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. Certain simple purposes emerged from the disingenuous muddle of her feelings and desires. Not the most stringent search, conducted all morning, turned up one solitary sheet. The door opened, and a slightly overweight pretty blonde, an older, wiser version of Michelle, came into view.
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