Chapter One #3
‘Mustn’t worry—mustn’t I?’ Thalia stared as though Ditty had grown a second head. ‘You don’t have any clients, which means no income, Mama is on her jaunt to Brighton but the money will run out soon and your gentleman friend just abandoned you!’
Ditty winced.
‘Well, fine, not abandoned per se,’ said Thalia swiftly. ‘But still, he is no longer courting you, is he?’
‘I suppose not,’ Ditty said, looking at the letter in her hand.
The paper from the solicitor was short and to the point. That was one of the things she had always liked about him. Thomas never blathered on about nonsense, he always got straight to the purpose of his conversation.
Addressing: Miss Aphrodite Oliver
From: Mr Thomas Wright
Notice: You are formally given notice of Mr Wright’s decision to terminate the courtship between you.
He understands this may come as a surprise, but he has given much thought to the matter, and after consideration has concluded there is nothing more to be gained from the connection.
Your letters, the two books and note of your weekly schedule will be sent to you forthwith. You may dispose of his items in any manner of your choice.
The excursion to the theatre organised for January 18 has been cancelled, as has your dinner arrangement for February 14.
Please do not contact Mr Wright to discuss this matter, as it is now closed.
‘Read it out again,’ Thalia said firmly, tucking her long skirts over her. ‘I need to hear this for myself—properly, now I’m concentrating.’
Ditty smiled as she saw Calliope roll her eyes. ‘You never listen!’
‘I’m listening now!’ said Thalia defensively. ‘Besides, who can be expected to take in such a thing the first time!’
It was starting to sink in, even Ditty had to admit. The cessation of relationship notice was, though she could only admit it in the privacy of her mind, the perfect example of their courting.
‘Ready? So it says, “You are formally given notice…”’
Ditty was not interrupted once as she read out the letter to her sisters. It was rather odd to do so, in truth. Having it there in black and white felt strange; speaking it aloud made it real in a new way.
Thalia sighed heavily as Ditty reached the end. ‘Well, there’s nothing of his here, he’s not much of a gentleman for visiting, is he?’
Ditty shook her head. No. For some reason, he had never visited their rooms.
‘And does he have many of your letters? Anything like that?’ That was Calliope’s question. Her hair had been unpinned now, as they were in the privacy of their own rooms, and she looked worried.
Now she came to think of it, Ditty wasn’t sure she had sent much correspondence to Thomas. His rooms were far away and she had visited but twice, her letters usually perfunctory and designed to organise another walk or visit to the opera.
And that should bother her, should it not? That there was almost nothing left, now that he had summarily departed her life, to prove that they had once been…what, to each other? Had Ditty ever defined it? Was that why this strange ache was already fading?
She shrugged. ‘A few letters, perhaps. I have probably loaned him a few books…’
Calliope snorted. ‘You and your books!’
‘I like my books,’ Ditty said defensively. ‘They’re a portal into another world!’
A more ordered world. Sometimes, when life got too much and Ditty didn’t feel able to share with her sisters precisely all the thoughts swimming through her mind, she removed all her books from their shelves in her bedchamber, cleaned each cover, ensured no bookmarks had been left in them or dog-ears created by her sisters and then reorganised them.
Alphabetical by author.
Alphabetical by book title.
Chronological by composition.
Chronological by printing date.
Colour of spine…
There was nothing that could make Ditty feel more grounded, more herself, than seeing all those beautiful books elegantly arranged in a fresh way.
She looked up to glimpse Calliope giving Thalia a furious, ‘Our sister is heartbroken and we shouldn’t be criticising her!’ look.
Ditty sipped her hot chocolate. ‘Perhaps it’s for the best.’
Calliope frowned. ‘You think so?’
‘I don’t feel that upset about it at all, to tell the truth. More shocked. Surprised, not sad,’ Ditty confessed, finishing her hot chocolate. ‘Mmm. That’s good. Is there more?’
Calliope rose immediately and took her mug. ‘So you really don’t mind the man you’ve spent months courting has ended things by a letter from his solicitor? With a—what did he call it?’
‘A cessation of relationship notice,’ Ditty supplied.
Calliope snorted. ‘Why are men so…so…’
‘Exactly,’ said Thalia firmly. ‘You know that gentleman my friend at the studio insisted I meet without giving me any details about him?’
Ditty said nothing. She could have told her middle sister, the first person who had helped her get on her feet when she had followed her to London, that meeting gentlemen in such a manner was rarely a good idea.
‘You said you didn’t have any requirements for a husband,’ Calliope was pointing out fairly.
‘He had a glass eye!’
Ditty smiled as she accepted the second mug of hot chocolate. Calliope was snorting with mirth now, her hair all tangled with ribbons and paint stains on her bodice. That was what you got, she thought wryly, with artists.
Thalia, on the other hand, was pursuing poetry. Just as artistic, but far more patient. One had to be, when you had to wait for the words to come to you.
Her stomach twisted. And the only reason her sisters could pursue these passions as ladies of leisure was because she had decided to work. She was the only one in the family standing between them and destitution, a heavy fall from grace considering their comfortable life when Papa…
Ditty cleared her throat. She would not think about it. She would not think about the nightmares of her mother being cast out onto the street. Not think about how she was the only one who thought practically. The only one who worked.
Discreetly, of course. And respectably. A proposal planner was a very respectable profession.
It ceased to be a profession when she couldn’t find any more clients…
‘Look, I have the best idea,’ said Calliope suddenly, interrupting Thalia’s monologue on why having a glass eye was not a character flaw, but it had caused a great deal of confusion when she thought he was flirting with another woman in Hyde Park.
‘I mean, I almost shouted at him right in the—’
Ditty raised an eyebrow. ‘Calliope’s good ideas usually end up—’
‘Disasters, is that the term we agreed?’ Thalia quipped.
‘I think catastrophe was the one we chose,’ Ditty said over Calliope’s protests.
‘Ditty!’
‘Well, they so often are,’ said Thalia firmly, settling next to Ditty on the chaise. ‘Remember that time when you said your bedchamber would feel bigger if you painted it black?’
‘And it does, doesn’t it?’ Calliope objected.
Ditty started to giggle. ‘Only because that big chunk fell out of the ceiling!’
‘Well, how was I to know steaming off the wallpaper like that would cause damp—’
‘And that time you assured us if we bought an additional kettle, it would take half the time to boil water for tea?’ Thalia added.
Calliope pointed to the fireplace where their two kettles sat. ‘We use it every day!’
‘Of course we do,’ giggled Ditty. ‘As a receptacle for biscuits!’
The three of them fell about laughing and all the tension Ditty had not realised had collected in her stomach started to fade away.
So, she wasn’t going to be entering the New Year being courted.
What did that matter? She had a profession that was not entirely failing, more books than most people would know what to do with, a mother who thankfully did not completely interfere in their lives and two sisters who would support her no matter what occurred.
What could possibly distract her from that?