He wasn’t loud or lumbering; it was just, as much as James hated to acknowledge it, a sort of innate charisma. Good looks too, he noted in irritation. This was probably why the great and good of the land sought him out whenever a member of the family began hearing voices or acting in an alarming way. He just had a presence. Not a soothing presence, and certainly nothing that could be referred to as a pleasant bedside manner. It was more that he seemed like he could frighten off whatever troubles afflicted his patients. Hundreds of years ago, he would have been precisely the sort of priest one
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