My already queasy stomach tightens. This could be a long tea. Or a very short one. I’m suddenly reminded of Matilda’s helpful phone call to my publisher yesterday and how easy it is for a Holbeck to make things happen or stop them dead.
Matilda’s waiter unobtrusively pulls out a chair for me as I arrive before smoothly exiting.
Matilda’s eyes play over me as I settle and take her in: her crisp white shirt, that immaculate tailoring, those pillowy red lips and the two perfect emerald earrings twinkling through her flame hair. From her unwavering expression, I cannot help but wonder, for the first time, if Edward might have outright lied to me when he said his family couldn’t wait to meet me.
She stretches out an alabaster hand across the table and then, to my unending relief, cracks a giddy smile. ‘Harriet. It’s so wonderful to meet you,’ her voice a bubbling brook of warmth and friendliness. I take her cool hand in mine and shake. ‘Argh,’ she continues, animatedly. ‘I’m supposed to be on my best behaviour but – wait, do I call you Harriet? Harry? What do you like? Harry, right?’ I nod and she barrels on. ‘Great. So, Harry, I’m supposed to be on my best behaviour, representing the family, yah-da yah-da, but can I just get out of the way how excited I am about all of this. You and Edward. Edward settling down. With you. This is so good. Your move, the engagement, all of it. He’s a tough little nut to crack but looks like you cracked him. He’s had us in the dark completely. But then he barrels in asking for gran-gran-Mitzi’s ring. And here we all are.’ She takes a heady breath in through her nose before letting out a sigh. ‘It is so great that we are finally doing this. Meeting. Edward is such a grouch for keeping you to himself this whole time.’ She pauses, her beautiful features resetting into their statuesque stillness.
She’s not the person I expected at all. She’s easy and affable with a girlish ebullience that instantly dissolves my preconceptions. It’s hard to believe she’d make a power move like cancel my publisher meeting through anything other than presumed helpfulness. Unless this is all part of some elaborate act. But right now, with Matilda sitting in front of me, I honestly can’t imagine us not becoming fast friends.
‘Matilda, it is so wonderful to finally meet you too. I’ve heard so much about you from Edward—’
‘All good I hope?’ she smirks.
‘Um-hum.’ I answer my pitch a little higher than rings true. ‘Yeah, yes, all good. Well, you know…’
‘Don’t worry. I know Edward, very well. He can be sensitive about his relationships. And about the family.’ She sobers slightly, her tone turning serious. ‘But, rightly so. I understand why completely. He’s had problems in the past with relationships and with Dad.’ Yes, Robert Davison Holbeck. Edward’s father. Now there is a terrifying man if ever there was one. Terrifying in the way rich attractive men always tend to be. There are rumours of the type of man he might have been in his youth, the type of man he still might be. Allegations, payoffs, blackmail, business dealings in countries where there shouldn’t be and insider trading. But never anything more than allegations. His ability to ride things out seemingly unstoppable.
‘But, you know, it’s hard, for any of us, to find a partner who’s okay with all this,’ she adds, conspiratorially gesturing to the air around her. ‘At least that’s my excuse for being perpetually single,’ she smiles, lightening the mood. ‘Hey, shall we order? I could eat a horse, hooves and all.’
Tea poured, Jenga-stacked truffle-infused finger sandwiches and French confections towering beside us, I force down my nausea and steer the conversation back to me and Edward. I need to get a feel for the lay of the land in the Holbeck camp.
‘You said the ring was the first you’d heard about us. Is that really true?’ I ask tentatively. ‘Edward didn’t mention me at all?’
‘Oh gosh, no. Of course, we all knew about you. It’s impossible to keep things quiet in this family. We just weren’t allowed to ask him about it. We were told in no uncertain terms to back off. That you might be the one.’