‘Poor Mary had no idea about the elopement Nicholas had undertaken,’ she told Gerald. Of late, however, his plotting had assumed a more dark and dangerous complexion. From this sorrowful state he was aroused by a loud derisive whistle, followed by a still louder laugh; and, looking up, he beheld the impudent countenance of Jack Sheppard immediately before him. Refused admittance, they broke open the door. 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. This is your moment. She felt terrible lying to him. . ‘We mean you no harm,’ he said reassuringly.
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