Chapter Seventeen
Ditty held her breath as she hid just out of sight.
Everything was perfect.
At least, as far as she had seen when she had performed her final check, just ten minutes before Charles and Miss Yorke were scheduled to arrive at the waterfall.
Though her heart had been beating frantically, that hadn’t distracted Ditty from her purpose: ensuring this proposal was the absolute best it could be. And she had done it. She was almost certain.
Now all she had to do was trust that Charles had learned his approved speech properly…
Ditty pushed a curl behind her ear as she leaned close against the cliff face. It was imperative Miss Yorke suspected nothing. It was just a walk in the woods. That was all.
Were those footsteps?
Her ears pricked, trying to take in every sound. It truly was a miracle the waterfall did not dullen all sound—a trick of perspective, Henry had called it, and he was right.
Henry.
Ditty’s heart skipped a beat, but she tried desperately to push it from her mind.
This was not the time to be thinking of how he had made love to her; how he had known her, fully known her, and loved what he found; how she had crept out from the Lodge that morning and prayed no one had seen her as she made the walk back into town, creeping into her room at the inn and thanking her stars that Mrs Fletcher had not locked the front door…
A flutter of something white, just out of the corner of her eye. Was that from her reticule? Surely she could not have been so stupid as to—
Fumbling in her panic, Ditty grasped at the two pieces of paper that had escaped from her reticule and thrust them back inside, clicking the clasp more firmly into place. She did not need to look at them. She had already memorised the notes which had arrived that morning.
It will be perfect. Can’t wait to have you home to tell us all about Brexley’s menfolk…
Deep breath, I know you did a great job. Get ready to celebrate another success and your matchmaking reputation saved…
Ditty tried to smile. Her sisters meant well; their kind wishes warmed her heart, and helped to reduce her worry. Nothing could remove it until the proposal was successful.
But Thalia’s written words kept echoing in her mind as she ensured her reticule was well and truly closed.
Can’t wait to have you home to tell us all about Brexley’s menfolk…
Ditty swallowed as the waterfall continued to cascade.
She hadn’t exactly been keeping Henry a secret.
Not really. She hadn’t told her sisters about him in the sparse letters she had sent back to London, but they knew her well enough to know it was in her silences that the real story could be found.
But she couldn’t think about him now—it was a different Paisley brother she needed to focus on!
And once he had proposed, there would be no reason to stay in Brexley, and she would have to return to London, pay the bills, keep providing for her sisters and pay off any debts her mother had racked up—and, if possible, prevent her from generating any more.
Footsteps. Ditty stiffened, holding herself back against the cliff face as best she could. This had to be perfect.
Cowed into hiding, some would say, after such an awful review in this very paper.
…accused of stealing the money of her clients without delivering the services she promised.
As the cruel words from the newspapers back in London circled in her mind, Ditty held her breath. The footsteps were getting closer. This was it.
At her signal, the three musicians began to play. The string trio played the most exquisite music, echoing around them as it bounced off the waterfall, creating an ambience of magic and beauty.
Ditty swallowed, forcing herself to breathe. Well, that was the first step.
‘Oh, Charles!’
And she relaxed. She didn’t need to look to know precisely the expression on Miss Yorke’s face. She had seen it countless times—created it countless times.
Who could look upon the splendour she had created and not be amazed?
The scent of roses lingered on the air. Ditty smiled.
Miss Vivienne had absolutely outdone herself—she had never seen so many roses that the term festoons actually applied.
The love heart biscuits had been strung about the place, all thanks to Mavis and Avril at the Lodge.
And as the sun set slowly over the mountains, golden orange light streamed through the waterfall, throwing cascades of rainbows about them.
‘Oh, Charles,’ came the emotional voice of Miss Yorke, her throat evidently full.
Ditty smiled, her heart slowing, as the proposal speech of Charles started to fill the air over the beautiful music.
‘Miss Yorke, I knew from the moment I met you— Stop crying will you, I’ve got a speech to do. Are you ready? Right. I knew from the moment I met you…’
Ditty stifled a laugh. Well, it wasn’t precisely the script she had worked out with him rapidly last night.
She wouldn’t have left it so late normally, except she’d been so caught up with Henry.
That was, the Brexley Lodge for Gentlemen and Ladies of a Certain Age. Saving the Lodge. Saving it for Henry.
Her stomach fluttered as warmth suffused her chest at the thought of him.
‘—and if you would do me the honour of—’
‘Yes!’ squealed Miss Yorke’s voice.
Ditty stifled another laugh.
‘Miss Yorke, you’re supposed to wait until I’ve finished my—’
‘Oh, my goodness, is that a ring?’
Joy spread through Ditty as she heard the muffled sobs, the thick emotion in Charles’s voice as two people promised to love each other for the rest of their lives.
A wistful smile quirked Ditty’s lips. If only that were the end of the story for everyone.
She straightened as she heard Charles’s voice.
‘I am so glad you said…yes!’
And right on cue—
‘Congratulations!’ Cries rang out as well-wishers, family and friends from the town of Brexley joined the happy couple.
They’d been waiting just down the path, as Ditty had instructed them.
She stepped out herself, shy now her main purpose was achieved.
Oh, the party would continue into the evening, she was sure, especially as the musicians continued to play and the food and drink was brought out into the clearing.
Fires were swiftly lit in the pyres which had been made to keep the place warm, and children laughed as they tugged at the love heart biscuits, warnings from parents that they could only have one each echoing around the place.
But her contribution was done. It was over. The proposal was a success.
There stood Charles, beaming with a boyish grin Ditty had never seen before.
Hanging on to his arm, beaming just as broadly with an elegant ring on her finger, was a pretty woman Ditty had seen at the Brexley Lodge for Gentlemen and Ladies of a Certain Age Valentine’s Day Ball.
Goodness, it was a miracle no one had let the proposal plans slip.
The entire place was covered in the reminders of Valentine’s Day: hearts, pink decorations, beautiful music, heartfelt words…
But there was something more.
It was not just the love of a man for a woman, and a woman for a man. It was the love of a town.
Charles’s hand was wrung countless times, friends demanded to see Miss Yorke’s ring, and everyone accepted glasses of champagne in the beribboned flutes she and Henry had created.
A lump formed in Ditty’s throat. It truly was a perfect proposal.
But not because of her. Or at least, what made the proposal so special was something she could never have planned for.
It was the way people had rushed to be involved, to help her pull everything together, even when it had been falling apart.
Because the town of Brexley loved Charles and Miss Yorke.
‘You did an excellent job!’
Ditty turned and grinned at Reg, who was carrying two silver platters of what smelt like the most delicious food ever made. ‘You think so?’
‘I’ve never seen a more romantic setting—and timing the proposal for sunset, through the waterfall? Inspired!’ said Reg enthusiastically. His eyebrows wiggled. ‘Giving me the chance to serve food cooked up in my kitchen, when I can’t seat people in my restaurant? Even more inspired!’
Ditty giggled as the man winked and started offering the platters to celebrating guests.
‘A little of this? I promise you, you won’t be disappointed, something of my own devising.’
It was an excellent idea, even she had to admit. It wasn’t Reg’s kitchen that was damaged, it was where diners would sit. That was where the roof had leaked. So why not make the most of a captive audience?
Happiness flowed through the place as people started laughing and talking, eating with gusto, and enjoying the music. The roses were resplendent and the candles she had stationed all over the place were being lit by—
Henry.
Her heart skipped a beat, and this time she didn’t need to wonder why.
She was in love with Henry. In love with a man who never thought of himself, who would rather drive a dilapidated dog cart than even consider taking money from those who needed it.
A doctor, a duke, but also a man who’d had his heart broken and still believed in romance.
A man who had chastised her when she had first arrived in Brexley, Ditty thought with a wry smile, but had supported her and helped her and encouraged her when she had needed a friend.
But she wanted more than a friend.
Henry caught her eye and grinned. She tried to grin back, though it was difficult, now her time here was over, to think what she could say.
‘You are a complete success,’ Henry said quietly as he stepped over. ‘You know, I never thought someone could pack as many romantic things into one place as possible, but you did it.’
She beamed, conscious of just how close he was. It was perfectly normal he was standing that close. Probably.
‘Musicians, a romantic evening,’ said Ditty as cheerfully as she could manage, ticking things off on her fingers. ‘Roses, waterfall, sunset, emotional speech, a ring—’
‘Not on Valentine’s Day, though.’