Although oil lamps stood on tables, their hesitant light barely licked at the gloom. It was tomb silent, as if even the air did not dare make a sound, and with each step I imagined the twins’ laughter flying down the corridors and ringing in the stairwells, their faces flushed, figures racing in a game of chase. And all the time I thought of the boy who was no longer alive, who lay in some fresh grave upon the island.

The hush was profound, as if weighted with shock.

Finally, we came to the end of the hall, where ahead, a narrow staircase led up to another floor.

‘What’s up there?’ I asked.

‘They were the old nurseries. It’s where Hettie and the children slept.’ She made a vague gesture with her hand and then paused for a fraction. ‘We moved everything downstairs after she left.’

‘And where is William’s room now? Has it already been packed away?’

‘William slept in that wing,’ she said, indicating a door. ‘It’s kept locked now.’

‘Locked?’ I echoed.

‘It’s an old building, the floors are beginning to rot in places,’ she said by way of explanation, ‘but you are here and must be keen to rest.’ She led me to the room opposite.

She must have caught my expression of shock and shook her head. ‘That was not the cause of his accident, Miss Swansome.’ But it was clear from her look that she was keen not to say more.

In my bedchamber, the surfaces shone and peat was stacked neatly for a fire, my cases already placed at the foot of the bed.

‘Greer has done a nice job for you here,’ she said, and I was overcome suddenly with exhaustion.

‘Thank you,’ I said, ‘and thank you for the tea.’

She hesitated, and after a beat, she came in further, closing the door behind her.

‘Miss Mary,’ she picked her words carefully. ‘She’s been through an awful lot. Did Miss Gillies tell you? She’s not spoken since her brother’s death.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Not a word. Not one word since he died.’

‘She’s mute?’ I felt a stab of dismay. Miss Gillies had not mentioned this.

I could sense her awkwardness. ‘But don’t take her silence personally; it is how she is with everyone.’

‘I imagine she’s still grieving.’

‘That’s it exactly. Exactly,’ Mrs Lenister said with relief. And, as if satisfied, she tucked her apron tighter and gave me a quick smile. ‘I’m downstairs if you want me. We eat at seven.’

When she had gone, I sat on the bed, limbs weighty with fatigue, and tried to anchor myself to the moment; but my skin felt half-empty and I thought of Edinburgh. I did not know any more who or what I was, only that I had left behind, forever, the person I had once been.