Aunt Nell’s death had been neither sudden nor unexpected, and the warmth of our affection had been tepid at best. I slipped my dry handkerchief into my pocket with a sigh. She had been quite exacting about some things, and elocution was one of them. It was the first time I had noticed the lisp, and I only hoped Aunt Nell would not mind. The vicar murmured the appropriate prayers, his voice pleasantly mellow, his tongue catching softly on each s.
Violent weeping would have been in exceedingly poor taste, but Miss Nell Harbottle had been my guardian for the whole of my life, and a tear or two would have been a nice gesture of respect.
I stared down into the open grave and wished that I could summon a tear.
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