Chapter 20 #2
Clara’s heart thudded too hard in her chest as she made her way up the imposing driveway that led to Hatherley Hall.
She had never got this far before. Four times she had left her aunt’s house, intending to come to the Hall to play the piano, as the duke had told her she might.
The first time she had changed her mind before she’d even reached the garden gate and taken Benny for a walk instead.
The second she had diverted at the last moment and gone to the Valentine Tearooms, and the last time she had made it to the gates of the grand house before her courage had deserted her.
This time, she would do it. She smiled down at Benny, who, trotting at her heel, gave her courage.
“I don’t know if they like dogs,” she warned him. “You may have to go the stables and wait for me.”
Benny yipped and sneezed vigorously, as if this idea was too appalling to contemplate.
“Well, we shall see.”
Today, she would not be diverted for anything.
Not after the terrible realisation that she would have to admit to the duke she had been too afraid to take up his kind offer the next time he visited his grandmother.
There would be no prevaricating or denying it, either.
The wretched man seemed to know what she was thinking and would certainly call her out on a lie if she tried.
Clara made her way up the steps to the grand front doors but was saved the daunting task of making her presence known, for as if by magic they opened, and the butler appeared.
“Good day to you, Miss Halfpenny. His grace instructed me you might call upon us. Might I take your hat and cloak?”
Fumbling with fingers not entirely steady, Clara handed the articles to him, fervently wishing they were not quite so shabby.
Somehow, they seemed uglier than usual, set against the splendour of her surroundings.
Howard handed the items to a footman with the same care he might show to a queen’s finery and turned back to her.
“If you would be so good as to follow me, I’ll show you to the music room.”
Clara stammered a word of thanks, a little taken aback by the warmth of his welcome, as she had always found Howard to be an intimidating fellow.
He led her across the grand entrance hall, their footsteps echoing on the marble floor.
The sound of Benny’s claws tapping on the stone wore upon Clara’s nerves until she bent and picked him up.
“Y-You don’t mind my bringing Benny?” she asked, wondering if Howard had failed to notice him.
The butler turned back to her with a smile. “No, Miss Halfpenny. Her grace adores animals, as does the duke. His grace especially asked me to make the little fellow welcome.”
“He did?” Clara’s voice was a squeal of astonishment.
Howard said nothing, only opened the door to the music room. “Please make yourself at home. I will bring a tray of tea at four o'clock, if that suits you?”
“That… That would be lovely, thank you,” Clara said, by now thoroughly overwhelmed.
“There is a bell pull by the fireplace. Do not hesitate to use it should you need anything, and someone will attend to you at once.”
With that, he went out, leaving her alone.
Still feeling rather stunned, both by her own audacity in making it this far and by the kindness she’d been shown, Clara turned to face the room, and her breath caught. Setting Benny down, she looked around, overwhelmed by the feeling of peace and serenity that washed over her.
The room sat on the south-west corner of the Hall, with tall sash windows that looked over the extensive gardens.
The scent of beeswax lingered on the air, and the faintest trace of smoke, and Clara noticed a cheerful fire burning in the hearth.
Had they lit that every day, in expectation of her visit?
She flushed as she realised they must have done, and that it had burned for no reason because she was too foolish to make it to the front door. Well, not today.
Though the room was decorated with her grace’s customary flair for style, it was more comfortable than Clara had supposed, despite its grand proportions.
The walls were painted a soft blue grey, and heavy damask curtains of a darker shade hung at the windows.
A beautiful rug covered the polished wood floor and a pair of comfortably squashy armchairs sat amicably by the fire, inviting her to sit and relax.
There were pictures on every wall, family portraits and naval scenes by exceptional painters, as well as a few more amateurish pictures that appeared to be there for more sentimental reasons.
The dowager loved this room, Clara thought with a smile, wondering if the duke felt the same way.
Though she wished to linger on the paintings, she could no longer resist the lure of the main event, a splendid Broadwood grand piano that dominated the room.
There were items scattered over its well-loved surface, the gleaming wood adored by a metronome, a pair of forgotten spectacles, and piles of music, including some handwritten pieces with a pencil left on top, as if the composer had just stepped away for a moment.
Clara glanced at the work in progress and immediately decided it looked too complex for her meagre skills.
Instead, she sorted the sheets until she came across The Flowers of the Forest, a simple Scottish folk tune she thought she might manage well enough.
Setting the music on the stand, she looked around for Benny. He had curled up before the fire, quite at home in his new surroundings. Smiling, Clara settled herself upon the piano stool and began to play.