“Of course it can be dashed uncomfortable in Calcutta in summer,” he was saying. “I usually send the memsahib up to the hills, don’t I, old thing?”

“It’s lovely up in the hills. Tea plantations for miles and miles. Have you ever been to India?” Mrs. Rathbone looked at the Wexlers and the Upthorpes, only to be met with blank stares.

“I wouldn’t like a place like India at all,” Mrs. Wexler said with a shudder. “All that dirt and disease and cows running around the streets. No, sirree.”

“Damn fine place, India,” the colonel said. “You should see the maharajas’ palaces, and the tiger shoots, and the lake in Kashmir. Damn fine place.”

“Are you home on leave or back for good?” Lady Hawse-Gorzley asked.

“Long leave. We take one every five years. We used to have a house in this part of the world, but not any longer, unfortunately. Circumstances being what they are. Not at all sure that we’ll come back to England to settle when I leave the army. Life is just so pleasant for the memsahib in India, isn’t it, old girl?”

“Apart from the heat and the diseases, I must say life in India is very easy. Our servants are devoted. There are always parties and dances. No, I think I’d find it rather dull in England. I did when we were last home four years ago, especially as Reggie was gone most of the time—weren’t you, my dear?”

“Dashed inconvenient, I called it. Only here for a few months and I got summoned to—”

“Oh, I believe that must be the dowager countess now.” Lady Hawse-Gorzley sprang to her feet. “Please excuse me while I go to greet her. We’ll be serving tea shortly and you’ll have a chance to try our Devonshire cream.”

She motioned to me to follow her as an ancient Rolls-Royce drew up and a very distinguished-looking lady was helped from the backseat. She was dressed in a long sable coat with matching fur hat. She held an ebony and silver cane and she lifted a lorgnette to survey the scene as another woman, a mousy little creature, scurried around to lead her to the front door.

Lady Hawse-Gorzley came forward to greet her, arms open.

“Countess Albury—what a delight. Welcome to Gorzley Hall and the compliments of the season to you.”

“How do you do,” the countess said stiffly, holding out a black-gloved hand before she could be touched.

“Have you been traveling long?”

“Not too bad. Drove from London yesterday. Spent the night at the Francis in Bath. One of my favorite cities. Always loved shopping for antiques on Milsom Street. Not anymore, of course. Nowhere to put them.”

“Come inside, do,” Lady Hawse-Gorzley said.

“I fully intend to,” the countess sniffed. “Certainly don’t expect to stand out here in the cold all week.”

Lady Hawse-Gorzley gave an embarrassed little titter and tried to help the dowager countess up the steps. The latter fought her off. “I am not quite decrepit yet, you know. People have tried to put me away in mothballs, but I won’t let them.”