As Thomas led Adi down the stone steps through the garden, she was wondering if she might get out of all this luncheon business by fainting. She wouldn’t have to fake it—her head felt as light and empty as air. It was one thing to sit in a cafe or motorcar and do twenty questions with someone, but with . . . She could see through the greenery into the arbor to the huge round table.
Oh, dear God! There were dozens of them!
Thomas presented Adi under a canopy of the bluest wisteria that, in addition to matching George’s suit, also complemented the sash on the delicately pleated white linen summer tea gown she wore. It was high-collared, with long elegant sleeves and fitted to her slender waist; she was grace itself. Her only adornment was the watch and chain around her neck. One might have thought she looked a little nervous and not entirely sure what to do with her hands, but it was barely arguable that 1914 could have seen someone more beautiful.
She balanced on her heels beneath the blossoms. Never in her life had she had so many people staring at her. Definitely not so many in fine clothes and huge hats. Peering around the hedge, she saw several teenage girls, only a little younger than herself, whispering about her. She glanced behind to see if someone had come along after.
She felt rooted to the spot, like the ancient wisterias twining above her head. Might she be allowed to simply stay there like Daphne escaping from Apollo, her arms, branches, growing up into the canopy?
George turned from the conversation he was having on the other side of the table. Adi thought he appeared dumbfounded.
Rising from his chair, he came around the table to her. He gave Thomas a look as he took her by the arm. Thomas inclined his head ever so slightly and looked pleased with himself.
George leaned over to her, as if he were about to say something clever, but hesitated when Adi looked up into his eyes.
“You look . . . lovely,” he said.
“George,” said the duchess in a clear voice from the other side of the table, “I think it’s high time we met your mysterious little friend.”
A number of the family members chimed in.
Adi looked pleadingly at George.
“I apologize in advance,” he said as he escorted her to the table. “Don’t worry, they don’t bite,” he whispered to her. “Most of them, anyway.”
Adi caught a look on the duchess’s face. The woman was leaning over, making a comment to her son. The handsome young man didn’t appear to respond; he was looking at Adi.
Most of those gathered seemed to have heard that she didn’t speak and went out of their way to not ask questions she wouldn’t be able to answer with a simple nod or shake of her head. The rest were considerate enough to think her merely shy, as one certainly might be, faced with this many strangers. Mostly, they just welcomed her and told her how lovely she was and how delightful to have guests for luncheon.
The two of them worked their way around the circle, through the endless aunts and uncles, nephews and nieces, grandparents and in-laws until they arrived at the head of the table, and the duchess.
George’s stepmother reclined in her chair in a dress the color of an overripe plum, examining Adi from under heavy-lidded eyes.
“And finally,” said George, catching his breath, “may I introduce you to my stepmother, Johanna, duchess of Alorainn, and her son Halick.”
Adi tried something between a bow and a curtsy, having little idea what was proper in these circumstances. She didn’t quite succeed at either. The duchess nodded as if Adi had confirmed something to her. She then proceeded to greet the girl—in nearly perfect Hindi.
When it was clear from Adi’s expression that she comprehended the shift in language, the duchess smiled and continued.
“I’m afraid my Indian languages are not what they used to be,” she said. “I don’t get to use them much in this part of the world, as you might imagine.”
Adi could see from the puzzled expressions around the table that she and the duchess were the only ones who understood what was being said. She smiled, unsure how she might respond.
The duchess gave a little trilling laugh. “Trust me, my dear, none of these bumpkins has the slightest clue as to even what language we’re speaking. Just keep smiling,” she said, as Adi’s eyes grew wide.
“I don’t know what you’re up to, my dear, with your silence and your pretty little dress. I don’t care. I simply want to keep our friend,” she gestured to George, “from shaming this family any more than he already has. Not that I care what he does, as long as he does it unobtrusively.”
“Mother!” said Halick in the irritated tone of a child not being paid attention. “What are you on about? No one has a clue what you’re saying.”
The duchess turned to the table. “Isn’t it wonderful!” she said with a bright smile. “Someone with whom I can practice my Hindi! It was just a guess, of course, but there was something about that lovely brown skin. I knew at least one of her parents is Indian!”
Adi watched in amazement as everyone laughed and looked pleased with the explanation. Everyone except for George, she noticed. Maybe he knew some Hindi, or maybe he just knew his stepmother.
Halick looked at the girl and fiddled with the stem of his glass as if he were considering raising it. He stood up from his chair instead, a thin smile on his face.
“As no one bothers themselves with introducing me, I shall . . .”
The duchess interrupted him, “Darling, you were introduced and now you’re keeping all these people from their lunch.” Halick sat back down, his cheeks reddening.
Adi reached a hand to the young man. He glanced to his mother and half stood from his chair. A bit awkwardly, he kissed her hand. Adi blushed and took it back.
“Now,” said the duchess, looking around the table, “let’s find a place for our guest and we can start. How about next to—Albert! He does enough talking for two, my dear,” she said to Adi, as if they were old friends. “Albert, would you be a dear and—”
“That’s all right, Mother,” George said, taking Adi by the arm. “She can sit over here with us.”
“Whatever you wish, George,” said the duchess, signaling to the servants to start the meal. “Hurry along then. They’re pouring the wine. I imagine you’re quite thirsty with all this.”
Adi could hear George muttering something under his breath. As they made their way around the table she glanced over at him but he wouldn’t return her gaze. She looked through the wisteria up at the clouds drifting away in the afternoon sun. Oh, how she envied them.