Very early the next morning, after reluctantly eating the bread and butter and drinking the weak tea which was delivered to her door by a harried chambermaid, Margaret dressed herself for the first time in her adult life without any help. She fumbled with the many tapes, strings and ribbons, her various petticoats and her crinoline, poking herself with the buttonhook, tying knots where there should be neat bows. Her dress and matching paletot were tobacco brown. Bundling her hair under the drab straw bonnet, she carefully avoided looking at her ghostlike reflection in the mirror. The dark circles Molly had so carefully disguised with powder yesterday would be even more evident today, giving her deep-set eyes a sunken, cadaverous look.

Sean, the taciturn Irish manservant, had gone ahead to see to the baggage. Making her way with Breda Murphy, the Irish maid, Margaret was roused from her lethargy by the hustle and bustle. They were to sail for Kingstown on the City of Dublin Steam Packet Company Paddle Steamer, RMS Munster. Passing through the Admiralty Arch onto the pier, they joined a throng of people making their way towards the huge steamship, already belching black smoke from her funnels.

Organised chaos reigned at the dockside. The cargo was being hoisted aboard in nets. Crates stood stacked on the quay beside trunks of leather and tin, portmanteaus, tea-chests, and sacks of mail. The noise of the ship’s engines turning, of the stevedores shouting, of children shouting and wailing, of mothers calling anxiously and fathers grumbling made Margaret want to cover her ears. The black, sulphurous smoke tickled her nose, but the stench from the crowds of unwashed bodies, rather than make her retch, reminded her of Lambeth, bringing such a gust of longing as to stop her in her tracks. The crowd surged around her, and Breda urged her towards the gangplank reserved for first-class passengers. Clutching her carpet-bag which contained her jewellery box, her precious miniature of Lix, and a few necessities, Margaret boarded the steamship.

Immediately upon setting foot on the deck, her travelling companion’s face took on a greenish hue. “I’m very sorry, my lady, but I’m not so good on the water,” Breda confessed. “It was the same on the way over. If you don’t mind, I’ll see you safely to your cabin, and then I’ll find somewhere to sit out the crossing in the fresh air.”

Looking at her properly, Margaret saw that she was much younger than she had assumed. Cursing her own self-absorption, she took her by the arm. “You look dreadful. Let’s get you to the cabin and make you comfortable, and I will find somewhere else to pass the journey.”

“Oh no, my lady, I’m supposed to look after you and see you safely back. If you were accosted . . .”