Chapter 11
W
“Anna isn’t in London. At least, I couldn’t find her there.”
Tate Hall came into view, and Mama pressed against the window. It was an impressive sight as we came to a stop in front of it.
We left the carriage, and David’s footman announced our arrival.
I straightened my gown underneath my coat.
It was the nicest gown I owned, white with thick vertical lines of blue flowers running down the matching bodice and skirt.
The long sleeves belled out and ended in a gold tassel-like trim.
I never would have been able to afford such a dress, but Mr. Green had given Mama a significant discount on it, and as much as I despised Mama’s accepting his charity at the time, I was grateful now to have at least one dress that seemed to fit the massive home we were entering.
A cheerful maid I’d met once before led us from the grand foyer surrounded by marble columns into a smaller room I’d never seen before.
It contained several sofas, a pianoforte, stringed instruments on stands in one corner, and a massive covered harp tucked into an alcove.
David and Julia were already there, Julia at the pianoforte and David standing behind her, pointing at something on the page. They both turned at our arrival.
David’s dark jacket and trousers were impeccably pressed, and in his breast pocket a small sprig of lily of the valley bounced from his quick movement.
He was wearing the same flowers he’d sent me.
And blast, there were those sneaky feelings again: Attraction.
Longing. A pull that made me question my ability to correctly gauge any social situation, because there was no doubt David would be highly embarrassed if he knew how much the sight of him pleased me.
Here was a man who remembered me as joyful. And by a strange twist of fate, when I was with him, I was joyful.
“Welcome to our home,” David said. “It is a pleasure to have you here.”
“Thank you,” I answered in a soft voice that didn’t sound like my own. It sounded too much like a woman who was captivated by the man standing in front of her.
I pulled my gaze away from David. He couldn’t want me fawning over him, but he did want me to strengthen my budding friendship with Julia.
I strode to the stool where she sat, pulled her to her feet, and wrapped my arms around her in a quick embrace.
Her slight gasp made me pull back, but the look on her face was only one of surprise, not distaste at my forwardness.
The past week had softened her toward me.
I put my hands on her shoulders and gave her a bright grin. “Are you to be our entertainment this afternoon? The music I heard from the corridor was hauntingly beautiful.”
Julia’s pale cheeks reddened, from my overly friendly embrace or my praise, I wasn’t certain. The wild woman who’d climbed a tree with me last week had hidden back in her den.
“No.” Her eyes flitted to David, but he was busy charming Mama. “I don’t think so.” Her uncertainty made her seem younger. Almost as if David were the older sibling, not her.
David noticed our glances and came back to Julia’s side, but when he reached us, it was my hand he grasped. “I thought the two of us could play a duet. It is high time someone besides Julia used this room.”
Mama made a stuttering noise and sauntered over to us as quickly as she could without outright galloping. “I could play for you. Anna tends to enjoy listening more than playing.”
That was most definitely true. David raised an eyebrow and looked at me. I could see the moment he put the pieces together by his slow, sardonic smile. “That is kind of you, Mrs. Atwood, but I’m afraid Anna promised me a duet.”
I ground my teeth but somehow managed a smile. Based on Mama’s distraught reaction, it wasn’t a beautiful smile, but a smile nonetheless. “I’m fairly certain I promised no such thing.”
“Ah—” David lifted a finger in the air. “You’re correct. I was the one who promised we would perform a duet.”
“I have some music, if that would help,” Julia offered.
I glanced at the sheets of music already on the pianoforte. Notes ran up and down the scales like raindrops on a cobblestone street in a storm. Her music would not help at all. “If I play, I’m afraid it will have to be from memory.”
“But, Anna—”
I waved Mama off. “The sooner David knows of my musical talents, the better,” I said with a self-sacrificing air, trudging to the pianoforte and taking a seat on the stool.
I couldn’t see David’s victorious smile, but I could feel it in the way he practically danced to retrieve a second stool and set it beside me. I shifted mine to allow him more room, and behind us, I could hear Mama’s sigh of frustration—or dread—as she and Julia each found a seat on a sofa.
David’s arm was warm next to mine as he leaned toward me. “What shall we play?”
“What are you willing to play?” I asked.
David leafed through some of the music Julia had left in front of them. “Julia has a Schubert piece for four hands somewhere.”
Schubert? I wouldn’t be able to play one hand on a Schubert piece, let alone two. Was David a master at the pianoforte, like his sister? I tried to imagine the young boy I’d known spending hours at the pianoforte, practicing. It was nearly impossible.
“Do you have a piece for three hands?” I asked, my voice more hopeful than it should have been. I’d never even heard of a three-handed duet.
David stopped searching through the music and turned to me. “Three?”
“I’m better with my right.”
He placed his hands in his lap. “Why don’t you tell me what you can play?”
I grimaced. “I think I remember some scales. What about you?”
“Julia showed me the beginning of the C scale this morning.”
I laughed. What a pair we were. “Brilliant. I can play that one with both hands.”
He grimaced. “I may only be able to manage one.”
“Perfect,” I whispered, then spun on my stool and stood to announce us.
David, ever the gentleman, despite making me play the pianoforte in front of an audience, stood with me.
I cleared my throat and, in my most ostentatious voice, announced our duet.
“My fiancé and I will play The Notes of C, for Three Hands.”
With a nod to each other, we turned, sat, and counted off, both with words and a slight bobbing of our heads. The scale might have been simple, but our concentration was intense.
We bounced to the rhythm of each of our notes as we pounded through the first five.
David had forgotten to cross his thumb beneath his fingers, so our sixth note ended up coming slightly late and unsynchronized.
By the eighth note, we’d found our rhythm again, and with a sideways glance at each other, we started back down the scale together.
We made no mistakes on our way back to C, and when we hit it, we both jumped up heroically and took a bow.
Mama sat stunned, but Julia politely clapped at our performance.
“Should I play more?” I asked after David and I took the opportunity to bow a few more times. “I think I remember most of the notes to ‘Polly Put the Kettle On.’”
David gasped and put a hand to his heart. “Most of the notes of ‘Polly Put the Kettle On’ would be a delight.”
I cocked my head to one side and nodded. “Then go sit, and I shall entertain you.” I shooed him away, and he obliged me by sitting on one of the empty sofas.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Tate,” Mama said from the sofa next to his. “I’m afraid my husband and I were rather indulgent with Anna. She always preferred to be out of doors rather than sitting at the pianoforte.”
“Please do not apologize for that,” David replied.
His voice was soft, whispering to Mama, but loud enough that I knew he wanted me and Julia to overhear.
“You must remember I first met your daughter out of doors. And if the cost of her joyful spirit and kindness to others is a lack of musical accomplishment, then it is a price worth paying a thousand times over.”
My heart lifted at his words. How did David always manage to say exactly the right thing? When he actually did get engaged, his fiancée would be a very fortunate woman.
I, on the other hand, would enjoy my fortune while I had it.
When my fingers touched the keys, the notes of the melody came back to me. After faltering only twice during the chorus, the only part of the song I could remember, I started again, this time adding my voice.
As unpolished as my pianoforte skills were, my singing was much worse.
At least with an instrument, I could simplify my playing to a level where I didn’t make many mistakes.
But I couldn’t get my voice to land on the same notes as the keys, no matter how hard I tried, so I didn’t.
Instead of hiding my complete lack of musical understanding, I let the words burst out of my mouth in unrestrained song.
Mama gasped once again, and if I wasn’t mistaken, a snort came from the general direction of where David sat.
Julia didn’t make a sound. At least, not one I could hear over the cacophony of my own racket.
I finished the chorus without missing any words, and even before my song died on my lips, Mama clapped in a frantic beat. But because I was a glutton for punishment, I started the chorus over and sang it once again.
This time, Mama started clapping even before I finished the last line, and I decided to let her out of her misery. I slid off the stool and gave a low and elaborate bow. David stood from his seat and clapped even more enthusiastically than Mama had when she’d been trying to make me stop.
Julia was less exuberant, but her eyes sparked as she looked between David and me.
“Would anyone else like to play?” I asked archly. “Or should I favor you all with ‘Hot Cross Buns’?”
Mama jumped up. “I don’t mind playing—that is, unless Miss Tate would like to play.”
David’s eyes sparked with amusement. “I’d happily listen to Anna sing ‘Hot Cross Buns.’”