Eleanor took off her sunglasses. “Ah, Mrs. Singh! I didn’t realize you were back in town.”

“Yes, yes. I’m just hiding from the crowd. Tell me, how is Su Yi? I missed her Chap Goh Meh^*9 party the other night.”

“She’s very well.”

“Good, good. I’ve been meaning to pay her a visit since I got back from Cooch Behar, but I’ve been so jet-lagged this time. And how is Nicky? Did he return for New Year’s?”

“Not this year, no,” Eleanor said, forcing a smile.

Mrs. Singh gave her a knowing look. “Well, I’m sure he’ll be back next year.”

“Yes of course,” Eleanor said, as she proceeded to introduce the ladies. Mrs. Singh nodded graciously at everyone. “Tell me, are you all enjoying my daughter-in-law’s exhibition?”

“It’s very interesting,” Daisy offered.

“To be honest, I much preferred when you used to show your own jewelry,” Eleanor ventured.

“Come with me,” Mrs. Singh said with a mischievous smile. She led the women up a back staircase and down another passageway lined with Mughal-era portraits of various Indian royals in antique gilt frames. Soon they came upon an ornate doorway inlaid with turquoise and mother-of-pearl, guarded by a pair of Indian police officers. “Don’t tell Sarita, but I decided to have a little party of my own,” she said, flinging the door open.

Inside was Mrs. Singh’s private sitting room, an airy space opening onto a luxuriant veranda lined with lime trees. A butler was handing out steaming cups of chai, while a sitar player plucked a soft, entrancing melody in a corner. Several ladies in iridescent saris sprawled on the deep purple divans, nibbling on sweet ladoos, while others sat cross-legged on the Kashmir silk carpet, admiring the rows upon rows of jewels blindingly arrayed on large forest green velvet trays in the middle of the floor. It felt like being at a pajama party inside the vault of Harry Winston.

Daisy’s and Nadine’s jaws dropped, and even Lorena—whose family owned an international chain of jewelers—couldn’t help but be impressed by the sheer variety and magnificence of the pieces. There were easily hundreds of millions’ worth of jewels just lying on the ground in front of them.

Mrs. Singh breezed into the room, a swish of chiffon trailing behind her. “Come in, ladies. Don’t be shy, and please feel free to try anything on.”

“Are you serious?” Nadine asked, her pulse beginning to race.

“Yes, yes. When it comes to jewels, I ascribe to the Elizabeth Taylor school of thought—jewels should be worn and enjoyed, not stared at from behind a glass case.”

Before Mrs. Singh could even finish her sentence, Nadine had instinctively grabbed one of the biggest pieces on display—a necklace comprised of twelve strands of ridiculously oversize pearls and diamonds. “Oh my GOD-ness, it’s all one necklace!”

“Yes, it’s such a silly thing. Believe it or not, Garrard made it for my grandfather for Queen Victoria’s Jubilee, and since he weighed over three hundred pounds, it draped nicely across his entire belly. But how can you even wear such a thing in public these days?” Mrs. Singh said as she struggled to fasten the enormous baroque pearl clasp behind Nadine’s neck.