When they were in the privacy of her room, Luna hugged Livia again with a fierceness she hoped expressed her gratitude; Livia had been the only constant companion throughout her life. There was a healthy ruddiness in Livia’s cheeks. A winter in her sister’s small holding had suited her.

‘Has your stay here been restorative?’ Livia asked.

Luna nodded and sat on her bed. ‘I have been exceedingly well cared for.’

‘You deserved some fussing before the convent.’ She lifted her heavy bottom onto the bed beside Luna. ‘Are you ready?’

The question was an easy one but Luna found it difficult to answer. ‘I’ve become used to the comforts of this home.’

Livia patted her knee reassuringly. ‘Then it is a good thing I am here. These people are not your family and it is wrong to burden them indefinitely. The days will begin to warm soon enough and you will see in the glory of spring at the convent.’ Livia went to the drawers and began sorting through Luna’s few pieces of clothing. ‘It will not take long to pack you up. Let us set a date for your departure in two sennights’ time.’

Luna was no longer listening. She’d not anticipated what peace she’d gained from this place so far from Florence, watching the passing of the seasons from harvest time through to the beginning of another ploughing, rather than the politics of the city with its bigotry and hypocrisy. The Novaras were not like her father and step-mamma; each listened to the other’s opinions and they worked together and loved openly. They’d shown Luna the same respect. No one demanded she be silent and dutiful, no one stared at her as an abomination.

‘I must confess, this is a well-ordered house.’ Livia’s voice broke Luna’s reverie. ‘I see how easily you’d settle here, but let us attend to preparations for when you take the veil. It will help you to have a few fine things to use as barter as you no longer have your father’s patronage to pay for a cell to yourself, nor even coin enough to buy a softer woollen blanket than the coarse ones handed out to novices. It’s going to be a very different life to the one you have enjoyed. You must rely on your own wits.’

‘I have very little.’

‘Have you done no embroidery or needlework whilst here?’

Luna shook her head.

‘What on Earth have you been up to then? What about candied fruits—could you take a box?’

‘I would not like to ask the lady of the house. She has been so generous already.’

‘Then we will hope for a kindly mother abbess.’ She shook her head at Luna’s worried expression. ‘You can scribe a letter; that is a skill the abbess will pay you for,’ she said pointedly.

‘What do you know of the Poor Clares?’ Luna asked.