I found Miss Gillies in the morning room. Candlelight glittered on the walls and bounced off the jewel she wore in her hair.

‘When Mary and I were at the beach this morning, we discovered the door to Gulls Cry open and I believe someone may have been inside.’

Her mouth creased with displeasure and her head seemed to drop a little on her neck. ‘Thank you, Mrs Lenister informed me. I suppose it’s easy enough for anyone to break in – it wouldn’t be the first time. I shouldn’t be so surprised that some child or other has gone to explore, maybe taken a trinket or two, but you’re right to be concerned, the disrespect upsets me.’ She sighed sharply, causing the candle’s flame on her desk to dip.

‘What will happen to the house now that Mary is with you?’ I asked.

‘The house was given to Evangeline when she married John. My father had it built, just for them. When Mary is old enough and married, she will inherit it.’ Her tone was pinched.

‘And you were always at Iskar?’

‘Always. Once, I had thought that I too may leave but that was not to be.’ She looked around her. ‘But Iskar is a fine house. I love it as well as I might a husband,’ she said dryly.

I could not keep quiet. ‘Miss Gillies, I was told a rumour yesterday concerning William’s death.’

She looked at me wearily. ‘I heard that you had been to visit Ailsa.’

I flushed.

‘Ailsa is a scaremonger. I imagine she’s been waiting with bated breath to whisper a lot of nonsense into your ear from the first moment of your arrival. The rest of us have learned to pay her little heed. You would be wise to do the same.’

‘But she said …’

‘I know what she says,’ her face was strained. ‘She says that William was murdered. I can tell you now that he was not.’

‘He was not?’

‘Absolutely not. The cliffs are hazardous, even in clement conditions. It was nothing more sinister than an accident.’

I looked out of the window and to the gardens where bracken had taken hostage of the beds and overgrown rose stems drooped with frost. I thought about Ailsa’s manner and the enjoyment she took in unnerving me. Miss Gillies’ confidence was the reassurance I needed.

Her eyes went to a portrait on the wall. ‘I have thought a lot about my sister recently. She was such a character. See,’ and she pointed. ‘Come, look at her likeness.’

We moved closer to the picture and she held her candle up. I studied Evangeline’s broad forehead, lips that were fuller than her sister’s, and I could see the ghost of what Miss Gillies might have been without the scarring. What must she have felt as she looked at her sister’s unmarred face? It must have been a constant reminder of her disfigurement.