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. She took the piece of paper and unfolded it in the safety of her lap. It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. It came to Ann Veronica that life was wonderful beyond measure. And you, Mademoiselle Melusine, will support this claim.
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