Chapter 16

 

 

In the excitement of the evening, with the drama only minutes away, Aphrodite could almost forget the mare’s nest in which she found herself.

Tonight, the three sisters dressed in her spacious chamber and Mignon styled their hair. Terpsi glowed while Athena smiled to herself and fidgeted with the ties of her gown. Aphrodite herself felt a little removed from the scene but greatly relieved that the performance signaled the approaching end of the house party, the worst fortnight she had ever spent.

Terpsi, in a white Swiss muslin robe over a sea green slip, twisted in front of the mirror in an attempt to see the flowing curls Mignon was brushing.

“I didn’t remember you planned to wear a slip under your costume,” Aphrodite said.

“Callum doesn’t like me to wear clothing made of flimsy, transparent material.” Terpsi smiled abstractedly into the looking glass and adjusted the lace fichu that covered the top of her breasts and much of her chest.

“Oh?” Aphrodite stared at Terpsi. “And you agree with Callum about this?”

“Certainly. And, of course, Mama has asked me to dress more modestly,” she added.

“Well, you look lovely, both of you.” Aphrodite smiled at her sisters. “Terpsi, I have a feeling you have a secret. Do you wish to tell us anything about you and, perhaps, Mr. McReynolds?”

“Oh, Terpsi, you sly boots. Tell us!” Athena coaxed.

“Perhaps later.” Terpsi smiled again and tossed her hair so she could watch the curls bounce.

Athena had chosen to wear her hair in a braid with white flowers woven through it. Mignon had just finished the last flower and turned to braid Aphrodite’s hair into a coronet.

Her hair finished, Aphrodite leaned forward to study herself in the mirror. She decided that if she did not have those furrows in her forehead, she, too, would be very pretty, but the furrows stubbornly refused to be massaged out with all the unguents Mignon had tried, from elderberry water to oil of sweet almond. Surely they would disappear once she returned to London, once she was back in a familiar place with familiar companions, all of whom understood and followed the same rules. Once she no longer had to worry about the high spirits and cockle-brained starts of her siblings.

Once she was away from Warwick.

Both Aphrodite and Athena wore sleeveless white robes with deep V-shaped necklines. Wound around their chests and tied at their waists were the Grecian ties that had so delighted Mrs. Horne. Yes, Aphrodite thought, Athena, too, looked as if she had breasts that could suckle a nation. That should please Mrs. Horne.

“Oh, my dears, you are lovely.” Their mother swirled into the room, beautiful in a flowing gown of Russian flame with gold beads and a matching Moorish turban. The scent of frangipani floated about her. “Let me see you.” As her daughters turned in front of her, Hazel smiled at each. “Is it any wonder everyone says that the Herrington family has the most beautiful women in England?” With a smile, she settled back in a chair.

“Now, tell me, darlings, which play is this? Are they lost in the forest? Or is it mistaken identity? Or, perhaps, twins? I am afraid Mr. Shakespeare’s plays confuse me.”

“In this one, Mama, they were lost in the wood,” Terpsi explained. “There are two sets of lovers, Hermia and Lysander—played by Athena and Mr. Horne—and Helena and Demetrius, who are Ditie and Warwick.”

“Oh, I think I remember a little. Isn’t there a magic spell?”

“Yes, Mama. Demetrius was in love with Helena, then he fell in love with Hermia and is engaged to her.”

“And he says terrible things to Helena,” Athena added. “But it’s all right in the end, Mama.”

“Yes,” Terpsi said. “In the end, all the lovers are together: Athena and Frederick, Callum and I, Aphrodite and . . .” Terpsi stopped. The three looked at Aphrodite, who intently inspected the hairstyle Mignon had just completed. “Helena and Demetrius,” Terpsi finished.

“Thank you, darlings,” their mother said. “I always get those people confused. Why Shakespeare had to give both women names beginning with an H, I don’t know. It is so difficult to remember which is which.”

Aphrodite forbore to mention that Hazel had five children whose names began with an A and would have used the vowel for many more if their father had not requested that she use a few other letters of the alphabet, for variety.

The marchioness rose. “You’re all lovely, and I know we’ll enjoy your little play very well.” She waved at her children and left.

Aski, in a green and gold costume with bells that jingled as he walked, joined his sisters in the hall. The four descended the backstairs to avoid being seen by the other guests of the house party and those from the neighbourhood who had been invited to swell the audience. They found the other actors behind the lattice covered with vines and flowers that served as the back of the stage.

“Aah, fair Helena,” Warwick greeted Aphrodite. “You are lovely.”

“Thank you, Demetrius. You look very dramatic tonight.”

Susannah had dressed the men in clothing that appeared more Elizabethan than Greek. The open neck of Warwick’s shirt displayed a broad and very masculine chest. At the sight, Aphrodite’s breath caught in her throat.

Fortunately, at that moment, Aphrodite’s attention was caught by the obvious alarm of her little sister. Athena had looked around the corner of the stage, gasped, then hurried to Frederick. With a sigh, Aphrodite thought that until this week her sister would have come to her with her fears, but their lives were changing at a pace she was finding difficult to keep up with.

“Frederick, I’m so frightened,” Athena said. “There must be at least thirty people out there.”

“More than that,” Aski said. “Geoffrey counted fifty before he came back.”

Athena sighed. “I’ll never remember my lines.”

Frederick patted her shoulder. “I know every word you are to say. If you forget, I can whisper them to you.”

“Fair Patience, don’t you care that your fiancé is so attentive to your sister?”

Warwick spoke from behind Aphrodite.

Aphrodite turned to face him. “I’m pleased that my sister feels more comfortable now. I don’t want her frightened while she’s on the stage.”

Warwick looked at her, his face inscrutable but his eyes filled with questions. Aphrodite turned away as she heard Terpsi welcome the guests. Then James stepped on the stage and said, “Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour draws on apace.” The play had begun.

In the years to come, Aphrodite marveled that she had survived the evening without bursting out in laughter or breaking down in tears far earlier than she finally did.

She also wondered how Mr. Shakespeare would have felt if he had seen Athena, terrified and unable to speak, silent as a beautiful statue in the middle of the stage. At first, Frederick whispered the lines to her, but, when it became obvious that she was too frightened to speak above a whisper, he maintained a dialogue with himself, shouting his own lines, then saying Athena’s in a softer voice while she nodded her head or fluttered her hands. He ended each of her speeches with the explanation, “That’s what Hermia said.” The audience listened politely, even applauding his efforts.

“If I had to act opposite your sister, I’d have killed her,” Warwick muttered. “I admire my cousin’s patience.”

As they played their parts as the feuding Oberon and Titania, Terpsi and Callum gazed at each other with such love that their hostility was hardly believable.

James, with his theatrical gestures, knocked one of the fairies off the stage, but she landed on the soft lap of Mrs. Horne, who awakened for only a moment to shoo the unhurt girl away.

Aphrodite would’ve been delighted to see her family so happy if she hadn’t gone through most of the play distracted by the closeness of Warwick. She looked into his eyes when he spoke to her the lines of love written by Shakespeare. “The object and the pleasure of mine eye is only Helena.” She almost believed him, then reminded herself this was only a line in a play. She was not Helena; he was not Demetrius.

The minutes hurried past until Callum ended the play with the lines, “So shall all the couples three ever true in loving be.”

The cast bowed as the audience stood and clapped. Finally Callum silenced them with a gesture, led Terpsi toward the front of the stage and nodded at Terpsi’s father.

The marquis stood and inclined his head toward Mrs. Horne. “I thank our hostess for allowing me to share our happiness with our friends and family at her evening of entertainment.” He stopped and held out his hand for Hazel to join him. “The marchioness and I are pleased to announce the engagement of our daughter Terpsichore to Callum McReynolds. We bless this union and welcome Mr. McReynolds to the family.”

As Athena and Aphrodite rushed to their sister, Callum kissed Terpsi.

“Terpsi, I am so happy for you.” Aphrodite gave her sister a hug before she turned to Callum. “And you look amazingly cheerful for a man who plans to spend the rest of his life with my sister.”

“Oh, I know what I’m taking on, Aphrodite. I know she’ll lead me a wild dance, but if she kisses me often enough and tells me she loves me every now and again, I believe I shall be able to put up with her.”

“There are refreshments laid out in the dining room,” Frederick said. “Let us meet there to toast this happy union and those actors who performed for us tonight.”

Frederick had thrown open all the parlours around the dining room. Tables and chairs were set up. In the center stood long tables laden with Florentine of veal and jugged hare, potato pudding, apricot fritters, almond cheesecake, tarts and custards, and much more.

The crowd filled their plates, congratulated Terpsi and Callum, and told all the actors how well they had performed.

“My, you looked lovely,” Susannah told Athena, who smiled happily while she held on to Frederick’s arm.

“Just lovely,” James agreed as Athena basked in praise.

“The play was not so terrible, Frederick,” Athena said. “Best of all, everyone says I looked lovely.”

“As you always do,” he agreed.

“Perhaps, Freddie,” Athena said. “Perhaps we could build a theatre in one of the gardens so we could have more plays.”

Then Athena sat with Frederick next to his mother while Mrs. Horne shoveled in the food he brought her. Even the white toad displayed a tiny smile.

As she searched for someone to talk to, Aphrodite noted Aski in a corner. She wandered over to chat to him before she realized she would be interrupting a private conversation.

“The house party will be over tomorrow night, and Geoffrey and I will return to school,” Aski told Elsie. “But we will certainly see each other in a few years, when you are finally out. I promise I will dance with you and show you around town a bit.”

Elsie touched her eyes with the handkerchief Aski handed her. “I’ll miss you.”

Hugh Ridley escorted Gwendolyn to the supper table while Fothergill searched the room for a partner. When he saw Susannah’s daughter, he sat next to her. All in all, the merry atmosphere of A Midsummer Night’s Dream filled every part of the parlours and everyone had paired up.

In a far corner, Warwick sat with Susannah and James. Aphrodite tingled from the top of her braid to the tips of her toes, so aware was she of his scrutiny. Although he frowned occasionally at Athena and Frederick, most of the time he fixed her with the odd stare she had seen all day.

The marquis and marchioness held hands and walked through the throng of guests, speaking with each person, nodding graciously. But when her father nuzzled her mother on the neck, Aphrodite had all the joy and love she could handle for one evening. With a glance around to see if anyone were watching her, she came to the lowering conclusion that not a soul was. They were all too wrapped up in each other. Even Warwick had turned to laugh with his sister.

Aphrodite inched toward the doors that led to the gardens. In a moment, she was outside.

She lifted her face to bathe it in the moonlight and took a deep breath of the heavily scented air before she descended the steps. A breeze tousled her hair, and she carefully patted it back in place.

At the bottom of the steps, she paused. Where should she go? The lake, she decided. The perfect place for a quiet time to think, to get away. She started toward the path to the lake, contemplating sitting in the little summerhouse to watch the reflection of the moon on the water, to try to come to some understanding of the hotchpotch of emotion that filled her: joy for her sisters; a large amount of uncertainty about her future; a tiny bit of loneliness and another feeling she couldn’t quite define about how their lives were changing. She felt a bit of disappointment but even more relief that no longer would Terpsi and Athena turn to her for help and advice.

No, she decided, sorrow that she would not be their advice-dispensing sister was not the problem. Her sisters would never again come to her laughing and dancing to tell her about new beaux or ball gowns or any other of those things sisters shared. Instead they would become matrons, wives, lovers and mothers, giving advice to their children. That was as it should be.

But what of her?

She paused to sit on the bench that overlooked the lake and thought of the times she’d spent here with Warwick in these last few days. Immediately—well, almost immediately—she banished the thought of him from her mind and forced herself to contemplate the future. Would she find a man she could respect and love? Would anyone love her or was she to grow old alone, the maiden aunt of her siblings’ children? She shuddered.

“Are you cold?”

Aphrodite turned toward where he stood behind her. Did he have that same odd look in his eyes that had been there all day? She could not tell in the darkness but rather guessed he did.

“I’ll give you my coat if you are.” He began to shrug out of it.

“No, thank you. I’m comfortable. I’ve just been thinking.”

“May I join you?”

Aphrodite slid to the end of the bench to give him room to sit, but he sat only an inch from her. He didn’t touch her, but she could feel his warmth, his maleness.

“And your thoughts made you shiver?” he asked angrily. “I don’t doubt that. How can you stand to see your fiancé dangling after your sister? Why don’t you do something? Why are you out here, leaving her to flirt with him? Go back inside and tell him to behave.”

“I’m not going to marry Frederick.”

“You cried off? When?” Warwick demanded.

“This morning, during our walk.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice echoed through the small clearing.

Aphrodite rose. “I didn’t see it was your concern.”

“You did not see how the fact that you’re no longer to marry my cousin is any of my concern?” His shout cut off her words as he stood. “Have I not been telling you all week that it is my concern?”

“Well, certainly, as the head of your family.”

“No, I mean my concern. My concern. As a man.” He strode around the small area in agitation. “Why do you think I have been following you around all day? I wanted to see if you had been hurt, if you needed a friend, if you were going to go through with this foolish marriage or, if you came to your senses, just to be there if you needed a friend. If you needed, well, not necessarily a friend, but if you needed me.” He struggled to gain control and turned to her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought it a matter between Frederick and myself. He loves Athena. I could not marry a man who loves my sister.”

“Of course not, but you didn’t tell me anything, any of the times I asked you.”

“I believe this was only between Frederick and me.”

“But certainly you read my actions. Surely you could tell how worried I was you’d enter a loveless marriage with a man who doesn’t deserve you, that you contemplated marrying a man who doesn’t recognize your worth when I was there, all the time, waiting.”

“Waiting? You were? Why?”

“Because I love you.”

Stunned, Aphrodite moved away from him and leaned her back against the balustrade. Was the man mad?

He moved to stand in front of her. “It cannot come as a surprise that I love you. I’ve been as assiduous in my attentions as a man can be toward the woman who is to marry his cousin. Even my sister noticed that.”

“You love me?” she asked. Daring to hope, she looked up at him. “You love me?”

“Yes, dammit, I love you.”

Aphrodite almost smiled because his words were those she would have guessed Warwick would use to declare himself. “You are not playing with my heart again, are you?”

“Two years ago, I was a fool. I found you very lovely even then. It frightened me. I was not ready for love and pretended my heart was whole, but it was not.”

“But why would you love me?” Aphrodite shook her head. “I’m not as beautiful and sophisticated as your usual flirts. I’m not even the most beautiful woman in my family.”

“You have no idea, do you?” He took her hand and held it against his chest. “You really do not know that you are the most beautiful Herrington of all because you are filled with so much love—for your family, for everyone. Love shines from you with a glow that makes you far more lovely than anyone else. I’ve often wished I could be enfolded in the warmth of that love.”

He put his hand under her chin and tilted her head so she looked into his eyes. “You cannot doubt that I love you.”

No, she didn’t doubt he loved her. Everything he’d said and done during the house party convinced her of that. She’d begun to form the words to tell him that she loved him when he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, a kiss filled with longing and passion and love, a kiss that entered every part of her and awakened a hunger she had only guessed existed. She knew, without a bit of doubt, that Warwick could satisfy it.

The kiss was nothing like the pecks Frederick had dropped on her cheek. The kiss Warwick had given her two years earlier paled beside this one. This one reached into the heights and depths of her soul.

Amazed at how marvelous, how glorious this kiss was, she wound her arms around Warwick’s neck and pressed her body into his, feeling his masculine hardness against her. He put his hands on her back to pull her more firmly against him while his tongue plundered her mouth. And, shamelessly, she returned every touch, every movement with her own until, out of breath, he pulled back and looked down at her.

“Oh, my,” she said, barely able to think.

“I wasn’t sure,” Warwick said. “I’d hoped, but I didn’t know if the passion would be there.” He smiled, then leaned down to kiss her again.

Blood thundered through her as he pressed kisses down her neck, across her throat. She craved his touch, wanted to show her body to the man she loved, to feel his touch on her skin. She felt like Terpsi.

Then her mother’s words exploded in her mind. Had she forgotten so soon? She was the responsible daughter. She was not her sisters. She was not a wanton. The thought stiffened her body. She unwound her arms from his neck and pushed him away, then tried to step back but hit the balustrade. “No, I cannot.”

“You cannot?” He did not release her from his arms but looked at her, confused. “You cannot? But you have. You are.”

“No.” Her body leaned toward him, yearned to be held by him, but she moved away from the circle of his arms. “I cannot. You may have been misled by the behavior of my sisters.”

Even to herself she sounded ridiculous. After having delved into the depths of passion, she’d become a Puritan. Nonetheless, she continued. “I’m not criticizing them, you must understand. I love them, but perhaps their behavior has made you believe I’d behave loosely.”

She glanced at Warwick. He wore a puzzled frown. “Perhaps,” she attempted to explain more clearly, although she wasn’t sure that she understood her reasoning herself. “Perhaps the fact that Athena stole my fiancé or that Terpsi flirted with Mr. Ridley while wearing her improper gowns led you to believe I’m the kind of woman who would break her engagement with one man, only to kiss another in the moonlight mere hours later. You’re mistaken. I cannot,” she repeated. “I’m not like that.” With those words, she whirled and ran toward the front door.

“But I want to marry you.”

She stopped for a moment and looked back over her shoulder at him. To be the wife of this man was what she wanted more than anything in the world. Then what was wrong with her? Why could she not run to him and throw herself in his arms?

Because she couldn’t, she could not. Because, for a moment she had given in to the passion that this man aroused in her, and it scared her to the depths of her being.

If she gave in to passion, she’d no longer be who she’d been all her life.

She whirled toward Warwick. “Do you believe I’m the sort of foolish, lustful woman who breaks her engagement to one man and then becomes engaged to another on the same day?”

“It’s not the same day, my love. It must be after midnight by now.”

“It is obvious you have no idea who I am, my lord.” It was even more evident to Aphrodite that she was no longer certain of her own identity. The small amount of logic she retained told her that she could not answer Warwick until she understood who she was and the part played by the passionate woman who came to life in his arms.

“I’m not the type of woman who leaps from one man to another within only a few hours.” She realized her voice was very loud and filled the clearing. With an effort, she spoke quietly but firmly. “I do not do that.”

“Of course not. I didn’t think that.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Lord, I’ve mishandled this. Aphrodite, I’ve never told a woman I love her. I never thought I would. When I recognized I’d fallen in love, you were almost engaged to my cousin.”

Warwick took a step toward her but, when she started toward the house, he stood still. “My love, I was so relieved when you told me you broke off the engagement with Frederick, I didn’t think. I just acted. You must know I meant no dishonour.”

“Thank you.” To her horror, tears prickled in her eyes. What was wrong? She never cried. She blinked rapidly to try to stop them.

“I hoped you returned my love,” he continued. “In fact, I’m certain you do.”

“I . . . I don’t know. I cannot think right now. Please, I beg you, leave me alone.” She had to get away now, before she started to cry and before Warwick pulled her into his arms again. “Please.” Her voice cracked.

But she knew he would not. As she moved toward the house, he reached out a hand. “Please don’t do this, Aphrodite.”

Her warring emotions weren’t his fault. The entire scene was due to her problems. She wasn’t brave enough to flout the rules she’d lived by all her life. For so long, she had been so unlike the rest of her passionate family. How could she face society? No, that wasn’t the consideration. How could she face herself if she were no longer the different daughter? The responsible daughter? After twenty years, could she throw her pride away in one night and become a true Mad Herrington?

She could not.

She refused to look at Warwick—Thomas. She had hurt him, she knew she had, but he didn’t understand the war going on inside of her.

“Thank you for a nice evening,” she said, always polite, as she dashed away from him, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“You’re not crying, are you, my love? I’m sorry. I never meant to make you cry.”

In his haste, Warwick stumbled over something. She heard him hit the ground and swear. The fall gave her a moment to run ahead of him before he got to his feet. He was quickly up and after her, his feet pounding across the drive, then up the steps, but she reached the house ahead of him. She hurried inside, slammed the door and locked it before he could enter. When she leaned against the door to catch her breath, she could feel it vibrating with the blows from his fists.

“Aphrodite, I’m sorry I upset you. I love you. Please open the door.”

Her tears flowed freely now. Confound it! Why did she have to be good? Why could she not be a Mad Herrington, as harum-scarum as the rest of them? They were all happy, and she was miserable.

Why couldn’t she just toss the door open and throw herself in Warwick’s arms? Because she was Aphrodite, the reliable daughter, the reasonable daughter, the passionless daughter, blast it! And she didn’t know any other way to act.

“I’m sorry, Ditie,” he shouted. “Please open the door.”

Instead she pushed herself away from the door and headed up the steps, toward her chambers, to cry herself to sleep.