“In Greek mythology, Bacchus was the god of wine,” his mother interrupted before Madeline could respond. “The painting depicts a Greek-style orgy. Very unusual for a woman to paint such a scene. The artist bowed to the pressures of her time as her other works were mostly religious subjects, such asSaint John the Baptist,andThe Annunciation…”
“I am aware of the god Bacchus,” Robert said. “What surprises me is that Madeline’s mother would have such a portrait in her home.”
“She lives in America,” both Madeline and his mother said at the same time, as though that was all the explanation needed.
“Ah,” Robert responded as though he understood. Which he did not. From all accounts, America was considered a progressive country. Still… Wouldn’t the subject of the painting be considered scandalous even in America? He very well knew what an orgy was. What was unclear and disturbing was how his mother, who according to his father had lived a proper and sheltered life, knew about such things. And how was it that a proper lady, like Madeline’s mother, hung in her house a painting such as the one his mother described?
He scrubbed both hands through his hair. Yes, becoming more tolerant would take time and patience. But as he watched his mother and Madeline, both in a joyful mood, he vowed it was worth the effort.
“These are our costumes for the Masquerade Ball. I know it started out as a Christmas Eve Ball, but then I thought—how boring. That is when I remembered the portrait, theTriumph of Bacchus, and decided we must hold a masquerade. And because this was so last minute, we will provide costumes to those who would like them.”
“Have you told His Grace and Miss Mercer about the other changes Madeline and her mother inspired?” Mary said with a gleam in her eye.
“Oh, my! You are correct. They do not know. I sent out invitations to our guests, advising them that in the spirit of Christmas there had been a few changes. Those attending the Christmas Masquerade will buy tickets, with all proceeds donated to help not only our village, but those in the surrounding area throughout the year. The goal is for this to be an annual event. Attendees were instructed to arrive early tomorrow morning. We will have a glorious day. Changing rooms have been prepared as well as arrangements for those wishing to spend a night or two at the castle. We have hired additional staff to help cook the meals, and wine has been brought from the cellars. We can’t have a masquerade honoring Bacchus without wine.”
Robert stifled a groan, envisioning guests, foxed on free wine, running half naked through the hallways. His imagination took a turn. At private men’s clubs, he had had occasion to see women dressed in the type of clothing his mother had provided for the Masquerade Ball. His muscles tensed as blood surged through his veins. He visualized how Madeline would look with her full, ripe breasts pressed against thin, transparent silk…
His mother reached over to him. “Dear boy, are you well? You look positively flushed.”
“A little warm, is all,” he said, loosening his cravat.
Her son forgotten, she turned toward Madeline. “We will suggest that people dress like gods and goddesses. The women will all want to identify as Aphrodite, the goddess of love. How boring.”
“I have an idea,” Madeline said. “I will be happy to sketch images of Artemis, the goddess of the hunt, Athena, the goddess of wisdom, and the nine muses. I feel confident that once they see other options, they will be inclined to dress according to the goddess that best fits their wishes and dreams.”
“Excellent idea,” the duchess said. “We can include a description of each to help people make an informed decision.”
“If you approve,” Madeline said, “I would love to dress as Calliope. The Greeks never identified that a muse was needed to inspire painters or sculptors. The Greeks considered that type of work more on the order of manual labor. Calliope, one of the nine muses, is connected to the written word, however, and therefore associated with the arts.”
“Quite so, and extraordinarily short-sighted of them. The Greeks had some of the most brilliant minds the world ever created—Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle—and yet did not consider painting and sculpture to be art. Tragic. But I love your choice.As you say, Calliope was the protector of the written word. According to myth, Homer asked her to inspire him while writing theIliadand theOdyssey.”
“There is also Clio,” Madeline continued with a smile. “She is the muse who discovered history, andEuterpe, who is responsible for music, Thalia,the protector of comedy, Melpomene, who invented tragedy and speech, Terpsichore, the protector of dance, Erato, the protector of love and poetry, Polyamine, geometry and grammar,Urania, the stars and therefore the inventor of astronomy. Someone should be Apollo. He watched over the muses.”
Both his mother and Madeline looked over at Robert. He felt uncomfortable under their steady gaze until he realized their intentions and shook his head slowly.
“Absolutely, not. I am not dressing as Apollo.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Madeline was still smiling over the duke’s reaction to his mother’s suggestion that he dress like the Greek god Apollo as she viewed her image in the cheval mirror in her bedroom. She had finished dressing and felt as though she had stepped back in time. She loved the gown, especially since she did not have to wear a corset. For the first time since she had arrived, she hadn’t been required to wear that constricting article of clothing.
The gown the duchess had chosen for her was exquisite. Embroidered images of gold and silver butterflies, their wings encrusted with emeralds and diamonds, were sewn into the silk layers of fabric of her white Grecian-style gown. A matching mask was included, as well as gold ribbons for her hair. She felt every inch the part of the Greek muse Calliope.
Her mother had mentioned that she planned to attend as well, but Madeline had not seen her since this afternoon. Hoping to find her mother and the duchess, in case they needed her help with the ball tonight, Madeline left her room in search of them.
The transformation in the hallway that led to the main staircase was nothing short of a miracle. It reminded her of the enchanting atmosphere the duke had created in the tent at the Frost Fair. Candles and wall sconces lit the way, silver and gold decorations hung in archways and doorways and looped around banisters. It seemed the duchess, after the tragic deaths of her husband and son, wanted to create a feeling of hope and gratitude.
Madeline felt humbled by the gesture. She had been quick to judge the noble women and men of thetonas arrogant and unfeeling. A number of them fit that mold, but at Conclarton Castle, at least, the people here felt deeply for those around them. When her stay ended, and she was prepared that it would when she confessed her secret to the duke, she would miss them all very much.
“You look lovely, Miss Mercer,” Mary said with a curtsey as Madeline rounded a corner.
Startled, Madeline paused, then smiled in return. “Thank you. You also look lovely. I have never seen you wear such a beautiful dress.”
Mary smoothed her hands over the silver-and-blue embroidered gown. “It is a gift from the duchess. She made sure that all the women working at the castle have new dresses to wear tonight.” She giggled. “I mentioned that our fine clothes might confuse the guests, but she only laughed harder.”
“The duchess is certainly more than she seems. I would love to thank her and locate my mother. Have you seen either one of them?”
“I believe they are in the rooms at the end of the hall. Shall I announce you?”
