” As Lucy got up to fetch Michelle a box of tissue, her mind spun wildly. She returned home through a world that was as roseate as it had been gray overnight. She's fine. She had never before heard the noise of firecrackers, and in the beginning the sputtering racket caused her to wince. “Quite right,” she said. “To me it seems serious enough. My death, probably. The library was on the ground floor, Melusine recalled from the previous visit, for she had searched through a desk in a room filled with bookshelves of leatherbound volumes. ‘And me?’ ‘Oh, you’re mad because you wish to blow off my head. ‘And this is where you have been all the time?’ ‘I would have been back in a day, I promise you. Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders. The larger problem at hand was drugging her foster sister, Shari, into a deep sleep. ” “No! I’ll explain lower.
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