Mary peered back at her own reflection and saw little to admire. ‘Oh, Books, it doesn’t much matter. I’ve got horrible hair. It’s all – oh, I don’t know.’ What was that word again? ‘That’s it: lank.’ Then the whole phrase came back to her: ‘It’s unfortunate and lank and a terrible pity.’

‘Lank? And a pity?’ Booker dropped the ribbon in outrage. ‘Who on earth gave you that idea?’ Their eyes met in reflection, but Mary did not reply. ‘Oh, I see. Did she indeed. You’ve been listening in doorways. No good ever comes … Well, I never heard such nonsense.’ She picked up a strand and let it run. ‘Like silk, that is. Pure silk.’

Mary was not persuaded. ‘Whatever you go for, it’s going under a cap and anyway, she just doesn’t like me. A bow isn’t going to make any difference.’

‘Owph, we’ll have none of that, miss.’ The maid took a swipe at her head with the brush. ‘Why wouldn’t she like you? I’ve not told you before – we don’t want that head of yours too big for its bonnet – but all of downstairs says you’re their particular favourite.’

‘Oh, Booker!’ Mary swung around in surprise. ‘You can’t really mean it?’ But of course, the maid’s face shut up like a clam. It was never a good idea to question a compliment – one always ended up being punished, in some way or another. But imagine if it were true? She allowed herself a brief moment of silent fantasy. A rare accolade! And the good opinion of the servants was worth so much more than the Bride’s. ‘Ow!’ How she hated those hairpins, and Booker was driving them in now with force.

‘Stay still, now. Nearly done.’ She measured out a ribbon, planted it on and conceded. ‘It is indeed true, and not like there isn’t stiff competition. They’re all good sorts, here – the boys and the girls. Lovely family, the Knights. You couldn’t have chosen better if you tried. There!’ Booker stepped back, admired her own handiwork, then covered it all up with a cap.

‘I hardly chose them,’ Mary replied as she stood up. ‘But I do agree: they are charming. All except—’

‘That’s enough!’ Booker admonished. ‘She may not have done much for you yet, grant you that, but it’s all going to change now the wedding’s upon us. Tea in her bedroom, indeed! What could be kinder? Now, let’s have a look at you.’