‘Ah,’ Mrs Freeman murmured. ‘Leave them on the dressing table. I’ll look at them later.’

Deeply disappointed, May placed the sketches on the dressing table and weighted them down with a perfume bottle. She could only hope that her mistress would remember to look at them when she got up, but it worried her that it was Mrs Wilkins who helped her to dress. It would be so easy to spill something over them.

When she collected the tray Mrs Freeman had gone back to sleep and there was nothing more she could do.

That afternoon was one of Mrs Freeman’s ‘at home’ days and May put on her best cap and apron ready to open the door to guests. Two ladies who were regular callers arrived and were ushered into the drawing room. When the mistress rang, May wheeled in the tea trolley. It was loaded with the best china, Mrs Wilkins having decided that it was easier to trust May with it than to give herself the extra work; and there were plates of tiny sandwiches, piles of buttered crumpets and delicious-looking cakes. As always, May was astonished at the quantity of food these wealthy ladies were able to consume.

As she pushed the trolley into the drawing room Mrs Freeman exclaimed, ‘Ah, here she is. This is May, the girl I’ve been telling you about.’

It was the first time May could remember that her mistress had used her name. Usually she was just ‘the girl’. With a start she saw that her sketches were spread out over the tea table.

The two lady visitors turned to look at her and one said, ‘So you are the young woman who has done these beautiful dress designs?’

May wriggled her shoulders in embarrassment. ‘Madam asked me to think of ways to bring one of her gowns up to date, ma’am. That’s all.’

‘But they are lovely,’ the lady said. ‘You are so lucky, Lydia, to have such a talented girl in your service. We have been trying to decide which one to choose, haven’t we?’

Mrs Freeman had gone quite pink with pleasure. ‘Yes, we have.’ She indicated one of the sketches. ‘This is the one I like best but can you do it? Can you make my green gown look like this?’

‘Oh, I think so, ma’am.’ May leaned forward eagerly, tracing with one finger the embellishments she had designed. ‘If I made up these big bows, and then caught the overskirt back and used them to fasten it, then it’s just a matter of making the lace ruffles for the neck and the sleeves …’ She realised abruptly that in her enthusiasm she was forgetting her station and drew back. ‘Sorry, ma’am.’

‘No, go on,’ Mrs Freeman said. ‘You think it is possible?’

‘Yes, ma’am. That is … it’s a questions of the materials …’

‘What would you need?’