Montressor’s guests. I begin to understand Jane Austen and chintz covers and decency and refinement and all the rest of it. Her new husband was pleased to watch the astonished look on her face as tray after tray appeared on the grand table, each better than the next. “I am tired,” she said, “and I want to rest. ‘Major, sir!’ The major appeared so swiftly that Melusine was instantly suspicious. The nuns had no regard for the sensibilities of a “lady” and expected Melusine— for it was her allotted task—to clean and tend the soldier’s wounds even when they festered. ‘Tell me, my boy.
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