Agnes?” As I stepped closer, I realized that this girl was not as tall as Agnes and that her hair was dark, not auburn. “Who’s there?”

The girl ignored me. She leaned farther over the wrought-iron balustrade that was keeping her from plunging like a doll to the ground floor fifty feet below.

“Be careful!”

She slowly turned her face in my direction. Her dull eyes stared at me glassily, empty of any life or recognition. I had recognized her, though. “Harriet?” I called out in a low voice. “What on earth are you doing? You might fall.”

Harriet didn’t reply, but just kept on staring and staring. She began to walk toward me, moving straight ahead with that ghastly, dead expression on her face.

“Harriet!” I grasped her by her shoulders and something clicked in my head. She is not dead, but sleeping….

Of course, Harriet was sleepwalking, that was all. She was still staring at me, blank eyed and unresponsive. Her hand twitched; then her head began to droop. I steered her toward a carved bench that stood near the top of the staircase and forced her to sit on it. As Harriet’s head lolled down and touched her chest she woke up.

“Harriet, what are you doing out here?”

“What?” she said, looking around vaguely.

“Did you know that you sleepwalk?”

“No…I mean…yes, sometimes, but not for years, not for ages.” Her eyes seemed to focus on me properly for the first time. “Please don’t tell anyone, Evie.”

“Why not? Can’t the nurse give you something to stop you from doing it? You could hurt yourself wandering around in the dark. I think the staff should know.”

“No, please don’t say anything! I don’t want anyone to know. I’m sure I won’t do it again.”

“So what brought it on?” I asked.

“It’s being in a new place, that’s all.” She looked at me pleadingly. “Please don’t say anything. They already think I’m…Anyway, what are you doing out of bed?”

“Um…I was kind of half-asleep and I thought I heard someone in the corridor, so I came to look. That’s all. And we’ll get about a hundred demerits if the mistresses wake up and catch us. I guess we’d better get back to bed and get some sleep.”

Harriet blinked fearfully. “I wish my mom were here.”

I wanted to be kind, but she made me feel cold somehow, as though I couldn’t really be natural with her.

“Look, Harriet, it takes time to get used to boarding school. You need to give yourself a chance to settle down and make friends. Then you’ll feel more at home.”

The old clichés sounded so stilted and patronizing. She looked up at me with her dark, frightened eyes. “Do you really think I’ll make friends? I feel that no one likes me.”

“Don’t be silly.” I tried to laugh. “I like you.” But I wasn’t really sure whether it was true.

“Do you? Do you really?” Harriet stared at me, then smiled gratefully. “So I’ve got one friend, haven’t I? I’ll go to bed now. It’s funny,” she said as she stood up. “One of these rooms must have been Lady Agnes’s bedroom. It’s like we’re in her shadow…. Well, good night.”

“Wait, Harriet, stay a second!” There was something I needed to ask her. “I’ve been kind of wondering whether your family has anything to do with Lady Agnes—you know, with the Templetons who lived here? Are you…um, connected at all?”

She looked down, suddenly sullen again. “Aren’t we all connected, if you go back far enough? What does it matter, anyway?”

“Please, Harriet, I—I need to know; it might be important.”

The silence around us seemed to grow deeper.

Harriet’s sallow cheeks flushed pink. “Templeton is my mother’s name. My parents are divorced and I hardly see my dad; he’s not really interested…. I mean, he’s really busy. Anyway, after they split up she wanted me to be called Templeton too.”

“You said your mother was a student at the Abbey. Was that because she was related to the Wyldcliffe Templetons?”

She looked embarrassed again. “That’s not very likely. My mother was here on a scholarship. I don’t think she really fit in. But she got this dumb idea that she must be related to them because of her name, and started to think that maybe she should really have been a lady with a big house and horses and money. She was obsessed with anything to do with Lady Agnes. She said I should act like I was Lady Harriet Templeton, and went on and on about Agnes as if she were some kind of family relative.” Harriet looked away with a bitter expression on her face. “That’s why Mom sent me here,” she added. “Since Dad left she’s never had time for anything but her job, so that she can earn enough money for me to come to this place and be a proper Wyldcliffe lady. But it was all a kind of dream. I didn’t really want to come. I—I miss her.”

My heart sank. Poor Harriet. Poor sad Harriet.

I watched her pad back to her dorm, then fled to my own bed. There was no rest for me that night. But it wasn’t Sebastian or the coven that kept me awake. It was the small, everyday tragedy of one plain, awkward girl, who was quietly suffering under the roof of this great house. As I tossed and turned I heard the village clock strike three. I groaned and buried my head under my pillow. I couldn’t cope with any more problems. All I wanted to do was to go to sleep, and dream of Sebastian.