Page 29 of The Missing Maid
Harry smiled politely. ‘You are indeed and we are very glad to have you.’ She turned to her mother, who was hovering at her elbow. ‘Did you mention a drink? Gin would be lovely.’
As Evelyn left her, Harry risked a glance across at Oliver. He was now talking to her uncle, since her father was busy mixing drinks, but she could see his gaze flicking towards her every now and then. She turned to Lady Finchem once more. ‘Won’t you introduce me to your sons?’
Perhaps it was her mother’s constant match-making efforts but Harry always felt the dragging weight of expectation when meeting eligible men of around her own age and, from the slightly pained smiles of James and Percy Finchem when they were introduced, she guessed they felt the same. James was the elder, although Harry doubted there was more than a year or two in it. He took her hand and kissed it, a gesture that wasso extravagantly suave it took all Harry’s self-composure not to laugh. ‘How charming to meet you, Miss White. I’ve heard so much about you.’
‘And I you,’ she replied, omitting to add that most of what she had heard concerned his future income. ‘Such a pleasure to meet you at last.’
He smiled. ‘And may I say, the reports of your beauty don’t do you justice. I’m quite captivated.’
His brother groaned. ‘Don’t mind James. He thinks he’s the hero in a Jane Austen novel.’ He held out a hand. ‘I’m Percy. Pleased to meet you.’
And now Harry did laugh. ‘Lovely to meet you too, Percy.’
She was spared from any further displays of sibling rivalry by the arrival of her mother with a tall gin and tonic. ‘Here you are, Harry. Now, I must just go and attend to the Goldsworthys.’
She bustled off, leaving Harry once more with the Finchems. James was regarding her curiously. ‘Are you really called Harry or is it a nickname?’
‘My birth name is Harriet but everyone calls me Harry,’ she explained, and took a long sip of her drink. ‘Are you always James or might your friends dare to call you Jim?’
Lady Finchem made a faintly horrified sound. ‘We do not abbreviate our names as a rule.’
Percy sighed. ‘I can’t help wishing you’d gone for the longer version of mine, though. Percival sounds terribly noble, don’t you think, Harry?’
‘Quite Arthurian,’ she agreed, and turned to James. ‘Whereas yours is more royal.’
A movement by the fireplace caught her eye. It appeared Oliver had concluded his conversation with Uncle Tobias and had now turned to watch the scene in the window. Suspecting he would come over in a moment, Harry fixed Lady Finchem with a puzzled look. ‘I do believe your housemaid had an unusualname. What was it now – something Shakespearean, I think. Paulina?’
There was a frozen silence. ‘Are you referring to Polly?’ the older woman replied at last, her tone dripping with disapproval. ‘I hardly think that is a name worthy of Shakespeare.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Harry exclaimed with a tinkling laugh. ‘How silly of me – of course it was Polly. Just like in the nursery rhyme.’
Percy shook his head. ‘Polly doesn’t put the kettle on any more,’ he said. ‘She left a few weeks ago.’
The revelation was so unexpected that it almost made Harry choke on her gin. Hastily, she covered her mouth, arranging her features into an expression of polite sympathy. ‘How inconvenient. I do hope your housekeeper has been able to find a replacement?’
But whether she had or hadn’t was overshadowed by Oliver’s jovial greetings. He shook Lord Finchem’s hand, then those of his sons, and Harry was entirely unsurprised to note he seemed to be well acquainted with the family. ‘Has Harry been keeping you entertained?’ he asked.
‘She certainly entertains me,’ James said, with an admiring glance that almost made Harry blush.
‘See?’ Percy complained in mock-embarrassment. ‘I can’t take him anywhere.’
On another occasion, Harry might have been tempted to flirt back but her mind was too busy unravelling the Finchem household gossip. So Polly no longer worked for them… Had she served her purpose there and been moved on by Mrs Haverford? she wondered. Or was there another reason for her sudden departure? But she could hardly ask with Oliver looming over her. She would just have to wait for another opportunity to find out more.
‘Will the baron be joining us?’ Lord Finchem asked loudly. ‘I’ve got some important parliamentary matters to discuss with him.’
‘And I would like to speak with the baroness,’ Lady Finchem added. ‘They’re seen so rarely in London these days. Are they both well?’
Harry thought of her grandparents, both in their early eighties and showing no signs of slowing down. It was true that they were not regular visitors to London, however; Baron Abinger attended the House of Lords when duty required but had long since delegated the family’s society obligations to Harry’s father. ‘If old age is good for anything, it’s not having to suffer fools prattling on about nothing,’ he had declared on more than one occasion.
Baroness Abinger was more gracious in company but was kept busy by her charitable endeavours. She was content to let her daughter-in-law fly the Abinger flag in London, which Evelyn did with enthusiasm. Harry had sought each of her grandparents out not long after arriving at the hall that morning, only to learn from their housekeeper, Mrs Pilbeam, that her grandfather had gone clay pigeon shooting on the west side of the estate. When she’d remarked upon his absence to Seb, he’d smirked. ‘Grandpapa’s no fool. He can’t stand Henry Finchem, says he’s a dreadful old bore.’
She’d had better luck with her grandmother, whom she had found in the cluttered but cosy room the baroness used as a study. ‘It’s always lovely to see you, Harry,’ she had said, barely glancing up from her desk. ‘But I simply must finish these letters. Be a dear and tell your mother I’ll see our guests at dinner.’
In answer to Lady Finchem’s nosiness, Harry adopted a diplomatic smile. ‘They are both very well, thank you, butunfortunately taken up with unavoidable estate business at the moment. I’m sure you will see them this evening.’
‘Where’s Rufus?’ Percy asked suddenly. ‘He’s always good fun. I rather hoped he’d be here.’
It was a good question, Harry thought, glancing around the room. Where was her youngest brother? Lawrence was sitting on the arm of the sofa beside Sebastian, chatting amiably with the Goldsworthy girls. Her mother was deep in conversation with Mrs Goldsworthy and her father was mixing Mr Goldsworthy another whisky. How had Rufus managed to wriggle out of their mother’s summons? ‘I have absolutely no idea,’ Harry said truthfully. ‘Are you friends?’
