Lydia followed Jon Paul back into the kitchen. Bathsheba was at the hearth stirring a pot with some steaming brew. In her chair, Isabelle stroked Ashes. Out of no where, Patch pounced at Lydia. She picked up her kitten and nuzzled her. There was nothing like the comfort of a cat.

Jon Paul said, “My she is growing fast. So is Peronelle’s Edmond. She carries that cat around like doll. He is so patient with her.” He reached out to pet Patch. The kitten leaned into his wiggling fingers as he rubbed her ears. His eyes sought out Lydia’s. Softly he said, “Good night. I will see you in the morning.”

“Good night.”

With his knuckle he stroked Lydia's cheek and then turned away from her. She watched him head out through the shop.

At the hearth Bathsheba chuckled. “It be about time for that one.”

Lydia did not know if Bathsheba was referring to Jon Paul or herself. She did not ask.

*

After two days, Marguerite’s blood had stopped flowing and she was eating again, so Tobias took her home. Lydia had never expected to like Marguerite but she did. There was good in her, though at times it was challenging to find. It had been a joy to have Peronelle in the shop with her. The little girl, quiet though she was had wanted to know everything about candle making. Lydia remembered being that inquisitive when's she was a child. She had also been persistent too. It was one of the reasons Fader had begun to teach her the trade.

This morning, Lydia and Isabelle were in the shop packing an order for Na Simeon. When it was done, Isabelle said, “Please tell her that this will be the last order the shop will fill. I am certain she and Father Thomas will both continue to want your candles. Also I want you to know that once the shop closes I will pay my tithe to the Chapel of Our Lady in your candles. It will not be much, but it will be something.”

“Oui, it will, and I thank you.”

With sadness in her voice, Isabelle said, “I wish I could do more. I wish I could afford to give you this shop.”

“It is all right. You are so generous. I am content and looking forward to my new home.” Lydia smiled and Isabelle gave her a relieved smile. The bitterness in Lydia had left her. Life was what it was. So far each time there had been a shift in her circumstances, she had met them and she would do it again.“I will see you in a bit.” Lydia picked up the candles and headed out for Na Simeon’s.

The day was overcast and it felt like rain. She must hurry. The walk to Na Simeon’s was a rather long one. When Lydia turned onto the lane that lead the chateau, she was struck by the past. That day had been so confusing when she had been stripped of her identity as Luke and sent to the front door to resume her life as Lydia Wade. In truth the girl who stood trembling on that door step did not exist anymore. In just a few months time she had gone from being a frightened child to becoming a woman. It had happened as she worked at her trade and as she learned to support herself. On that day when she stood as Lydia for the first time since she left home, she had knocked timidly on the door. To day she gave a resounding knock on the heavy wooden door.

Pierre opened the door. “Good morning Mademoiselle Wade, is it candle day already?”

“Oui, it is. Madame Beaux-champe asked me to relay a message to Domina Simeon. Is she free?”

“Oui. She is in her room.” He took the boxes candles from her and lead her up the stairs to Na Simeon’s room. Again, the past was with her. She glanced down the hall where she had slept, where Antone had snuck down to see her only to be thwarted by Na Simeon. What would have happened if Na Simeon had not interfered?

Pierre stopped before a door and knocked. Na Simeon called out, “Come in.” Pierre opened the door and Lydia followed him in. Na Simeon sat enthroned on a cushioned chair by the window. She was dressed in dark green silk. She gave Lydia a smile and held out her hand. Lydia went to her and took the extended hand.

Na Simeon said, "Good morning, Lydia. How can I help you?”

“I have a message from Madame Beauxchampe. Because of your constant generosity toward her she wants you to know this is the last batch of candles from the shop."

Na Simeon smiled and said, “So the brewer has asked for her hand. It will be a good match. But what is to become of you? As for the candles, of course I want you to make them. Trust me there will be others that will do the same. Secretly perhaps, but there will be others. Now tells me will the Where will you be set up?”

To speak about her future was difficult for Lydia. “There is an outbuilding on Brewer Arlette’s property that Isabelle has graciously offered me. My hope is to be able to make enough candles to support myself, if that does not work, I may train as a midwife. My future is uncertain, so I am taking things as they come.”

For several silent seconds, Na Simeon studied Lydia and then asked, “And what of Jon Paul? Has he not offered a solution for your future?"

“He does no know abou the impending marriage."

Na Simeon’s lips pressed into a hard flat line. “Regardless of what he knows or does not know, I expected he would have proposed by now. Tell me have you completely discouraged him?”

“No, not completely.”

The tight lips relaxed into an amused smile. Na Simeon said, “Well, then, there may still be hope. As for your candle making, of course I want you to keep making mine. Trust me there will be others that will do the same. Secretly perhaps, but there will be others." Lydia hoped so, she really did not want to be forced into midwifery.

On the table beside Na Simeon was a letter. She picked it up and said, “This came only yesterday. I think you will be surprised by its content. It is from Dame Paston.”

At the mention of the Dame's name, Lydia's heart took off like a horse race. Would the news be good or ill?

The bejeweled fingers of of Na Simeon opened the letter. She said, “I will read you the part that will be of interest to you." She held it up to the light coming through the window. "My dear Cousin, what a peculiar year it has been. I was sent an angel to be my George’s proxy in Rome, only the angel died before he ever got there. When James returned with the news, I was grief stricken, but my grief was soon tempered.”

The image of James was conjured in Lydia’s mind and heart. How she missed him. Na Simeon continued reading, “Do you remember Lord Thaddeus Bolton? He was found drowned nearly two years ago. It turns out the death was not accidental. That demon son of mine, Geoffrey murdered him. One foggy night he tossed Lord Bolton off the docks. The man could not swim."

A memory from the night, Moder died flashed through Lydia's mind. She remember the two men talking about King Edward. Had they been Lord Paston and Lord Bolton. That night while she stood on the shore, contemplating taking her own life, she had heard a splash of water. Had that splash been made by Lord Bolton’s body?

Na Simeon continued reading, "It seems my son Geoffrey killed Lord Bolton because he coveted his wife. I know this is shocking, but he was just like his father. If he saw a female that pleased him, he did not rest until he had her. So, after Geoffrey killed her husband, he took that grief stricken girl into his bed and married her.”

Lydia had seen Lady Bolton in church not long after her husband's death. The young woman had not looked grief stricken. A bad feeling began to swirl inside of Lydia. Cyril had called Lady Bolton, now Lady Paston, a Banshee with secrets. Was one of her secretes collusion in her first husband’s murder?

Na Simeon paused in her reading. "Can you believe the scandal of it all?"

“No."

She took up reading the letter, “When James, the Bastard and dear Brother Matthew returned from the failed pilgrimage, something seemed off with James. We have always been so close. When Geoffrey was found guilty of Lord Bolton's murder, James finally told me what Cyril had witnessed. My George, my Eternal Beloved, is not in hell for suicide, but his brother is for murder. As for Geoffrey, he deserves the same fate as his father." Na Simeon looked up from the letter. "The rest is a bunch of chitter chatter. She does mention the day of Geoffrey's hanging, but it is a side note. Lady Geoffrey Paston gave birth to a little boy who she named George. According to my cousin, the child has the same loving spirit as his dearly departed uncle." Silently, Na Simeon shook her head.

Stunned, Lydia could not speak. How could people be so horrible? Lord Geoffrey Paston had broken so many commandments. What level of hell had he sunk to? As for Dame Paston, she did not know what to think. The Bastard she referred to was no doubt, Antone.

Na Simeon, folded the letter and put it back on the table. "Dame Paston does mention that James and Brother Matthew have been a comfort to her, but she says nothing of Antone. I am certain he did not stay at the castle. He was never welcome there."

Lydia nodded. It had been over six months since she had last seen Antone. Where was he and what was he doing? At least she knew James and Brother Matthew were safe and well. Enough time had passed that Antone could have made his way back to her, but he had not. And, she had not ever expected him to.

With eyes narrowed, Na Simeon asked, “So, have you recovered from the fever of Antone?”

That is what it had been, a fever. He was the first man she had ever fallen for. The first that she had ever thought she might love. It was not love on either of their parts. Being thrown together had fed the attraction. Once they were apart it faded. “Oui, I have recovered.”

“Good.”