Page 13 of The Queen of Roses

“The great house controversy,” said Papa cheerfully as he leaned both hands on his silver-topped ebony cane.

“Benjamin,” Mama chided.

“Is Mrs. Barnes’s house controversial, Papa?” asked Adele, knowing it would irk her mother.

“South Orange Grove is the most prestigious road in all of Pasadena, and it put some noses out of joint when Mrs. Barnes purchased two lots next to one another,” he said. “She knocked both houses down and built this one five years ago.”

“Is it not considered vulgar having such a large house?” Adele asked, touching the white rosebuds she’d had the hotel maid weave into her hair that evening. They had been something of a signature whenever she went out in the evening in London, and she was pleased to find that the hotel was able to secure some blooms for her.

“Adele, I hope you will not say such things in front of our hostess,” Mama snapped.

She sighed. “I am more than aware of how to conduct myself in polite society, Mama.”

“Adele was only speaking in jest, Jeanette,” said Papa, always the one to try to soften Mama’s sharp edges with a kind word and a pat of his hand.

Her dear, sweet father, always trying to make peace. She had not been prepared for the moment when he emerged from his bedroom in her parents’ suite late that afternoon in his quilted dressing gown, leaning on his stick and coughing into a handkerchief. He had never been possessed of the most robust of constitutions, but his frailty had been a shock. Before her parents had left for California, Adele might have doubted the need for such measures if she had not been woken up too many nights by his rattling cough coming from down the corridor; however, there was now no denying that her father was an invalid.

One of Mrs. Barnes’s servants opened the carriage door and helped down first Mama and then Adele. While Papa navigated the carriage’s step with the help of his cane, Adele took a moment to straighten the skirts of her pale pistachio silk dress and touch her single strand of pearls to ensure they were in place. Papa offered Mama his arm, and Adele followed them up the brick path to the front door of Mrs. Barnes’s home. Before they reached the porch, the door opened, revealing a housekeeper dressed in a long black skirt and starched white collar and cuffs.

“Good evening, Mrs. Guthrie,” Mama greeted the housekeeper.

“Good evening, madam,” said Mrs. Guthrie. “If I might take your things, Mrs. Barnes asks that her guests join her in the south drawing room.”

Adele and Mama handed over their wraps to a waiting maid and then followed Mrs. Guthrie through a door off the entryway.

As soon as Adele crossed the threshold of the south drawing room, her step faltered—not because of the half dozen or so unfamiliar faces that turned to look at her but because of the room itself. It was unlike anything she had ever seen, strangely beautiful, with its deeply stained oak beams crossing the ceiling that matched the paneled walls. Everywhere gold-and-green stained glass covered lamps, the edges of windows, and even the huge mirror that hung over the river-rock fireplace. Oak-framed sofas and armchairs were upholstered in a blue, green, and yellow fabric, stylized trees and rivers winding lazily across the cushions.

So much wood and all of the hard, straight angles on the cabinetry and the furniture should have created a cold, uncomfortable effect, but instead the entire place seemed to glow with warmth under the electric light of the iron-and-orange-glass chandeliers.

“Mr. and Mrs. Pearce, how good of you to come,” said Mrs. Barnes, gliding over to Adele’s parents in a whisper of rustling indigo silk.

“Mrs. Barnes, we are delighted you thought to include us in your little party,” said Mama with a soft sweetness Adele had forgotten her mother could possess.

“Miss Pearce, it is a pleasure to see you again,” said Mrs. Barnes, holding out her hand.

Adele took it. “Thank you again for your kindness in assisting with my travel arrangements.”

She watched Mrs. Barnes glance across the room to where Mrs. Gorman and her daughter were safely in conversation with another young lady and what looked to be her mother.

“You are most welcome, although I can imagine that you are eager for new company after such a long journey,” said Mrs. Barnes, giving Adele the distinct impression that she also found the prospect of prolonged exposure to the Gormans exhausting.

How intriguing.

“It was good of you to escort Adele to our hotel earlier,” said Papa. “I do wish my doctor would allow me to spend more time in the heat of the day.”

Mrs. Barnes waved a hand. “Think nothing of it. I am always keen to ensure everyone arriving in Pasadena has the best first impression of our growing town.”

“Adele has already commented on how well-appointed the Hotel Green is,” said Mama.

Adele, who had done nothing of the sort, fought to resist the urge to raise a brow.

“We are very proud of our hotels in Pasadena,” said Mrs. Barnes. “I would ask what you think of our little resort town, but I doubt you’ve had the opportunity to leave Raymond Avenue yet. Clearly we must all work to convince you of Pasadena’s charms, mustn’t we, Mr. Lochery?” asked Mrs. Barnes, turning to a tall, redheaded man of about forty who had drifted over to their group. “Where shall we suggest Miss Pearce go first?”

He clasped his hands behind his back. “I could hardly say without knowing the lady’s preferences.”

Mrs. Barnes’s lips pinched as though trying to hold back her amusement. “Practical as always, Mr. Lochery. Miss Pearce, may I present Mr. Lochery, one of our little town’s great thinkers?”

“How do you do, sir?” she asked, inclining her chin.