Free Song From the Sea by Katherine Kingsley Page B

unceasingly for seven days. “I'm not to blame for her missing her ship. She's bound to write and let us know when she's rebooked her passage. After all, we have all her belongings. She can't go long without those.” He turned the page of his newspaper and began to study the racing forms.
    “But what do you
think
, Harold?” Mildred marched across the room and stood in front of him, her hands planted on her bony hips. “I would be most obliged if you'd look at me when I speak to you. Really, you can be most irritating. Your future is at stake and all you can do is bury your nose in the papers.”
    Harold didn't respond, busily making a mental list of the horses he planned to back. It was a good thing his mother didn't know about the tidy nest egg he'd made by borrowing from the household accounts for the last five years.
    “Pay attention, boy!” Mildred swatted Harold's knee with her fan. “If you want to do something useful, you can find a way to open those trunks. Maybe there's a clue inside as to where she's gone. I couldn't find a single thing inside her valises except hopelessly outdated clothing—one would think her father would have spent some of his fortune on attiring the girl correctly—but perhaps the trunks contain something more fitting for an affianced girl.” She tapped her finger against the corner of her cheek. “At the very least there might be a letter.”
    Harold lowered the newspaper and glared back at his mother. “I don't think Miss Melbourne would have left a letter inside a trunk explaining that she was planning on missing her sailing. She probably decided to spend a little extra time in Paris or some such place and simply forgot to inform us.”
    “That's what I meant, you fool, a letter from someone whom she might have stopped off to visit. It's the name and address I want.” Mildred tightly pursed her lips. “If your father was still alive, he'd do as I told him. He wouldn't just sit there like a useless bump on a log. Honestly, Harold, anyone would think you didn't want the girl's fortune. I'm depending on it, you know—we could buy a large property far more suitable to our position and live extremely comfortably. My nerves are taxed from scrimping and saving.”
    “Yes, Mama,” Harold said obediently, wishing she would cease her whining. What did she expect him to do? Go haring off to Europe to try to find the girl? “As I said, she'll show up sooner or later and then I can conclude matters. I can't marry her for another two months as it is, not until my mourning period is finished. Don't trouble yourself so. Once we're married you'll have everything you want.”
    “Everything I
should
have had. If your father had been a more practical man and pursued his business affairs with diligence, we wouldn't be in this predicament. How he managed to lose his entire inheritance I'll never know.”
    “If Adam had been a gentleman and made a proper settlement on us in return for all we did for him, we wouldn't be in this predicament, either. As it is, I am forced to marry a girl who Papa said was raised with none of the usual social graces.” He regarded his mother sourly. “I am making an enormous sacrifice, Mama. Miss Melbourne will probably turn out to be an embarrassment to me and all my friends.”
    Mildred smoothed down the front of her black bombazine dress and picked an imagined speck of lint from it.
    “I should think that you'd be a little more grateful, Harold.” She spoke petulantly. “Your father and I came up with the perfect solution to put us back in funds and you only complain. The girl can be managed once I get my hands on her. All you have to do is to bring her to the point, and I expect you to put some serious effort into courting her, for she is under no legal obligation to marry you. All we have is an agreement between your father and hers that the match would suit.”
    “I do
know
that, Mama,” Harold said impatiently.
    “Yes, but she might not,” Mildred