Chapter 8

 

 

“‘Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour draws on apace.’ No, no, I don’t believe that’s regal enough.” James intoned the part of Theseus, his chin jutted forward, his chest lifted high, as his arm swept to the side in a broad arc. Aphrodite and Susannah, James’s wife, listened while they sorted fabric for costumes. Behind him, Athena studied her reflection in the wall of windows and French doors that lined the north wall of the ballroom.

“Darling, you are not a king.” Susannah sat on the floor of the ballroom, at the far end from where workmen had begun to construct a small stage. Stacks of cloth produced by Frederick’s housekeeper for costumes towered over her on both sides. She picked up and inspected a length of brown velvet. “You are the Duke of Athens.”

“Nonetheless, a man of considerable importance. A true noble so I, too, must be noble.” When he held out his arms, his gestures were outlined against the windows.

“You sound wonderful, James. Very lordly.” Aphrodite stood next to the piles of fabric, chose a length of pale pink muslin, and held it under her sister’s chin. “I think there is enough here for your costume, Athena, and the colour is lovely on you.”

“Oh, Ditie, isn’t this exciting! I get to stand before hundreds of people and look beautiful.”

“Probably not hundreds, Athena.” Terpsi’s voice and footsteps echoed in the cavernous room as she approached the group. “Perhaps thirty or forty guests and neighbours and family friends.”

“But I still get to look beautiful, won’t I?”

“Of course you do.” Frederick’s voice came from behind the stack of fabric he carried into the ballroom.

“Tell me, Mr. Horne. Which colour looks better on me? The pink?” Athena held it in front of her. “Or the blue?” She draped the other piece of muslin across her shoulders.

“Lady Athena, there is no difference.” Frederick dropped the pile of material on Aphrodite’s feet as he inspected Athena. “Both enhance your loveliness. Indeed, nothing could detract from it.”

“Very prettily said, Frederick.” Aphrodite pulled her feet from under the cloth and contemplated him, startled at his eloquence.

“It is not difficult to praise the fair Herrington sisters,” Frederick said as the rest of the cast entered the room.

“‘Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour draws on apace.’” James strode toward his wife and placed his right hand against his chest. “What do you think, Lady Terpsichore?” he said over his shoulder. “Is this the attitude of the Duke of Athens?”

“Very nice, my lord. Perhaps if you would speak more slowly and more loudly,” Terpsi suggested.

“‘Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour draws on apace,’” he trumpeted. “Yes, that’s much better. More regal.”

Bit by bit, the rest of the company gathered.

“Do I need a playbook?” Gwendolyn asked Terpsi, giggling as she held on to Callum’s arm. “I know I have a little part. Perhaps I could share Mr. McReynolds’s.” She looked up at him, eyes filled with adoration.

“I have enough scripts for everyone.” Terpsi spoke icily. “No one need share.” She passed the thin booklets to the assembled cast. “What is good about this play is that so many of the scenes are between only a few of the cast members so we do not all have to practice together.”

“Oh, Mr. McReynolds, do you have many scenes with the queen of the fairies?” Gwendolyn asked.

“Fortunately, very few. Just a line here and there. Most of my scenes are with Puck.” Mr. McReynolds turned to look at the young Italian noble, then frowned.

Wonderful, Aphrodite thought as she noticed Callum’s scrutiny of Aski. Callum knows there’s something havey-cavey going on. Wasn’t there always when a Herrington was involved? How many times had Callum met Aski? Not many. And Aski had changed and matured in those years, now taller and broader. Unfortunately, today he had not worn his Italian disguise, and the change made him easier to recognize as a Herrington. In place of the brilliant coat he wore a nicely tailored brown one with a beautifully embroidered waistcoat. Gone were the extravagant ribbons and bangles. Only one thin band subdued his riotous curls.

She relaxed as Callum turned back toward the group until she noticed his glare at Terpsi. For all Terpsi’s assurances that the two had no feelings for each other, Aphrodite didn’t believe her. Great emotion surged between the two of them, all of it strong; most of it negative.

Of course, Terpsi did nothing to calm the nerves of a former beau. Her clothing was more outlandish than ever. Instead of a gown, she wore loose trousers of a cherry and white-striped muslin that bellowed around her. With them, she wore a flowing cherry robe over a white lace slip.

“I think the queen of the fairies would wear something like this.” Aphrodite tossed a length of green velvet across her sister’s shoulders.

Terpsi rubbed her fingers across the nap of the fabric. As Aphrodite had guessed, her sister’s sensuous nature loved the soft feel of the velvet across her neck. She left it there, and Callum stopped glowering at Terpsi and turned his attention back to Gwendolyn.

During a pause, while Terpsi tried to decide where Bottom should stand when he brayed his lines, Aski said, “I have a dance-a to teach you, from Italy. It is the versatella.”

Gwendolyn, Elsie, and Geoffrey gathered around Aski as he began humming a tune reminiscent of “Green Sleeves” but with an odd rhythm to it. Then he started moving to the music with kicks and twists. Quickly, the other young people had joined, attempting to copy the steps.

“That looks like fun,” Susannah said and pulled James into the dance with her.

Within minutes, Terpsi, Athena, Fothergill, Hugh Ridley and even Frederick had joined in the dance. Seeing how much fun they were having, Aphrodite got to her feet and began to dance with them, even attempting the leaps Aski had added. When she almost fell, Warwick was there to catch her.

“You are adorable when you laugh,” he said, looking deeply into her eyes.

Embarrassed, she pulled away from him.

“Now, do not poker up. Have fun,” he said as he loosened his grip on her and led her back into the dance.

She added a few steps of her own, even jumping and twirling. Finally they were all exhausted and dropped to the floor, where they rested until Terpsi started the rehearsal again.

But Aphrodite did not forget the feel of Warwick’s arms steadying her or the glow in his eyes that awakened a warmth within her. He thought her adorable? How lovely.

By one o’clock, the actors had read all of Terpsi’s adaptation of the drama. After a quick cold collation, they divided into sections. Aphrodite, Frederick, Athena, and Warwick strolled to a lovely garden with benches that overlooked a rose garden and began to practice act two, scene two.

After fifteen minutes, Aphrodite thought Warwick would strangle Athena. She could not pronounce Lysander, the name of her beloved, and the thought of plucking a crawling serpent from her breast, even an imaginary one, overset Athena. When she misread four out of five words, Warwick tossed down the thin play booklet and asked if Athena had ever learned to read.

“Ditie,” Athena said, her eyes huge, begging her sister or Frederick to protect her. “He’s being mean to me.”

“It won’t do, you know,” Aphrodite told him. “Getting angry with her will not resolve anything. If you are patient, Athena will do much better.”

“She’s like a fawn,” Frederick added, glancing over his shoulder at Athena, who had wandered into the rose garden. “Timid and shy. If you alarm her, she’ll quiver and run.” He put his script down, went to Athena, and took her hands in his. “It will be fine. We’ll all help you.”

“Thank you, Frederick. You are so kind.” Colour returned to Athena’s cheeks.

Aphrodite studied the three other actors. Athena looked worshipfully at Frederick, who returned her gaze. Warwick scrutinized the two, then fixed Aphrodite with a searching glance.

“Perhaps we should finish the scene,” Warwick suggested. “I will make every effort to be more patient with the fair Hermia if she will attempt to read what is written.”

“Of course she will.” Frederick moved away from Athena toward Aphrodite. “And I will be happy to help her study her lines so she will feel more confident.”

“I hope you will help her learn her lines,” Warwick said.

“Learn my lines? I have to memorize all these words?” Tears gathered in Athena’s eyes. “Ditie, I have to memorize everything? Can I not read from my playbook?”

“Don’t worry, Athena. We’ll discuss this later,” Aphrodite promised. “Let’s start at the beginning of the scene.”

Since this didn’t require Athena to do or say anything, she happily sat down to watch.

 

• • •

 

Later that day, as Warwick waited for his cousin in the hall outside the ballroom, he saw Frederick bowing to Athena and smiling into those enchanting blue eyes she had learned to use so well.

“If I may?” Warwick said when Frederick looked back over his shoulder at Athena. “As my father’s representative, I would like to discuss a family matter with you.”

“Certainly, cousin. Shall we go to my study?”

Warwick followed Frederick down the stairs, through the hallway and to a room across from Mrs. Horne’s parlour. Warwick couldn’t help but admire the masculine chamber with books covering the desk and in tall bookcases. On the walls hung a number of handsome hunting prints. He settled himself in a comfortable chair upholstered in dark green.

“What is it, Thomas?” Frederick asked.

Even as late as their walk to the study, Warwick had not decided how to approach the subject. Indeed, even as the representative of his family, he probably didn’t have any right to bring the matter up, but he must. It was the curse of caring, one that had never burdened him before. “I am concerned at how little time you spend with your future wife.”

Frederick had seated himself across the desk and lifted an eyebrow at Warwick’s comment. “What do you mean? She has come to this house party as the honoured guest. What time I do not spend with my mother, I spend with Aphrodite.”

“That’s what I mean. Although I know how much you love your mother, perhaps you could spare a few moments for Lady Aphrodite? In the evening, you leave her with the other guests, without an escort.”

“Certainly Aphrodite doesn’t need an escort at a family house party. Her sisters are here, our family also.”

“Yes, but she is to become your wife. You display little of the tender care and concern expected in a husband. Most of your time is spent with your mother.” Warwick then added, as an afterthought, “Or Lady Athena.”

Frederick had leaned back in his chair but threw himself forward at the final words. His eyes sought Warwick’s. “What do you mean? You suggest that I spend too much time with Lady Athena? You don’t believe I nourish a tendre for the child, do you?”

Good heavens. What had he uncovered? His cousin’s reaction to the mention of Athena made Frederick even more uncomfortable than Warwick’s words about his neglect of Aphrodite. “I mean only that you should spend some time with your betrothed.”

“I don’t understand your interest in this, Warwick, or your inferences about Lady Athena. She is a charming young lady who will be a nice addition to our family. I think of her as a sister already.”

“I speak because this is a family matter, Frederick. If you dishonour your future bride, you dishonour the family.”

“Quite right.” Frederick cleared his throat. “I will certainly consider what you have said.”

Warwick left the room, wondering what ailed the man. He shrugged. There was nothing more he could do. He had put himself out far more than he had for anyone else but had as little to show for it as if he had done nothing. This reminded him why he so seldom became involved in the lives or problems of other people.

However, that evening, Warwick noted that Frederick did not leave the parlour with his mother. Instead, he spent the evening in conversation with Aphrodite.

“I’m glad to see that,” Susannah commented to her husband and brother as they discussed the afternoon and the progress of the play.

“See what?” James asked.

“Frederick is spending time with Aphrodite. I thought he neglected her terribly.”

“I talked to him about that this afternoon.” Warwick followed his sister’s glance to where Frederick and Aphrodite engaged in a quiet conversation after his mother’s departure.

“What?” Susannah asked with surprise. “You actually discussed this with Frederick? When did you start taking an interest in other people?”

“Coming a little strong, dear sister. A family matter.”

“True, true. A family matter,” James agreed. “A man has to take care of family matters, my dear.”

“Yes.” Susannah studied Warwick. “It’s just highly unusual for my brother to notice the concerns of others, even when it is a family matter.”

“Speaking of unusual—” Warwick looked around the room and chose another subject. “What do you know about Geoffrey’s friend Luigi?”

“Oh, Thomas, he certainly has not fooled you, has he?”

“Fooled me?”

“It is obvious he’s running a prank. If the young man’s Italian, I’m the Princess Charlotte. It’s just the sort of thing you would have done in school.”

“You don’t mind that your son is taking part in whatever this is?” Warwick watched the young man flirt with the squire’s youngest. What was her name? Well, it made no difference.

“Of course not. It’s the sort of wheedle a young man cuts. Let’s just enjoy it and see what happens. It’s also clear that he is a wellborn young man. At Cambridge, there’s not much chance of Geoffrey meeting riffraff.”

“You’re right. Of no concern, but I wonder. Have you ever met the Herringtons’ son Aski? I believe he’s also at the university.”

Warwick listened with interest to his sister’s reply.