Part 2 Ann Veronica Stanley was twenty-one and a half years old. “Lucy, you have to play for us after dinner, oh please. A paralyzing horror was upon her. Once, when he thought he had done so, he smiled an ingratiating smile. Your family has not sullied itself by dabbling in it, at least not 173 from what I know, so now is not the time to begin. The man’s hand flashed out, but immediately afterwards an oath and a cry of pain broke from his lips. She dared not say the word aloud, not even to herself. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent.
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