"Arthur, please have Hillary come to the music room," the matron of the house announced to her butler.
"Madam? Hillary is not home."
The lady looked affronted, "What do you mean, she's not home?"
"She left a little after ten, she left a note for you on your writing desk."
The richly dressed woman took the time to step behind her desk, on it, a note with a few words. "I decided to go to the beach, I'll be home for dinner, Hillary."
The woman huffed, how she hated her daughter to be independent. She would ruin her hair with that salt water, and don't even get her started on the people her daughter would meet.
"Arthur!" she called.
"Yes Madam."
"Go and see if you can find her." She huffed. "What young people now a days do."
"Yes Madam."
Arthur took his leave and headed out the back of the house, passing through the kitchen. "Be careful Melody, Madam is a fowl mood."
"That why Hillary went out. She knew her mother was up to something." "I've been instructed to go find her."
"Oh and go and leave me with * her *"
Arthur touched her arm and headed out the door, hoping he could find Hillary before Madam had an type of episode in the house.