She wasn’t quite under house arrest, but since her not-quite-above-board marriage Jemima had never been the top of anyone respectable’s invitation list, so it had felt like a longer, slower confinement than it had actually been. “I can’t get very far,” Jemima admitted ruefully, “without needing to sit down again.”
She cast a glance out the window, at the late spring sun. Half for that and the fresh air, and half to lessen the chance of anyone overhearing her conversations (Jemima was not sure she was going to say anything particularly incriminating or self-pitying yet, but it seemed wise to avoid doing so where any of the Greengrasses might walk in.) “But it’s nice out. We could take a turn around the garden? If you will help me a little with the whisking,” she joked. Darling’s arm to cling on (or shoulder to cry on, as it may be) would not go amiss, if they did stroll about outside.
She cast a glance out the window, at the late spring sun. Half for that and the fresh air, and half to lessen the chance of anyone overhearing her conversations (Jemima was not sure she was going to say anything particularly incriminating or self-pitying yet, but it seemed wise to avoid doing so where any of the Greengrasses might walk in.) “But it’s nice out. We could take a turn around the garden? If you will help me a little with the whisking,” she joked. Darling’s arm to cling on (or shoulder to cry on, as it may be) would not go amiss, if they did stroll about outside.
