Page 45 of Inventing Vivian

“Do you think it wise to trust a person who keeps his identity hidden?” Benedict knew he was goading, but he couldn’t pass up the chance to know how she truly felt.

“I trust him.” She narrowed her eyes, looking defensive. “He is entirely honorable.” She glanced at his plate and at Zhang Wei’s. “He has his own reasons for secrecy, and I honor that.” Miss Kirby spoke the last sentence with finality, letting him know the conversation was over.

“I see.” Benedict felt a small thrill at her defense as well as a tinge of discomfort at his deception.

Miss Kirby passed a basket of bread to him, then offered it to Zhang Wei. She waved a footman over and whispered something to him.

The footman hurried off.

“When is the exhibition, Miss Kirby?” Zhang Wei asked, speaking the words carefully.

“The opening day is Tuesday.”

“So soon?” Benedict said. “Are you ready?”

“I shall be.”

“Mr. Li,” Mrs. Larsen said. “Please tell me more about this kung fu. It is all Chester talks about.”

Zhang Wei smiled, glancing at his young friend. “The boy does well. He is hardworking and good student.”

“I’ve practiced,” Chester said. He got out of his chair and squatted down with his legs wide apart, one fist on his hip and the other above his head. “And I can do frog jumps, too.”

“Not in the dining room, Chester,” Mrs. Larsen said. “You can demonstrate once dinner is finished.” She tapped her lips with her napkin. “I don’t know if training a young boy to fight is a good idea.”

“Kung fu is more than combat techniques,” Benedict told her. “It teaches discipline and patience as well as strength and speed.”

“Yin and yang,” Mr. Kirby said. “I’ve read of the Oriental philosophy.”

Zhang Wei’s cheeks lifted as he smiled. “Yes. Kung fu teaches balance. When to be firm and when to be gentle. When to react and when to wait.” He nodded at Chester as the boy returned to his seat. “Everything has an opposite. Without it, there can be no harmony.”

“It sounds very worthwhile, if you want my opinion, Winifred,” Mr. Kirby said.

The footman Miss Kirby had spoken to returned, setting a plate of cooked vegetables and rice in front of both Benedict and Zhang Wei.

Benedict looked at Miss Kirby. He tipped his head in gratitude.

She nodded toward the plate, and no more was said about it.

Mr. Kirby and Zhang Wei talked more about Taoist philosophy as they ate, and Benedict assisted when his friend needed a word translated. But his thoughts kept returning to the idea of yin and yang. He could not imagine a person more unlike himself than Miss Kirby. She was serious whereas he preferred humor. She trusted science, and he was led by intuition. She remained quiet and guarded in a crowd when he enjoyed conversation.

He considered the other young ladies whose acquaintances he’d made since arriving in London and realized that perhaps the reason he’d formed no attachment with any of them was because they were so similar to Benedict himself.

“Yin and yang,” he muttered beneath his breath. The thought gave him a lot to contemplate.

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