They gaze at each other. His eyes are dark pools Anna could drown in. What would he do if she leaned forward now and kissed him? Just a chaste peck, swift and sweet. She could stroke his jaw with her thumb, as she’s seen real wives do. A small gesture of marital unity, a promise of a lifetime bound together. The temptation is overwhelming. If she did, some boundary would be crossed. A kiss is tantamount to acceptance. Who can even say whether she would ever want to find her way back?

Heavy footsteps can be heard suddenly, coming down the corridor, not the young nun’s pattering footfalls. These shoes belong to the Abbess who appears in front of them, an old, heavy-set woman.

She nods to them.

‘I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, sir. You’ve caught us at a busy time. We are restoring the walls in the east wing. If you’ll accompany me to my study, we can sit and talk quietly there.’

She leads them along a dusty hallway and opens an arched door. The Abbess settles herself behind an ornate wooden desk, leaving Anna and Crispijn to sit in the chairs opposite.

‘Sister Marie advises that you wish to remove your sister, Margriet, from our flock.’ She pauses. ‘I’m afraid you have travelled all this way for nothing. I cannot permit her to leave. Your sister is wilful. She must be tamed. And her assistance is needed with the restoration project. The exercise is good for her mind and soul. It is her duty to God.’

‘Her duty is to me,’ Crispijn interrupts. ‘We are expecting her to return with us to help care for the children.’

He reaches for Anna’s hand and squeezes it. The Abbess follows the direction of his gaze. Under the woman’s intense scrutiny, Anna feels her cheeks grow pink.

‘Margriet is good with children,’ she says. ‘We know she will take the lessons she has learned here with her and impress upon them the importance of faith and worship.’

The Abbess drums her fingers upon the table. She stands suddenly and turns to fetch a ledger from a shelf. Letting it thud onto the desk, she flicks the pages with thick fingers.

‘The problem, sir, is not only related to faith. It is financial.’

Anna can see dates recorded at the top, sums scratched in the column, set down in black ink. The old woman taps a page with a wrinkled thumb.