Fanny was walking ahead of her, as if clearing the path, as Effie pinched her skirt to see her feet on the stairs. Even before they got to the bottom step, they could hear the usual commotion in the kitchen, dinner preparations well underway.

Mrs McKenzie was coming out of the servants’ hall when she saw them round the corner.

‘Well, well,’ she said, stopping and looking on in amazement. ‘That’s quite a transformation, Fanny.’

‘Thank you, Mrs McKenzie.’

The housekeeper walked slowly around Effie, taking in the flawless skim of the dress, the careful pinning of her hair. She seemed especially pleased that the necklace she had loaned Effie added some sparkle to the outfit.

‘We’ll make a lady’s maid of you yet.’

Fanny beamed.

The sound of whistling alerted them to Billy coming down the passage carrying some silver salvers. He stopped dead too, just as the housekeeper had. Apparently Paris-made dresses hadn’t been seen downstairs before.

‘Crikey. You should wear girl clothes more often.’

‘Don’t be so impertinent, Billy,’ Mrs McKenzie scolded him. ‘Take those to Mr Graves and then you can escort Miss Gillies upstairs and hold the door for her. Climbing stairs in long dresses is a particular skill.’

Billy hurried past, winking as he caught Effie’s eye.

Barra appeared down the spiral stairs, stopping as she caught sight of the crowd. ‘What’s going on—?’ She saw Effie dressed in her own gown and nodded approvingly. ‘It suits you very well.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Her ladyship’s just gone through.’

‘You should get up there, then,’ Fanny said with wide eyes.

Billy returned, with Mrs McLennan and the kitchen and scullery maids in tow too. The young girls cooed at the delicate dress but Mrs McLennan frowned. ‘You need more hot dinners, lass! Make sure you get down what’ll be put before you tonight – and no drama!’

‘Oh for heaven’s sake, this isn’t a cabaret show,’ the housekeeper said, just as Jenny appeared on the stairs too, carrying a blouse for mending. Effie knew that meant Sibyl was dressed as well. They would all be up there, in the parlour, talking, waiting . . . She mustn’t be late and yet, she didn’t want to move her feet. If everyone down here was looking at her like she was a curiosity, she could only imagine the disbelief upstairs. They’d laugh. She was a caricature of a dinner guest. ‘Hurry along now. Don’t keep them waiting.’

‘This way then,’ Billy said. ‘We’ll use the wooden stairs so you come out in the hall. Seems more proper this evening. Can’t have you emerging from dark corners dressed like that.’