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“To church, of course.” I laughed lightly, twirling a stand of my long hair around my finger. “I seek some peace in all this turmoil.”

Mary’s face softened, and she nodded, returning to herbrushing. “Of course, madam. I think that would do you good.”

Seeking absolution would do me little good, but it would help to pretend. What would they all say, the people who had spied me on Newgate Road, when they discovered I had married my stepson?

Worse still - what would Mary say?

I slept fitfully that night, dreaming of chains, of being buried alive, of drowning. Of beating bloodied hands against the roof of a coffin while Azriel’s laughter echoed in my ears. I woke to a bright dawn, and a brilliant blue sky, which simply made me angry. Even God was laughing at me.

I dressed in one of my simple mourning gowns, and set off for the church after breakfast. Mary insisted on accompanying me, and chattered cheerfully as the carriage rolled down the street. I barely heard a word, wondering what I would even say to the priest, what I could tell him, what kind of forgiveness I could even seek without revealing my secrets.

More and more and more questions built up in my mind, more wretched, errants paths seeking an escape, an answer, a fragment of clarity. There was none to be found, of course, but the mind of a captive is not a logical one. Always seeking to survive, even when all is lost, and seems impossible. Outside the walls of Linmere, it seemed to me even more poignant, as though I were sleepwalking through a world that would soon reject me.

The sunny churchyard made me feel no better.

Mary chose to remain outside, basking in the sunlight which danced amongst the brightly coloured autumn leaves. I stepped into the mercifully empty church alone.

Father Price was busily arranging bibles in the pews, his mostly-bald head bowed as he worked. He lifted his eyes atthe sound of my footsteps, and his deeply wrinkled face warmed into a smile as I walked down the aisle towards him.

“Mistress Caine, how wonderful to see you.” He brushed the dust from his hands, leaving a faint shadow on his black robes. “A fine day, is it not?”

“Yes, extremely fine.” I cast a flickering glance at the statue of Jesus hanging from the cross, and swallowed hard. “It is a relief indeed after all that endless rain.”

“It certainly is.” He clasped his hands before him, and raised his eyebrows. “The sunlight, I feel, always helps a mourning soul.”

“Yes, I suppose it does.”

“Is that why you are here?” His eyes softened, and he nodded. “To seek closeness to him?”

I was unsure whichhimhe meant at that moment. The Him hanging from the cross at the front of the church, blood pouring from the wound in his side, or thehimlying in the mausoleum, rather too close by for my liking.

“I…I…” I sank into one of the pews, and sighed heavily. “I feel so lost. And so trapped.”

Father Price sat down beside me. “Trapped?”

I lifted the veil of my bonnet, somehow unable to breathe with it covering my face. “I am not even sure why I am here. I seek closeness and comfort, but I do not feel it is possible.”

“You have suffered a great loss, it is not unusual for loneliness and grief to be overwhelming,” he said gently.

I wanted nothing more than to be able to lift the burden of my sins off my shoulders, and to atone for all of those I was about to commit. I gazed up at the statue, at Jesus’s dead eyes, his outstretched arms, and shook my head.

“It is more than that, Father.”

“There will be better days again, I assure you.”

I let out a hollow laugh. “Oh, how I wish that were true.”

“But it is.” He gestured to the open church door behindus. “Look around you. The rain has stopped, and the sun is shining once more. This is the lesson we must take from times like this. That the sun will always return.”

I looked at him earnestly, dashing away an errant tear with my gloved hand. “Are there any sins that are unforgivable, Father?”

His brow furrowed briefly. “My child, all sins are forgiven, once they are brought to God.”

“All sins? Are you certain?”

He exhaled heavily, and took my hand. “My child, whatever it is you feel you may have done, you would not be the first widow to sit on this pew and weep over it. Loneliness has the ability to drive us mad.”

I blinked at him slowly, then realised his implication. He thought I was seeking absolution for taking a lover. He thought my grief and loneliness had driven me into the arms of another man. I balked for a moment, wanting to insist that nothing of the sort had happened, but then that would simply be another lie, and another sin.