Page 46 of Inventing Vivian

Chapter 12

Vivian ate quietly, listening tothe men discuss philosophy and biting her tongue when she wanted to comment. She had quite a few opinions on the matter, truth be told. The idea of the workings of the universe being explained merely as a balance between opposites was so simplistic. The universe operated on precise principles and laws of science, not harmony or inner peace or any of that rubbish.

She was pleased that her father seemed to enjoy the conversation though. He loved to explore new ideas and ways of looking at the world. And Lord Benedict’s Oriental ideology was certainly novel, as were his eating habits. It was not difficult to deduce, based on his Eastern viewpoints and the way he ate around the roast beef on his plate that he and Zhang Wei were not pantophagous. They didn’t eat meat. That, at least, was easily solved.

She wasn’t certain, but His Lordship seemed to have something weighing on his mind. During quiet stretches in the conversation, she saw his brow wrinkle, and occasionally, he seemed to have to pull himself out of his thoughts to return to the conversation. Was he displeased with the company? She didn’t think he was, but then again, Vivian was not known for her ability to discern emotions in people or to react to them correctly. Perhaps she was misreading Lord Benedict’s mental state.

Once dinner had ended, the company returned to the drawing room.

Vivian’s father walked with his canes, moving noticeably slower than he had earlier. He must be tiring. It was becoming more and more difficult for him to move about—especially in the evenings. She considered whether he would agree to a wheeled chair. That was a conversation they would need to have soon, and he wouldn’t be happy about it.

When they were again seated in the drawing room, Chester enthusiastically showed the group his frog jump. The others responded with applause.

Chester put his fist against his palm and bowed, and Zhang Wei beamed. Vivian didn’t know when she’d ever seen a person whose smile could transform their face so completely. The man’s round cheeks lifted until his eyes were nearly closed, and his smile was so wide she could see teeth in the very back of his mouth. A person could not help but smile in return.

Lord Benedict smiled as well, but for an instant, he seemed distracted.

At her aunt’s urging, Vivian demonstrated the Podiatric Warming Appa-ratus, explaining how the fireplace heat could be channeled and focused on a specific location.

As she attached the hose to the side of the hearth, Vivian watched Lord Benedict’s reaction from the corner of her eye. Apprehension made her shoulders tight. Would he make a joke? Dismiss her as Baron Harrington had?

Lord Benedict came to stand beside her at the hearth. He tipped his head, watching the pinwheel turn as the heat rose from the fire. “Ingenious,” he said. His brows pulled together. “I wager this device would be in high demand if you should ever decide to patent and sell it.” He looked closer at the place where it attached to the hearth and then moved to the end where the warm air was expelled, placing his hand in front of it. “Especially in the winter.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Vivian kept her expression calm, hoping not to reveal how pleased she was at the reaction.

“Lord Benedict”—Vivian’s father motioned the man to a chair closer to his— “and Mr. Li, tell us about the village where you lived in the Hunan province. I had hoped to one day visit China, but as you see, the journey would be all but impossible for me now. I shall have to content myself with a secondhand report.” He gave a chuckle to downplay the melancholy of his words.

Vivian felt a rush of sorrow. Her father had always wanted to travel the world. He’d spoken of one day visiting India and the far east and even perhaps Australia and Argentina.

“Where to begin?” Benedict asked.

“My village is near Mount Heng, a sacred mountain,” Mr. Li said. “The people are fishermen and farmers, growing rice and tobacco and other...” He looked to Lord Benedict and said a word in Chinese.

“Other agricultural crops,” Lord Benedict finished for him. “The village is close to the Grand Temple, the largest temple in the province.”

The men continued to talk about the country and culture of China. They took turns describing the lush green mountains that rose like jagged pillars, the roaring waterfalls, and the fields of yellow flowers. They described colorful festivals, peach blossoms, and fishing villages. And while Vivian found their words very interesting, she also noticed a sadness in Lord Benedict’s eyes. A fondness and longing. He was homesick, she realized. How very peculiar.

As they spoke, Mrs. Pearson stepped into the doorway. Chester’s nanny was a gentle older woman wearing a plain linen dress, an apron, and a cap.

Seeing her, Aunt Winifred stood. “Come along now, Chester. Mrs. Pearson will take you to bed.”

“But, Mama.” Chester sat up straight, as if proving he was not at all sleepy. “I cannot leave yet.”

His mother ruffled his hair. “You’ve remained awake hours after your usual bedtime.”

“I’m not tired,” Chester said, covering his mouth as he was betrayed by his own yawn.

“Nevertheless...” Aunt Winifred stood, gesturing for Chester to do the same.

“Please,” Chester said. “Just a bit longer?”

“Perhaps, if your mother will allow,” Mr. Li said, “I will tell you a story. But you must go to bed directly after.”

“Oh yes!” Chester bounced in his seat. “Mama, can Shifùtell a story, please?”

“If it is not a bother,” Mrs. Larsen said. “Thank you, Mr. Li.” She sat down beside her son.

The nanny sat in a chair to wait, and the others settled back in their seats to listen.

---