‘This is not a game, Miss Lijsbeth. It’s been months. If you do not pay the men, they will refuse to work. If the goods in the warehouse don’t reach their destination soon, they’ll be worthless. I implore you. Speak to your father. Tell him to hand over control of the business before it’s too late. If you need help, you must ask for it. Haven’t I proved my loyalty ten times over? Don’t allow pride to stand in the way of business. I can protect you. I can –’

‘Sir, you forget yourself.’ Lijsbeth’s voice had taken on a hard, strident edge. ‘Only God can protect us. My father built this business from nothing. He had to beg my mother’s family for money to buy his first ship. For years, he worked himself ragged, trying to keep you all alive. And you choose this moment, when he is temporarily weakened, to pounce on his fortunes. Oh, I see your plan. You are no better than those Catholics who worship at the feet of commerce. If it’s riches you dream of, you’d best seek another master. My father does not need your counsel, and nor do I.’

A tense silence followed, then Anna heard Master Honig’s footsteps retreat. The front door juddered in its frame and, moments later, Lijsbeth appeared, looking pale. Her black dress, usually spotless, was creased and she gripped a rough assortment of papers.

Anna lifted a dripping finger. ‘What are those?’

Lijsbeth ignored her. Anna looked down as a cup bobbed to the surface and she caught her worried reflection in its shining cast. ‘What did Master Honig want?’ she persisted.

Her sister brushed an impatient hand across her damp face. ‘Does it matter? He’s gone. God willing, he will not disturb us again.’

Anna watched her cross to the fire and feed the pages slowly to the flames.