Cornelis regards her silently. At last, he says, ‘I should think he was convinced by your circumstances. You do not, you will forgive me, have the manners of a maid. You understand when to stay silent and when to speak and you can converse on a wide range of subjects. To move between worlds is a gift, Anna. Not many manage it. You like to read, if I remember correctly?’

‘I enjoy it,’ she admits. ‘But I no longer have access to my father’s books. They were all sold last year. We could not justify keeping them when there were more pressing concerns.’

‘Catharina likes books, too. You would have the entire library at Sterrenwijck at your disposal, were you to go. Your duties would be to read aloud and assist in the portrait studio and run small errands. Catharina’s brother reports that her spirits are sunk mighty low. She complains of headaches and a weak stomach. She’s stopped painting and the commissions are starting to pile up. She says her creative spark appears to be dead. Her brother is worried. He wants someone to watch her, since he cannot always be home.’

‘Like a nurse?’ Anna suggests.

‘No,’ says Cornelis. ‘Like a companion, someone who can help her re-engage with society and remind her there’s still beauty in the world. I can’t think of a better person to do that than yourself. This opportunity will open doors for you, Anna. One of them may lead to a better life.’

Anna pins her bottom lip with her teeth. He’s right, of course. It will be an easier job than the one she has now, a more genteel kind of servitude. But can she do it? Her mother once hired a woman from Alkmaar to take on the role of lady’s companion when their father was away on business. The woman’s duties had not been onerous – dressing her mother, reading prayers aloud, chaperoning the girls to church and the market. Lijsbeth had given her a cruel nickname. She called her Lady Kikker, a reference to the way the maid gripped their hands firmly like a frog as they wove through the vleeshal, keeping them close, as if afraid the butchers in their bloody aprons were beasts who might snatch the girls and gobble them up. The next summer, when Kikker returned home, Anna’s mother wept for days, not bothering to conceal her grief in front of the other servants. Young as she was, Anna realised that although Kikker had been the one paid for her services, it was her mother who more keenly felt the loss of their separation.

‘Women are lonely creatures,’ her mother confided in a rare moment of maternal transparency. ‘Husbands are all very well, but they cannot know our ways. They cannot understand loss and all the small pricks of hardships we must endure while smiling through our tears.’