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chapter four ADELE

Mr. Ballard showed Adele upstairs to a large set of dark wooden double doors. He reached for one of the brass handles, but Adele stopped him, saying, “I’ll see myself in.”

She didn’t wish for her reunion with her mother to be witnessed by a member of the hotel staff.

“As you wish,” said Mr. Ballard, affecting another bow. “If there is anything you require during your stay, please do not hesitate to ask.”

She dipped her chin before watching the manager retreat down the long hall. Then she took a deep breath and reached for the brass doorknob.

The Moorish Room, it transpired, was octagonal in shape, with a huge fireplace of terra-cotta, black, and cream tiles topped by intricately carved wood paneling. There was a gloom about the place, with its burgundy carpet and curtains, ornate mosaic-topped tables, and dark wood furniture, but with the windows open to the elements and a breeze coming in, it was also blissfully cool compared to outside. A pair of ladies, both dressed in widow’s black, took tea on one side of the room, and on the other sat Mama, an illustrated fashion magazine in her lap.

It was only when Adele was a few feet away that her mother looked up.

“Adele,” said Mama, closing the magazine. “You’ve finally arrived.”

“Hello, Mama,” she said, dropping a light kiss on her mother’s smooth cheek.

“Do sit,” said Mama.

Adele lowered herself into an armchair before meeting her mother’s gaze.

As soon as Adele had turned fourteen and her mother began the serious business of preparing her to enter society, Mama had declared that Adele’s greatest assets were the pretty bloom of her cheeks and the perfect bow of her cherry-red lips. As a child, she’d been admired, too, for her dark waves, and before she’d come out, she and Mama had decided which hair styles suited her best to show her slender neck to its greatest advantage.

Adele knew that her mother should approve of her dress, her appearance, and her posture given that Mama had been the one who molded her. Still, there was something to being the subject of her mother’s scrutiny that set her on edge.

“Was the journey from New York terribly difficult?” asked Mama.

Adele let out a little exhalation that her mother did not immediately find fault with her. “It was long, but comfortable for the most part.”

“Your father found it all rather too much,” said Mama, gesturing to one of the hotel’s maids, who had appeared at the door of the Moorish Room. “I worried when we arrived in St. Louis that we would need to stop for the week for him to rest.” She then turned to the maid. “Two for tea, please. My special blend.”

“Yes, Mrs. Pearce,” said the maid, bobbing a curtsey.

“You’ll find the quality of the tea in America dreadful,” said Mama, returning her attention to Adele. “As soon as we arrived at the hotel, I arranged to have a stock imported from Fortnum and Mason. Mr. Ballard ensures it is kept aside for your father and myself.”

“It must be a comfort to have a reminder of home, no matter how small,” she said.

Her mother sighed. “There are things I miss greatly about London, but the climate suits your father.”

Adele hesitated. “How is Papa?”

“His cough plagues him, and he tires easily. However, he’s making the best of it.”

It was the short sort of answer her mother had written in her letters that Adele had never found entirely adequate.

“Where is he now?” she asked.

“Resting. He walks in the hotel grounds in the mornings before it becomes too hot, and then after lunch he rests before we attend any suppers or card parties we are invited to.”

“Card parties?” That sounded like a far cry from the entertainments of home.

“Card parties, clipping parties, picnics, balls, musical evenings. You’ll find all sorts of entertainments here in Pasadena.”

Adele expected a cutting comment about how provincial everything was in this town of dirt roads and gaudy hotels to follow, but Mama remained silent.

“It sounds… diverting,” Adele ventured.

Mama’s gaze flicked to the other ladies in the room, who rose and, deep in conversation, drifted toward the door. As soon as she and Adele were alone, Mama said, “I will not pretend that society here is anything compared to what you’re used to, but a lady must adapt to whichever situation she finds herself in.”