I tried to imagine her grown to full stature, tried to imagine her face with a womanly cast and how she might sound, how her walk would adopt the elegance of a more mature figure, but I realized that I could not. I paused, the cold air clinging to my skin, waves slamming the rock-line, and I was jarred by some deep horror. All I could see was Mary, sunk in the oblivion of water, her white limbs waving on the pull of the tide as she sank deeper and deeper into death.

As I neared Iskar, I tried to quell the anxiety of the image I had seen of Mary – surely something born of the recent talk of William’s death – and yet, as much as I dismissed it as fanciful, I could not fully shake it. I remembered that first afternoon, the way I had sat in the hall, balancing the weights of expectation and loss – how I had anticipated Mary. Never for a moment would it have occurred to me that I would be entering a life that would take so many dark and strange directions and a house with such a presence. Although I had now been told by three people about William and his wickedness, a little part of me still resisted. I had to know it for myself.

Later, as we sat at tea, Miss Gillies questioned me about my visit to Bridget, but all I could think of was the room locked behind the door to William’s wing.

Mary sat silent with a book, only looking up when I spoke, and I was struck anew by how distant their relationship was, how little Miss Gillies addressed her niece or spoke a kind word.

Finally, I took my handkerchief and coughed into it then laid my head against the chair.

‘Are you unwell, Elspeth?’ she said.

‘Only a little chilled, but I think it best to stay when the rest of you attend chapel.’

I lingered at the drawing room window, watching their retreat. When they were on the village path, I went quickly to the kitchen where I found the keys for William’s wing.

My heart pounded as I made my way along the hushed corridor. At the foot of the staircase leading to the garret, I paused and glanced up to the old nurseries, but I did not linger and turned the key.

Once in, I faced a passageway similar to the rest of the house, although the scent of damp and decay was worse. Most rooms were empty. It was at the end that I discovered where William must have slept.

The room was sparse. I rifled among the clothes and objects, curious to find something that would connect me to his reputation, but the search yielded nothing. I realized that I was grateful there was no evidence of his badness and wondered if his reputation had been exaggerated.