During the days following the visit, it was as if no one could talk of anything else but Felix Graham De Vanily and the witchcraft council. Llla's relish for the topic was in stark contrast to Adrien's obvious distaste for the task ahead of him, but soon daily life resumed and the talk faded. Everyone had duties to perform, both the servants on the farm and Adrien, who was responsible for church business in both Clemont and Corbie.

The winter days came and went with monotonous regularity, broken only by the occasional visitor to the vicarage, and Adrien's comings and goings as he travelled around the parish on church business. He brought home stories of conflicts that needed to be resolved, glad tidings to be celebrated, and sorrows to be mourned. He officiated at weddings, christenings, and funerals; he offered advice on matters regarding God and family. Marinette sometimes eavesdropped when he talked to members of the congregation, and she always found his advice wise and thoughtful, though it tended to be somewhat cautious.

He was not a daring man, not like her Luka had been, and he also lacked the proud stubbornness her husband had possessed. Adrien was not as sharp-edged, and his eyes were gentler. Luka had always harboured a darkness inside, which at times had made his outlook gloomy, while Adrien seemed to have no trace of despondency whatsoever. Lila frequently moaned that she had married a child, nagging him for coming home with his clothes soiled from working with the livestock or toiling alongside the farm labourers. He merely smiled and shrugged and carried on as before.

Manon had begun her lessons with the parish clerk along with the other children. Marinette was uncertain how to respond to the eagerness and joy her daughter displayed as she attempted to master all the strange squiggles that she herself found so incomprehensible. She agreed it was a gift to learn to write, but of what use would such knowledge be for the child? Marinette was a poor servant, and that meant Manon would be the same. For the likes of them, there was no other option.

She was not Lila. She was Marinette, the daughter their father had never loved, widow of a man who had been lost at sea. These were facts that could not be changed by a pastor who insisted Manon should learn to read. Her daughter would have greater use for the skills that had been passed on to Marinette by her maternal grandmother. Though they would not put food on the table or earn in payment in Livre (French for 'pound'), they would bring her respect, and that was not without value.

Marinette was often summoned to attend a birth, or to aid someone suffering from toothache or melancholy. She was the first person to be summoned whenever anyone fell ill, easing any number of ailments with her herbs and words of supplication. People called upon her help when heartsick from unrequited love or plagued by unsought wooing, as well as more mundane matters such as illnesses afflicting livestock. Surely that should be the role Manon aspired to. Far better than being filled with learning she could never use, knowledge that would give her dangerous ideas about being superior to others.

Yet for all her healing skills, Marinette's concoctions seemed to have no effect on Lila. Month after month the bleeding still came, and each time it did her sister grew more resentful. She insisted that Marinette must have done something wrong, that she was not as skilled as she claimed. One morning Lila threw the tankard at the wall when Marinette offered her the concoction to drink, and the green liquid slowly ran down the wall to form a puddle on the floor. Sobbing, Lila collapsed in a heap.

Marinette was not a bad person, yet she could not help taking some little pleasure in her sister's despair. Lila was often mean, not only to the servants but also to Manon. And sometimes Marinette wondered whether it was the meanness inside Lila that was preventing a child from growing in her womb. Inevitably she would curse herself for harbouring such bad thoughts. Marinette did not want to seem ungrateful. Who knew where she and Manon would have ended up if Lila had not taken pity on them and brought them under her protection. Only a few days earlier, Marinette had heard that Chloé Bourgeois, the widow of Kim Lê Chién had landed in the poorhouse with her two youngest children. Without Lila, she and Manon would have been destined for the poorhouse too.

But it was not easy to behave in a god-fearing manner when it came to Lila. There was something so hard and cold about her, and not even a good man like Adrien could make her mend her ways. Marinette thought that he deserved a better wife, someone with a warm heart and a cheerful disposition, instead of a shrew with a beautiful face and billowing dark hair. But it was not her place to judge.

Marinette would often catch Adrien secretly looking at her. She tried to avoid him, but it was not easy. He moved as confidently among the servants as if he were one of them, and he was often to be found in the barnyard or out in the pastures tending to the animals. He had a real knack for dealing with all living creatures, and Manon always followed close on his heels, clasping her hands behind her back as she tried to take big steps to keep pace with him. Whenever Marinette begged forgiveness because her daughter was such a bother, he merely laughed and shook his head, saying he would be hard pressed to find more pleasant company.

It was true that Adrien and Manon always seemed to have much to talk about, for they were constantly conversing. Marinette had tried asking her daughter what they discussed, but Manon had merely shrugged and said they talked about everything. About animals, about God, and about what Manon was reading. Adrien was in the habit of constantly lending her books from his library at the vicarage. As soon as the girl finished with her chores, if she was not following Adrien around, she would be found sitting down with a book he had lent her. Marinette was amazed that all those squiggles on the pages could be of such interest to Manon, but she reluctantly allowed her to keep reading, even though she was convinced nothing good would ever come of it.

And then there was Lila. For every passing day, she became more sullen as she saw how much interest Adrien took in the child. Many times Marinette caught her looking out the window and jealously observing the two. She had heard several heated discussions between husband and wife on this matter, but for once Adrien refused to give in to his wife. Manon was allowed to accompany him wherever he went. And Plagg followed.

The kitten had grown during the winter, and she went everywhere with her mistress, just as Manon went with Adrien. They were a cheerful trio, walking about the farm, and Marinette couldn't help but smile at the sight even though she knew there was gossip about the master's interest in the girl. She cared little for what the maids or farmhands might think; regardless how much they might whisper behind her back, as soon as they had a headache or toothache, they would turn to her. And when they murmured their query about what payment she wanted for her trouble, she would always ask for something for her daughter. An extra portion of food. A pair of discarded shoes. A skirt she could remake into a dress. Manon was her whole world; if she was happy, Marinette was happy. Lila could think whatever she liked.

When Manon came to her, crying that the mistress had pinched her or pulled her hair, Marinette could only bite her tongue. She told herself these cruelties were a small price to pay for having a roof over their heads and food in their bellies.

When she and Lila were growing up, her sister had often pinched her, and she had endured it with no lasting harm done. Adrien would protect Manon. He would also protect Marinette. She was confident of that, because of the way his kind eyes would often rest on her when he thought she would not notice. And sometimes when their eyes met, for only a second though it seemed an eternity, she would feel the ground sway beneath her feet.