’ *** Everett, General Lord Charvill, master of a barony stretching over a wide estate that encroached on the hundreds of Witham, Thurstable and Dengy, stood before his own fireplace, glaring at his visitors from under bushy white brows from a head held necessarily low above a back painfully bent by rheumatism. “Serves you right if I’d cracked your skull. It was not only Leonardo who had instilled in her this distrust of men. If Mr. Lucy had just began to invoke a solace where John was concerned, doing her best to shelve him as not so special after all.
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