“In this, the southern wing, the family wing, there are fourteen,” she replied. “We don’t open the rooms in the other wing unless there are guests.”

“Well, we’re guests,” my mother said, a little too sharply, I thought.

“Mr. Foxworth considers you more family than guests.”

“I see,” my mother said.

She then peppered Mrs. Steiner with many other questions about the house, silly things, I thought, like the size of the pantries and linen closets. Again, how many rooms in total? Where did Garland sleep? Where had his parents slept? At least she had the restraint not to ask to see those rooms immediately.

Lucas brought in my bag, smiled at me when my mother wasn’t looking, and then hurried out.

“Garland is waiting to show you the grounds for the ceremony, Mother,” I said.

I thought she’d keep us here forever with her cross-examination of Mrs. Steiner, who looked grateful for my interrupting.

“What? Oh yes. I would like to see more of the house, of course. But first things first. Besides, if we give them too much time, your father will drink himself into a stupor before dinner.”

Mrs. Steiner shifted her eyes quickly to look away. It wasn’t that long ago that I was in a stupor in Foxworth Hall. I was anxious to move on to other things.

However, it really wasn’t until we were on the way down the stairs that I realized Garland hadn’t included me in his invitation to inspect the area for our wedding ceremony and party. Now that I thought more about it, it occurred to me that I hadn’t been asked for my opinion about anything, not even the menu. Was that because he was so intent on pleasing my mother and, along with my father, keeping my pregnancy still a grand secret? Get her so excited about the event that even if she learned the truth, she might not care? Right now, I couldn’t imagine that, but how much should I protest? I wondered. What was the proper role for the bride, especially one with my disadvantages?

The moment we entered the study, Garland suggested my mother follow him and my father out through the French doors he had recently installed. He said he was determined to do even more modernizing. “Especially now that I’m getting a wife,” he added. It sounded like a wife was something he had ordered from a catalog.

Before my mother could respond, she paused to look at the head of a tiger that was so well stuffed and preserved it appeared as though it was just peering at us through the wall on our right and might leap in our direction at any moment.

“My Lord,” she said, stepping back with her hand over her heart.