Amanda McCabe - To Deceive a Duke

‘Very much. I just thought it must be worse for you. You and Cal were always so close.’

‘Yes. But I still have you! And I always will, if we’re going to be spinster Muses together.’

Thalia laughed, and the merry sound seemed to help her shrug off whatever hint of melancholy she was suffering. She twirled around and caught Clio’s hand in hers. ‘Cal’s children will be sorry to have such formidable old aunts! I will teach them music and drama, and how to shoot a bow and arrow. You will teach them how to swim for miles, just like you, and how to read history from just a shard of pottery.’

Clio laughed, too, going along with her. ‘How to sew very, very badly?’

‘That, too. But as the child is not here yet we shall have to—oh!’

‘What?’

‘I forgot why I came in here in the first place. I am going to call on Lady Riverton, and you promised to come with me.’

Clio felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach at the mention of Lady Riverton. The widow was the self-styled ‘social leader’ of the small band of English travellers in Santa Lucia. People who, like the Chases, were deeply interested in history and antiquities. Everyone else was sensible, and stayed near the cool delights of the shore, the relative culture of Palermo.

Viscount Riverton had possessed a considerable collection himself, especially of Greek coins. His widow, while she claimed to be carrying on his work, seemed to be only really interested in parties, gossip and hats. She had lots and lots of hats. Clio often thought it was a pity she didn’t also have a many-headed Cerberus to guard her door; then it could wear all of them at once.

But Clio had promised Thalia. ‘I’ll have to change my clothes,’ Clio said, gesturing to her garb. She had left off her heavy boots, but still wore her old brown muslin with its dusty hem. Her hair fell down her back in an untidy auburn plait.

‘Just plop on a fancy bonnet!’ Thalia said. ‘She’ll never notice the rest.’ She ‘plopped’ her own hat on to Clio’s head, tugging at the pink ribbons and singing, ‘Oh la la, aren’t the Chase sisters so terribly à la mode !’

Clio laughed helplessly, trying to spin away from her sister. Thalia wouldn’t let go. ‘Brown and pink, Clio, all the rage from Paris! You must be—oh, I say. Where are your spectacles?’

Chapter Six

Lady Riverton’s palazzo was the grandest in town, if not as dramatically situated as the Baroness Picini’s rambling manse. Lady Riverton’s abode had been refurbished before she took possession, freshly stuccoed and painted so that it gleamed a bright, artificial white in the sun. There were no gaps in the tiles of the roof, no overgrown ivy, no slats missing from the shutters, no chips in her garden fountain, which splashed and gurgled as Clio and Thalia turned in through her polished black gates.

‘We won’t stay long,’ Clio said, waiting for their knock to be answered.

‘Of course not,’ Thalia answered, smoothing her pink kid gloves. ‘I don’t think we could take more than an hour without screaming, do you?’

The butler opened the doors, and Clio thought, as she always did when coming to visit Lady Riverton, that it was like stepping back into England. Unlike the Chases’ own rented house, furnished with comfortable, slightly shabby pieces, Lady Riverton had filled her space with dark, gleaming tables and cabinets. Chairs, couches and hassocks upholstered in blue-striped satin, interspersed with displays of her collections: vases, coffers, fragments of statues, cases showing off her husband’s ancient coins.

Lady Riverton herself sat on a throne-like chair and presided over an elaborate tea table, set with silver, porcelain, platters of tiny sandwiches and pink-iced cakes. Her light brown hair, untouched by any hint of grey, was crowned with a dainty lace cap matching the filmy fichu tucked into her pale green muslin gown. A pair of antique cameos dangled from her ears.

Once, in a different life, those earrings had been just the sort of thing to tempt Clio to ‘liberate’ them. But she had made promises, so all she said as she greeted Lady Riverton was, ‘Such charming earrings.’

Lady Riverton trilled a light laugh, reaching up to toy with one of the fragile cameos. ‘A gift from my dear late husband. He had such excellent taste! I am honoured you have decided to grace my tea table this afternoon, Miss Chase, Miss Thalia. We see so little of you lately, you always seem to be trailing around the fields with your father.’

Clio nodded at the other guests, Lady Elliott—whose husband helped her father at the villa site—and her daughters, Mrs Darby and her daughter—who had taken Clio on their impromptu Agrigento tour—as she and Thalia took their seats. Lady Riverton’s friend, her ‘cicisbeo’ as Thalia called him, Ronald Frobisher, was not present, which was most unusual. ‘There is certainly a great deal to see in Sicily,’ Clio said, accepting a cup of tea. ‘Much work to be done.’

Lady Riverton laughed again. ‘Oh, certainly I know all about that! Viscount Riverton was one of the first to see the vast potential of this site. It was just a dusty valley when he came here with Nelson! I’m most gratified to see his work being carried on so admirably. But I also know that young ladies must have their share of amusement. Before I married, I had far too much energy and natural merriment to live by digging alone!’

‘That is so true!’ cried Miss Darby. ‘I am always telling Mama—’

Mrs Darby laid a gentle hand on her daughter’s arm, stilling the excited flow of words. ‘And we are very gratified you provide such—amusements, Lady Riverton.’

‘Not at all. I so vastly enjoy entertaining, and my dear husband always said my parties were so very elegant.’ She gave another little laugh. ‘He was so indulgent. But I do hope you will all be at my next gathering! An evening of amateur theatricals, very diverting. You all received your invitations?’

Clio calmly sipped at her tea, silently willing Thalia not to have an excited outburst à la Miss Darby. Lady Riverton hardly needed any fodder for her ‘Gracious Hostess’ act. ‘Indeed we did, Lady Riverton. We will be most happy to attend.’

‘So kind of you to ask us,’ Thalia said coolly. Clio was proud of her. ‘That is one thing I miss so much about London, the theatre.’

‘As do I, Miss Thalia,’ Lady Riverton answered. ‘We are both cultured souls, I see! While I cannot procure the likes of Mrs Siddons, I fear, I do hope to show off some of our local talent, which I suspect is quite great. The Manning-Smythes have agreed to stage a scene from Romeo and Juliet . So appropriate, is it not, since they are on their honeymoon? And Miss Darby here will do Ophelia’s mad scene. It is so important to include Shakespeare! His more appropriate bits, at least.’

‘Oh, yes,’ Clio said. ‘The Bard is always welcome. But, as this is Sicily, would it not be a fine thing to include some classical playwrights? For is this not where Ovid and Aeschylus worked?’

‘But the Greeks and Romans are so very violent, aren’t they?’ Lady Riverton murmured, her lace cap quivering. ‘So much blood and vengeance!’

Unlike Shakespeare, of course , Clio thought wryly. No blood or vengeance there.

‘But always so vastly exciting,’ Lady Elliott said over her sandwiches. ‘You have been working yourself on some Sophocles, have you not, Miss Thalia?’

‘Indeed,’ Thalia answered. ‘ Antigone . The amphitheatre here is so wondrous, with superb acoustics, it just seemed to call out to be brought to life again! To be used for its true purpose. Yet I fear Antigone features no blood at all.’