‘But I’m very used to dealing with aggressive birds, m’ lady.’ She remembered Sholto being attacked by the fulmar; it spitting oil and what that had led to . . . She glanced over to him and this time, he was already looking at her. Was he remembering too?

‘Not looking like that,’ his mother replied, and Effie realized these exquisite clothes made her . . . useless. Merely decorative. If she’d been sitting in here in her tweed breeches, barefoot and with a rope looped around her torso, the conversation would be very different.

‘It’s quite all right, Mama. It should have exhausted itself by now. I’m sure that between us, Graves and I will manage to get it out,’ Sholto said.

Graves inclined his head, but he looked less than pleased by the idea.

‘I’ve got some specs you could use,’ Sibyl offered.

‘I didn’t know you wore spectacles?’ Lady Dumfries said.

‘Oh, no, they’re not mine,’ Sibyl replied breezily.

The door opened and Effie felt herself freeze as Mr Weir came in. His eyes found her immediately, dressed above her station and sitting beside the countess, but he walked straight over to the earl.

‘I apologize for the intrusion but there’s a telegram for you, sir,’ he said in lowered tones. ‘It’s urgent, I’m afraid.’

The earl took it from the silver salver with a tut. ‘Thank you, Weir.’ He opened it distractedly, shook the paper open, then held it away. And further away again. ‘Do you see? This is what I mean about my spectacles.’

‘I’ll get them for you,’ Sholto offered, putting down his glass and looking ready to bolt from the room.

‘No, no, just read it for me, would you?’

He handed the sheet of paper over and there was a momentary hush as Sholto cast an eye over it. ‘. . . Oh.’

‘What is it?’ the countess asked, sitting more upright at his tone.

Sholto looked up with a frown. ‘It’s from Sir John. His factor’s been found.’

‘Oh, at last!’ his mother said with relief. ‘Thank heavens for that! It was beginning to be quite worrisome. Well, where was he all this time?’

‘He’s dead.’

‘What?’ The earl looked at his son in disbelief.

‘Oh, how beastly!’ Sibyl cried, fanning herself with her hand.

‘It says his body was found today on St Kilda. A tourist boat landed this morning and he was found on the beach on the far side a few hours later.’

As if as one, every head in the room turned in Effie’s direction, the butler and footmen and Margaux included. Mr Weir had been watching her throughout, as if waiting to witness her reaction. Had she given him a good show?