When they finally reached their destination and were shown to their rooms, Daisy waited for the maids to unpack their clothes until she said to Rose, ‘I have the most wonderful news!’

‘What’s that?’

‘Becket has received permission from the captain to marry me. He is going to set us up in business.’

Rose looked at her in dismay. ‘You will be leaving me?’

‘Yes, but you’ve got Turner,’ said Daisy, made cheerfully selfish by the good news. ‘Aren’t you going to congratulate me?’

‘Of course, Daisy. I am sad because I do not want to lose you.’

‘I’ll be around. Oh, I did so hope the captain would come this weekend and bring Becket. What’s up with the man?’

‘It’s my fault. He . . . he tried to kiss me and at that very moment a steel came loose in my corset and dug into me; I made a face and he stormed off in a temper.’

‘Then write to him and tell him what happened!’

‘I cannot. Ladies do not talk about stays.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sakes, tell him you had a bad twinge of indigestion.’

‘He shouldn’t have tried to kiss me anyway. It is an engagement in name only.’

Daisy looked at her with concern. ‘If you go on the way you’re going, you’ll soon have no engagement at all. Off to India and without me. Don’t be so stubborn. Write to him. Tomorrow’s Saturday. You could catch the Saturday post.’

Rose smiled. ‘I’ll do it.’

Before dinner, she sat down and wrote a simple apology, making it as light-hearted as she could.

Then she called Turner and the long slow process of getting changed and dressed for dinner began.

There were various other guests at dinner and Rose was seated next to a Major Guy Alexander, who rattled away pleasantly about all sorts of society gossip. He turned out to know Harry but did not comment on his absence.

After dinner, the ladies retired to the drawing-room to leave the gentlemen to their port.

The drawing-room was overheated and Rose quietly opened the French windows and let herself out onto the terrace. The dining-room was next to the drawing-room and she could hear the sound of laughter. Then she thought she heard Harry’s name and moved along the terrace and stood listening. Major Alexander was talking.

‘You were asking about Cathcart. I know why the sly dog isn’t here.’

‘Why?’ someone asked.

‘Ran into Jimmy Frent-Winston this morning. Told me he and Cathcart had gone to The Empire to pick up some lovelies at the Promenade. He said when he turned round, Cathcart had obviously got himself a lady and cleared off. Fast worker, hey?’

Rose turned away and walked down the steps to the garden, her breathing shallow. She knew about the Promenade because the campaign to get it closed down had been in all the newspapers.

It struck her with more force than ever before that ladies such as herself were merely the toys of society and expected to behave as such and turn a blind eye when the men went philandering. They had to dress up in clothes as stiff, elaborate and formal as any Japanese geisha and sit around and look decorative. They were not supposed to have any strong views on anything. They certainly would never be allowed to vote.