Chapter 17

 

 

“Ditie, what’s the matter?” Athena asked.

In her haste and blinded by tears, Aphrodite ran into her younger sister in the hall outside their rooms.

“You’re crying, Ditie. What is the matter? You never cry.” Athena followed her into the bedroom in spite of Aphrodite’s attempt to close the door with her sister on the other side.

“Nothing, dear,” Aphrodite said as she blew her nose on her tiny handkerchief and attempted to dry her tears. “Please leave me alone.”

“Oh, no, Ditie. You never leave me alone when I’m unhappy. I came up here to get a shawl, but I’m not going to leave you. Not now, not when you need me.” A look of complete lack of comprehension covered Athena’s face. “But you never cry, Ditie. I don’t know how to make you feel better.”

“I know, dear.” Aphrodite threw herself on the bed and allowed the sobs to take over.

“Is it because of Frederick? Are you crying because you won’t be marrying him?”

“No, darling.” Aphrodite tried to smile so her sister would not be so upset, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

“Oh, Ditie.” Athena patted her shoulder, then patted it again. “There, there.” She continued the gentle strokes but waited almost a minute before she said, “There, there,” again.

When no lessening of the sobbing was apparent, Athena said, “Just a minute,” and tiptoed out of the room, leaving Aphrodite to believe she could weep in solitude.

But, in only a moment, Athena returned, closing the door softly behind her. “See, Aski, Ditie is crying.”

“She never cries,” Aski whispered. “But she is,” he added with wonder in his voice. He approached the bed and patted Aphrodite on the right shoulder while Athena went to the other side of the bed and patted the left. “There, there,” he said. “There, there.”

Torn between her own grief and the sight of her completely ineffectual but loving siblings’ attempts to comfort her, Aphrodite didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Then she thought of not seeing Warwick, of not having him tease her, of not laughing with him, and the idea of his not making her feel special and beautiful hurt so much she burst into fresh sobs.

“Go get Terpsi,” Athena ordered Aski. “She’ll know what to do.”

In a moment, the door opened. Aski and Terpsi entered.

“Ditie is crying,” Athena pointed out. “There, there,” she added to Aphrodite, who had struggled to sit up and wipe her face with the handkerchief Aski handed her.

Terpsi determined the problem with a glance and took charge. “Thank you, Aski and Athena. You go back to the party. I’ll take care of her.”

“Do not tell anyone, please,” Aphrodite begged before she threw herself back on the bed.

Aphrodite heard the door close again, then Terpsi’s hand was on her shoulder. “Come here. Sit up.”

When Aphrodite sat up, Terpsi hauled her into her arms. “What’s the matter?” Terpsi asked. “You never cry.”

“Nothing,” Aphrodite managed to say between sobs.

“Oh, I believe that. You’re crying because this has been such a wonderful week.” Terpsi patted her sister on the back. For some reason, it felt much more comforting than the efforts of her other siblings.

“Yes. Wonderful. You’re happy and Athena’s happy and I’m happy for both of you.” Aphrodite’s voice quivered.

“But Athena has stolen your fiancé.”

“Oh, no, that’s not the reason I’m crying.” Aphrodite looked into her sister’s face. “Not at all. I believe Frederick is perfect for her. He and I would not have been nearly as happy.”

“Then what are you crying about?” When Aphrodite didn’t answer, Terpsi guessed, “Warwick?”

Sobs overtook Aphrodite again. “Yes,” she said with a tremor in her voice.

“Do you love him?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Does he love you?” Terpsi rubbed her hand up and down Aphrodite’s back.

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he helped when Aski was in trouble and because he looks at me in a way I don’t really understand but I know what he means. And he’s been kind.”

“Warwick has been kind?”

“Oh, yes. And he laughs with me.” Aphrodite paused to wipe her eyes. “And he said he loved me and wants to ma-ma-marry me.” She wept into the sodden handkerchief again.

“Warwick wants to marry you? I didn’t think the man would ever fall in love. That is wonderful. Why are you crying?”

“Because this morning I was engaged, almost, to Frederick, and this evening Warwick asked me to marry him.”

“What’s wrong with that, Ditie?”

“I’m not like that, Terpsi,” Aphrodite choked out between sobs. “You and Athena could handle having two fiancés in one day, but I can’t. Besides, I was . . . I was cuddling with Warwick.” She buried her head in her hands.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Terpsi, I was shouting and crying and then I kissed him, passionately. I don’t do that.”

“But how was the kiss?”

“Oh, Terpsi!” She raised her head and looked at her sister. “It was w-w-wonderful.” Then she sobbed again.

“What’s wrong with wanting to make love with a man who wants to marry you? With the man you love?”

“Because it is not at all like me. I’m becoming . . .” She broke out in loud, hiccupping wails. “Terpsi, I’m passionate!”

“It’s all right, Ditie. Really it is. Haven’t you noticed that Athena and I are becoming more like you? We have both matured and become more responsible for ourselves and our lives. If you have become less sensible and more passionate, well, that’s wonderful.”

Aphrodite sniffed. It was true. Both her flighty sisters had decided to marry fine, unexceptionable men and were very happy about that. She had no fears that either would play their husbands false. No, they would have many children and grow old, content in the love of their spouses. They had begun to mature, to become responsible.

Perhaps she didn’t have to be the responsible one the rest of her life. A smile forced its way through the tears.

“Do you think, Terpsi? Do you really think I could be happy married to Warwick? I never saw myself with someone like him. I thought I’d marry someone a little dull, like Frederick or . . .”

“Or Callum? Don’t apologize. You see, I don’t find Callum dull at all. Often, our hearts lead us where we would never have imagined.”

“But, Terpsi, I cannot believe I’ve changed so much in such a short amount of time. I used to be so proper, but now the thought of not being with him hurts, terribly.”

“You have to decide, Ditie. Do you think you could be happy with Warwick?”

Could she be happy with Warwick? She’d never considered a life that was not of utmost propriety, but it seemed foolish to cling to what suddenly seemed very outdated and staid precepts when kicking over the traces, just a little, would make her so very happy.

But she couldn’t do that, could she? Why not? she wondered. Look what being good had almost gotten her: Matilda Horne as a mother-in-law.

Could she stop worrying about her fears and all that propriety that she had considered so important? Could she just allow herself to accept love? Could she finally realize that she was a passionate woman who desired Warwick as much as her mother desired her father? Could she accept the idea that what she wanted more than anything was for Warwick to kiss her and touch her and . . . do whatever he wished to do?

She shivered with delight, and the tears stopped.

“Oh, yes, I could. I could be very happy with him.” She kissed her sister on the cheek and gave her a radiant smile. “Thank you, Terpsi, thank you.”

“Wonderful!” Terpsi pulled her sister from the bed and twirled her around. “We shall plan the most marvelous triple wedding.”

 

• • •

 

Warwick stood outside the door Aphrodite had closed in his face.

She’d locked him out. He cursed at himself. He’d never been in love before, never told a woman he loved her and meant it, never asked a woman to marry him. He obviously didn’t have a knack for it.

Odd that the one time he was sincere he’d behaved like a hasty young cub.

Of course she was cautious. She’d just terminated one engagement, he’d tried to force her into another. He doubted even Terpsi could handle being engaged to two men in one day, much less his Ditie.

His Ditie, he thought with what he knew must be a fatuous grin. He knew she was his Ditie, but she wasn’t so sure. He had to prove he was trustworthy, that he desired no other woman. He must proceed slowly, diligently. Let her see how courteously and cautiously he courted her, how assiduous and sincere his intentions were.

He couldn’t rush his fences this time.

He shook the door again, but it was still firmly locked. The footman must be watching the celebration. How to get into the house? He heard the noise of the party in the parlours so he descended the steps and went toward the side of the house.

The moon had gone behind clouds and there were no lights in the front windows. He felt his way to the garden steps. Once inside, he passed quickly through the parlours and nodded to those who attempted to stop and congratulate him on his part in the play because his goal was to reach his chambers to plan.

 

• • •

 

The next morning, Aphrodite woke up late, her head aching from tears but filled with hope for the future. She rang for breakfast and for Mignon, then looked out her window.

It was later than she’d thought. Her siblings were dressed and outside already. On a garden bench sat Terpsi and Callum. He held her hand and she smiled up at him, her face glowing with happiness. Aski and Elsie played hide-and-seek in the maze while Athena and Frederick strolled along the driveway. Frederick placed his hand on Athena’s shoulder when they stopped to chat and she looked at him adoringly.

They were so happy, those Mad Herringtons.

Then she remembered the reason her siblings were up and about. They had all promised to help Susannah clear away the clutter in the ballroom and put away all the costumes. Perhaps she would see Warwick there. Then she could explain. She could tell him she loved him and would marry him.

Mignon had helped her into a morning gown of white lutestring and was brushing her hair when her breakfast arrived. Aphrodite took a few bites of toast and a sip of tea, then leaped to her feet and picked up her costume from the play. She rushed from the room followed by Mignon’s shouts that she had not completed her ladyship’s toilette.

She dashed down the stairs like a hoyden. Not like Aphrodite Herrington at all, she reflected with a grin. When she ran into the ballroom, she discovered her siblings, the other actors and a dozen servants just finishing the tidying up. Susannah was placing costumes in boxes for several footmen to take to the laundry. James helped the gardeners place the plants around the edge of the ballroom for the dance that evening. Several footmen helped Hugh Ridley and Fothergill move the stage to the corner where the musicians would play for the ball.

Aphrodite finally found Warwick, coming from behind the stage, carrying the lattice with James. Like many of the men, he wore a comfortable tweed coat and beige pantaloons, but he looked far more handsome than the others. Suddenly feeling very shy, Aphrodite watched Warwick stand the lattice against a wall and wipe his hands.

“Here’s my robe,” Aphrodite said as she walked across the ballroom.

Warwick looked at her, his eyes calm and almost without expression. Was he thinking he’d made a terrible mistake?

“Thank you, Aphrodite,” he said as he took it and handed it to his sister.

She missed the special attention he’d given her and the smiles and the light touches and took a step toward him.

“Ready, Thomas?” Frederick shouted from the terrace.

“Thomas, are you leaving?” Aphrodite asked.

“Frederick tells us there’s a mill not far from here. All the men are going. I cannot disappoint him.” Warwick started away, then turned and came back. “I’ll see you at the ball tonight. Please save me a dance.”

“Certainly.”

He nodded and walked away.

“That didn’t look promising,” Terpsi observed.

“I could hardly drag him away from what Fredrick arranged, but I’ll do something,” Aphrodite said.

 

• • •

 

That evening, Aphrodite had Mignon take special care with her toilette. She wore a gown of grass-green gossamer over a slip of embroidered white crepe with a matching fichu and her mother’s pearls. Mignon had styled her hair with a braid high in the back and short curls framing her face. Carefully, Mignon placed a grass-green bandeau on her head.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you lovelier, Lady Aphrodite,” Mignon said.

“My dear,” her mother said as she entered her daughter’s room. “You are in excellent looks this evening.” She settled herself on a mahogany bergère. “Please forgive me for not coming to see you earlier, but your father didn’t tell me until after my naps about his discussion with Frederick—about the broken near engagement and Frederick’s desire to talk to him about Athena when we return home. Now, sit down, and tell me everything.”

“Oh, Mama, there is nothing to tell. Frederick fell in love with Athena, and she with him. I couldn’t marry the man my sister loves.” She pulled on her long white gloves and clasped a bracelet around her wrist.

“But I thought you and he were perfect. Both so . . .”

“Responsible,” Aphrodite supplied. “I truly believe he’s the best man Athena could have chosen. We’re all too aware of her unfortunate tendencies.”

“Oh, yes, my dear.” Hazel placed a hand against her chest.

“Athena told me she would never kiss anyone else because it would hurt Frederick.”

“Then you must be right, as usual, my responsible daughter.”

Oh, she wished she could say, “I do not want to be that daughter anymore! Tonight I am going to seduce a man.” But all she said was, “Yes, Mama.”

“How do you feel, my dear?” Her mother took her hand. “It cannot be easy to break your engagement when your future seemed settled.”

“I’m fine, Mama.”

Dinner was served to the house party and a few neighbours. The feast with at least eight removes looked and smelled delicious, but Aphrodite could taste nothing.

Warwick had been seated next to Terpsi while Aphrodite sat at Callum’s side. A more transformed Terpsi, Aphrodite couldn’t imagine. Terpsi chatted with Warwick but kept her eyes on Callum, who smiled back at her although he was a polite dinner partner to his future sister-in-law.

After dinner, the ladies adjourned to their chambers to refresh themselves before the ball began. Aphrodite sent Mignon to help Athena and Terpsi and studied herself in the looking glass. Staring back at her was the Aphrodite Herrington she’d known for years: staid, responsible and now with a fading furrow. Pretty, yes, but, oh, so very proper.

Slowly she stripped her gloves off, rolling them down her arm, then pulling them off each finger and, finally, the thumb. She tossed them on the dressing table. As she scrutinized herself in the looking glass, Aphrodite lifted her arms and removed the bandeau that crushed her curls, then pulled out each hairpin, throwing them on the dressing table. When her hair was loose, she shook it and ran her fingers through it until it flowed riotously down her back.

She glanced at the lace fichu in the front of her dress and considered removing that. No, she thought. She was, after all, Aphrodite Herrington and still somewhat proper. Nevertheless, she’d marry Warwick whatever she had to do or she wasn’t a Herrington. Once more, she inspected herself. The furrow between her eyes had disappeared.

Twenty couples had joined in a country dance when Aphrodite entered the ballroom. From the top of the staircase, she searched for Warwick among the deep blue of the jackets worn by the gentlemen and the pastels of the young ladies, but she could not find him. In the light of a hundred candles, Aphrodite could catch a glimpse of her parents, dancing the country dance with a passion unique to them. On the platform, a small orchestra was finishing the last notes of the dance.

She strolled down the stairs, looking over the banister for Warwick. Where was the man when she needed him? When she wanted him? Her eyes searched the crowd.

Then she found him. He hadn’t joined the just-completed country dance. Instead, he stood with Hugh Ridley and Fothergill, talking and drinking champagne.

With a satisfied smile, Aphrodite stood at the bottom of the steps and watched him.

“Hello, Ditie,” said Aski, who had crossed the floor to greet her. “You look different.”

“Tell the orchestra to play a waltz next,” she said.

“Ditie, I don’t think Mrs. Horne permits waltzes here.”

“Tell the orchestra to play a waltz now!” she commanded, then gave Aski a look that had him hurrying away to do her bidding.

Aphrodite firmly set her sights on Warwick. Although he had his back to her as he chatted with Fothergill, she moved across the room toward him, her hips swaying as she had seen her mother and sisters do so often.

All guests turned to watch her as she crossed the floor and cleared a path. She heard her mother and sisters call her name but ignored them. Her goal lay straight ahead.

Fothergill’s mouth fell open when he saw her. Wondering what had caused his friend to stare, Warwick turned his head, then he spun around to watch her slow and sinuous progression across the floor. She looked at him from eyes she hoped were filled with invitation.

Warwick dropped his glass. It shattered when it hit the floor, but he didn’t notice.

She sauntered closer and noticed his eyes had filled with delight. When she finally stood in front of him, Aphrodite shook her head so the curls whirled around her shoulders.

Then the small orchestra began to play a waltz.

“Thomas?” she said, her voice low and seductive. “Thomas, may I have this dance?”

A broad smile crossed his features. In answer, he took her hand and led her to the floor before he drew her into his arms.

“I hope, my love, that this means you’ll marry me,” Warwick said as they whirled around the ballroom, alone for a few moments until the other Herringtons joined them.

“Of course. I love you.” As they waltzed, Aphrodite walked her fingers up Warwick’s neck and through his thick hair.

“People are watching, my love.”

“Let them watch.” Aphrodite laughed. “I am, after all, a Herrington, a Mad Herrington.” She put her other hand behind Warwick’s neck and pulled his lips to hers.