Chapter Twenty
On Thursday morning, while they were still in the breakfast parlor, the postman in his scarlet coat and cockaded hat delivered a letter for Harriet. It was postmarked from Penrith, in the Lake District.
Finally, thought Isabella. But there was no relief, just numbness. How long would the numbness last? Would she be trapped forever in this empty, echoing place?
I hope so. Because under the numbness was pain. She was aware of it, aware that it would hurt more than she could bear if only she wasn’t numb.
She watched without interest as Harriet broke open the seal and almost ripped the letter in her haste to open it. Another letter fell out from the folded paper, falling to lie on the tablecloth. Harriet’s original letter. The one she’d sent to her aunt more than two weeks a
