Anna looks down at her lap, at the patch of silk fabric shimmering under the cloak. ‘When I was born, my father cursed me. He gave me the name Anna Tesseltje to remind everyone, especially me, that God takes away what we love most as a lesson in humility and pride. And his wish came true. Everyone I have loved has perished – my mother and father, my sister. It would be better for you if we do not become too attached. You have had enough misfortune in your own life; you do not need mine.’

Tears sting her eyes, but once the words are out, she feels lighter, as if speaking them has purged her of a bitter poison.

Crispijn says nothing for a while. He stares at her, his brow wrinkled. At last, he takes her hand. ‘I believe you are wrong,’ he says. ‘I don’t think you’re cursed. That’s not what your father intended you to believe. I think instead you were his blessing and he wanted to remember how lucky he was to have you when everything else seemed so dark.’

Anna laughs humourlessly.

‘I made you laugh,’ he says. ‘That is a good sign.’

Tears rolls down her cheeks and drop onto her gown. Crispijn hands her his handkerchief.

‘They say tears are a good way to begin a marriage. You will live in comfort,’ he adds. ‘And we can travel. I will show you all the things that you in your life have not had a chance to experience. And Catharina will paint and she will be happy, knowing that Griet is safe. We can even visit Griet, once enough time has passed and it is deemed safe for us to do so.’

‘What would Catharina think?’ Anna imagines the artist looking shocked and then angry. ‘She will not want to share you.’

‘She already does,’ he says, spreading his hands wide. ‘She is fond of you. She’s always wanted a sister. She used to pester our mother about it. Apparently my company was not enough.’

Anna nods. ‘I will consider your offer carefully,’ she says.

‘Don’t wait too long. I’m thirty-eight. An old man. I might soon be in my grave.’ He laughs and then his expression becomes sombre. ‘I’m serious, Anna. There is nobody I would rather share my life with, good fortune or ill. We will make our own luck.’ He holds her gaze for another moment and then glances out the window. ‘I believe we are almost there.’