Chapter SevenCordelia looked at herself in the mirror and realised that her thin white gown was exceedingly becoming, but she was not satisfied.
“I am very pale,” she explained to the maid who had helped her to dress.
“You need the sunshine, my Lady. That’s why the doctor says you may go downstairs today and lie on the terrace.”
It would be a change, Cordelia thought, from her bedroom, which, while a very attractive one, had begun to seem like a prison this last week.
But the doctor had been insistent that she should not move into the outside world until she was well enough to do so.
“I have been in Naples a long time,” she said almost to herself.
“About six, weeks, my Lady. It’s August 8th today. Two months since the French took Malta!”
It had seemed like two years, because she had
