‘Well, make sure you include the fish knives. They’re having salmon. Mr Dalwhinnie’s outdone himself. Landed as big a fish as I’ve ever seen. We scarce had enough ice in the ice house,’ said a very round woman in a grey dress, full apron and sleeves rolled up to her elbows. It was clear she was the cook Mrs McKenzie had warned Effie about – Mrs McLennan. Her face was slightly floured, her cheeks ruddy from working in a steamy kitchen. ‘Are they still at nine heads?’

‘At present, but account for one more in case. You know how flexible dinner arrangements are becoming,’ Mr Graves murmured.

‘The modern way,’ Mrs McKenzie sighed.

Effie kept her eyes on the plate, too distracted by her meal to tune in to the conversation. Her body was almost tingling to the rich, creamy tastes. It had always been a treat to have roast puffin when they flew over to nest in spring but this meal was more than just fuel; she felt something in her body wake up, as though a part of herself was blooming into colour.

‘Will her royal brightness be in attendance?’ someone asked from further down the table. Effie couldn’t see who, but she immediately picked up on the note of sarcasm in the question.

Someone else tittered.

‘Thank you, Billy,’ Mrs McKenzie said sharply. ‘That’s quite enough.’

‘I’m only asking because last time her cat shredded the silk chaise in the Yellow Room and I had my wages docked for not declawing it first. But have you seen the teeth on that thing? How was I supposed to get near its feet?’

‘Billy, I said enough,’ the housekeeper snapped as there were more titters.

Effie allowed herself a grin; the stuffy politeness of the room was beginning to break up as people became more concerned with filling their stomachs than scrutinizing her.

She looked down the table and tried to catch sight of this rogue Billy, briefly making eye contact with the bright eyes in the impish face she’d seen earlier. He looked a year or two younger than her, she thought. He looked like trouble always found him, too.

‘So, Miss Gillies, you are a St Kildan,’ Mr Graves said, as though this explained some things.

‘Yes.’

‘That makes you almost a celebrity,’ said a housemaid opposite. ‘You’ve all been in the papers for weeks.’ She gave a sudden smile. ‘I’m Jenny.’

‘Hallo, Jenny. I’m Effie.’

‘Are you finding things . . . different, here in civilization?’ Mr Graves asked. Effie watched as he cut a slice of his pie and placed it carefully in his mouth.

‘No,’ she replied quickly, feeling an instant heat in her blood. ‘Because we were perfectly civilized on the isle too. We attended school and kirk, like you. We just had to work in a different way to feed ourselves.’