Epilogue
One Year Later…
“Icannot go down there!” Dorothy gasped, her hand to her chest in an obvious attempt to control her breathing. “I cannot do it, Thalia. I fear I am about to expel the contents of my stomach. No, I cannot do this. You must go and tell everyone that I am unwell.”
Stifling a chuckle, Thalia continued her delicate task of sliding white roses into her sister’s hair. “Just think of it like one of Father’s parties, and you will be quite all right.”
“I hate Father’s parties!” Dorothy cried, reaching for a fan to flutter against her face. “The only thing I enjoyed was playing the pianoforte, but I cannot play the pianoforte at my first ever ball! No one would hear it above the orchestra.”
“You can play all you like,” Thalia assured, peeking over her sister’s shoulder to smile. “It does not matter if no one hears you. As long as you are comfortable, that is all that matters. This ball is for you, after all. Do as you please. What is the worst that can happen?”
Dorothy cast her sister an imploring look through the mirror’s reflection. “Oh, I do not know, maybe they will write terrible things about me in the scandal sheets, and my debut Season will be over before it has even begun. My life will be over before it has even begun.”
“You are the sister of a Duchess, my dearest Dorothy,” Thalia said. “That offers a certain degree of protection from scorn. Not that I think anyone will be anything but complimentary toward you. How could they not be? Look.”
Frowning, Dorothy observed her reflection, her gaze flitting from her own face to Thalia’s. “What?”
“Look how beautiful you are,” Thalia said softly, her hands on her sister’s shoulders.
A shy blush colored the younger woman’s cheeks. “I am plain, Thalia. Quite ordinary.”
“Nonsense, you are exquisite,” Thalia insisted, meaning it.
True, there was a bias between siblings that they had a duty to uphold, but there was no need to exaggerate or fabricate when it came to Dorothy. She was extraordinarily beautiful, endlessly talented, and so kind and sweet that she was almost too perfect.
In truth, that was Thalia’s primary concern: that her sister’s kindness and sweetness might become a problem now that she was about to garner the attention of society’s gentlemen. Her unwillingness to be rude or direct could be misconstrued as interest, her shyness mistaken for flirtation.
“Do you remember what I said one of my greatest fears was, when I lost my memory?” Thalia asked.
Tilting her head to one side, Dorothy frowned. “I am not sure that I do.”
“It was that I had missed seeing your debut. Forgotten it, anyway.” Thalia pressed a kiss to her sister’s cheek. “I am so glad that I have not missed the privilege of this, and I promise that I will help you in everything. You have nothing to fear. I will be right there beside you.”
She felt her sister’s shoulders relax beneath the squeeze of her hands, a nervous smile curving up the corners of Dorothy’s lips.
The blush of the debutante’s cheeks made her radiant, her pale skin practically glowing, while the elegant, cream-colored gown raised her up to angelic levels of beauty.
The sisters had designed it together, the skirts and bodice embellished with tiny pearls and light-catching spangles, so that Dorothy would glitter as she turned, as she danced, as she made her impression upon society.
“Do you ever wish you could return to the time before you were married?” Dorothy asked. “Not just a loss of memory, but actually going back to those days?”
Thalia grinned, shaking her head. “Not even a little bit. I am happier than I ever thought it was possible to be. Truly, I wake up, I kiss my husband, I go about my day, and I cannot believe how lucky I am.”
“Do you think I can be that happy?”
Lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, Thalia replied, “I predict that you will be even happier, for you will have the benefit of loving your husband from the very beginning.”
Dorothy took a deep breath, adjusting the cuffs of her capped sleeves. “Was there no part of you that thought you might love him at your wedding?”
Furrowing her brow, Thalia thought back to that strange day, five years ago. If she was being honest, she did not remember it very well: she had been in some discomfort from her bruises, and did not want to be there, which did not lend itself to fond memories.
“I remember that Henry was… very handsome,” she replied presently.
“More handsome that I had anticipated. I thought, because Father had made the match, that I was about to meet an ancient ogre with stringy white hair and wobbling jowls, at least three times my age. So, he was a welcome sight, though I daresay I did not show that on my face at the time.”
“No, I remember a good deal of scowling,” Henry’s voice purred out of nowhere, making Thalia jump.
Dorothy, however, did not seem at all shocked. She held her hand to her mouth, chuckling behind it. Evidently, she had seen Henry appear and had not thought to share that information, playing a little trick.
“I did not scowl!” Thalia protested. “I imagine I had more of a blank stare. I had hit my head rather hard just four days before.”
Henry shuddered. “Do not remind me.” His face brightened back into a grin.
“I am afraid I have been sent as an envoy by your brother, though I suspect the order actually came from your father. People are beginning to worry that you are not going to make an appearance at all, Dorothy. I tried to explain that the belle of the ball is meant to make a dramatic entrance, but I was outvoted.”
“He accepted the invitation, then?” Thalia said, her tone cool.
“I knew he would,” Dorothy groaned, anxiously patting her ruby pendant. “He will ruin it. Oh, maybe I should stay up here. It is safer here.”
There had been a notable change in Dorothy over the past two months, where she had been residing at Holdridge instead of Farhampton.
Thalia had watched the transformation bit by bit, seeing her sister break out of her shell, becoming more confident, more lively, more liberated with each passing day without her father’s presence.
They had used the excuse of the ball, claiming that Dorothy needed to be at the manor to help with preparations. But that excuse would soon be coming to an end, and Thalia had no doubt that her father would insist on Dorothy returning home.
“Kenneth is looking forward to seeing you,” Henry said, coming to stand beside his wife, his arm sneaking around her waist. “You cannot disappoint your brother. Indeed, how is he to find a wife if the ball does not proceed. Tonight may be the night.”
Dorothy chewed her lip in consternation. “Very well.” She inhaled deeply. “I can do this. I must show my father that I am not afraid of him. I must be brave, or I shall never fall in love, and I shall never be able to leave his household.”
“Well, you are always welcome here,” Henry insisted, as he took Dorothy’s hand and placed a kiss upon it. “You shall astound them all, dear girl. Now, go and enjoy the ball that my wife has lovingly arranged for you.”
“I will.” The younger woman gave a decisive nod, held her head up high, and swept out of the room, glittering as she went.
Laughing softly, Thalia peered up at her husband. “Thank you. I was starting to think she really would hide up here all night, and I would not have blamed her. A debut is a grand thing for a young woman.”
“I wish I had seen yours,” Henry said, as he bent his head and stole a kiss from her lips.
She hugged him closer as she kissed him back, wondering if they might hide away up there for a while instead. But soon enough, he pulled back, smiling.
“Come now, let us celebrate this wondrous night,” Henry said, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “It is your debut, too: the first Holdridge Ball. Let us not forget that.”
Thalia grimaced. “It has been the most stressful thing I have ever done. Remind me never to agree to host a ball again, or I shall age a decade overnight.”
“I will remind you,” he replied, “and you will do it again anyway. It is your nature to make those around you happy. Whether it be a birthday or a wedding or another request from Dorothy, you will make remarkable things happen.”
She weaved her arm through his, leaning into him. “We shall see. If this is a disaster, no one will ask me to host anything again, which may well be a blessing in disguise.”
Together, they left the room and headed downstairs to where the ball was in full swing, lively music drifting through the hallways, underscored by the babble of excited chatter and the clink of glasses.
At the bottom of the staircase, Kenneth stood talking with his youngest sister, his eyes shining with a pride that warmed Thalia’s heart. A happy sight that was almost enough to temper the less pleasant sight of seeing her father in her house.
Since Henry had sent Gibbs away from Holdridge in a rather unceremonious fashion, there had been a lingering frost between them all. Gibbs had not come to the manor again, not until this moment, nor had he dared to ask for more money.
However, it would have seemed peculiar if Dorothy had celebrated her debut without her father present. And the last thing Dorothy needed was the wrong sort of attention from the gossipmongers. As such, Thalia had reluctantly invited the wretch, half-expecting him to refuse out of spite.
Yet, there he was, standing awkwardly off to the side of Kenneth, looking remarkably sheepish.
“Father,” Thalia said crisply, with a cursory dip of her head.
Her father sniffed. “Thalia. Your Grace.”
“It is a pleasure to welcome you back on this auspicious occasion,” Henry said with a too-bright smile.