Winds returned, the gardens withered, and roses would not bloom. ’ ‘How do you know?’ Lucilla repeated, almost as sceptical as her intended spouse. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. ‘Gabbling and muttering in a foreign tongue, that’s what I heard, sir,’ had declared the gap-toothed ancient, when he told them of the initial foray he had made, sneaking around the house in the dark. “Are you going to the Vorsack’s for dinner tonight?” “Yes, I think I’ll stop by. She had noticed a twenty year pattern emerging, and funny how opportunity seemed to strike just when she was getting truly anxious.
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