‘Aye. All I knew was they were friends of the laird, our landlord. But they didn’t act . . . uppity or anything like that.’

Fanny’s thin eyebrows shot almost up over the top of her head. ‘So this place must have come as a shock.’

‘You could say that.’ There had certainly been a lot to absorb in the past twenty-four hours. ‘. . . How long have you worked here for?’

‘Me? Four years,’ the maid said proudly. ‘I went into service when I was fifteen. My family lives in the next village. I’ve worked my way up from scullery maid already and if I keep my head down, I’ll make lady’s maid twenty years from now.’

‘Twenty years,’ Effie echoed. It sounded like a prison sentence.

‘We’re lucky, getting to work here. Their lordships are good people, they treat their staff well. It’s not always the case, y’know.’

‘I’m sure.’ But she didn’t want to engage again as a servant, and Effie picked up the next box and opened it to find a chiff-chaff egg. It was the first one she’d ever seen in real life and at least a fifth of the size of the sparrowhawk egg. The scale and delicacy of it surprised her. She supposed books could only show so much.

There was another pause and Effie could sense weight in Fanny’s stare. She glanced up. ‘. . . What?’

‘Have you found the banshee yet?’ There was a look of mischief in Fanny’s eyes.

‘The banshee?’

‘Aye.’ Fanny rose and walked over to a cabinet along the far wall which had drawers all the way to the ceiling. ‘Look here.’ She pulled on a knob but instead of a drawer opening, an entire panel swung forward. ‘They call it a jib door.’

Fanny looked supremely pleased with herself as Effie gasped with outright surprise.

‘What’s . . . what’s in there?’ she whispered, hardly daring to stand.

‘Come and have a look for yourself,’ Fanny said, walking through.

Effie drew her feet in and peered through. The room was half the size of the other one but in here, all the cabinets were fully glazed. Birds of every type and size were arranged on mounts, magnificent in death: a white-tailed eagle, goldfinch, blue-headed wagtail, nightjar, snowy owl, kingfisher, bittern, red-footed falcon . . . But there was one that was no pretty songbird, no apex predator – standing three foot tall, at first glance it looked like a giant penguin with angulated flippers and a macaw-like beak.

She frowned. It couldn’t be, surely . . .? ‘A great auk?’

‘Is that what it is?’ Fanny shrugged, nonplussed. ‘Well, if you say so. It gives everyone here the creeps. Mrs McLennan calls it the banshee.’

‘But they’ve been extinct for . . . almost a hundred years!’

‘Is that so?’ Fanny seemed impressed by that revelation. ‘So it must be valuable then.’