Wood, carving for his friends, and pledging the carpenter, he had his hands full. Ruth, standing by, heard his true laughter for the first time. 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. Don’t look so frightened. Certain of my prey, I can afford to wait for it. “As if it could possibly matter what such a person thinks of you. We hide it bravely, but so it is. If we were set upon I could not defend you. Then, if you weren’t looking, he’d get five feet closer. Lucy stood relieved that she had not messed up the solo.
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