London - Edward Rutherfurd [566]
Maisie was rather short. The first thing Jenny noticed was that she had a small birthmark on her neck; the second that she had a red mouth and tiny, sharp-looking little teeth. She had a single housemaid, whom she worked to death, and another girl who came in to help. Her sitting room had antimacassars on every chair, a large potted plant in the window and, in pride of place on the wall, a painting of a mountain which, she explained, her father had bought in Brighton. Had Jenny ever been to Brighton? she politely asked as they sat before the meal. Jenny said she had not.
The dining room was rather small. There was a round table in the middle and Jenny found she could only just squeeze into her place.
“I always like a round table. This is the one we had when I was a child, though it went in a bigger room,” said Maisie. “Do you like a round table?” Jenny answered that she liked them well enough.
They had roast chicken, with all the trimmings, carved with a number of theatrical flourishes by Herbert.
Despite these high domestic standards, it was soon clear that Herbert and Maisie also prided themselves on being very jolly. Once a month, without fail, they went to a music hall. “And then I get the whole performance back from Herbert the next evening!” Maisie laughed.
“She’s no better with her drama society,” Herbert rejoined.
“Maisie has a lovely singing voice,” Percy added.
But their favourite activity in summer, Jenny learned, was to go for a bicycle ride on Sunday afternoons.
“Have you tried it?” Maisie asked her. “Herbert and I go for miles sometimes. I do recommend it.”
It had not escaped Jenny’s notice that Maisie’s eyes, which were sharp, had been looking thoughtfully at her clothes ever since she had arrived. When the chicken was done and a fruit pie had been served, she evidently thought it was time to make a few enquiries.
“So,” she said brightly, “Percy tells us you live at Hampstead.”
“That’s right,” said Jenny.
“It’s very nice up there.”
“Yes,” said Jenny. “I suppose it is.”
“Before we bought this house,” said Maisie, with just the tiniest extra clarity on the word “bought”, so that Jenny should understand their financial position, “we did think of living up there.” Just before she had married, Maisie had inherited the sum of five hundred pounds. It was not a fortune, but enough to buy the house and leave some over. She and Herbert were quite well set up, therefore. “Your family’s always lived up there?” she enquired.
Suddenly Jenny realized they didn’t know anything about her. Percy hadn’t told them. She looked at him for guidance, but all he did was smile. “No,” she said truthfully. “They don’t.”
Percy had never brought anyone to meet Herbert and Maisie before. He had supposed vaguely that they would all like each other. He realized of course that Jenny might not seem a great catch in Maisie’s eyes; but it had not occurred to him that she would feel it affected her. Maisie’s social aspirations were quite modest and with her house and her popular husband they were nearly satisfied. But if her husband’s brother, living nearby, went and married beneath them, what did that do to the name of Fleming in the locality? She had planned – it had been her little project – to find him a nice girl who would do credit to them all. She had to make sure this mysterious girl from Hampstead was safe.
“So what keeps you in Hampstead?” Maisie persisted, quietly.
“That’s what I keep asking her,”