On the way back, we went to the shop – although facing Paterson was a duty I would have gladly avoided – and I bought some chocolates. I shared half but the rest I kept, conscious of the urgency that she must speak. I put them in my pocket with the idea that I might use them to try and coax Mary from her silence.

That evening as she lay in bed, I reflected on the guilt that was ever present in me for Clara’s death – not, in truth, that it had been my fault. I took Mary’s hand. ‘Sometimes we blame ourselves when someone we love very much dies, and I know how you must have loved William.’

Her eyes grew rounder.

‘I had a sister too, you know. You remind me of her a little.’

She stared up at me with wonder and I pulled the locket from my neck and opened the lid. ‘Here, see. This is Clara.’ My voice faltered.

Mary reached out a finger and touched the surface of the casing.

‘She was younger than me and I looked after her.’ I read the question in her eyes. ‘She died. Earlier this year. See. I know what it’s like.’

After gazing at it for some time, she leaned briefly against me and a rush of gratitude sent me across the corridor to my dresser, where I found a bangle, before crossing back to Mary’s room.

‘This was Clara’s,’ I said, and she regarded it with awe as I slipped it over her wrist.

Her face tightened and I thought that I had made her angry, but then two tears began to make their way down her cheek.

‘Oh Mary,’ I said, pulling her to me. I had never before held her so close; her ribs rose and fell beneath my palm and something in me seemed to break open a little, somewhere I had kept locked since Clara’s death. After she had stopped, I continued to hold her and a conviction came to me that I had always been destined to come to Skelthsea and to take charge of Mary. That somehow, we had been meant to find each other. And we sat together in the chill of the room, sadness splitting the air about us.

‘You can’t beat weather like this to work off the cobwebs.’ It was a new day. Outside, a brisk breeze set clouds scudding across the sky, and Mrs Lenister had come to offer tea. Mary had gone to lessons and I decided that she was right. I needed a walk to clear my thoughts. I left Mrs Lenister and gathered my coat and boots. In the village, clothes and bed linen swung on lines at the back of the houses and a group of women were banging a blanket against a board to thicken the fabric.