‘Looking right together. Aye, that’s what matters for people like them.’ Fanny began twisting her hair into small sections. ‘A good marriage doesn’t need to have much to do with love. It’s all about securing fortunes, consolidating estates, good names, doing their duty for the generations to follow.’

Effie frowned. ‘But . . . you do think he loves her?’

‘I think he loves her enough,’ she shrugged. ‘I’m just not sure he knows what real love is. Rudolph Valentino love.’

‘Who?’ Effie looked at her blankly.

‘You’ve a lot to learn,’ Fanny sighed.

After that, Effie sat patiently as she was gradually transformed.

Eventually Fanny positioned a last pin in her hair and stood back. She gave a nod, looking pleased. ‘Right, the last part. I’m guessing you’ve never worn make-up before either? Turn and face me.’

Fanny applied powders to her skin, stain on her lips. It felt dusty and the very opposite of how she felt washing in the burn, but when the maid turned her back to the mirror, she was astonished by the difference. She was still herself, but somehow fine-tuned into sharper relief. For a moment, she was able to admire what she saw – a delicate bone structure, thick lashes, a long neck emphasized by the way Fanny had loosely pinned her hair up, pulling a few wavy tendrils free at the front.

‘Fanny, what have you done?’

‘You don’t like it?’

‘I don’t . . . I don’t recognize myself.’

‘Well, that’s nothing new,’ Fanny laughed, reminding her of her display at the mirror in front of Mrs McKenzie a few short days ago.

Effie felt small bubbles form in her stomach, an effervescence coming from inside. ‘You must be a magician. You’ve transformed me!’ Was it really her? She couldn’t believe it.

‘Nonsense, it was easy. You’re beautiful, Effie. Just . . . wild.’

Effie gave a sudden smile. She couldn’t deny that. ‘So what now?’

Fanny put her hands on her hips, looking pleased with herself. ‘Simple. You put on the shoes and you go up there.’

‘Up there,’ she echoed, seeing how Fanny’s eyes were bright, her cheeks pink, and knowing hers were the same. The two women looked at one another.

This was an adventure.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Her heels clicked on the floor as she went back downstairs. There was no through access from the maids’ bedrooms to the principal rooms on the same floor, so she had no choice but to go past the scullery and kitchen dressed to the nines. She felt conspicuous and out of place. Even just moving, dressed like this, was different – for someone who’d spent the first eighteen years of her life only wearing shoes every seventh day, it was hard enough wearing them daily. But heels . . . She felt like she was balancing on pins.