Sometime in February, came the day of her second appointment with Sir James, the physician. Who this time, was to come with all preparations.

Flora was distressed the whole day and when Ann told her that the carriage could be seen coming.

She went to the palace window and witnessed the stroll of a black apparition which was twisting along its length; it was ferociously growling as it walked up the grey trail of tranquility. It was a bison of unrealistic proportions, it must've been the death which had carried in itself the man it had devoured: Sir James Clark.

She realized that she still had to make a choice.

Undecided, she went back to her room not knowing if the perfume bottle should be emptied or her truth be revealed. The latter would unmask the rest of the members of the treacherous three and the former would be a sin. As she pulled the door handle securing the door from inside, she felt a gush of blood throughout her body, imbuing her with the kind of courage that stranded crew members have to exhibit cannibalistic behaviour. She was ready to cease the existence of the being she carried.

She rubbed the perfume rather generously, being unaware of the overpowering fragrance, owing to her blocked nose.

When Sir James came into the room, accompanied by Sir John, the latter grinned at sniffs of the gift that he had given.

After the examination ended, Sir James said with shock, scepticism and shame: "You.......... You are...... a virgin!" The Duchess and Sir John looked at each other, stupefied.

Flora heard a voice say "You're welcome;" To which she passed an inaudible "Thank you," She felt tremendously ecstatic.

When left alone, she lied silently on her bed, eyes wide open, smiling with content, sighing in relief, ardently chanting: "Thank you,"

An hour later, she thumped onto hard ground, in a crack of her psyche. She just wanted to leave her sunlit room, for someplace dark. But her body seemed to have paralysed. She was uninterested in doing anything except for repenting for what she did. Her mind had seamlessly transitioned to a gloomy state filled with regrets for selfishly sacrificing a life.

For her redemption, came the Irish angel. "What's wrong?"

Weakened by her thoughts, Flora laid still, speaking through the sheets "Why do I live? Why did 'it' have to die? How was its existence more trivial than my reputation?"

"Yes, 'It' wasn't trivial, it wasn't supposed to die. But it wasn't supposed to be born like this either. What John Conroy did to you, wasn't your fault. You've done what was good, for yourself, this baby and all your babies to come, which you will bear, plentiful in the future............ But how would I know, right?"

To this, Flora sat upright at once, eager to know her shadow's version of certainties. In the locket, she saw a beautiful family, four boys and five girls, all brimming with joy, running in circles, cherishing their innocence.