Then I saw them. All above me like a veil over my head but not touching it, angels. So many, they flew as if joined in one heavenly murmuration, but among them I saw faces, hands bearing golden trumpets, great wings and flying hair like ropes. They looked through me with dark eyes that beheld the whole Earth and all the rings of heavenly beings right up to the seat of God Himself. Their song engulfed me, frightening and uplifting; I knew the wonder of flight without fear of falling. I heard Frankie cry out in rapture and my voice joined hers.

Held in the arms of angels, Frankie and I flew over the whole world. We saw every living creature from the smallest mouse to the monsters that live in water at the Earth’s corners. We saw kings and beggars. For each and every living being, tree and rock, we felt the compassion of God. George was there. Arthur too. My parents, and their parents, and six generations before them, and my grandchildren, and their children, and six generations to come, all dressed in bright garments. When I knew in my heart that all would be well, I felt the angels lay me down. They left as they had come. I heard movement in the room. The bowl was removed, shutters and windows opened, a breeze blew across us. Forman held burned feathers to our noses and we sat up, exhausted and changed.

“They will help,” he said, his features radiant with joy and peace. “Be prepared, for your lives are soon to change.”

8

Forman’s intercession with the angels started well. Arthur returned from the Prince’s hunting trip a week early and sent word that he would call that evening. The house and its occupants were scrubbed and sweetened in preparation; I did not want him to see how low I was brought.

He arrived at twilight, when the street falls quiet and the watchman is yet to begin his rounds, the godly are home supping, the unruly buying their first drink. Although late September, it was hot enough for me to smell the coat of his horse through the window. Old Maggie opened the front door and took Arthur’s hat but immediately retreated, for she had been soft on George and thought my lover a greedy cuckoo.

I pinched my cheeks to hide my pallor, for black clothes are only flattering if one is not actually suffering the effects of grief. I had spent some time thinking where to hide the flask that Forman had given me but the parlor was almost bare of furniture. In the end, I hid it in the folds of my shawl on a stool.

As always, I was caught by Arthur’s beauty. He pulled me to his chest, snatching the cap from my head and covering my hair with kisses. Then he stepped back to examine me.