Chapter Fifteen
Ditty took a deep breath.
When she had joked about making a stage for the musicians, she hadn’t actually expected Brian, Jim and other residents of the Lodge—including Emmeline—to create one in under a day.
What this place needs, she couldn’t help but think, is a woodwork club.
And it was definitely a stage outside the Lodge. And she was definitely standing on it, with what appeared to be most of the town of Brexley before her.
Faces, all crowded together, looking up at her. All those eyes, focused on her.
Ditty swallowed. She wasn’t really a public speaker. Her work was always with an individual, just one client. He was the one that made the speeches.
Besides, she so rarely wore a gown of this quality. Mrs Fletcher had insisted, as Ditty had left her formal ball gowns back in London, that she lend her lodger one—and Ditty had to admit, the bodice swept far lower than she had expected, colour far richer than she normally wore.
Someone cleared their throat, obviously waiting, and she flushed. She looked at her hands, where her notes for her speech were held, then back up at the people before her.
At Henry.
He was standing right at the front of the crowd, wearing a cravat with a pin and a matching waistcoat, and he was smiling. His smile made warmth rush through her, and before Ditty knew what she was doing, she grinned back.
He was here.
Of course he was. This was his event—well, their event.
‘Ladies and gentlemen!’ Ditty called out, ignoring her notes and just letting the passion for this event fuel her. ‘I am delighted to welcome you to the inaugural Brexley Lodge for Gentlemen and Ladies of a Certain Age Valentine’s Day Ball!’
Henry led a roaring cheer which was swiftly taken up by the crowd. Ditty grinned, heart fluttering, and forced herself to look away. She couldn’t just stand here gawping.
As she did so, she caught sight of faces she recognised: Miss Vivienne the florist, Mrs Fletcher, the man from the bookmakers, the grocer, the baker and his wife, Vicar Melview, who looked delighted. They all grinned, and Reg put two thumbs up.
Ditty beamed. It was strange. There was something about Brexley; the town seemed to sweep you up into its arms and offer you a place to belong, in a way London never had done. Even the small town where she and her sisters had grown up had not felt like this.
‘This place is a symbol of everything good about this town,’ Ditty said, her voice carrying over the lawn as the crowd quietened.
‘It’s full of love, and laughter, and wisdom.
This day is to celebrate that love, show each other how much we love being a part of Brexley, and raise a donation to help Henry—help His Grace—help Dr. Paisley continue his great work. ’
She caught his eye and grinned at the obvious discomfort he felt by having his name mentioned.
But it was impossible not to. Even if she didn’t feel this way about him, Ditty knew it was due to the town’s affection for the doctor that they were all here.
‘Hear! Hear!’ cried a voice that sounded remarkably like Mavis.
‘Couldn’t agree more!’ called Avril, evidently not willing to be outdone.
‘I know you have always rallied around and supported each other,’ said Ditty, feeling a twinge of envy. ‘Though Henry has tried to carry this burden on his own…’
Just for a moment she smiled, and he smiled back, and the whole world seemed to quiver. He had done so much alone, but she had been the one he’d reached out to for help.
For a strange reason, that made her feel awfully warm inside.
‘Today’s ball is a chance to enjoy the day, but also raise some well-needed money to help the Brexley Lodge for Gentlemen and Ladies of a Certain Age,’ she continued.
Another cheer rippled through the crowd and she could see people nodding, their children pulling at their arms to enter the Lodge and discover where the delicious smell was coming from.
Her stomach rumbled.
‘There is plenty to enjoy and explore inside,’ said Ditty, sensing the crowd’s eager anticipation. ‘So there is nothing more for me to do but declare this Brexley Lodge for Gentlemen and Ladies of a Certain Age Valentine’s Day Ball…open!’
Right on cue, Brian and Jim dropped the large ribbon—Henry had advised no scissors be given to either of them—and the crowd cheered once more.
‘You know, I can’t remember when the town had something like this to look forward to,’ said Miss Vivienne as Ditty descended from the stage. ‘Excellent work, Ditty!’
‘Is that music I hear?’ Mrs Fletcher perked up as she entered. ‘Oh, I love this piece. Goodness, this takes me back!’
Ditty glowed as she watched the crowd enter. The oohs and aahs of those discovering the musicians stirred her heart.
They had done it. And in only a few days, too—and while she was trying to finish off Charles’s proposal.
‘You are a triumph.’
Ditty turned and flushed at Henry’s praise. ‘It’s not all me.’
‘It was all your idea,’ he pointed out with a grin as children scampered past to eat Mavis’s goodies. ‘All the decorations, the music, the dancing, the food, the raffle—all your vision.’
She shrugged, slightly embarrassed by his praise as the crowd thinned outside the Lodge. ‘I just…well, it was just obvious.’
He chuckled. ‘Not to the rest of us.’
‘I suppose I am just lucky in that way.’
‘I think it comes from hard work, and being such a talented proposal planner, and having created so many wonderful matches,’ he said quietly.
Ditty glanced up but had to immediately look away.
There was something so personal, so vulnerable about how he said that.
Was he thinking of his unsuccessful proposal?
Was he thinking of their kiss—their kisses, now, which still made her pink whenever she saw him.
Was he thinking of his brother’s upcoming proposal?
Or was it possible, and her heart quickened at the very thought, Henry could be thinking of…a different proposal? A new one?
Surely not…
A month ago she would have decried it. A year ago she would have told him firmly that she had abandoned romantic love as something too likely to injure.
And now…now Henry had quite altered her hopes for the future, without her even noticing.
A delighted shriek echoed out of the main doors. ‘Oh, look at these darling love heart ornaments!’
Ditty giggled. ‘I thought Mrs Fletcher would like them. They’d be perfect to put around her front door, really go with—’
‘My vision!’ came Mrs Fletcher’s voice.
Henry shook his head with an expression of awe. ‘How on earth do you do it?’
‘Do what?’ Ditty had not intended to sound defensive as she walked forward into the hall.
Why was she starting to feel so on edge around Henry? It wasn’t anything he had done. No, it was her, all her fault. She wanted more, though she didn’t have the words to ask.
In just two days, her work here would be complete and Brexley would continue without her. As if, Ditty thought with a lump in her throat, she had never been here.
‘How do you do this?’ Henry said, throwing out his arms.
Ditty smiled as she took in the sight. The musicians in the drawing room were being enjoyed by people tapping their feet and dancing, and the craft room was doing a raucous sale of all the pretty things the residents had made.
She could just about glimpse Mavis telling a child they could have as many biscuits as their parent said, and no more, while Avril fluttered by with a trail of women from the town behind her.
She watched the lively crowd with delight.
The ball was going better than she had hoped for, better than she could have planned.
Because it wasn’t just her efforts which had made this day possible.
It was everyone else. It was being able to depend on them to contribute something just as wonderful, if not better, than what she could do herself.
This felt better than every proposal she had ever planned. Combined.
‘There she is, the woman of the hour!’ Mavis had suddenly appeared by her side and was pulling her away from Henry. ‘Miss Ditty Oliver, everyone!’
A great crowd of Brexley residents, both from the town and the Lodge, turned away from the musicians and broke out into applause as she entered the drawing room where the dancing was taking place.
Ditty flushed. She was accustomed to being thanked for her work—well, paid, at the very least—but had never received a round of applause before. It was rather pleasant, though it was Henry’s face she sought out. She couldn’t see him—where was he?
‘It’s all thanks to Miss Ditty that today is happening,’ said Mavis loudly, pulling her to stand before the musicians. ‘And that is why we would like to give you the honour of picking the first winner of the raffle.’
Ditty blinked. ‘What?’
‘The raffle, young lady,’ Mavis said severely, holding out a box which had scraps of paper all folded within it. ‘First prize is a dance with our very own Duke of Glanyrafon or our heroine of the hour, Miss Ditty Oliver!’
Cheers went up, mainly from the women in the room, and from somewhere Henry was pushed to the front to stand beside Ditty.
Her cheeks flushed and she tried not to look at him as she hissed, ‘But, Mavis, the event has only just opened, I didn’t think we were going to choose the raffle winners until—’
‘For some reason, all tickets have already been purchased,’ said Mavis blithely. ‘Go on. Pick the lucky person who will dance with the Duke.’
And Ditty knew then. She absolutely knew, without a shadow of a doubt, what had happened.
She glanced at Henry, who coloured. So he knew—or at least, had guessed. Oh, those scheming ladies! Did they know no bounds?
‘Pick a ticket, Ditty,’ said Mavis with a grin. ‘I wonder who our winner will be?’
I don’t, thought Ditty wearily, and she was quite right. After stuffing a hand into the box and picking out a scrap of paper at random, she showed it to the crowd.