“Of course, ma’am.”

He replaced the candlesticks in a cabinet, locked it, then went in search of the invitation. He returned a minute later carrying an envelope on a silver platter.

“Thank you, Percival,” said Gwen, taking it.

They walked back to her room.

“Won’t the lack of an RSVP be a problem?” asked Iris.

“Nothing I can’t brazen my way through,” said Gwen.

“Well, that gets you in the door. What about me? Shall I put on a fake mustache and trousers and try and pass as your escort?”

“I have a better idea,” said Gwen, pressing a button on her nightstand.

Shortly thereafter, there was a soft knock on the door, and Millie entered.

“You rang, Mrs. Bainbridge?” she asked.

“Yes, Millie. Tomorrow is your night off, is that correct?”

“It is, Mrs. Bainbridge.”

“Any plans?”

“I was going to visit my sister.”

“Lovely. Would you mind standing next to Miss Sparks for a moment?”

“Ma’am?” said Millie in confusion.

“Ah,” said Iris, stepping beside her. “I understand. Millie, would you like to make a little extra money?”

“What do I have to do, Miss?”

“Lend me your outfit. Mrs. Bainbridge and I are going to a party, and I need to go as a lady’s maid. We look to be the same size. Shall we say ten shillings?”

“Oh! Well, if you promise to get it back right after. I’ll need it in the morning.”

“I will bring it back myself,” Gwen assured her.

“Then I suppose it’s all right. Shall I bring it to your office in the afternoon? It’s on my way.”

“That would be splendid, Millie,” said Gwen. “Thank you.”

Millie curtsied and left.

“Another odd item for the expense account,” said Gwen.

“Easier to explain than the cost of holding a captive,” said Iris. “Now, you need one more thing for this party.”

“What?”

“An escort.”

“Oh dear,” sighed Gwen. “Maybe we should have stayed with you and the mustache. Wait. I have an idea.”

They went downstairs and Gwen went to use the telephone. Iris waited patiently in the entrance hall. Suddenly, the doors burst open and a young boy flew in, skidding to a halt when he saw her.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m Ronnie.”

“Well, of course you are,” said Iris, squatting so that she could shake his hand. “My name is Iris Sparks. I’m a friend of your mother. It is so very nice to meet you at last.”

“Are you the lady she works with?” asked Ronnie.

“I am indeed.”

“You find husbands for ladies?”

“We try. And wives for gentlemen.”

“Are you going to find one for Mummy?”

“Only if she asks me to,” said Iris, taken aback. “Do you think she should?”

“I don’t know,” said Ronnie very seriously. “She’s sad a lot. It might make her happy.”

“It might,” agreed Iris. “But that’s something she needs to decide for herself. I know that you make her very happy.”

“But I can’t marry her,” said Ronnie.

“No,” said Gwen, coming into the hallway. “And that is as it should be.”