She pushed her half-eaten plate of food aside. “No, not at all. I was wondering, Julia, if I might borrow the carriage to visit Dublin tomorrow, or the next day.”

“Dublin? What is there to see in Dublin . . . ?”

“Margaret has been cooped up here for three months now, my dear,” Julia intervened. “I think a change of scenery would do her the world of good. I could accompany you, Margaret. We could take tea, and—”

“I’ve a consignment arriving from Germany tomorrow, of new stags’ heads,” Lord Powerscourt said. “They are very delicate as they are made from papier mâché. I purchased them from Count Arco-Zinneberg, where they form part of his collection at his house in the Wittelsbacherplatz in Munich. I shall need your assistance in positioning them, Julia. The entrance hall is the obvious choice, but I was thinking . . .”

“Naturally I would be delighted to assist you,” Julia said with a pained expression. “I will order the carriage for first thing tomorrow, Margaret. Take Breda with you, spend the day seeing the sights, and take tea. I had better remain here.”

“Indeed,” Lord Powerscourt said. “There’s far too much to be done here. I’ve a lot of lost time to make up for.”

“You have,” Julia agreed. “You have indeed.”

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, MARGARET DRESSED with care in a day dress of copper silk patterned with a geometric border in contrasting chocolate brown. The combination was most unusual for an unmarried young lady, but it had been her choice, and Mama had indulged her. The bodice had a white lace collar and cuffs, and fastened with a row of tiny jet buttons. A matching paletot jacket with a short front and a long tail, a small hat with a very wide bow on her carefully braided coiffure, which Breda had taken an age over, completed the ensemble. With her full quota of corset, crinoline, and petticoats and a pair of kid gloves in hand, Margaret was finally ready to face the outside world.

Though before she did, she must face the mirror. The first surprise was that the ensemble fitted. Breda had not laced her as tightly as Molly, and doubtless she would have failed Mama’s measuring tape test. She was curvaceous rather than willowy, but she decided she preferred that. What was more, the effect had been achieved without any effort on her part. Over the last few weeks, her cravings for cake and pudding had disappeared. She enjoyed her food but was content with an elegant sufficiency.