She did not think for one moment what interpretation he might put upon the word “lover. ’ ‘I think he only wants to help you, miss,’ offered Jack. The room behind was another small antechamber, presumably linking the back rooms. You are my wife now and you belong to me. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. A simple wooden monument was placed over the grave, but without any name or date. Very quietly, he added, “Oh Lucia, I’m sorry. You have told me that you cared.
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