After the funeral I had warmed by fire milk with honey made by Amelia. We sat at the expensive walnut table of the roughhewn kitchen. "Tell of him when he was a child," I prodded.

Amelia's face lit up and I could see that she couldn't have loved him more if she'd given birth to him herself. "Oh he was darling!" she exclaimed. "Very loving, very sensitive and always with a touch of cruelty," at the last word her face became sad.

At this I became internally flustered with excitement with which I strove to hide. "What sort of cruelty?" this was the thing that struck me as a prevailing characteristic of both of us.

"Oh he would befriend someone only to tell them that their place in this world was unremarkable and that they were boring and dull, that sort of thing," she fell silent and her face became coated with memory.

"But oh was he kind to animals and his mother taught him all she knew of gardening, he would spend hours beside her and tend to the plants in the hot house. It wasn't until he was a man grown that he began the garden behind it."

I chewed my lower lip and thought on all of this. This was a new thing to me; my interest in my husband. I've never been terribly interested in anyone. "Was he always fair to look upon?"

This question seemed useless for as soon as I asked it for I knew the answer. "Oh my yes, he came into this world with a thick shock of silver blond hair and we all thought it would turn dark gold but it never has," she murmured with such personal pride that it was almost amusing but yet endearing to me.

"Were you his nurse maid?"

Amelia shook her head "No, his mother was adamant that she breast feed herself, though of course that simply wasn't done by well-bred ladies of the time, why even now it's not common."

"But you helped raise him?" I knew this answer too but I wished to see the emotion on her face when she replied.

"Yes I dressed him until he refused my help and I taught him hymns and his alphabet, among other things." So this woman knew how to read, that was interesting.

"Who taught you?"

"Oh Master Courtland did, he taught all the slaves that mattered to him."

I was astonished "That cruel man taught you your letters?"

Amelia looked offended which only intrigued me "Courtland could be cruel but he was mostly kind to those he deemed worthy of it." She leaned forward with an air of conspiracy "Why, he still comes and has tea with me twice a week," she whispered this and looked around to the walls as if they would repeat her confession.

"Why is he so cruel to Eric?"

Amelia seemed thoughtful at that "I have often wondered that myself and the only thing I can think is that he has always found him to be too odd, he tried to make him like everyone else and my little man always resisted."

I digested this and just when I was going to question her further Eric walked in and sat down next to me and across from Amelia. His face when he looked to her was filled with such affection that it was nearly like seeing another person in his place. "Have you been filling my bride's head with your idle memories?" his tone was a mix of coolness and warmth.

Amelia chuckled "Yes Master but she was asking and you know I never tire of remembering my times with you," her voice was soft.

My lord husband smiled tenderly and picked up a package that he'd been carrying and set it on the table "I bought you something that I sent to Paris for," he sounded quite eager to show her.

He shoved the wrapped package across to her and I noted that the wrapping alone was expensive. His 'nanny' as he called her, face lit up and she took great care not to rip the paper. Inside was the most wonderful shawl of multi colored cashmere. The colors were vibrant with gold and green and black and someone had woven in with an artist's touch an image of a saint floating.

She touched it with reverence and tears came to her eyes "Thank you kindly Master Eric."

He beamed delightedly "I had them make it with the image of St. Barnabas as I know him to be your favorite."

She nodded and touched the woven face lightly "Yes I knew that at once," she glanced up and I nearly felt as if I was intruding so close were they in spirit. And the lack of my Minnie was keenly felt in that moment. They shared what Minnie and I had once.

I nearly teared up before I remembered myself and that I am never weak; or that is what I would believe of myself. We all have an illusion that we shroud ourselves with don't we?

Amelia stood and looked to me and then Eric with uncertainty. I could tell she wished to hug him and felt nervous as to my reaction. And for my part I was unsure of how to show her that it was alright. He laughed softly and stood towering over her petite frame and gripped her in a tight gentle hug. "Oh how I love thee nanny," he whispered against the ruff of her cloth bound hair.

She chuckled and seemed to light up at his touch "And how I love thee," the exchanged words had the air of routine to them as if they'd been routinely said for ages.

She gathered up her shawl and folded it as if it were the very shroud that Jesus had been laid in and bustled out with a lingering gaze at Eric. "Thank you Amelia," I called after her. She merely smiled absently to me and departed.

My husband sat back down and glanced up at me "Now you know that I would never have hurt Minnie in truth," he murmured.

I stared at him thoughtfully and tipped my head to the side "I suppose that must seem quite true," I replied.

A bit of sunlight wandered in like a playful child and frolicked on his face and it was extraordinary how beautiful he was to me. "Your hair is like fire and gold lying together," he said quietly.

He stood and undid my braid and I heard a gasp from him and felt touched with his passion. I turned back and saw his eyes glimmering "You will be so beautiful when you are old," he said with a touch of wonder.

I found that an exceedingly odd thing to say "Why?"

Eric shrugged and made some milk from the dew touched pitcher before us "Because your face is artful, have you never noticed that very old paintings crack with time and it only adds to their beauty?"

I shook my head "I've never paid any attention to art, you should know that."

He seemed vaguely amused and annoyed "I wish sometimes that you shared my passion for it but then again the fact that you don't makes you even more my soul mate," after he shared that last bit he looked incredibly vulnerable.

"That is what you believe us to be?"

He bowed his head and seemed pained "Yes," he whispered.

I stood and knelt before him and clutched his knees "I believe that too my lord."

I will never forget even now that I am old and weary how endearing that moment was. That instant in time which we both came to admit what the other meant to each.

We left the kitchen and retired to the library. Eric strolled over to the shelves and picked up the book I'd read that long ago night when I'd spied him sitting with Amelia.

"What did you think of this?"

I cupped my cheek and rested my elbow on the rest "I was quite in love with it, but then I adore all that man has written."

He smiled so enchantingly then it made my breath catch "You are so interesting, thank the universe. You know I used to have a daily nightmare that I would be married to a bore."

I laughed and again he seemed as if I'd presented him with a gift. "I'll be right back," he said abruptly. The time that he was gone seemed endless and I knew that the rest of my life I would dote on each moment with him and guard each memory as if I were a miser with my gold.

He returned forthwith with a golden velvet box the size of my palm. "When we were married I never gave you a ring, because I was waiting for this one to be completed."

I actually hadn't wondered about that for some reason but I found I was now intrigued. When the lid was raised I saw an exquisite ring: It was delicately crafted; with platinum and gold twisted together with a crescent moon in the center made of a milky gemstone and surrounded by tiny diamonds that were shaped to resemble stars. "My lord, it is wonderful," I breathed out quite truthfully.

When I looked up he took the ring from me and slipped it on my wedding finger with such gentleness and then got down on one knee "I will marry you again each year on my birthday as a present to myself," he said softly.

I joined him on the floor and kissed him with all the passion that my cold nature would allow. We fell back into each others arms and I was content to be in that embrace until the end of time.