Chapter 9

 

 

Not for her the coy braids and ringlets other women chose, Terpsi thought as she studied herself in the mirror. Her hair rippled down her back and curled over her shoulders, falling over her breasts in front. She shook her head to toss her shining tresses back so they would not detract from the snowy perfection of her skin.

Neither did she care about the approbation of society regarding what a proper young lady should wear. She was not proper. A voice whispered that she was no longer young either, but she ignored it. She was not proper, had never wanted to be proper, and hoped never to be proper.

But, perhaps, this dress went a little beyond the pale. Its neckline probably revealed a great deal more of Terpsi than was seemly, especially in the morning.

What difference does the clock make? she thought with another toss of her curls. If a dress were acceptable at a ball, why would it not be acceptable at any time?

Besides, only prigs could object. Highty-tighty people like . . . well, like Callum McReynolds, who had constantly lectured her about her clothing and behavior, and who now condemned her with his eyes. Why should she care about people like that when she looked perfectly lovely? Perfectly and scandalously lovely. She lifted her chin.

People like Callum McReynolds needed to discover that she cared not a whit, not a dab, about his opinions or censure.

Although there had been a time, a few years ago, when what he thought had mattered to her. Not, of course, that she heeded his advice even then, but she had toned down just a little. Back then, she had wanted to win his approval. And what happened when she did that? During the middle of a perfectly delightful conversation, he’d put a shawl around her shoulders. She’d appreciated that. The evening was cold. But then he’d arranged it so it covered her chest, completely. With a toss of her head—she did that quite often, Terpsi realized. Perhaps too often. Perhaps it had become clichéd. She’d think on that—anyway, with a toss of her head, she’d turned to flirt with . . . oh, she forgot with whom she had flirted, but when she turned back, Callum was gone and she hadn’t seen him again until now.

She didn’t, of course, care. Not a jot. Not a snap of the fingers. She wasn’t going to throw her hat at a man. Lady Terpsichore Herrington didn’t need to. Men flocked to her when she spoke in her low voice or when she smiled at them in a certain way or when she gazed at them just like this, she thought with a glance in the mirror.

All men but one, that bothersome voice whispered again.

No one needed a prim and proper Scot to tell her how to behave. Never again would she allow him to cut up her peace and leave her sobbing.

With that, she thrust out her chest, tossed her head, and left the room.

But only an hour later, she discovered that the Scot could still cut up her peace. They were again rehearsing in the ballroom.

“Don’t look at me that way,” Terpsi whispered to Callum, who stared at her disapprovingly. She attempted to concentrate on Aski as Puck and Elsie as a fairie while they read their parts, but the man made it impossible.

“If you didn’t dress as you do, Lady Terpsichore, you would not be bothered with men looking at you in a manner that you find distasteful.” Callum shifted his eyes from her breasts to her face. His expression was grim and disapproving.

“I most certainly do not dress this way to attract men,” Terpsi said, her voice getting louder.

“Then what other reason do you have?” Callum bellowed.

“Comfort!” she shouted.

“Comfort?” he yelled back at her. “I would think it would be most uncomfortable to be constantly putting one’s dress back on one’s shoulders or pulling it up to cover one’s bre—chest. And I would think you must be cold displaying so much of yourself. That cannot be comfortable.”

“You self-righteous coxcomb, what right do you have to say that?”

“No right, thank goodness, but I am a friend of a man who is about to join your family, and your nakedness dishonours both families.”

Then Terpsi looked over Callum’s shoulder and realized that the cast had stopped reading their lines. From the other side of the room, the four lovers—Aphrodite, Athena, Warwick and Frederick—stared at the arguing couple. Susannah had stopped stitching costumes to watch them while Aski and Elsie watched from only a few feet away.

“It’s nothing,” Terpsi explained. “I’m sorry. We were just practicing our lines.”

Each cast member looked down at their scripts as if trying to find where Shakespeare had written such words or if Titania had ever said such a thing.

“Aski . . . I mean, Luigi, if you will start your lines again,” Terpsi prompted.

“What’s this mean, Terpsi?” Aski asked, showing her a line in his booklet. He forgot his accent and that, as Conti di Versati, he wouldn’t know this woman well enough to use her name. “This line says, ‘But they do square.’”

“It means they quarrel.”

Aski looked at his book. “So Oberon and Titania quarrel? So much that the fairies all hide?” He began to laugh. “That’s just like you and Callum. How interesting you two would be cast as sweethearts who fight all the time.”

When Callum studied Aski again, the younger man said, “Oh, excuse-a me. I didna mean to be so forward.”

“Who is that?” Callum demanded. “He can’t be Italian. Sounds Irish. Not Scotch, but something other than Italian.” He turned to glare at Terpsi. “How does he know that you and I fought a lot? Why does he call you by your first name? Are you keeping company with him? Isn’t he a little young, even for you?”

“Of course he’s too young, even for me.” Terpsi glowered back at him. “All of society knows you and I fought. Perhaps he heard about it from his parents. Now, let us return to the play.”

Twenty minutes later, after a halfhearted effort, the cast left for their nuncheon, but not before Aski had caught Aphrodite’s eye and made it clear he needed to talk to her.

“By the lake,” he mouthed. “Now.”

Aphrodite nodded, then turned to discover that Warwick stood behind her. “May I escort you to the yellow salon, where I believe the food is laid out?”

“No, thank you.” Oh, she was such a bad liar. What excuse could she give? “My costume.” She grabbed up a piece of muslin. “Susannah asked me to try this on. To see if it fit.”

Warwick took the length of fabric from her hands. “Certainly this can’t be your gown. I don’t believe Susannah has taken a stitch in it.”

“Yes, it is,” she insisted as she took the length of muslin back from him. “I will see you this afternoon.” She caught herself before she started to babble in her nervousness, then dashed for the front hall and climbed the stairs, as if she were going to her chambers. When she saw the party disappear toward the dining area, she tossed the fabric behind a column, scurried down the stairs and out the front door, to race down the path to the lake.

“What is the reason for this tryst?” Aphrodite glared at her bother as she gasped for air.

“Can’t a fellow want to talk to his sister?” Aski asked with a smile of such charm that she knew he planned to ask for the impossible.

“About what?”

“Don’t sound so suspicious, Ditie. I’ve decided it’s time to go back to school. This was a lark for a while, but Geoffrey and I should go back. Could you find out if the magistrate is still looking for us?”

“How would I do that?”

“I don’t know, Ditie. You usually work these things out for us.”

“Perhaps I should go to Cambridge?”

“That would be just the thing! Would you?”

“Of course not, Aski. You got into this fix. It’s up to you to decide how to get out of it.”

“But, Ditie, you have always helped me.”

“Yes, I have, but not this time, Aski. I warned you, and you didn’t listen. I will do so no more.” She pointed at the furrows between her brow. “Look, this is what helping and worrying about you has gotten me. I have wrinkles. I’m only twenty, and I have wrinkles!”

“But, Ditie, you always . . .”

“You’re repeating yourself.” She started up the path toward the house. Was there a rustling in the woods? Aphrodite stopped to listen. Probably just a small animal. She started back up the hill.

Only a few minutes after Aphrodite had gone down the path to meet Aski, Terpsi sat on the bench overlooking the lake. She looked at the words in her script but they seemed to mock her. “‘I have forsworn his company,’” she read and sighed. Yes, she had forsworn his company. Did even the Bard have to remind her of that? Titania and Oberon battled as did she and Callum.

“‘Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania.’” Terpsi heard a low voice and looked up to see Hugh Ridley approach the bench.

“But ’tis barely noon, sir.” She laughed up at him and tugged on the neckline of her dress to cover herself more.

“I am wondering about your friendship with this Mr. McReynolds. You have a previous acquaintance, I would guess.” Hugh crossed the stone terrace and sat next to her.

“Yes, from years in the past. We do not get along.”

“I would think such enmity does not come from friendship or indifference.”

“That’s correct. Mr. McReynolds courted me once, but that was when I was younger and less discerning.”

“And you feel nothing for him now?”

“Nothing.” She shifted to look toward the lake instead of at him. “Nothing at all.”

“And that is why you are angry whenever you are in his company?” He turned on the bench and studied her profile.

“Why is it your concern?”

“Because I find you very lovely and would like to see you once we return to London, but if Mr. McReynolds . . .”

“It is likely that he will return to Scotland shortly. You may have noticed that he is not a fashionable man, as are you. He cares nothing for the city or fine clothing.”

“And yet you allowed him to court you? Lady Terpsichore, please forgive me if I insult you, but I thought you loved society life.”

“At the time, I decided that there was something better than living in London and was quite prepared to sacrifice, but such was not asked for. That was many years ago.”

“Then you will not mind if I call on you? Perhaps you would go for a drive with me in the park?”

“Why would you want to?” Terpsi considered her conduct for the past few days. “I have behaved terribly and rudely.”

“But with such fire and passion, Lady Terpsichore. You Herringtons live life so fully. I find it exciting just to be around you. The air positively hums.”

“Then I would be delighted, Mr. Ridley.” Terpsi smiled at him just as a panting Aphrodite passed the bench on her way back to the house, followed a short time later by Aski. “I believe I have finished studying my part. Would you take me in to the nuncheon?”

“I would be delighted, Lady Terpsichore.” He placed her hand on his arm and helped her over the uneven stones.

They had just stepped on the driveway when Terpsi saw Warwick coming out of the woods, his dark coat covered with leaves. She’d wager that his boots were scratched, too. She smiled. Warwick and her proper sister. What about Mr. Horne? She knew better than to think her proper sister would break an engagement, but this was not, after all, a real engagement. Not yet.

When she noted Mr. McReynolds looking out the window of the yellow salon, Terpsi favoured Ridley with an enchanting smile and a burst of laughter.

 

• • •

 

That afternoon Aphrodite, Athena, Frederick and Warwick gathered around the same bench. They had enjoyed a lovely light repast, then Athena had napped in her room while the others read their lines to each other. When a rested Athena came toward the small group, Aphrodite couldn’t help but think how lovely she was with her enchanting smile and hair as pale as moonbeams. No one else had hair quite that colour.

Neither could Frederick take his eyes from the young woman. Warwick’s gaze darted from Aphrodite to her sister, then to her fiancé and back to Aphrodite again.

“And your conclusion?” Aphrodite asked Warwick in a low voice when she noticed his observation.

“I will apprise you of it at the proper time,” he whispered before greeting his acting partner. “Good afternoon, Lady Athena. You look properly refreshed. Are you ready to practice again?”

“Susannah said that she was going into the village to look for some lace, Ditie. I would so love to go.” Athena looked beseechingly at her sister.

“I know you would, dear, but Susannah has such a small part. She has additional time. And the lace is for the costumes she is spending so much time making. Let us read our lines for an hour or so, then, perhaps Frederick would take us for a ride in his new phaeton.”

“Certainly, my lady.” Frederick nodded to Athena.

“I want to go now.” Athena’s eyes narrowed and her lips formed a puckered circle.

Aphrodite blanched. She knew Athena had worked herself into a temper but hated for anyone to witness it. The child didn’t realize how disagreeable it made her look. “Why don’t we read through this scene one time, then we’ll take a walk together, and practice our lines.”

“No, no, no!” Athena threw her book on the ground.

“Lady Athena, you must still be exhausted from the long morning and not quite awake from your rest.” Frederick placed her hand on his arm and led her to the bench. “Let us sit here for a while and look at the scenery. Have you ever seen a more pleasant prospect?” He patted her hand and lowered her onto the seat like a fragile doll. “Now, isn’t this delightful?”

Athena, her tantrum forgotten, stared up into Frederick’s eyes. “Oh, so lovely. You see, I’ve been so worried. I know Warwick will expect me to memorize my lines, and I just cannot do that. You know that, Ditie,” she spoke to her sister over her shoulder, then turned back to face Frederick. “She knows I cannot memorize things.”

“Yes, dear, I know. Perhaps we could shorten some of your speeches.”

“They are shortened, Aphrodite,” Warwick reminded her. “Were they any shorter, she would be silent on the stage, merely moving back and forth.”

“And looking beautiful,” Frederick added.

“Oh, yes!” Athena clapped her hands. “That’s exactly what I want.”

“And so I am to speak my lines to a lovely statue?” Warwick asked.

“See, I knew he’d be angry.” Athena’s lip quivered. “I cannot work with him,” she said to Frederick, tears again gathered in the azure depths of her eyes. “Please, would you change parts with him? Would you be Lysander?”

“I don’t know.” He looked to Aphrodite for guidance.

“Oh, please.” Athena turned to her sister. “Please say that will be all right, Ditie. I am so afraid of making Warwick angry.”

“If you want your sister to live, you will accept the exchange,” Warwick muttered in Aphrodite’s ear.

“Yes, that will be fine,” Aphrodite agreed. “Then shall I be Hermia?”

“No, no, Ditie. I do know a few of her words and I will read the rest.”

“I’m sure that will be fine, Lady Athena.” Frederick patted her hand again. “We will tell Lady Terpsichore in the morning.”

“Won’t she be pleased,” Warwick added.

“Will she mind?” Athena’s eyes began to tear again.

“Not at all, darling.” Aphrodite glared at Warwick. “I will talk to her and explain everything. I know she will understand if other people will keep their mouths closed and their opinions to themselves.”

“Of course, Aphrodite.” Warwick took her hand and placed it on his arm. “Shall we take a walk and discuss our parts while Frederick and Athena read theirs together? I believe tea is being served on the lawn.”

They moved away from the bench and strolled around the maze, through a small statuary garden, then toward the front drive, where Puck and Oberon read together. As they passed the two, Warwick said, “During our rehearsals, I’ve noticed the conti’s accent disappears when he reads his part. In fact, there are times he sounds like an educated young man from Cambridge. Why do you suppose that is?”

Aphrodite glanced at him. He was laughing at her, but she had to say something. “I believe he studied Shakespeare with a British tutor.”

“Oh, indeed.” He considered that for a moment. “And he is so impressionable that he picked up the tutor’s accent?” He helped Aphrodite over a rough section of the path.

“Why, yes. I believe so.” She spoke, she hoped, with authority.

“Doing it a little too brown, Lady Aphrodite. If that is true, why does he have such a strong and odd Italian accent at all other times?”

“His region of Italy . . .”

“Oh, yes, his region of Italy. To be sure.” He looked at her with a smile. “What kind of a rig is he running?” Warwick asked. When Aphrodite would have answered, he stopped her with his words. “I wish you believed that I stand your friend, that you can call on me if the scamp is causing you problems.”

He looked down at her, a soft, gentle light in his eyes, as if he really did want to help her. Oh, how she wished she could share some of the burden of her family with him. But before she could utter another word, Hugh Ridley approached.

“I have a question about those two matched grays you were driving last week, Warwick. Wondered if I could talk you into going to Tatt’s after the house party?”

“Actually, I had just asked . . .” Warwick began.

“There you are, Aphrodite.” Frederick appeared beside her and nodded at Hugh. “I am glad that you found the tea table. May I get you a cup?” He held out his arm and she put her hand on it.

Frederick led her away from Warwick and toward the refreshment table, where a servant handed her a cup of tea. She selected a Bath cake and nibbled on an almond puff until she and Frederick found a bench.

Her eyes shifted across the lawn to where Athena stood with Fothergill, shyly gazing up at him.

“Your sister is nearly as enchanting as you are. Please tell me, is anyone courting Lady Athena?”

“No, not at the moment.”

“I am sure she attracts a great deal of attention with the gentlemen,” Frederick continued.

“Yes, she does.” Aphrodite studied her fiancé, then her sister, and wondered. Then her glance moved around the guests until it returned to Warwick.

As if he felt her eyes, Warwick turned and watched her, a glance filled with emotion. What he felt, Aphrodite was not sure, but she could not breathe. It was the same look she had seen her father give her mother. And she knew she was returning that look, with the same invitation her mother gave her father.

For a moment, she felt as if they were alone on a beautiful green island, just the two of them, surrounded by a broad blue sky and warmed by soft, lavender-scented breezes.

Then Frederick made another comment about something, and she wrenched her gaze away from Warwick. Of course she was not alone. She shared a bench with her fiancé, but when she turned to speak to him, she recognized that he was a little dull.

In that same instant, she realized that he was paying a great deal of attention to her little sister.