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England?”
“Oh we’re much more English here than anyone is in England,” Amy said with a wicked
little chirp of mirth. “You shall get a proper dose of it at dinner, just you wait. Each party slogs
along at a comfortably familiar pace. The same conversations. Even the same arguments, circling
around us year after year. The etiquette is so rigid and so…pointless. There is an order of
precedence for everything. Who goes into the table first. Who speaks first, bows first. Granny
claims it all has something to do with the military, the fact that all English life in India began on army
posts, but I can’t make heads nor tails of it. I just always assume that as the youngest daughter of a
junior officer, I count last in all matters and so far no one has bothered to correct that impression.”
“I do hope we sit together at dinner, Amy,” Emma said, with a rush of affection. It was
so rare to meet a lively girl her own age, or perhaps it was just the gin.
“I would love that as well, but we shan’t,” Amy said. “We’re too valuable and so we
must be situated around the table at measured intervals, like diamonds in a crown. Oh, I assure you
it’s quite the truth,” she added, when Emma looked surprised. “Do you have any idea how rare single
girls are in Bombay? Especially those with all their body parts arranged in the proper order? At the
last dance I attended there were at least four times as many men as women and I waltzed until my feet
bled. That is not an exaggeration, I assure you. I felt the squish between my toes with every step.”
“All in service to the empire,” Emma said drily.
“But of course. I flatter myself that I have raised the morale of any number of men in the
district, all on my own.” Amy paused and laughed, clearly aware of the bawdy implications of her
statement, and then leaned forward to say her next lines with special emphasis. “But no matter where
we are seated tonight, we shall meet again soon, Emma Kelly, I shall see to that. In fact, why don’t I
make a few inquiries and ensure that you are invited to lawn tennis at Mrs. Keener’s tomorrow?
How does that sound?”
“Lawn tennis?” Emma said skeptically.
“Indeed. We shall partner, you and I, but I must tell you that it’s considered good form
to lose the first set to your hostess. That beastly order of precedence, you know.”
“That should not prove difficult,” said Emma. “For I have never picked up a tennis
racket in my life.”
***
“And how did you find the soul of Anthony Weaver?” Rayley asked. “Sufficiently
pensive?”
“Strangely variable,” Trevor said. They had been drinking now for the better part of an
hour with no sign that dinner was imminent. He was unaccustomed to this ritual called the cocktail
hour, normally taking only wine with his dinner at Geraldine’s or beer if he found himself acting the
bachelor at a London pub. It was a bit hard to monitor consumption under these circumstances, with
fresh trays of drinks appearing from behind the bar every few minutes. “The man showed abrupt
swings of mood I couldn’t account for by the questioning. One moment he is twisting in his seat,
wiping his brow, and behaving as if he is ready to jump from his skin. The next moment he is utterly
certainly sure of himself, trying to maneuver the questioning away from me as if he were still the
ranking officer and I was some sort of underling. All in all, not the sort of man I would have
imagined could ever have won the heart of Geraldine Bainbridge.”
“Interesting,” said Rayley. “Well, I’m sure thirty-two years ago they were both very
different people.”
“He doesn’t know she is here,” Trevor said. “He leapt to an assumption that she had