Sybilla had, at first, insisted that the nurse stay on in Fallstowe’s makeshift sanatorium with the rest of the sick victims, but in the end she relented to Julian’s cautious wishes. That in itself gave him hope. Even Murrin had obviously surrendered to the notion that she would be better off away from Lucy while she recovered from whatever was going around, citing that if she stayed on at the castle, Lucy would pine for her—and for the milk she provided. And so Sybilla had efficiently and without argument arranged for transport and guards for the nursemaid’s journey to London, and then spent the remainder of the day securing a source of fresh, rich sheep’s milk for Lucy. “It is the best thing for her,” Sybilla had informed Julian crisply. “My mother did not nurse me, and yet I thrived as a child.” Julian had wanted to ask if Amicia’s lack of maternal attention was due to a physical impediment or otherwise, but in the end decided against it.
