Once inside, he placed my luggage in the hall, home to a smouldering fire, and nodded to one of the two straight-backed chairs that framed the hearth. I duly sat and his boots rang out along the corridor until the closing of a door signalled that he had gone.

I took in a dull gleam on the furniture and the hovering of dust. Stags’ heads with blind gazes hung above hunting prints and the flickering lamps dropped pools of yellow light to the floor. On one of the walls was a small portrait. I got up and saw that it was a painting of Mary, the child I had come to look after. Here she was, a little younger than in the photograph I had been sent.

Beside her stood her twin brother. A face I was destined never to meet.

As I studied her features, I recalled the contents of the letter; she, like me, had lost all those closest to her. I listened then to the immense quiet, imagined Mary in the web of rooms, left to the mercy of her aunt. Her aunt and now me. I felt then not just the strangeness of the unfamiliar house but something else, a quality to the quietness that seemed unnatural, and experienced the tiniest nibble of some doubt.

The silence was broken by footsteps.

‘Miss Swansome?’ The woman who came into view had a broad island accent and the first full smile I had received that day. ‘I’m Mrs Lenister, I keep house here.’ Her wiry hair was held tightly beneath a cap and she had bird-like eyes that were sunk in the lines of her face. But for all that, her eyes were kind and a pretty shade of blue.

‘Trust Angus to leave you all alone here. I bet he didn’t even introduce himself, am I right?’ And I felt my edges begin to thaw as she beckoned me along one of the long halls, where our shoes echoed on the tiles. A smell of meat and baking drifted on the passageway and I realized that I had not eaten since a small breakfast.

As we walked, she kept up a constant stream of chatter.

‘Miss Gillies is sorry not to be here to meet you, but she had urgent business with the tenants and Mary went with her. She’s hoping to see you later, if you’re not too tired. Meanwhile, she instructed me to give you tea and some food after your journey. It’s warmer here if you’re happy to take a seat with me in the kitchen?’

I felt a pinch of disappointment. I was anxious to see for myself what sort of girl I would have the responsibility of. But I said that I considered it no hardship; I knew from my own home that on cold days, it was most likely the warmest place in the house.