On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. Mother had forced Lucy to memorize the ingredients of the stews, fairly beating them into her, spanking her backside when she rebelled. She receded into the entryway, opening her palm and gesturing as if there were an imaginary red carpet rolled out for visitors. They were terrible, horrible people. " "Can I trust him?" mused Jack. “How are you?” He asked, realizing she was unnerved by the very sound of his voice.
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