The missing maid, p.14
The Missing Maid, page 14
‘Indeed,’ Lady Finchem observed, eyeing Oliver as though he was somehow mixed up in Rufus’s disgrace. ‘So useful to have friends in the legal business to call upon in times of need.’
Harry had heard enough. ‘Will you excuse me?’ she said, summoning up a smile that she hoped was less brittle than she felt. ‘I’ve just remembered something I need to discuss with Mama.’
Without waiting for a reply, she went to stand near her mother, who was regaling Mrs Goldsworthy with an apparently hilarious story about a mutual acquaintance. For the sake of form, Harry loitered for five minutes, nodding and smiling in the right places while Lord Finchem’s accusations whirled round and round her head. The moment she felt she could slip unnoticed from the room, she made good her escape. Briefly, she contemplated hurrying from the hall and running all the way to the woods, the way she had as a child, but the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. Perhaps a lie-down in the silence of her bedroom would help.
She was halfway up the stairs when she heard Oliver call her name from below. Glancing down, she saw with mild exasperation that he was following her. ‘What is it?’ she asked as he started up the stairs. ‘I’ve got a headache.’
‘I wanted to make sure you weren’t upset by that rubbish about Rufus,’ Oliver said once he was nearer. ‘He was never in any danger of being charged, you know.’
Harry rubbed her temples wearily. It hadn’t been a lie – she did have the start of a headache and she suspected it was about to get worse. ‘But he was drunk?’
Oliver pursed his lips as he considered the question. ‘He’d probably had more than he should. But it was the others he was with who were the instigators. They tried to climb up the statue of Eros in Piccadilly Circus but ran for it when a policeman caught them. Rufus didn’t run fast enough, unfortunately.’
She couldn’t deny it sounded very much like her little brother. ‘He’s lucky you were able to sort everything out.’
He shook his head. ‘They knew they didn’t have enough to show the magistrate. At worst, they’d have let him sleep it off in a cell overnight.’
‘A cell!’ The thought made Harry’s stomach clench. ‘I didn’t even know he was in London. Where had he been?’
‘One of the new nightclubs in Soho,’ Oliver said. ‘But don’t beat yourself up – your brothers had no idea he was in town, either, until I turned up at Lawrence’s apartment with a very chastened Rufus in tow.’
‘That doesn’t make me feel any better,’ she said, sighing. ‘How did Lord Finchem find out? I don’t imagine he was one of the revellers.’
‘No, but Percy Finchem was in the crowd – he saw everything.’ Oliver shook his head. ‘Watch yourself around those two. They’re not quite what they pretend to be.’
If Harry’s head hadn’t been thumping, she might have asked what he meant by that but all she wanted now was the quiet of her room. ‘Well, I hope the experience scared him into behaving better. I bet Mama was livid when she found out.’
Oliver grimaced. ‘So I believe. That’s why he’s not here this weekend; she’s packed him off to your great-uncle in Scotland to contemplate his actions.’
The thought almost made Harry smile. Great-Uncle Douglas lived in a ramshackle castle in the heart of the Highlands. There was no danger of Rufus running afoul of the law there, unless he took up poaching. ‘Rather him than me,’ she said.
‘Absolutely,’ Oliver agreed, then fixed her with a direct look. ‘So what was all that about Lady Finchem’s household staff? I hope you haven’t been digging around.’
‘Of course not,’ Harry said, raising her chin. ‘Well, maybe a bit but it was worth it.’ She glanced at the empty hall below and lowered her voice. ‘Polly doesn’t work there any more. Don’t you think that’s odd?’
He frowned. ‘Maids move on all the time. I expect there’s a perfectly good explanation.’
‘Or perhaps she’s done what she went there to do,’ Harry suggested. ‘Which was to set Mildred up for the considerably more substantial Lord Robertson job.’
‘We cannot know that,’ Oliver said flatly. ‘Anyone could have planted the bracelet.’
‘But Polly is the most likely suspect,’ Harry insisted, wishing she could share what she’d learned from Beth. ‘You have to admit it’s suspicious that she’s left the Finchem household.’
Oliver gave her an impatient look. ‘No, I don’t. I hope you’re not planning to interrogate Lady Finchem about this, Harry. I thought we’d agreed to leave Mildred’s case to the police.’
She threw up her hands in frustration. ‘Can you at least tell me what’s happening, then? Have they found any evidence that she’s telling the truth?’
‘No,’ Oliver admitted. ‘Like us, they suspect an organised gang but if it is the Forty Elephants, they’ve covered their tracks well.’
Again, Harry thought of Beth’s observations about Polly’s family and their roots in South London. It couldn’t be a coincidence but, as Oliver had pointed out, there was no concrete evidence. And Polly’s disappearance made it more difficult for Harry to prove the connection. ‘So what happens next?’
‘I’m in contact with the detectives working on the case,’ he said. ‘We’ll have to wait for them to make a breakthrough. And in the meantime, I’m optimistic Mildred will give a good account of herself at trial. She’s polite, well-mannered, and of previous good character, aside from the Finchem matter. I think a jury will like her.’
The idea of poor Mildred having to explain herself in the dock made Harry shiver. ‘It can’t come to that. We have to find out the truth before then.’
‘No, Harry,’ Oliver said, his expression darkening. ‘I told you before, this isn’t something you should be involved with.’
‘Why?’ Harry exclaimed with a flash of irritation. ‘Because I’m a woman? I can look after myself, believe it or not.’
He exhaled sharply. ‘You have no idea what kind of people you’re dealing with.’
‘I’m not afraid,’ she snapped, folding her arms.
‘Then you should be,’ he whipped back. ‘Gangs like these aren’t afraid to use force to protect themselves. If you cross the wrong person, it won’t be just your job you lose. It could be your life.’
The vehemence in his voice made her pause. ‘You’re trying to scare me.’
‘Because you’re not listening!’ Running a hand through his hair, he softened his voice. ‘As I said when we left Holloway, I don’t want anything to happen to you.’
‘Because you still see me as Lawrence’s kid sister when I’m so much more now,’ she argued, but even as she spoke, Beth’s warning echoed in her head. Have a care for your safety. There are dangerous people around. ‘And I’m getting better at disguises.’
‘You need to let this go, Harry,’ Oliver said, as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘You’re not R. K. Moss, or whatever made-up name you came up with, and you aren’t working for Sherlock Holmes. This isn’t a game.’
The insinuation that she was playing at detective work caused her temper to flare even more. ‘Is that why you came down here? To make sure I was being a good girl and doing as I was told?’
He sighed. ‘No, I came to see you and your family, because I like being here. Nothing more sinister than that.’
His words took the wind out of her sails. ‘Oh.’
‘I’m not trying to oppress you, Harry,’ he went on. ‘I’m trying to keep you safe.’
Deep down, she knew it was true but it didn’t make her feel any less patronised. ‘Well, I’m glad you came, even if you are being an insufferable prig.’ She eyed him reproachfully. ‘I do understand how serious this is, you know. An innocent girl’s future is at stake.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘Look, I appreciate you’re trying to help and I’m very glad you brought Mildred’s situation to my attention. But it really would be best to leave things to the professionals now.’
By which he meant men, Harry thought, but there was nothing to be gained by losing her temper again. Instead, she began to climb the stairs once more. ‘I’m going for a nap. See you at dinner.’
Harry lay on her bed for what felt like an age, the conversation spinning in her head, mingling with everything she had learned so far. Oliver’s dismissiveness irked her more than anything, even though she knew it was born from concern for her wellbeing. But she had made the link to Mrs Haverford’s Bureau and she had uncovered the similarity between Mildred and Dora that was at the heart of the case, details she instinctively felt to be important. And she couldn’t shake the feeling that the police did not appear to be trying very hard – if they had made even a modicum of progress, she might have felt more confident in leaving matters to them. But there was no fresh evidence, no hope that Mildred might be proved innocent, and that meant Harry could not do as Oliver demanded. As she had told him, a young girl’s future hung in the balance and Harry could not stand by and let her take the blame.
After tossing and turning for a few more minutes, she huffily gave up on sleep. It galled her to admit it but Oliver had not been wrong about everything – she could not risk directly investigating the crime. Her family would be mortified, for a start, and their embarrassment would only be the start of Harry’s problems; she would most likely find herself banished to Scotland to keep Rufus company. But it did not follow that she could not investigate at all, however; she simply needed to be cleverer, which meant following in the footsteps of Holmes and expanding her repertoire of disguises. Luckily for her, she had an almost endless supply of costumes at her disposal.
Leaving her room and making as though she was going for a bracing walk, Harry doubled back to the barn where the sacks of old clothes were waiting to be redistributed through her grandmother’s charity. She began to sort through the clothing, her mind abuzz with possibilities. Sarah Smith needed a different coat and hat, but not fresh boots, and perhaps there were some black items she could wear when she needed to blend into the shadows. Harry contemplated a pair of men’s trousers thoughtfully; with a belt they might stay up and they were certainly more practical than skirts, although her mother would faint clean away at the mere suggestion.
Mindful of the time, Harry made her selections and arranged the sacks exactly as they had been before. The hardest thing was going to be smuggling her finds back to London without anyone noticing – Oliver, in particular, would be watching her closely and might pick up on an overstuffed bag. She would have to leave some of her own clothes behind to make room. But it was a small sacrifice if it helped to set Mildred free, and Harry was more determined than ever to do just that.
12
At dinner, Harry found herself seated between Percy and James Finchem, an arrangement so blatant in its intentions that it made her blush just to think of it. Sebastian had not fared any better – he was squeezed between Maud and Rosalind Goldsworthy. Further up the table, their mother regarded them with matriarchal satisfaction. Swallowing a curse, Harry steeled herself for the charm offensive and tried to ignore Oliver’s sympathetic smile from directly opposite. Was it a coincidence that he was sitting well within earshot of everything she might say? Surely he hadn’t sweet-talked her mother into seating him nearby?
But it turned out Harry had misjudged the entertainment value of the Finchem brothers. As dinner progressed, she found herself in equal parts charmed and amused. On her left, James took every opportunity to flirt, while on her right, Percy consistently shot his efforts down with deadly humour. They were, she decided as the exquisite main course of pheasant was served by the household staff, quite the double act.
‘You will have to excuse my brother,’ Percy said, after a particularly earnest compliment had made Harry’s cheeks grow warm. ‘He tries to make up for his terrible looks by blinding a woman with outrageous flattery.’
Harry laughed. ‘I see. So I’m not prettier than a whole garden full of roses?’
She took some satisfaction in seeing Percy hesitate, if only for a moment. ‘Even a stopped clock is right twice a day,’ he said expansively. ‘It doesn’t mean you should buy it for your mantelpiece.’
James leaned closer. ‘I’m afraid Percy was dropped on his head as a baby. He talks utter nonsense most of the time. Please accept my heartfelt apologies.’
Harry glanced back and forth between them. ‘Are you always so terrible to each other?’
Percy grinned. ‘Always. He makes it so easy.’
James reached out to top up Harry’s wine glass, an action that caused Oliver to frown. Although seemingly engrossed in conversation with Rosalind Goldsworthy, Harry had no doubt he had been following the chatter across the table and she had the distinct impression he didn’t like either of the Finchem brothers much. Whereas Harry herself was finding them quite refreshing.
‘My mother tells me you work in London,’ James said. ‘Something to do with banking.’
‘That’s right,’ Harry replied, taking a sip of wine. ‘I like to stay busy. Do you work?’
‘Only on his golfing swing,’ Percy observed. ‘But he’ll tell you he’s in the shipping business to try and impress you.’
James smiled. ‘It’s the family company, dates back to 1741. We import and export all over the world. If you’re ever in need of silk for a dress, let me know.’
‘Don’t tell my mother that,’ Harry advised. ‘She will never leave you alone.’
‘I’d be happy to help,’ James said. ‘Especially if it gives me a chance to speak to you.’
There was a snort from Percy. ‘I work in the family business too. If you want to avoid my brother’s toe-curling efforts to woo you, then take my card.’
Harry wasn’t sure whether it was the wine or the effect of being conversationally bounced between James and Percy but she found her head was spinning by the time dessert was served. After coffee, everyone began to drift towards the drawing room for brandy. There was talk of a card game but Harry excused herself and slipped through the tall double doors that led to a paved balcony overlooking the gardens. The night was blessedly cool, sending goosebumps blossoming across her skin even as she drank in the chilly air. The gardens were blanketed in darkness but she knew the view well enough to imagine the topiary hedges and fountain that sat at their heart. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted, punctuating the faint clink of crockery from beyond the doors as the staff cleared the dining room table. Harry absorbed the quiet, even as the fresh air intensified the fizz of alcohol in her veins. She couldn’t stay out here for long, but perhaps it would soothe her frazzled nerves enough to rejoin the fray.
Gradually, the clinks and rattles subsided and Harry guessed the dining room was empty. She was just about to go back inside when the door creaked behind her and a figure stepped out. At first, they were silhouetted in the light and she couldn’t make out who it was. The height told her it was a man – one of her brothers, perhaps, sent to find her? But then the figure spoke and she recognised Percy Finchem’s playful tone. ‘I wondered where you’d escaped to,’ he said, pulling out a silver cigarette case and offering it to her. ‘Are you hiding from James, by any chance?’
She shook her head, both at the question and the offer to smoke. ‘Not at all. I just needed some air.’
He lit his cigarette, the flare of yellow briefly illuminating his face. He had the same brooding good looks as James, the same straight nose and strong jaw, but she now realised his eyes were blue instead of brown like his brother’s. Which of his parents had given him those? she wondered, then realised she was staring. A little flustered, she took refuge in small talk. ‘Do you spend much time in the country?’
‘Not if I can help it. I don’t mind the occasional visit, especially when the company is so captivating.’ He paused to blow out a long stream of smoke. ‘But I can’t see myself ever living in the family pile. There’s nothing to do, apart from drink, and I can do that in the city, where at least they know how to make a decent Manhattan.’
Harry couldn’t totally disagree – she had left the comforts of Abinger Hall for the bright lights of London when she was only a little over twenty-one. But unlike Percy, she could see herself returning to Abinger when she was older. Her Aunt Valeria had done exactly that after refusing to marry and she seemed perfectly happy with her horses. ‘It’s not for everyone,’ she agreed.
‘Luckily for me, I won’t inherit the old place,’ Percy went on. ‘That’s my brother’s doom and he’s welcome to it.’ He fixed her with a speculative look. ‘Have you ever been to New York? Now that’s a city.’
Harry considered the daily newspaper articles about America, where prohibition was causing all kinds of unintended consequences. ‘Not much chance of a cocktail there.’
Percy gave her a sly grin. ‘Oh, but there is. You just need to know where to go. And there’s something deliciously dangerous about a speakeasy. It makes one feel alive, knowing the door could be broken down at any moment.’
There was something in his voice that surprised Harry, a darker edge that belied his amiable exterior. She cocked her head. ‘That, and the chance that the alcohol might kill you.’
He laughed. ‘Of course. What’s the point of living if you always play it safe?’
Spoken by someone who had never had to worry where his next meal was coming from, Harry thought dryly. But she could hardly point the finger there – she’d never had to face hardship either and besides, she wasn’t sure it really mattered. You didn’t have to be wealthy to understand the thrill of danger. ‘I think there’s a time and a place for a calculated risk,’ she said, as Oliver’s insistence that she stop her investigations floated across her mind. ‘Sometimes the end justifies the means.’
‘You’re so right,’ Percy murmured and she was startled to realise how close he was. ‘I mean, aren’t you taking a risk just by being out here alone with me, under the stars?’
Her heart thudded in her chest as she met his gaze and it wasn’t only the truth of his words that made it beat faster. She could smell his cologne mingled with the smoke from his cigarette and it belatedly occurred to her that perhaps James was not the most seductive of the Finchem brothers after all. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Am I?’
