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It was empty. Anna, do you not see that the Countess is sitting alone?” She rose, and flashed a quick smile upon Ennison behind her husband’s back. ‘How did you get in? The house is all locked up. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. It was your sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t it?” Anna nodded. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. “If they matter to you, they matter. It is an Occidental point of view. She had fallen asleep on the wooden bed, uncaring of lice or bedbugs.
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