The title had formerly been held by Gianfrancesco’s brother, Alessia, now dead of plague. Michelle walked towards the sloping Victorian stairs. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. "A hundred pounds if you do it quickly. Supposing the wire should break and her head tumble off her shoulders into the street? The whimsey caused another smile to ripple across her lips. “It’s not for us to supplicate any more. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son.
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