Chapter 10

 

 

At the rehearsal late that afternoon, Aphrodite studied the group gathered in the ballroom. James kneeled on the floor, almost asleep with his head nodding over the tree trunk he was painting. Gone were his dramatically waving hands and great enthusiasm in his part as Theseus.

Susannah sucked on a needle prick as she sewed on the pile of costumes, while Athena’s countenance bore the look of exhaustion and petulance that Aphrodite knew too well would lead to a tantrum. The other cast members sat on the floor with their backs against the wall and read their lines in a desultory manner. Only Warwick still looked alive and awake, holding pins as the squire’s wife fitted Athena’s drape.

“I hereby declare that tomorrow will be a holiday for all the fairies and denizens of ancient Greece,” Aphrodite announced. “No more thoughts of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Everyone sleep late in the morning. Frederick”—she turned toward her almost fiancé, who was helping Athena read her lines—“can your cook put together a picnic by the lake for tomorrow afternoon?”

“I’m sure that will be no trouble.”

“Then tomorrow, everyone, go to town or ride or take walks until late afternoon. Help Susannah sew. Perhaps after dinner we could gather for just a short time for her to fit the costumes.”

“Ditie, the play is only four days away. This leaves us so little time,” Terpsi said.

“I know, dear, but everyone is so tired. We’ll all come back ready to work again tomorrow.”

Unwillingly, Terpsi agreed, and the cast scattered.

As had been suggested, all slept late and ate breakfast in their rooms. A note came on Aphrodite’s tray that Mrs. Horne was indisposed, so Frederick would be caring for his mother all day. With a disappointed sigh, she arose and called her maid. Athena arrived shortly after Mignon started to arrange Aphrodite’s hair.

“Oh, Ditie, I’m so excited that we’re not reading that boring play again,” Athena said as she settled herself on the side of the bed and watched Mignon’s attentions. “Although,” Athena began, then paused to chew her lower lip. “Although it has not been all that terrible. I have to say that Mr. Horne isn’t as boring as I thought he was.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, I told you I thought he was an old stick. Mayhap that’s not all bad. Warwick frightens me. Mr. Horne is much more . . . oh, I don’t know. Comfortable.”

“I knew it,” Mignon whispered. “I knew what would happen if you let that little flirt get close to your beau.”

Aphrodite glared at her dresser, then said, “What do you mean, Athena?”

“I mean, he’s not really dull. He’s soothing and patient.” Athena bounced on the bed. “I’ve learned a line or two with his help.” Then she stood and flounced toward the mirror and studied her reflection, smoothing her dress and patting her hair.

“What are you planning to do today?” Aphrodite asked.

“I don’t know. Susannah is taking her daughters into the village. I may go with them.”

With that, Athena danced toward the door and left her sister with Mignon complaining about the flibbertigibbet who always wanted whatever and whoever her sister had.

When she had hushed Mignon and completed her toilette, Aphrodite read the note again as she strolled across the entrance hall. It seemed that Mrs. Horne had become ill during the evening.

“Something she ate. Possibly a cow or a chicken,” Warwick’s voice intruded into her thoughts.

Aphrodite turned. He stood much closer than she expected. When she took a step back, away from the lure of his charm, he smiled. He most certainly knew the effect he had on women. She must be ridiculously easy for such a man to read.

“I don’t know why she is ill. Frederick is dutifully staying with her, to read to her and encourage her to sip some soothing broth. I believe he said something about calves’ foot jelly.”

“A particular favorite of Aunt Matilda’s. Of course, what isn’t?”

“Which I have heard is a wonderful restorative,” she finished, ignoring Warwick’s interruption.

“If you think Aunt Matilda needs a restorative, you don’t know her well. She’s not sick, just tired of sharing her son.” He took a step toward her, but Aphrodite held her ground. “What do you plan to do today?”

“I really haven’t decided. I’d hoped to spend time with Frederick, but now I don’t know. Perhaps write my parents and some of my brothers and sisters.”

“Even allowing for the size of your family, fair Patience, that cannot take more than an hour or two of your time.”

“I wish you would not call me that. It’s a foolish name and does not fit me at all.” She looked around and realized how alone they were. The privacy of the isolated front of the house suddenly became very intimate. Almost in a panic, she turned and bolted for the morning room, where she knew there would be company.

He didn’t follow her, she thought and waited for relief to fill her. Instead, she felt—oh, certainly not!—disappointment.

She waited in the door for almost a minute, but when he didn’t appear in the hallway, she entered the morning room and joined the ladies stitching costumes.

 

• • •

 

In the late afternoon, after she’d rested and read a chapter of Miss Austen’s Sense and Sensibility, Aphrodite again entered the ballroom, where most of the actors and actresses had assembled to look at their costumes or help others with theirs. A recovered Mrs. Horne sat next to her son and surveyed the scene before her.

“Oh, I’m so glad to see you.” Susannah rushed across the room toward Aphrodite before Mrs. Horne could tap her cane and demand Aphrodite attend her. Susannah held a length of light muslin in her hands. “I need to see you in your costume. It’s almost finished. You are wearing the white robe with blue trim. Athena’s is white with pink trim.”

Aphrodite reached out to take the costume. “I’ll go upstairs and put it on.”

“No, no, that’s not necessary. Let me just drape it over your dress.” Susannah dropped the gown over Aphrodite’s head and jerked and pulled it into place. “Let’s see . . .” she mumbled as she tugged on the seam. “How does it feel? Move around.”

Aphrodite politely did as instructed. She lifted her arms as she took a few steps. “It feels fine.”

“Now, let me put the sash around you.” Susannah put a length of blue cord behind Aphrodite’s neck, crossed it over her chest then tied it behind her back. “I think I remember old pictures that show Greek maidens dressed like this.”

“It feels comfortable.” With the sudden hush in the room, Aphrodite looked up to see that everyone was staring at her. Why?

“I didn’t realize . . .” Susannah began, her eyes directed toward Aphrodite’s bosom.

“It seems to really emphasize my . . .” Aphrodite whispered. “It seems to emphasize my chest.”

“I noticed that,” Susannah replied in a low voice. “Perhaps I could loosen the trim or tie it another way.”

“Behold!” Mrs. Horne’s voice echoed through the small room. “Behold the breasts on that gel. You truly have chosen well.” She turned toward Frederick, who was attempting to swallow and speak at the same time. Words didn’t come. He just gurgled.

Aphrodite looked around, amazed at what Mrs. Horne had said and wondering to whom she had spoken when she realized from the stares and the averted eyes that her future mother-in-law had made the comment about her. Oh, merciful heavens, she thought.

Her first reaction was to cover her chest with her arms, but she thought that would draw even more attention. She could see the shock on the faces of all the guests, even Warwick’s.

“Mother,” Frederick said when he could finally speak, “I think such a comment embarrasses Lady Aphrodite.”

“Why should it? You’ve chosen well, son. Those breasts.” She pointed with her cane. “Those breasts could suckle a nation.”

Aphrodite began to shake. She put her head in her hands and turned away from the group, attempting to get out the door before emotion overwhelmed her. She had almost escaped from the ballroom when Warwick reached her. He put his arm around her and guided her out into the hallway. There he made ineffectual masculine attempts to comfort her by pulling her against his broad chest, which she greatly enjoyed, then he patted her on the shoulder and murmured, “There, there.”

“It’s all right,” Aphrodite gasped as she tried to take another breath before going off in a paroxysm of laughter. “I’m fine,” she managed to choke out between chortles.

“You’re not crying,” Warwick said, stunned. “You’re laughing.”

“Yes, I am.” She looked up at him as a gurgle escaped her throat. “Please forgive me. I’m afraid I’ve become irreverent and am completely unrepentant. Excuse me. I need to get farther away from the doorway so no one will hear me.” She ran off to a corridor leading away from the ballroom, where she leaned against the wall and allowed herself to burst out in gales of laughter.

Warwick had followed her and looked at her with an expression she could not decipher. Amazement was part of it, but there was something more. A warmth that she couldn’t understand.

“I must confess. Mrs. Horne makes me realize that I am more of a Herrington than I thought. What a surprise! At this moment, I really enjoy it.” She wiped the tears from her eyes with the corner of her costume.

“You are enchanting,” he murmured. “Completely charming. I don’t believe Frederick realizes what a fortunate man he is.” He picked up her hands and held them between his.

Aphrodite’s head jerked up. What had he said?

“Enchanting,” he repeated.

“Oh, la,” Aphrodite said, then laughed again. “Oh, my, I can’t believe I said that.” She pulled one of her hands away—Warwick would not let go of the other—and pressed it against her warm cheeks. “I never say that. I sound like Athena. I never flirt. I do not do it well.”

“Aphrodite?” a male voice called down the hallway.

Oh, dear, she thought when she identified Frederick’s voice as the annoying intrusion that destroyed the lovely moment with Warwick. She pulled the other hand from Warwick’s grasp and patted her hair, which must have been disarranged when Warwick comforted her.

“I’m here,” she called. With a quick glance at Warwick, she stepped away from him. “In the other hallway.”

“I’m so sorry about what Mother said.” Frederick hurried toward her voice. “I have attempted to get her to hold her tongue, but she had an earthy upbringing, which shows in odd moments.”

“It doesn’t matter, Frederick.” Aphrodite turned the corner and almost ran into him.

“But you must have been mortified. I’m sorry it took this long to come after you. Mother—” Then he saw Warwick behind her. Through narrowed eyes, he looked from Warwick to Aphrodite, and finally back to Warwick.

“I am fine,” Aphrodite assured him. “Warwick comforted me.”

“Thomas?” Now Frederick’s mouth dropped as he stared at Warwick. “Thomas comforted you?”

“Why, yes.” Warwick raised his eyebrow. “You find that odd?”

“You’ve never comforted anyone in your life,” Frederick began, but the chill of Warwick’s expression stopped him. “I mean, how nice of you to take care of my fiancée.” Then his eyes moved to Aphrodite and seemed to notice her pink cheeks for the first time. “Have you been crying, Aphrodite?” he asked. “Or are your cheeks still flushed from mortification?”

“Mortification,” Warwick supplied.

“And you were comforting her?” Frederick murmured again.

“He was most comforting. I felt very comforted . . .” Aphrodite began.

“I don’t know why you’re always cutting up rough at me.” Terpsi’s shriek broke into the odd conversation among Frederick, Aphrodite, and Warwick.

Aphrodite looked up as Callum stomped from the morning room and into the hall, pursued by her sister.

“Why do you always criticize me?” Terpsi shouted at his back, but Callum kept going, without turning around or saying a word. She stopped after a dozen steps and all her vitality seemed to drain out.

“‘The course of true love never . . .’” Warwick quoted.

But Aphrodite didn’t hear the rest of his words as she rushed toward Terpsi. When Aphrodite glanced into the ballroom, she saw everyone, eyes wide, staring at Terpsi. With a practiced movement, she took her sister’s arm and led her up the stairs to Terpsi’s bedroom. Once there, she forced her sister to lie down and bathed her face in lavender water. When Terpsi was a little calmer, Aphrodite held her hand.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Aphrodite asked when Terpsi had stopped quivering.

“No. I’m just so miserable.”

“You’re in love with him. Still.” Aphrodite pushed the hair back from her sister’s forehead.

Terpsi buried her head in the pillow. “And I’ve made such a mull of it,” she said, although Aphrodite had to struggle to understand the muffled words.

“What are you going to do?”

Terpsi sat up, knocking Aphrodite’s hand away. “What am I going to do? Why should I do anything? I’m not the one who walked out on the other one without a word, not even ‘good-bye,’ not telling the other one what was wrong or what one wanted.”

“Oh.” After a pause, Aphrodite asked, “What happened?”

“Go away.” Terpsi threw herself back on the bed and closed her eyes. “I am sorry, Ditie, but I do not want to talk about this now.”

After a few minutes, Aphrodite accepted the fact that Terpsi was not going to talk to her and left, although the sight of tears squeezing under her sister’s eyelashes broke her heart. But Terpsi was old enough to solve her own problems, to make her own decisions. Aphrodite closed the door softly behind her.

 

• • •

 

“Frederick,” Athena said in the soft, coaxing voice she’d found very effective with men. She concentrated the power of her large blue eyes on him. “While Ditie is busy with our sister, would you please rehearse one of our scenes with me?”

But Frederick turned and continued to look up the staircase, concern apparent in his posture.

“Please, Frederick? Ditie is so good at taking care of Terpsi, and we have so little time to work together before the performance.” She placed her tiny hand on Frederick’s sleeve, then studied how lovely her small fingers and translucent skin looked against the blue of his jacket. When he looked down at her, she pleaded, “Please, Frederick? It is so hard for me to learn lines. All of you are so intelligent and I’m . . .” She fluttered her eyelashes at him and watched with delightful satisfaction as his eyes took on the unfocused look she was usually able to produce in a man. “I’m just not as smart as Ditie or Terpsi.”

“Lady Athena,” he said as he placed his hand on hers. “I believe that is not true, but even if it were, I must hasten to remind you that you possess many other wonderful qualities.”

“Do you think so?” She hid her eyes with her long lashes. “I wonder what those qualities are?” She rounded her mouth into a lovely rosebud as she pretended to ponder this.

“You are a sweet, kind young woman, always happy and pleasant.”

“There are those who would say that I am beautiful. And yet, when I compare myself to my sister, I feel plain.”

“You must not, Lady Athena. You are very lovely.” He looked into the eyes she raised to him and seemed to forget what he had said. “You are very lovely,” he repeated after a long pause. “Your eyes are as blue as the heavens, and your hair is like a moonbeam.”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Horne. You are so kind. May I ask one more favour? Will you help me learn my lines?” She opened her eyes to their widest and watched him lose himself in their depths.

“Of course I will.”

Men present so little challenge, Athena thought as she led him to the overlook. “I brought two of the booklets with me. Perhaps if we started on act one, scene one?”

Athena sat and arranged her dress around her, making sure it showed her charms to their best advantage, then smiled up at Frederick.

“Yes, yes.” He blinked rapidly, as men often did around Athena, then took one of the booklets and opened it. “Ah, here we are. ‘How now, my love! why is your cheek so pale? How chance the roses there do fade so fast?’”

“I think the next words are so silly. ‘Belike for lack of rain, which I could well Beteem them from the tempest of my eyes.’ No one will understand that. Do you know what beteem means? I do not and I cannot remember the words. Could I not say, ‘I have been crying a lot lately’?”

“It doesn’t quite preserve the feel of Shakespeare. Perhaps I could think of a way to change the line so you would feel better about saying it. Let us continue.” Frederick said his next line from memory, then paused for Athena, who read a fairly close version of the line.

The scene continued until Athena had to say, “Oh, hell.”

“I cannot say that,” she explained. “My parents would be most unhappy with me were I to say such a word on the stage, with all those people listening to me. And this is Shakespeare. If he is such a fine writer, why would he use such a word? And put it in the mouth of a woman. I cannot say it.”

“Perhaps you could change it to, ‘Oh, my.’ That would fit the rhythm of the line.”

“Yes, yes, I will do that. You are so brilliant to improve Shakespeare so quickly. I wonder he did not think of that.”

They decided to leave out Athena’s next speech, which had been considerably shortened by Terpsi, but which, Athena said, wasn’t really necessary for the story. They shortened her next speech from its original ten lines to, “My good Lysander, tomorrow truly will I meet with thee.”

“Oh, it is so wonderful to practice with you,” Athena said, again captivating Frederick with her glance, which drew him across the small space to sit next to her. “Warwick scares me, but you are so understanding.”

“Thank you.”

“No, I must thank you for spending time with me.” She lowered her eyes then lifted them, concentrating every bit of their considerable power on Frederick. “You are such a wonderful man. You make me feel safe.” She lowered her voice and whispered, so softly that he had to lean close to her to hear. “And you make me feel cared for.”

Unable to speak, he took her hand in his. He sat for a full minute, holding her hand and staring into her eyes before he seemed to wake up and realize where he was. He dropped her hand and leaped from the bench.

“If you will excuse me, Lady Athena. I need to speak with your sister—my fiancée, your sister—and see how my mother is.” He turned and almost ran toward the house.

That went very well, Athena thought with a smile.