Three men in plain workmen’s clothes entered, hauling large platters that Mistress Masterson directed to the tables. As she uncovered them, I could tell even from this distance that they contained finger sandwiches and fruit. The workmen left and returned with a second load of food, as well as plates and linen napkins. I’d thought Tamsin was paranoid, but there was no doubt we had much more food than our coterie needed. After the tables were filled, the workmen left and didn’t return. Mistress Masterson stood by the doorway, an expectant look on her face.
“Damn it,” Tamsin repeated. She took a deep breath. Her eyes grew as steely as those of a general preparing for battle. “Okay. No problem. We can do this. We can do this better than the others because none of them have realized what’s happening. We’ve got an edge. Think back to our lessons on greeting strangers at a party. All the acceptable topics. Weather. Upcoming holidays. Animals are all right too. No religion. No politics, unless it’s in support of the king and his latest policy. Always look dignified—who knows what kind of posh guests the old lady’s dug up? Keep your posture good and—”
That crafty countenance dissolved into disbelief, and Tamsin let out a very undignified shriek. In a flash, she was on her feet, sprinting across the room. And she wasn’t the only girl. Others were on the move as well, and the buzz turned into an outright cacophony of chaos and excitement. Turning my gaze back to the entryway, I saw strangers entering, strangers who could hardly be called posh. My housemates lost themselves in the crowd, swept away in a flood of hugs and tears.
“Their families,” said Mira softly. She and I were the only two still sitting down. A smile spread over her face as we watched Tamsin throw herself against the chest of a big, burly man with a red beard. A thinner woman stood smiling beside him, and three red-haired children hovered nearby. Two, a girl and a boy, looked to be in their mid-teens. The third was a young girl only a few years old. Tamsin swept her into her arms as though she weighed nothing and then tried to simultaneously draw the other two into a hug, resulting in laughs and confusion. There was no guile on Tamsin’s face. No cunningness or sizing up the situation. The tight control she always maintained was gone, her emotions pure and raw. There was a lightness about her that made me realize that, until that moment, I’d never truly comprehended just how much weight she carried.
“Do you have anyone coming?” I asked Mira.
She shook her head. “No. No other family came with me from Sirminica. But I do wonder what my parents would think of all this if they could see it. They’d be shocked.”
I couldn’t help a laugh, even though I didn’t feel very cheerful. “Mine too. Mine too.”
But surprisingly, it wasn’t the thought of my parents that made my heart ache just then. It was Grandmama. She’d taken care of me these last few years, working so hard to salvage our situation. I still stood by my decision to leave, but as the initial excitement had faded, I’d had more time to consider the consequences of what I’d done—and feel guilty. Cedric had covertly slipped me a clipping from the society papers mentioning Lionel’s marriage to some minor noble, only a few weeks after my disappearance. Cedric had scrawled on it: Such a hasty marriage. Probably the only way the poor man could console himself after such a great loss. That had closed the door on that chapter, but still left a lot of other questions unanswered.
I spoke without thinking. “I wish I could see my grandmother.”
Mira regarded me with mild surprise. “You’ve never mentioned her before—I don’t believe it. They’re here!” She slowly got to her feet, her eyes widening as she stared across the room to a wizened Sirminican couple. “Pablo and Fernanda. They came with me on the journey from home. Excuse me.”
She walked away without looking back, and although I was glad to see her hug the little old man and woman, the ache in my heart only intensified. Most of the other girls were too overwhelmed with their own loved ones to notice much else, but a few cast curious glances my way. I’d worried about standing out in other ways, but never this one. Even those without blood relatives at least had friends visiting. I was the only one alone. The only one without any family. The only one without a past.
Or maybe not.
“Adelaide’s over there, behind Sylvia’s family,” I heard Mistress Masterson say. “Sitting on the striped blanket.”
A woman stepped around a crowd of people, beaming when she saw me. “There’s my Adelaide!”
I stared. I’d never seen her before in my life. She looked to be twice my age and had a voluptuous figure that was enhanced—more than it should be—by a faded red dress that was one size too small. Generous kohl lined her eyes, and a straw hat with fake flowers sat atop brassy hair.
“Well?” she asked, standing over me with hands on her hips. “Aren’t you going to give your aunt Sally a hug?”
Beyond her, I saw Mistress Masterson watching curiously. Not wanting to draw extra scrutiny, I stood up and embraced the strange woman and was flooded with the cloying scent of tea roses. “Just play along,” she whispered in my ear.
We stepped apart, and I forced a smile that I hoped hid how bewildered I was. Mistress Masterson nodded approvingly and then moved on.