Rosa shook her head. ‘You couldn’t understand,’ she said. ‘Your family has always had money. Mine made their fortune within my lifetime. I know what it’s like to be poor. And I know what it is to be cold and hungry. Two things you could barely imagine.’

Beatrice shook her head. ‘A h-house this s-size is always c-cold,’ she said. ‘No m-matter how m-many f-fires you light.’

Rosa shrugged. ‘Well, all right, but you’re a person of quality. You’ve never been looked down upon, but I have. Money can’t buy prestige and respect – not for a woman. Only a title can do that.’

Beatrice wanted to tell her friend that she had been looked down upon plenty of times, despite her title, but Rosa had warmed to her topic and was already moving on.

‘Anyone with money can build themselves a fine house, but to live in an old, respected mansion like Raven Hall!’ Rosa’s eyes gleamed with ambition. ‘To have one’s own home featured within the pages of Seats of the Nobility and Gentry! I’ve always felt like I was born for that life. That it’s meant to be.’

Beatrice frowned. She disliked the idea of lives being fated to play out in a certain way and she said so.

Rosa shrugged. ‘Who can say? You know, when I was a little girl, my ma thought I might have a touch of second sight. It was small things, like I would know what my birthday present was going to be before I saw it. And I always told my folks I was going to be a duchess when I grew up. Isn’t that the darnedest thing?’ She laughed. ‘This was back when we were poor as church mice and any kind of titled husband seemed an utter fantasy. Still, I suppose I shouldn’t set my sights quite so high as a duke.’

She gave the clockwork peacock a wistful look, and Beatrice supposed Rosa was well aware that her proficiency in clockwork made her less desirable as a wife, her cleverness considered too intellectual and unfeminine.

Rosa shook herself and said, ‘So do you really mean to set off by yourself, quite alone?’

Beatrice shrugged. ‘I need n-no champion to p-protect me,’ she said.

Rosa nodded slowly. ‘I suppose you’re right. A male companion would be sure to get in the way at any rate, flying into passions and making rows. Where do you intend to go on this trip of yours?’

‘Ev-everywhere.’

She already hungered for it – basking in the rays of Eastern suns, seeing soft mists rise over cold mountains, getting lost in a sudden storm, smelling the sweet, strange perfume of unknown flowers. Beatrice planned to do it all.