‘Ready?’ she says and they all nod.

‘Come then, Mrs Meake,’ she says, taking Annie’s hand as they cross the road and head up the steps to her front door, ‘let us within,’ and with that, she raps on the door as hard as she can.

Etta hears the door knock faintly in the distance as she stands in the dissecting room. The house feels peculiarly quiet today, she thinks to herself.

‘Is it not beautiful?’ Edward says as he holds up the white gown. ‘Is it not perfect?’

‘Yes,’ she says and smiles sweetly, smiles for she has just now seen the knife that he used to undo the package left casually on the sideboard along with the discarded paper and string.

He is too close for her to get near it yet, though, and so she must change first. How ironic, she thinks, hope and excitement rising, nerves making her fingers tremor and her heart thud. How ironic that she will be dressed in pure white when she picks up that knife.

I am my own self, she says to herself. I am Etta Lockhart and I am nobody’s prisoner.

‘Avert your eyes,’ she says after he hands her the gown. He turns away and she slowly takes off her torn coat, then her woollen dress, until she stands just in her chemise and corset. She feels dirty, as if she has not had a decent wash in days, which, indeed she has not, but the coolness of the fabric feels clean and fresh against her skin. It is cold down here, though, and she shivers as she slips the dress on.

‘I am ready,’ she says.

Edward turns to look at her, his mouth falling open at this vision before him. This beautiful angel with her perfect wings, her flawless face and the pristine white gown.

‘Ahh,’ he breathes, overcome by wonder.

God has guided him well.

Sarah has let them in and Annie and Mary head downstairs to the servants’ hall where they open the door to Charlie. He gives a quick thumbs up to Jos before disappearing inside, where the trio of women wait for him.

The servants’ hall is small and dark, open flame gas lights flickering, flaring up and fizzling down. There are shadows all around. It is cold and unsettling, thinks Mary with a shudder, even with the fire lit.

‘The gate is through here,’ says Annie. ‘But it will be locked.’

‘Please, ma’am,’ whispers Sarah. ‘Mr Meake is down here already. He came past me in the kitchen earlier and hasn’t yet gone back up. I gave him a parcel that was delivered. Soft it was, felt like clothing of some kind.’

Annie and Mary exchange a glance.

‘Sarah,’ says Annie firmly, ‘I wish you to go outside through the servants’ entrance and stay with the man who is watching the house from the other side of the street. His name is Mr Jos Ward. Please tell him I sent you.’