Chapter Five
Rosalie
The audience is still clapping when Miss Pine stands and trades places with her dazzling mother. They squeeze each other’s
hands when they pass, their dimples rising exactly the same way. It makes Rosalie’s heart clench a little to see Miss Pine
so proud of her mother.
Rosalie’s mother’s nails, on the other hand, are biting into her arm. Neither of them expected Mrs. Pine’s performance to
be that technical nor that spectacular. Rosalie doesn’t know how she’s going to follow it, let alone how Miss Pine will manage.
Mother never outshines Rosalie in moments like these. She comes close, but keeps herself back to let Rosalie take the spotlight.
Mrs. Pine made no such effort for her daughter. Rosalie almost pities Miss Pine, watching as she adjusts herself on the bench.
Then Miss Pine looks right at her for a moment before beginning to play the most beautiful rendition of Field’s Nocturne she’s
ever heard in her life. Every note, every beat, every rest feels poignant and powerful. Her graceful, delicate fingers dance
across the keys. The long line of her neck and the soft smile on her face—she is luminous.
Rosalie’s every minute movement on the pianoforte is rehearsed and calculated. She feels no grace, no ease, when she’s behind the instrument. It’s a battle between her and the keys. She always wins, but not like this.
Miss Pine’s piece is far less technical, far less impressive than Mrs. Pine’s was, but she makes it sing. It’s— She is—
“Breathtaking,” Mr. Dean whispers.
Rosalie’s awed wonder immediately sloughs away. She can’t let Miss Pine’s talent, and charm, wry wit, and beautiful face cloud
her judgement. Make her careless when she needs to be in control, of Miss Pine, of Mr. Dean, of everything.
This girl is her competition, not something—someone—to be ogled and mesmerized by and infatuated with. The spell she’s cast
over the audience—over Rosalie—will end when she finishes the piece, and then Rosalie will decimate her.
When Miss Pine concludes, there’s another round of thunderous applause. Miss Pine curtsies to the crowd and then steps down
from the dais. Her eyes briefly catch Rosalie’s, triumph on her face.
“Aren’t they wonderful?” Mother asks the crowd, looking gracious and happy for the Pines. But Rosalie can see the tightness
in her jaw. Mother’s furious.
“My daughter, Lady Rosalie, would like to play a piece for you as well. And then my sister-in-law, the lovely Lady Jones,
will serenade us. And I’ll play a little something too, just for fun.”
The crowd laughs good-naturedly. Rosalie takes a deep breath and forces herself to rise with poise. She walks to the dais
and up to the pianoforte, smiling at the audience.
Don’t look at Miss Pine. Don’t look at Miss Pine.
Rosalie adjusts the bench forward, Miss Pine’s lithe, tall body having shifted her normal setup. But she’s not thinking about Miss Pine, or her body. She’s thinking about her fast, technical variation. If she can’t have Miss Pine’s musicality, she’ll impress them with Bach.
She settles her hands over the keys, raises her head, and looks straight into Miss Pine’s eyes. There’s a catch in her chest,
and she starts playing almost by reflex.
It’s too fast.
She rips her gaze away from Miss Pine, staring straight at the wall. There’s no more room in her head for girlish fancies
or fancying girls right now. There is only the keys, an audience of the most important people in the ton, and the punishing
pace she’s set.
She manages to keep herself on track, closing her eyes to get through the fast, delicate ending. She probably makes too much
of a flourish of her final notes, but she manages it, releasing the keys with a short retraction of her hands.
Slowly, she opens her eyes, turning to the clapping audience. She knows her performance was hugely impressive. But they’re
not clapping like they did for Miss Pine.
Rosalie stands abruptly, curtsying before returning to her seat. Miss Pine and her mother are leaning together happily. Miss Pine
shoots her a bright smile, but Rosalie averts her eyes.
She sits down, her whole body shaking. She never gets nervous like this. Or rather, is never nervous after a performance. But her heart is pounding, and she’s a little clammy. She’s glad Aunt Genevieve is taking the stage. She’ll
play something beautiful and long, as is always her way, giving Rosalie a minute to compose herself.
“That was most impressive,” Mr. Dean whispers to her.
Rosalie forces a smile and glances at him before looking back at Aunt Genevieve. Impressive, but not breathtaking.
The Pine women are just too good. They’re a true threat, much more than Rosalie would have thought just two weeks ago.
Her heart, at least, has calmed down by the time Mother plays her tight, technical variation. She’s excellent without being
showy, and gives a polite curtsy to the audience as they applaud her afterward. She never disappoints, but neither does she
overshadow.
Father stands and thanks the guests for attending, encouraging them to mingle and relax with passed hors d’oeuvres. Rosalie
rises with Mr. Dean and girds herself for facing Miss Pine. She has to give the woman a true compliment, and, at the same
time, find a way to put her in her place.
“You were so wonderful!”
Rosalie turns to find Henrietta and Amalie approaching her, dragging Mr. Rile and Mr. Fortes with them.
“Easily the hardest piece of the lot,” Amalie adds, squeezing Rosalie’s hand with her free one.
“Very well played, Lady Rosalie,” Mr. Rile agrees.
“Though that Miss Pine, my goodness,” Mr. Fortes says, his long face gone a bit dreamy.
He winces a moment later and Rosalie stifles a laugh. Amalie must have pinched him.
“She has a true gift,” Rosalie says, pushing a tinge of admiration into her words. “You and she might enjoy duets, Miss Linet,”
she adds to Amalie.
“Oh, you certainly should. You are a true talent as well,” Mr. Fortes says quickly.
Amalie winks at Rosalie.
“I wish I could play as well as the two of you,” Henrietta says without malice, round-cheeked smile still perfectly in place.
“You can play circles around us on the violin,” Rosalie says firmly. “I suppose we could all gather to play music.”
“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Aunt Genevieve says, appearing around their little group, leading Mother by the hand.
“I’m sure Rosalie could teach all of you some new pieces,” Mother says. “You were perfect, darling,” she adds.
“Thank you, Mother,” she says, only a hint of bite there. Laying it on thick won’t make anyone think she was better than Miss Pine.
“You were fast,” Aunt Genevieve says.
Rosalie laughs softly at that. She adores her aunt so very much. “And you were wonderful, as always. Is there anything you
can’t do?”
“No,” Aunt Genevieve says playfully. The gentlemen laugh, and Henrietta and Amalie giggle. “And whose did you gentlemen think
was the best performance of the evening?”
Mr. Fortes, Mr. Rile, and Mr. Dean all look at her and then glance amongst themselves.
“Well,” Mr. Fortes begins, narrow shoulders going up.
“Sorry to intrude, but Lady Jones, I must congratulate you on a beautiful performance.” Mrs. Pine appears behind Mother and
Aunt Genevieve with Miss Pine, whose cheeks are lightly pink.
“You flatter me, Mrs. Pine,” Aunt Genevieve says.
Mother only barely withholds her glower as Aunt Genevieve lets Mrs. Pine and Miss Pine into their circle.
Mrs. Pine looks inches taller than she did at the start of the evening.
Rosalie can hear people murmuring around them, all in awe of the Pine women.
The men in their circle look far too interested as Miss Pine shifts in beside her mother.
“It’s not flattery at all,” Mrs. Pine says to Aunt Genevieve. “I was very moved by your performance. And Lady Tisend, yours
was equally impressive.”
Mother manages a polite smile, though Rosalie can tell it’s costing her.
“I must say, Lady Rosalie, I thought yours was by far the most challenging piece of the night,” Miss Pine says.
Rosalie blinks, surprised. Miss Pine looks so earnest.
“I quite agree,” Mrs. Pine says. “You must spend hours at the pianoforte every day.”
“Oh, well, I—”
“She barely needs to practice,” Mother cuts in. “It comes so naturally, you see.”
Rosalie stares at her mother, then glances at Aunt Genevieve, whose eyebrows are raised.
“I don’t mind practicing. The challenge of it is what’s most exciting, for me, at least,” Rosalie says, looking back to Mrs. Pine.
“Miss Raught and Miss Linet get sick of it.”
“We do not,” Henrietta says quickly. “It’s always an honor to listen to you practice.”
Rosalie glances at her with a true smile. There’s no guile or artifice in Henrietta at all. Which is charming, and unhelpful.
“I’d love to hear you rehearse someday,” Miss Pine says.
Rosalie meets her eyes again. Is she being honest, or does she want more information out of her?
“If you’d like to hear more music, Miss Pine, you ought to join myself and Lady Rosalie at the Upper Rooms in two months’ time. My father is throwing a most exciting concert, and we would be honored by your company,” Mr. Dean says.
Rosalie nearly gapes. He rarely chimes in at these events. And not only is he engaging now, but he’s inviting Miss Pine on
one of their long-scheduled outings?
Mother’s definitely glowering this time. She looks to Rosalie, opening her mouth, forcing Rosalie to intervene before she’s
entirely ready.
“Miss Raught and Miss Linet will be there as well. I’m sure Mr. Fortes and Mr. Rile are looking forward to escorting them,”
Rosalie spits out.
Her friends stare at her, surprised, but she forces a smile, ignoring them to look to both men.
“Of—of course,” Mr. Fortes says quickly. “So looking forward to it. Aren’t you, Rile?”
“Honored!” he says, his voice a little high, brown eyes wide.
Maybe Rosalie’s glaring too.
She looks to Miss Pine, who’s been watching the entire exchange, biting at her lower lip, withholding a smirk.
“I’m sure Mr. Sholle could be convinced to escort you, Miss Pine,” Rosalie continues.
“I’m sure,” Miss Pine says easily. “Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Dean.”
Mr. Dean smiles at her, and then goes back to staring off into the distance, leaving Rosalie to stand essentially alone in
the ensuing awkward pause.
Who invites another woman to a previously scheduled event, anyway?
Rosalie catches Aunt Genevieve’s gaze, trusting that she can read the desperation in her eyes.
“Two months is an awfully long time to wait for further divertissement,” Aunt Genevieve says. The whole circle turns to look at her and Aunt Genevieve grins. “Tell me, do you ladies paint as well as you play pianoforte?”
“They do,” Mother says quickly. “Goodness, it’s been ages since we’ve gotten Rosalie’s friends together to paint in your back
garden, hasn’t it?”
“It certainly has,” Aunt Genevieve says.
“Lady Tisend, I recall attending a most exciting competition at your parents’ home in our season,” Mrs. Pine says, surprising
everyone. “Are you thinking of reviving it? It was marvelous fun.”
Aunt Genevieve and Mother exchange a look while Rosalie watches, surprised. Miss Pine glances over at her, and Rosalie raises
a shoulder, as in the dark as she appears to be.
Mother and Aunt Genevieve’s nonverbal conversation is quickly reaching comical heights. Rosalie used to think they were all
rather good at subterfuge, but perhaps she’s been mistaken. This is ridiculous.
Aunt Genevieve claps her hands together. “I declare we shall hold a portrait painting competition in my back garden in two
weeks’ time. Provided our esteemed gentlemen callers will stand as subjects?”
She looks around the group at Mr. Fortes, Mr. Rile, and Mr. Dean. They all nod slowly.
“Of course, Lady Jones. Anything for you,” Mr. Fortes says. He looks a little too eager, honestly.
Amalie frowns as he stares at Aunt Genevieve. Rosalie will have to find a way to punish Mr. Fortes for that one.
“Excellent. Lady Rosalie will send out invitations. Now, I have people to watch your mother intimidate. If you’ll excuse us,”
Aunt Genevieve says, curtsying to the group before dragging Mother off.
Miss Pine is staring at her, her eyebrow raised. Rosalie stares back. It was her mother who formally instigated this.
Mr. Rile leans over to tell Miss Pine how wonderfully she played, and Henrietta bites at her lip. Two weeks is too long to
leave this girl to her own devices.
“Miss Pine, would you like to join Miss Raught, Miss Linet, and myself on a day of shopping next week?” Rosalie asks, cutting
Mr. Rile off. Mrs. Pine frowns over at her, but Miss Pine meets her eyes, surprised. “I could use a casual outfit for this
competition, and I’ve promised Miss Raught and Miss Linet a whirlwind of ribbons. Surely you might like to join us?”
She’ll gather information while they shop, look for weaknesses. The woman must have them.
Miss Pine glances at her mother, who gives her a quick jerk of the chin. She looks entirely unsure of Rosalie’s invitation—suspicious,
really. But Miss Pine looks intrigued.
“I would be delighted. You’ll send a note?”
“I will,” Rosalie says, smiling brightly at the two of them. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me too!” Henrietta says.
“It will be nice to get to know you better,” Amalie adds, her voice much cooler. Amalie may already be in on Rosalie’s plan,
then.
“Thank you very much for the invitation,” Miss Pine says, smiling at Rosalie’s friends before meeting Rosalie’s eyes again.
“It’s deeply appreciated.”
And there’s just something in her tone that makes Rosalie think Miss Pine will be using the outing for reconnaissance as much
as she will. Something in her beguiling eyes.
A challenge.