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. By this time, several of the terrified domestics appeared with lights. Why must her old nurse discover her precisely at this moment? ‘What are you at now, may I ask?’ Martha glared at the footman.
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