Lady India had enlisted every available maid and footman in the house for her project of transforming the Silver Salon into an Egyptian nightscape for her antiquities exhibition, which was to include a theatrical enactment of a scene from ancient history.
“I used to love going to Lumley’s.” Lady India looked at the twins. “Does he still have that jar of boiled sweets on the counter? And did he give you a magic box?”
Adele nodded. “He’s a funny old fellow. I liked him.”
Mari had liked Mr. Lumley as well.
The familiar way he’d talked to Edgar, teasing him about his love for tin soldiers.
Mari caught herself. Just because Lady India called her brother Edgar didn’t mean Mari could go about doing it, even in her thoughts.
The thought of seeing him made her nervous and excited at the same time.
Butterflies in one’s belly sounded like a pleasant sensation—all silky, fluttery wings—but in truth it was nearly a sick feeling. She longed to see him and dreaded it at the same time.
“He’d better come home in the next few hours,” said Lady India with a slight frown. “If I were male I would be a member of the Society of Antiquaries, and could host it there, but instead I need Edgar to lend the affair the proper gravitas.”
“What’s gravitas?” asked Michel.
“Dignity and seriousness,” said Mari.
“That doesn’t sound very amusing.” Adele wrinkled her nose. “We can’t have fun tonight?”
“You can have a small amount of fun,” said Lady India. “But there will be several important gentlemen in attendance who take themselves very, very seriously. And there’s a small, a very small, chance that my mother, the dowager duchess, may decide to attend.”
“Our grandmother?” asked Michel.
“I sent her an invitation. But I doubt she’ll come,” explained Lady India.
Michel jumped up from the floor, running to Lady India. “How will we know her? What does she look like? Will she like us?”
Lady India laughed and placed her hand on Michel’s head. “So many questions.”
“We want to make a favorable impression,” said Adele with a grave expression.
“She’s tall for a female, just as I am.” Lady India pointed at her eyes. “And she has the same purple-pansy eyes.”
“As for making an impression,” said Mari. “If she does appear, you must curtsy and bow in the manner that I taught you, address her as Your Grace, and keep your myriad opinions to yourself for one evening, and all will be well. Mind you, no palm reading,” she said sternly.
“Of course not,” said Adele with a toss of her head. “Come along, Michel. Let’s go practice our curtsying and bowing on Mrs. Fairfield.”
She took her brother’s hand and they ran away to find the housekeeper, who was supervising the preparation of the balcony where refreshments would be served after the exhibition.
“I hope it was the right thing inviting Mother.” Lady India gazed out the window with a worried expression. “I doubt that she will come, but I should have warned Edgar just in case.”
“You never told him you invited her?”
“They haven’t spoken to each other in years.”
“What happened between them?”
“Oh,” India laughed, turning back toward Mari. “That’s too long of a story.”
“That’s what Mrs. Fairfield said when I asked about it.”
“You’ll have to ask Edgar.”
All her life she’d longed for a family. Edgar had a mother and yet they never spoke. It was sad.