It melted her heart. Four prisoners, termed "The Partners," had charge of this hold. A light was visible in the garret, feebly struggling through the damp atmosphere, for the night was raw and overcast. 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. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said. Lucy grabbed his shirtsleeve, whispering on tiptoe. ‘You are stubborn like a mule. I’m okay. I want to love him.
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