Rowles turned to her and then to Morgan and motioned for them to step aside. His mother’s body rested in her coffin within the sitting room to the left. The coffin was brought out into the hall, carried on the shoulders of the attendants. Rowles followed, and Morgan offered Joan his arm as they moved in behind him, following the procession. As they reached the front of the house, the jobbers assisted the attendants in loading the coffin into the carriage, and the procession began.

The carriage with the coffin started toward the duchess’s final resting place as another took its place. Rowles offered his hand to Joan, and she stepped into the darkness of the carriage, followed by her brother and then her betrothed. It was a silent ride to the cemetery within the carriage, but without, the mourners cried, wailed, and called out.

After the carriage halted at the cemetery, Rowles stepped out and assisted her. He offered his arm, and when she grasped it, he drew her in tightly, protectively. It was well known that any sort of funeral processional was a magnet for pickpockets and thieves. All ne’er-do-wells took the opportunity to collect what they could steal in times like these where the crowds were dense and chase was usually not given.

Rowles offered, “Selfish as it is, I’m grateful you’re here.”

“It’s not selfish at all to wish to be with the one you love,” Joan replied, squeezing his arm affectionately.

Morgan was behind her. She could hear his footsteps, closer than usual as he took up a protective stance behind them. Joan had a moment of amusement, albeit fleetingly, thinking how it would turn out if some poor thief picked Morgan as a target.

“Something humorous?” Rowles asked as they came to a stop in front of his mother’s final resting place.

“I’ll tell you later,” Joan murmured, realizing it wasn’t the time or place to share her amusement, however fleeting.

A curate stood before them, opening his well-worn Book of Common Prayer as he began to read the words of the funeral rite, starting with Psalm 121.

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills;

from whence cometh my help?

My help cometh even from the LORD,

who hath made heaven and earth.

He will not suffer thy foot to be moved,

and he that keepeth thee will not sleep.

Behold, he that keepeth Israel

shall neither slumber nor sleep.

The LORD himself is thy keeper;

the LORD is thy defense upon thy right hand;

So that the sun shall not burn by day,

neither the moon by night.

The LORD shall preserve thee from all evil;

yea, it is even he that shall keep thy soul.

The LORD shall preserve thy going out, and thy coming in,

from this time forth for evermore.