Other people had obviously visited the church that evening, because there was a path of trampled snow leading to and 148from the entrance, but she was relieved to find it empty. She closed the door gently behind her, only to come face to face with the nativity. The sight of Melchior, innocently offering his gold at the crib, sickened her to her stomach and she nearly turned back. Even here, she couldn’t escape from what she had done – but that was her punishment, and it was less than she deserved. Her hands were shaking as she lit a candle and walked up to the altar with every intention of praying for forgiveness, but the words wouldn’t come. She knelt for a long time on the cold stone floor, finally giving in to the tears that had threatened all day. Never in her life had she felt so alone.

And then she heard a noise behind her. It came from the tower, one loud clatter followed by another and then another, as if something metal had been dropped down the staircase; next came footsteps, shuffling and uncertain, unmistakably the sound of someone coming slowly down in the dark. Nora blew out her candle and listened, trying to decide if she had time to leave before whoever it was came out into the church, but already he or she was fumbling with the handle to the tower door, and in her mind’s eye she saw it turn. Perhaps it was her own guilt, perhaps simply the ill-fated presence of strangers in the house, but something told Nora that her unseen companion was dangerous. Quickly, her heart racing, she hurried down the steps to the hermit’s cell.

She stood in silence in the musky darkness, willing the intruder to leave and wondering why anyone would want to go up to the tower at this time of night. Any minute now, surely, she would hear the main door open and it would be safe to leave her hiding place, but instead the footsteps came closer, soft but definite across the chapel floor, stopping near 149the family pews which hid the entrance to the underground chamber. Feeling trapped now, Nora held her breath and moved further back into the shadows, but the sleeve of her coat caught the silver chalice which stood ready for the morning service. It fell to the floor before she could catch it, ringing out against the stone and announcing her presence as surely as if she had spoken. More frightened than ever, she waited to see what the footsteps would do.

151

CHRISTMAS DAY

152

153

1

Josephine made sure she was back in her own bed well before the eight o’clock curfew and braced herself for another strained encounter with Mrs Pendean, but her early morning call came from a young housemaid she hadn’t seen before. The girl wished her a happy Christmas and put a tea tray down on the bedside table, then went over to draw the curtains, flooding the room with winter sunlight. Josephine waited until she was alone again, then pulled her dressing gown on and drank her tea by the window. The morning laid out before her was radiantly beautiful, with every ounce of the blizzard’s nocturnal ferocity replaced by an unshakeable sense of peace and hope: the ideal expression of Christmas, but so rarely its reality. The castle’s turrets and terraces were blanketed in a fairytale white, and down below in the village she could see tiny figures scurrying about their business in the snow, like a scene from a Bruegel painting. There were no boats coming or going from the mainland, she noticed, and it was as if the causeway had never existed: its cobbles were invisible beneath an ever-changing palette of greens, blues and greys – but it was hard to resent being cut off in such a magnificent place, particularly when every conceivable luxury had been catered for. The isolation that had seemed so unsettling under cover of darkness now felt like a magical protection from the outside world, and Josephine was more excited by Christmas morning than she had been since she was a child. 154