’ Chapter Six Creeping along the dark narrow passage, with lantern held well ahead to keep her step steady on the uneven stones—and to warn her of the advent of rats— Melusine kept her long petticoats fastidiously clear of the dirt with an efficient hand, a habit she had learned in the convent. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws. Entering the workshop, he found the blacksmith occupied in heating the tire of a cart wheel. “Where have you been? All these hours I have been calling for you. She remained by the door until the walls of the city swallowed the bobbing lantern.
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