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. Do not underestimate my power. “Your little flag of pride must flutter down with the rest of them, Ann Veronica. He—In fact, he—he locked me in my room. She was silent, the ghost of a fading smile passed from her lips.
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