Jack tried it, and found it locked. 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. ‘Don’t let us quarrel over your Leonardo,’ he said, summoning a faint smile. And the food! She and Marina had done most of the cooking at home. “Certainly. “But, my dear!” said Ann Veronica’s aunt. Casting a hasty glance at the old and ruinous prison belonging to the liberty of the Bishop of Winchester (whose palace formerly adjoined the river), called the Clink, which gave its name to the street, along which he walked: and noticing, with some uneasiness, the melancholy manner in which the wind whistled through its barred casements, the carpenter followed his companion down an opening to the right, and presently arrived at the water-side. There was a man, a boy, and a woman.
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