The Countess of Camperdown sat down on the rickety wooden chair. Every time she visited, as wife of the Prison Visiting Committee’s chairman, she looked incongruous. Dressed in her finery – always a silk or taffeta gown, velvet hat trimmed with feathers or fur, and dainty slippers or soft calf skin boots – she was a contrast to Ann Craig in her tattered, grubby dress and bare feet.

‘Oh Ann, I gave you shoes at the last visit, did they not fit?’

‘They were perfect, thank you. But I gave them this morning to Maggie in the next cell. She’s got another month or so before her time.’

Isabella sighed and looked into Ann’s eyes. ‘Are you ready for this?’

‘How will I ever be ready? Isabella, you are a mother, how can you possibly give up your child? Your baby?’

The Countess shook her head. ‘I have no concept, Ann, truly. I cannot begin to imagine.’

Ann clutched the sleeping child close to her. ‘Did they not permit a visit from James and Lizzie?’

The Countess shook her head. ‘The Earl tried to intercede on your behalf, but his fellow members on the committee, Sherriff Cheyne and those do-gooders, were adamant. They said it would be detrimental to the children. I am so sorry.’

‘You tried. Thank you, Isabella.’

‘Ann, I checked with Wallace and he says your time is this evening, at six. Is there anything else I can do for you before then? Apart from pray.’

‘You are already doing the best thing with Archibald here.’ Ann looked around as if searching for something. ‘I have given you letters for James and Lizzie already?’

The Countess nodded. ‘They will now have the joy of their little brother being brought up with them in their own house. Lady Cruickshank is overseeing their care with the governess. They will want for nothing.’

Ann reached into her pocket and drew out a handkerchief. ‘I have also something for the woman who plays the melodeon in the streets of Lochee. If one of your servants could find a way to give this to her, please? Her name is Blind Mattie, everyone knows her.’ She passed the handkerchief to the Countess.

‘It is beautiful. There are some initials embroidered upon it. But it says A.R., not A.C.?’

‘That was my maiden name. She will remember.’

‘Very well, Ann. And now, it is time for me to take little Archibald.’

The Countess stood and stretched out her hands. Ann kissed the baby’s soft forehead and placed him in her arms. ‘Thank you, Isabella, for arranging this. My little Archie will be fine growing up with his brother and sister in the house in which I had many happy memories.’

The Countess headed for the door and called out, ‘Wallace, it is time.’