Free A Beggar at the Gate by Thalassa Ali

pretending that the notorious family was not there had begun to wear thin.
    “Perhaps the gentlemen will take turns dancing,” Miss Emily offered from the head of the table, while her sister nodded from her seat beside the second general. “I understand there are some very charming officers in Kabul.”
    Mariana, who was thinking hopefully of Fitzgerald, arranged her face to show no feeling as Lady Macnaghten's eyes flicked past her behind the silver candelabra for the fourth time in ten minutes.
    The nephew, a sour-faced young man in expensive-looking clothes, waved a languid hand. “ I see no difficulty in finding ladies to join in the dancing,” he drawled. “Kabul is full of native women. I understand some of them are quite pretty. I am sure they can be taught to dance at a moment's notice.”
    “Well, really, Charles,” Lady Macnaghten said brightly, “I scarcely think that will be necessary. ”
    “We understand, Lady Macnaghten,” put in Miss Emily firmly, “that you expect to travel to Kabul quite soon.”
    “Oh, yes.” Lady Macnaghten gave a tinkling laugh. “My husband says he cannot live without me a moment longer.” She was blushing.
    Miss Emily's eyebrows rose.
    “And how soon will that be?” asked the portlier of the two generals hastily.
    “I expect to leave next month, although one can never tell how long it will take to make the arrangements. I have been waiting nearly a year for a dozen new bonnets and a pair of chandeliers, and I cannot leave without them, but I am told they are on the Vigilant, which is expected at any time.”
    Aunt Claire looked eagerly from Miss Emily and Miss Fanny to Lady Macnaghten and back, as if unaware of any awkwardness.
    Why, Mariana wondered, as she accepted a servant's offer of fricassee of duck, had Lady Macnaghten made that indelicate remark, and how had she contrived not to turn yellow like poor Aunt Claire? How had she maintained all that thick, glossy black hair, now so elegantly folded and pinned above the perfect neckline of her satin gown? Even the Eden sisters, with their fine gowns and their hair done up by English ladies’ maids, were not so well turned out.
    “I,” put in Uncle Adrian, “will be leaving for Kabul within the next month or two.”
    “Ah,” Lady Macnaghten breathed, her response sounding more like a sigh than an answer.
    “Since we are to travel at nearly the same time,” he continued, “perhaps we should combine our forces.”
    Lady Macnaghten's knife slid from her fingers and landed on her plate with a clatter. “Oh, but that would be impossible,” she cried. “Impossible, am I not correct, Miss Emily? It would be most improper for me to travel with—”
    “My wife and I,” persisted Uncle Adrian, ignoring the interruption, “will be traveling with her niece.”
    “Her niece? ” Lady Macnaghten's mouth fell open. Dropping both her good manners and her elaborate pretense that Mariana was not present, she pointed her fork across the table. “Do you mean that girl?”
    “Yes, I believe he does,” Miss Emily put in smoothly. She fixed her blue gaze on Lady Macnaghten. “And as Mr. Lamb and his wife will have their own staff and arrangements for the journey,” she said, “there will be no impediment to their joining you, will there?
    “No,” Miss Emily said, beaming with satisfaction as she answered her own question. “There will be no impediment at all.”

July 13, 1840
    A bba! I will see my Abba!” Saboor chanted as he bounced on Mariana's bed. “Abba,” he repeated, smiling into her face as if his prescience were perfectly normal.
    No one had told him, not even Dittoo.
    Saboor's capacity to read other people's thoughts did not appear often, and when it did it came at odd times, as if clairvoyance were not an inherent talent of his, but a gift bestowed upon him according to some incomprehensible plan.
    He had not, for example, guessed that her old language teacher, whom he adored, was leaving them, but