There was a frisson on the air in the ballroom that told Harriet instinctively that schemes were afoot. Who was behind them she didn't know - though she had overheard one of the newer debutantes mentioning the name of that ghastly woman from Witch Weekly - but even Harriet couldn't conceive of any society matron so desperate she would actually invite such a gossip-hungry shrew into their midst and allow her to perform some mischief. Perhaps old Ariel Lovegood might have done out of desperation but Merlin bless her heart she hadn't lived to see her daughters become such a disappointment, which was probably for the best.

Nursing her second glass of champagne Harriet remained as sharp-eyed as ever though she took pains to look entirely at ease, replying to Hermione's conversation gaily, quite safe in the knowledge that it didn't matter one whit if they were actually talking about the same thing as their minds were unquestionably as one. Her sister might have married off all her daughters - even the plain ones - but she still had a son and heir to settle so mutually she and Hermione had agreed to help each other.

Hemione had just mentioned the possibility of a sight-seeing excursion in Vienna - or possibly Venice - when simultaneously two sets of sky blue eyes settled on a young woman just finished with her dance who looked politely grateful but had clearly been left a little cold by her potential suitor. Harriet's smile grew and she promptly abandoned her sister to catch the girl at the drinks table.

"Miss ____! How charming to see you looking so well. Forgive me for catching you unawares but I wondered if you could help me settle a dispute with my sister?"

“Marvellous, my dear,” Harriet purred, glancing over her shoulder to widen her eyes minutely at her sister. They had developed a kind of code over the last few years, one that was hardly baffling in its complexity but in Harriet’s experience it was extraordinary how much one could get away with once a matron rather than a maid. When they had been young there had scarcely been a moment they weren’t being observed and yet not no one spotted the slight rise of Hermione’s eyebrows as she conceded that Harriet could have this one all to herself.

“Between the two of us I am quite sure she has already admitted defeat – poor darling, her memory isn’t what it used to be but I’m sure you know how belligerent sisters can be?”

Charming smile in place Harriet linked her arm though Miss Scamander’s and escorted them both to where rows of champagne glasses were just waiting to make the night more interesting.

“You have two of your own I believe?”

Two married, at least, but Harriet always found it worked to her advantage to be wrong at least once. Young ladies did so love to talk when they were given the right opening.

A working woman, though an oddity amongst her own set and here Harriet spared a thought for her poor niece’s forever tarnished reputation, was far from unheard of amongst the middle classes. Or so Harriet had been told. It was to this Miss Scamander’s credit then that she wanted something better for herself – a comfort and security in life that so many young ladies these days deemed to be beneath them was not to be sniffed at.

And every family had an odd little ewe that could easily be overlooked.

“There’s nothing at all wrong with a young lady forging her own path in life in my experience,” which was broadly true, but Harriet was rather glad that it was usually the less comely awkward ones that did so, leaving the poised beauties to marry and populate the world. “Of course it was never my desire in life to be a career woman. They so frequently seem to end up alone.”
Again she thought of her niece, fastidiously ignoring that said niece was currently in the company of a man much younger than herself.

“How do you occupy your time between balls, Miss Scamander? Forgive me,” she smiled conspiratorially. “But you don’t seem the sort to be content with lolling around aimlessly.”

The diplomatic answer made Harriet smile. She would never understand why a woman would want to do something as trivial as work, especially when one didn’t need to, and the thought of any of her boys courting with such a woman was utterly untenable, however she was a connoisseur of finding the grey area in any argument and Harriet found many things to like about a young woman who clearly loved her sister despite her flaws. And it wasn’t as though the other girl was an actress or anything too appalling.

“Then you simply must come riding with me,” Harriet offered, quite sincerely, having a sudden brainwave that seeing the young lady’s form upon a horse could only be a useful addition to the dossier she was compiling on her. Harriet herself had ridden horses since her youth – unlike brooms the effort it took to stay mounted did simply marvellous things for the thighs! – and the young woman’s ability to tame a beast could be eye-opening. “There’s a charming stable just outside the Wyre Forest that is a glorious hidden gem, I’d be thrilled to introduce you to the owners. Once the weather improves of course.”

“Then it’s settled,” Harriet proclaimed with delight. She was unsurprised at Miss Scamander’s agreement to the plan – given their respective social positions it would do the girl all manner of harm to turn down an offer from her - but Harriet was pleased with the evening’s work nevertheless. Miss Scamander was certainly a young woman with potential, though she had only recently come to Harriet’s attention when she had cast the net a little wider in the search for her next daughter-in-law, and while her social position was not all it could be she was otherwise perfectly desirable.

Harriet only hoped one of her boys would think so too.

“I shall write to you when spring arrives and the ground in better,” she said, smiling, eyes alighting upon Miss Lestrange and contemplating how to approach this much slipperier fish. “Adieu my dear, I hope you enjoy the evening,” and with a quick squeeze of Helga’s arm Harriet flitted away.