As Malachi pushed out his chair to stand, Miriam arose from her own seat, setting her glass down half-emptied.

“I will send a servant around soon with that recipe, doctor,” she assured, and curtsied politely while the former priest set his napkin back on the table and, all too gladly, exited the dining hall with his lover.

The sun had fully set. Darkness alone peered through the house’s windows, further accentuating the shadows cast by the winding halls and the candles recently lit within them. Malachi did not reach for Arthur’s hand – he was not sure how soon after them Miriam would be wandering through to her own room, after all – but their arms brushed as they walked.

He was silent until they returned to the room, as he had been for most of dinner.

“What happened?” was his first question, voiced lowly as he closed the bedroom door.

Arthur did not look hurt. Not any more than he had been beforehand, at least, and he suspected that if Miriam had lured him into private just to attack him, he would have heard more from the hall.

“Are you alright? What was- what did she want?”