‘Did you have other siblings?’

She shook her head.

‘Just one younger sister?’

She looked at me then. ‘She was not the younger. I am the younger.’

I was hit by a faint shock: why had Miss Gillies inherited Iskar and not Evangeline?

My thoughts stumbled but I reined them back. ‘She’s very lovely,’ I said. ‘It’s a shame that you were not closer.’ Almost imperceptibly, her fingers crept to her cheek; her lips were white, almost bloodless. A spill of anger was in the air. I opened my mouth to say something but she was looking with such intensity into the lines and shadows of that beautiful, undamaged face that I held my tongue.

Later, I took Mary to her bed. She was too tired even for prayer and I helped her into the sheets and pulled the covers to her chin. For a moment she lay there, her eyes on mine, and then she reached out and touched a curl of my hair, twisting it in her finger. The warm pad brushed my skin, as gentle as a feather, then she moved her hand down to turn the bangle on her wrist with a look of pleasure. I kissed her cheek, inhaling for a moment the warm scent of her breathing skin.

The darkness was brushed with the faint bloom of a moon and the persistent rush of the sea. I sat on the chair and read to her until finally she was asleep.

I could not push the morning from my thoughts. I pondered on Miss Gillies and the staff – the silence that followed the mention of William – but I felt him everywhere – everywhere, and that name written in sand, it seemed written on my fears.

When Greer came with her hummed lullaby, I was weary of her. Go away, I thought, I am tired. But she came anyway and my skin flared awake.

When her voice dropped entirely, my ears rushed with silence as if a shell were held to them. She stayed until my throat ached to call and then, almost like the break of a wave, she sighed and her steps faded as she continued on her way, the lullaby rising and eventually falling till it receded beyond reach.

16

Mary had woken me in the night with another nightmare. It had been a long time since Miss Gillies had taken an interest in Mary’s nocturnal dramas, which at least was some relief, and she had them frequently enough. This time, Mary had taken a while to settle and afterwards I had lain awake, filled with unease.

I could hardly wait the next day for lessons to begin; time seemed to drag, but eventually Mary and Miss Gillies left for the schoolroom. Outside, the sky was white and salt spray soon wet my lips. Smoke rose comfortingly from the Argylles’ chimney.

‘Miss Swansome, what a lovely surprise. Sit whilst I arrange for tea. I thought that you might visit.’