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The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view. ’ ‘Yes, but what is it, Jacques?’ demanded the lady. And Capes was thinking that his wife was a supremely beautiful woman. How she learned of her heritage I do not know, but you need not imagine that it is greed that drives her. In Hamilton Place that is, like I told you before, miss. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. Lucy loved orchestras, the bittersweet tinge of rosin dust that hung in the air, the way that the sun shone through filthy windows illuminating the marimbas with a storybook light. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. . "I'm sure he won't attempt to prevent me," rejoined Thames. She said there was no other way to get them to stop their constant screaming.

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