The Family Game(9)
I hazard a smile, but immediately realize that given her statuesque demeanour, she might not be a big smiler – a suspicion quickly confirmed when she raises a pale hand in acknowledgement of my arrival, her face remaining perfectly still.
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.’
‘By Edward?’
She nods, and I can’t help the flush of happiness that comes from the thought of Edward saying those words.
‘We knew he had a new girlfriend. You,’ she continues. ‘And that you met in London. That you’re an author, which by the way is beyond fascinating to me – but we’ll put a pin in that and circle back; I have a million questions. But regarding Edward, we gave him space because we’ve made mistakes in the past. Forced issues that perhaps we shouldn’t have. Anyway, this time things seem very different. You seem very different to his previous girlfriends.’
I feel my heckles rise. I dread to think what it could be that makes me so very different. But she’s moved on before a sentient question can even form in my mind.
‘He’s never talked about anyone the way he talks about you. He has this certainty, that you’re the one.’
‘The one?’ I ask.
‘Uh-huh,’ she nods, then leans forward, her elbows on the linen of the tablecloth. ‘And he’s so much happier now. He came by the house a couple of weeks back to talk to us about everything, to get the ring. We hadn’t seen him – God – not since last Christmas. It was a tough one between him and Dad. They’re cut from the same cloth, you see. Before you, Edward was work, work, work. For years now. But since you, he’s mellowed. We thought he’d stopped trying, to find someone, that he’d end up an old bachelor. Then you.’ Her voice lowers conspiratorially once more. ‘I’m going to be honest with you, Harry, because I like you. I’m not sure how much you know, but things have not been great between Dad and Edward for a long while now. Dad pushes him, sometimes too far. It’s a lot of pressure and in the past, with Ed’s romantic choices, things haven’t worked out at all.’