Amelia Mason... he'd not heard the name before. That was less an indication of her status and more so just a truth about himself, and his relatively recent arrival in Whitby. Even the late Miss Harlowe he hadn't known until he had helped preside over her service, as he did for all the deaths within his church.

Malachi listened patiently, turning a little more in his seat to better face her. As close to the door as they were, the candles strewn across the altars reached them only with the edges of their flickering light. A small frown tugged at the edges of his mouth.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Miss Mason. I'll be praying that the legal matters are settled easily," offered Malachi, before he finally moved to stand. His movements were slow as he rounded the pew, and he took care to sit a good distance away from the woman when he joined her on hers instead, but he didn't wish for her to feel as alone as she looked.

"Why did your father say that?"