Satisfied with her victory, she treated the captain to a glass of very inferior sherry.

Rose had wanted to leave all their clothes behind, but Daisy counselled her that such profligate behaviour would cause talk.

The carried their suitcases downstairs and Becket went up to collect the travelling trunk.

Outside, the sun had begun to shine and the snow was beginning to melt from the roofs.

Harry’s car, with Becket at the wheel, conveyed them through the slippery melting roads to Eaton Square.

The hall-boy had seen them arrive and shouted the news. Two liveried footmen came down the front steps to carry in the luggage.

Then Brum, the butler, greeted them and said, ‘I will inform my lord and my lady of your arrival.’

Rose had hoped to escape to her rooms, have a hot bath and a hair-wash and a change of clothes before either of her parents saw her, but as she and Daisy mounted the stairs, Rose’s mother, Lady Polly, came out of the sitting-room on the first landing.

‘Rose!’ she exclaimed. ‘Come in here immediately.’

The earl was asleep in front of the fire, a newspaper over his face.

‘Wake up!’ shouted Lady Polly. ‘Rose is home!’

‘Eh, what? By Jove, girl, you do look a mess. Sit down.’

Rose sank into a chair. Daisy remained standing, very much aware that she was a servant once again.

‘What have you to say for yourself?’ demanded Lady Polly.

‘I am very grateful to you both for having allowed me to conduct the experiment of being a working woman,’ said Rose. ‘I feel I am now ready to return to society.’

‘And what caused this sudden change of heart?’

‘Daisy persuaded me it would be the proper thing to do.’

‘Indeed!’ Lady Polly smiled at Daisy for the first time. ‘Well, well. I always said she was a sensible girl.’

‘Yes, I am indebted to her.’ Daisy wondered what had prompted Rose to give her credit for something she had not done.

‘Are you sure nobody apart from Cathcart and Drevey knows of your escapade?’ asked her father.

‘No one else, Pa.’

‘Very well,’ said Lady Polly. ‘Go of to your rooms and change. We will talk about your future later.’

At that moment, old Mrs Jubbles was talking about Rose to Mr Jones, the baker, who was seated in her drawing-room, balancing a cup of tea on one chubby knee.

‘You see,’ Mrs Jubbles was saying, ‘it doesn’t seem right she should get away with it. People like Lady Rose have no right to go out and work and take bread out of the mouths of those that need it. Also, I believe that Captain Cathcart may propose to my Dora and this Lady Rose is getting in the way. I would like to get rid of her.’

The teacup rattled nervously on the baker’s knee. ‘You don’t mean . . .’