As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. The thing rankled in her mind night and day. Lucia confined herself to her quarters, wondering when they would flee to the country as so many other houses had done. ‘They cannot help it. I don't care how soon he learns that he has lost his adopted son. The kindly faced landlady had failed to catch his name, and said he was a tall, handsome gentleman with a great black mustache. The Jacobite daws want a scarecrow. ” She came closer. 26 His duties were to make certain that she was eating right and not exposing herself to foul odors and cold drafts.
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