Page 6 of The Missing Maid
It had been clear from the letters that Esme Longstaff was well educated. Perhaps there was a private tutor involved, Harry thought. ‘I understand,’ she said, perching on the edge of a sofa and reaching into her handbag for a notepad and pen. ‘What happened next?’
‘We don’t know.’ Mrs Longstaff regarded her from her seat on the opposite sofa, her eyes already damp with tears. ‘Mildred suddenly stopped writing and our letters to her were returned. When Mr Longstaff went to the address, we were told she’d been let go. For stealing!’
Her voice rose sharply on the final word and she pressed her hand to her mouth as though to prevent a sob from escaping. At the fireplace, Mr Longstaff made a restless gesture. ‘It wasn’t true – it couldn’t be. I told the housekeeper, Mildred has her head screwed on – she’d never take anything that wasn’t hers. But she wouldn’t listen.’
‘What did they say had been stolen?’ Harry asked.
‘Some jewellery – a necklace or something,’ he said dismissively. ‘But it couldn’t have been Mildred. She’s not a thief. The job was worth more to her than a bit of jewellery.’
Harry nodded. He sounded stout in his belief, although it wouldn’t be the first time a parent had defended their offspring against the evidence. ‘Of course not,’ she said soothingly. ‘Did they involve the police at all?’
Mrs Longstaff closed her eyes. ‘It would have been better if they had – at least we’d have someone else who would have seen her before she disappeared. But they just sent her packing, didn’t want any trouble. I don’t know why she didn’t come home.’
It was a shame she hadn’t, Harry thought, but there might be any number of explanations for that – pride, embarrassment, a determination to make her own way in the city. Stranger still that the police had not been summoned, which suggested toHarry that the stolen item hadn’t been especially valuable, or that it had been recovered and Mildred’s employer had preferred to avoid any fuss. Either explanation was possible.
Her musings were interrupted by Esme, returning with a tray of tea. She laid it on one of the tables and turned an enquiring look Harry’s way. ‘Milk, no sugar, thank you,’ Harry said, then returned her attention to Mr and Mrs Longstaff. ‘And you’ve heard nothing more from Mildred?’
‘Nothing,’ Mrs Longstaff murmured. ‘We tried to find her – Mr Longstaff scoured half the city and we even put an advert in the newspaper, appealing for information, but nothing useful came to light. It’s as though she vanished.’
Harry thought of the London she knew, vast and sprawling and growing month by month. Behind the gloss of the bright lights lay a warren of dark alleyways. It would be easy for a scared country girl to take a wrong turn and find herself somewhere undesirable. The question then would be how lost she might become.
Esme handed Harry a cup and saucer. ‘I wrote to her employer, begging for more information, but it was hopeless.’ Her lip curled. ‘The domestic staff are beneath their notice, unless their tea arrives cold or the fire isn’t lit.’
Realising she could not hold her cup and make notes, Harry slid the saucer discreetly onto a nearby table and held her pen over the notepad. ‘Her employer, yes. Who was that?’
‘Lord and Lady Finchem,’ Esme said. ‘They live in Mayfair. I can give you the address if you’d like it.’
‘Yes, please,’ Harry replied, keeping her face composed even though her mind was racing. She was sure her mother had mentioned a Lady Finchem in the past – it had to be the same one. ‘Do you have a photograph of Mildred? It might help me to find her.’
Esme finished pouring the tea for her parents and rose. ‘Of course. Although you’ll probably recognise her by her hair – it’s red, like mine.’
She handed over a grainy black and white photograph that showed two girls, perhaps in their early teens, both of whom bore a striking resemblance to Mrs Longstaff. One was taller – Harry guessed that must be Mildred – but there wasn’t much difference otherwise. They were in a garden, their heads tilted towards each other, and smiling as though sharing a secret joke. It was a lovely picture, and reinforced the sisters’ bond, but it was too old and indistinct to give Harry much more than a general idea of Mildred’s appearance. ‘Thank you,’ she said, handing the photograph back. ‘Are her eyes green too?’
‘A family trait,’ Mr Longstaff put in. ‘My grandfather used to say we had a chip of the Emerald Isle in our hearts that lit up our eyes.’
Irish ancestry, Harry noted to herself in case it had any future relevance. ‘Did Mildred ever mention any friends in London?’ she asked. ‘Anyone she might have gone to?’
Esme shook her head. ‘She hadn’t been there long. There wasn’t anyone she spoke about in her letters, just the girls she worked with and we couldn’t speak to any of them. The housekeeper wouldn’t let us.’
Harry frowned. ‘But you went to the police – afterwards, I mean. Didn’t they make enquiries?’
At this, Esme’s eyes flashed. ‘Fat lot of use they were – took our names and nodded and said they’d look into it, but they never had any news when Papa rang them. Just said enquires were ongoing. That’s why we put the advert in the newspaper.’
‘Yes, I was going to ask about that,’ Harry said, glancing at her notepad. ‘Did you have many responses?’
‘None that brought us nearer to finding Mildred,’ Mr Longstaff growled in disgust. ‘Plenty of swindlers, takingadvantage of our terrible situation and more than half of them were women. I suppose we should have expected it, but we hoped someone might have seen her.’
‘And none of them had?’ Harry asked.
Mr Longstaff uttered a derisive snort. ‘All of them claimed they had but if everyone who came forward had seen Mildred in Mayfair that day, there wouldn’t have been room to swing a cat.’
Harry frowned. ‘How did you establish they weren’t telling the truth?’
Esme Longstaff leaned forward. ‘The advert referred to a young woman in distress and gave the date Mildred left Lady Finchem’s employment,’ she said. ‘It asked for information about her movements in the Mayfair area, but I kept something back. I deliberately did not include the colour of Mildred’s hair in the description. If the respondents could not tell us that detail, we knew they were lying.’
Harry eyed the girl with renewed respect. Her shrewdness and self-assurance belied her tender years. ‘Well done,’ she said. ‘And none of them happened upon Mildred’s hair colour by chance?’
‘None,’ Mr Longstaff said flatly but Harry felt a subtle shift in the room, an intangible sense that something was being left unsaid.
