Her sister walks leisurely to the kitchen. Pearl closes her eyes, releases her breath. The danger isn’t over, she can’t relax.

She inspects the closed door of her bedroom. Agnes is hiding there, just like Pearl used to hide in the cabinet, unable to cough or sneeze.

But Pearl’s no showman with hidden trapdoors.

How on earth is she going to get Agnes out?

CHAPTER 19

Time is a strange concept. Ticking clocks and the slow creep of their hands mean nothing in the dark, where you cannot see them.

At first, Agnes did not dare to bend her knees in case she made a noise, and now she is uncertain whether she still can. She thinks this must be how corpses feel in their coffins.

The wardrobe seemed the perfect hiding place. Hardly any clothes occupy the cavity and there are no shelves inside, but the wood smells musty and small chinks of light in the door show where worms have eaten through it. She dare not muse upon what manner of bugs make their home here, or upon the few garments that hang on pegs beside her. Her skin itches, yet she cannot scratch it.

She has no idea how long she has been standing here. It was past midday when she called upon Simon, and then she returned home to check on Cedric and fetch her carpet bag. It must be reasonably late. There is no timepiece in Pearl’s bedchamber and in this part of the city she cannot even hear the toll of the abbey bells.

Of all the days to get stuck away from her family! She should be watching Cedric like a hawk, guarding him at every turn after finding that note, and instead she has left him in the care of his feeble grandmother. The doors to the house in Orange Grove are locked, but what does that matter? Someone determined could find a way in …

She peeps through the holes in the wardrobe door. The tiny bedroom window is swathed in heavy curtains. Everything remains static and unchanged. Time is not passing. It is holding its breath, encapsulating her.

When the wardrobe door finally creaks open, she cannot trust that the sound is real. A flame wavers, releasing the scent of tallow. Finally an ashen face comes into focus behind it.

‘She’s asleep,’ Pearl whispers. ‘You can go now. I’ve fetched your bag for you. You left it in the parlour! Nearly got me in all kinds of trouble.’

Night has fallen. Agnes has been inside this wardrobe all afternoon! Her feet have forgotten how to move; she half-climbs, half-falls out.

‘Shhh!’ Pearl urges.