I wish that it worked. “I want some advice,” said Ann Veronica. John, I shall eat that whole tin of sardines. To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel. “In all fairness,” she thought to herself as she coaxed his mouth toward her left nipple. She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. The Jew got in first.
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