Free The Book of Life by Deborah Harkness

Philippe often spoke with you about his troubles, Madame de Clermont,” Alain continued softly, “when the pain was very bad.”
    “Spoke with her?” Matthew repeated numbly.
    “Almost every day,” Alain said with a nod. “He would bid me to send everyone from that part of the château, for fear someone would overhear. Madame de Clermont brought Sieur Philippe comfort when no one else could.”
    I turned the envelope over, tracing the raised markings on the ancient silver coin. “Philippe expected his coins to be returned to him. In person. How can I, if he’s dead?”
    “Perhaps the answer is inside,” Matthew suggested.
    I slid my finger under the envelope’s seal, freeing the coin from the wax. I carefully removed the fragile sheet of paper, which crackled ominously as it was unfolded.
    Philippe’s faint scent of bay, figs, and rosemary tickled my nose.
    Looking down at the paper, I was grateful for my expertise in deciphering difficult handwriting.
    After a close look, I began to read the letter aloud.

    Diana— 
    Do not let the ghosts of the past steal the joy from the future.
    Thank you for holding my hand.
    You can let go now.
    Your father, in blood and vow, 
    Philippe
    P.S. The coin is for the ferryman. Tell Matthew I will see you safe on the other side.
    I choked on the last few words. They echoed in the silent room.
    “So Philippe does expect me to return his coin.” He would be sitting on the banks of the river Styx waiting for Charon’s boat to bring me across. Perhaps Emily waited with him, and my parents, too. I closed my eyes, hoping to block out the painful images.
    “What did he mean, ‘Thank you for holding my hand’?” Matthew asked.
    “I promised him he wouldn’t be alone in the dark times. That I’d be there, with him.” My eyes brimmed with tears. “How can I have no memory of doing so?”
    “I don’t know, my love. But somehow you managed to keep your promise.” Matthew leaned down and kissed me. He looked over my shoulder. “And Philippe made sure he got the last word, as usual.”
    “What do you mean?” I asked, wiping at my cheeks.
    “He left written proof that he freely and gladly wanted you for his daughter.” Matthew’s long white finger touched the page.
    “That is why Sieur Philippe wanted Madame de Clermont to have these as soon as possible,” Alain admitted.
    “I don’t understand,” I said, looking at Matthew.
    “Between the jewels, your dowry, and this letter, it will be impossible for any of Philippe’s children—or even the Congregation—to suggest he was somehow forced to bestow a blood vow on you,” Matthew explained.
    “Sieur Philippe knew his children well. He often foresaw their future as easily as any witch,” Alain said, nodding. “I will leave you to your memories.”
    “Thank you, Alain.” Matthew waited until the sound of Alain’s footsteps faded before saying anything more. He looked down at me with concern. “All right, mon coeur ?”
    “Of course,” I murmured, staring at the desk. The past was strewn across it, and a clear future was nowhere to be found.
    “I’m going upstairs to change. I won’t be long,” Matthew said, giving me a kiss.
    “Take your time,” I said, mustering what I hoped was a genuine smile.
    Once Matthew was gone, I reached for the golden arrowhead that Philippe gave me to wear at my wedding. Its weight was comforting, and the metal warmed quickly to my touch. I slipped its chain over my head. The arrowhead’s point nestled between my breasts, its edges too soft and worn to nick my skin.
    I felt a squirming sensation in the pocket of my jeans and drew out a clutch of silk ribbons. My weaver’s cords had come with me from the past, and unlike the sleeve from my wedding dress or the faded silk that bound my letters, these strands were fresh and shiny. They twined and danced around my wrists and one another like a handful of brightly colored snakes, merging into new colors for a moment before