She had known that Remenham House would be deserted, for Martha—released, as she had carefully explained to her charge, by her vows to God from servitude and obedience to Nicholas Charvill, a mere mortal—had begun a correspondence with a friend of her youth, Mrs Joan Ibstock, née Pottiswick. A small voice greeted her, hissing. The executioner shook his head. Gerald began to ease forward, deciding just how he would accost her. Besides, I have my doubts that he is so very sick.
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