. “As my lady wills. It was your sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t it?” Anna nodded. But this was not a season in which to be needlessly scrupulous. His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet. Had it not been for the Plague, she might have had her own babies. The little spot of rouge was vivid enough now by reason of this new pallor, which seemed to draw the colour even from her lips. Almost had Martha won out. The doctor had not heard from his people.
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