Chapter 9It was wonderful to see some different people, Lucy thought, absently, following Sylvia up the stairs to her room. Even to look out of the window and see some different scenery.
She loved her parents dearly but staying at home with them had felt very constricting after her time in France.
“Here you are,” Sylvia said, opening one of the half dozen doors along the wide corridor. “I’ve taken Papa’s old quarters over the front door so that I can hear if anyone calls in the night, needing me. I’ve put you in my old room.”
It was a beautiful, spacious room, lit with the last weak light of the January sun. It deepened the rose-petal-pink of the wallpaper and bedding and illuminated the dust on the carpet. It smelled unused.
“Everything needs cleaning,” Sylvia said, glumly. “I’m so so
