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. Leastways, she’d be your greataunt, wouldn’t she?’ Astounded, Melusine was just about to demand further information, when a commotion outside the room interrupted her. “I may go to Hatton House later, but you needn’t wait. They cannot imagine the discomforts involved, and they see only mystery in your fight to recover your lost heritage. "I understand," she said.
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