“When Lord Bainbridge returns, he can propose it,” said Gwen. “Until then, we’ll go on matchmaking. I wanted to speak to you about Saturday.”

“Yes?”

“Will you be going to Tommy Hibbert’s birthday party with Little Ronnie?”

“Of course. The Hibberts and we are old friends.”

“Have you picked out a present yet?”

“I have not. I was going to send Percival to Hamleys tomorrow. He’s good at picking out toys for children.”

“Let me do it instead,” said Gwen. “I know they don’t want me there, but I would like to do that much, at least.”

Lady Carolyne looked at her, considering.

“This is your attempt to worm your way back into their good graces,” she said.

“I wouldn’t call it worming, exactly,” said Gwen. “But yes, I’d like them to know that I’m well enough to be around children at birthday parties. I never was a threat to anyone.”

“Other than yourself,” said Lady Carolyne.

“Other than myself,” agreed Gwen. “And now I like myself again. I’ve grown quite fond of me, in fact. I’ve decided that I’m going to stick with me for the long haul.”

“You’re making light of a serious situation,” said Lady Carolyne.

“Dr. Milford thinks that’s a good sign,” said Gwen.

“Does he? Sometimes I wonder about him.”

“He was your choice,” Gwen reminded her. “Yet I’ve continued to work with him, knowing that. Worked very hard, in fact.”

“We shall see if that bears fruit,” said Lady Carolyne. “Very well. You may purchase the gift.”

“Thank you,” said Gwen. “It should be fun. I haven’t been to Hamleys in ages.”

“I wonder if they’ve repaired all the damage,” said Lady Carolyne.

“I’ll report back and let you know,” promised Gwen. “Thank you, Carolyne.”

She located the Hibberts’ number in her address book, then picked up the telephone and dialed. After several rings, a housemaid answered.

“Mrs. Bainbridge calling for Mrs. Hibbert,” said Gwen.

“One moment, Mrs. Bainbridge.”

A minute passed, then a woman’s voice filled the receiver.

“Lady Carolyne!” cried Mrs. Hibbert. “So sweet of you to call.”

“Actually, it’s Gwen, Isabelle,” said Gwen. “How are you?”

There was a pause.

“Gwen,” said Mrs. Hibbert, not even bothering to hide the caution in her tone. “This is a surprise.”

“Not at all, Isabelle. I’m sorry to be interrupting anything. I wanted to apologise in advance for not being able to come with Little Ronnie on Saturday.”

“Oh, that’s quite all right,” said Mrs. Hibbert in relief. “You’ll be saving yourself from the raucousness of six- and seven-year-olds.”

“No, I’m sure it will be great fun,” said Gwen. “I wanted to know if there was anything in particular that Tommy wanted in the way of a present. Children’s desires are so changeable. Ronnie currently is mad about narwhals.”

“What on earth are they?”

“A type of aquatic mammal with a long tusk on its nose,” said Gwen.

“My goodness!”

“How about Tommy? I remember him loving fire engines when he was two.”

“Yes, my little Blitz boy. No, that’s several phases ago. He’s obsessed with cowboys and Indians now.”