The carriage begins to slow. When it stops Crispijn helps Anna from the coach and she jumps down and shades her eyes, gazing around. The convent is set in a flat clearing, spiky trees rising up around the building like a crown. A makeshift garden divided by a dirt path is set before the small clapboard building. It is two – no three–storeys high. An attic window glints at the very top. Anna thinks she spies a white face behind the pane. She squints, but the face has vanished.

Crispijn takes her arm, linking it through his own. Together, they walk up the path, stopping when they reach a set of double doors, peeling and worn, the paint rubbed away by weather and time.

Crispijn knocks on the door, the sound falling short, absorbed by the oak.

Anna’s legs prickle with nervous energy. She imagines turning around and fleeing, but Crispijn’s arm on hers is steady and reassuring. They could be married in truth. For the first time, she allows herself to imagine the softness of his lips and all the other pleasures that marriage would bring. It will make their performance more convincing, she tells herself. As the door opens, she smiles.

‘Yes?’ says a young, frightened-looking nun, no older than eighteen. She surveys them with wide, blue eyes. Anna notices the way her gaze falls on her mother’s silk dress and she hopes its beauty can convince the girl to trust them. ‘Can I help you?’

‘I hope so,’ Crispijn says. ‘I’m here for my sister. Her name is Margriet Pieterson. I understand she was brought here a few months ago to recover from an ailment. I have come to take her home with me. My wife and I have recently moved into our new residence in Middleburg. We have left our children in the care of a nursemaid, but it would be more prudent for Griet to return and work for us. That is the fate, after all, that awaits many spinsters and Griet is no exception.’

The young nun purses her lips and turns back to glance at the shadows. ‘I’ll need to consult with the Abbess,’ she says, doubtfully. Opening the door, she ushers them into a cold, dark reception hall. Anna notices that the hem of her black robe is flecked with white housepaint. ‘Wait here until I return.’

Anna watches her vanish down a corridor.

Crispijn drops his smile as soon as she is gone. Releasing Anna’s arm, he removes his hat and worries the fabric nervously between his fingers.

Minutes pass and no one comes.

‘The longer we wait, the more I fear discovery,’ Crispijn says.