It was Mercy, the old servant woman, who open the great black door to her parent’s home. Deborah smiled at the frown on the pale, freckled face that greeted her. There were more lines on Mercy’s face than she remembered, and those lines multiplied as the aged Irish woman recognized Deborah and grinned wide.
“My girl!” Mercy crowed, showing what few brown teeth remained in her mouth. “My girl, you’ve come home to visit this poor old bag o’ bones! Come here!” Deborah let the servant embrace her.
“Hello, Mercy, it’s good to see you.”
The old woman looked Deborah up and down. “But what of the state of you! What’s happened?”
“We were on High Street, and there was a mob…”...
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