Chapter 9 #2
‘And what of my reputation? Are you sure you shouldn’t be a little … wary?’
She stiffened as fragments of their library conversation surfaced, while Matilda tried to contain her mirth. ‘Which makes you either very brave or very foolish.’
Without warning, her traitorous lips tingled with the sudden memory of his kiss.
She flushed as Sir Francis cleared his throat, conscious of Lord Huntingly’s unexpected proximity.
Silently, she willed her thoughts elsewhere, and yet she couldn’t stop the heat of her furious thoughts reaching up her neck and across her cheeks.
Was he trying to goad her? She glanced at her radiant younger sister and felt the oddest churn of unease – or perhaps he’d changed his mind?
‘She walks in beauty,’ Sir Francis began from the front of the room, ‘like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies…’
A further sigh of delight rippled through the watching ladies as Josephine clenched her fingers in her skirts. Ordinarily, she loved Lord Byron’s poetry and kept a volume beneath her pillow. Yet, while Sir Francis’s golden tone suited it beautifully, she could think only of Lord Huntingly’s scorn.
‘I do believe half the audience actually think him Lord Byron, come back to woo us!’ Matilda gurgled as the ladies around them gazed, enraptured by his dulcet tones.
Refusing to look at her, Josephine glanced down their row and glimpsed Fred, entirely mesmerised by Sir Francis’s performance. She frowned, perhaps he too was feeling out of sorts.
‘They’d as lief believe it of a crowing peacock!’ Lord Huntingly whispered again, making Matilda shake with the effort of containing her laughter.
Josephine clenched her teeth. She’d borne so much without complaint: a childhood battling a lung affliction, Thomas’s constant criticism, three unsuccessful seasons, the knowledge that all her sisters would likely marry while she didn’t – all to arrive at a moment she would truly treasure, were it not for the presence of a gentleman she wasn’t even sure she wanted to know, let alone call husband.
‘If you are so certain of his poor performance, why not show us all how it should be done?’ she replied fiercely, angling her head so only he and Matilda could hear.
A pregnant silence followed while Sir Francis meandered through his last lines: ‘…a mind at peace with all below, a heart whose love is innocent…’ before the room erupted with rapturous applause.
‘Thank you so much, Sir Francis,’ Lady Davenport gushed. ‘I believe you might not only have entertained the more delicate minds here, but won a few hearts too! And now, perhaps another of our young ladies would like to…’
‘If you might be generous enough to indulge another gentleman, Lady Davenport?’ a low voice called suddenly, making Josephine freeze in her seat.
The audience hushed as the authoritative tone garnered the attention of everyone in the room, including Sir Francis.
‘But of course … Lord Huntingly,’ she responded valiantly, though it was clear she was dumbfounded.
‘What a treat that we should be entertained by two eloquent gentlemen this evening! I’m sure Lord Davenport can learn much from this…
’ She paused to allow for several guffaws of laughter.
‘Please do come forward – the floor is yours.’
The room fell silent again, but this time there was a murmur of curiosity and briefly, Josephine wondered how many knew of the rumours surrounding Huntingly’s past.
‘Thank you, Lady Davenport,’ Lord Huntingly began, his melodic tone somehow quieting the air. ‘I perhaps ought to mention that I am no poet, but I did learn something of the world on my travels abroad.’
He smiled then, his amber flares catching the flickering candlelight, as Matilda suddenly fell quiet.
‘And, if you will permit me, I will break with the current mood and recite a passage from Homer’s Battle of the Gods, which I return to often because it reminds me that it is mortality that gives life its significance.’
There was another low murmur while Lady Davenport blinked at Lord Huntingly in abject wonder, and then he began.
Much to her irritation, Josephine found herself entirely mesmerised this time.
It wasn’t so much that he related the passage without falter, as that his rendition left no one in any doubt that life and love were meaningless without mortality.
And when he came to an end, there was a moment’s protracted silence before the whole room erupted in applause.
‘What a dark horse!’ Matilda exclaimed as Lord Huntingly made his way to a footman holding a tray of glasses.
‘You have no idea,’ Josephine murmured.
Thoughtfully, she watched Lord Huntingly polish off a glass of Burgundy, as Lady Davenport’s piercing voice rose above the chatter once more.
‘And now I believe there are only the Miss Fairfaxes left to perform, and it will be time to break for refreshment!’ she announced in a vulturous tone. ‘Come, dears, which of you modest young ladies would like to delight us first?’
Josephine’s hopes sank as she realised the gentlemen’s performances had not distracted Lady Davenport at all. Another hush fell across the room, before she became suddenly and intensely aware of a heavy pressure on her toes. She rose reluctantly.
‘I will play for us both tonight, Lady Davenport,’ she replied with a forced smile, ‘for Matilda has the headache.’
Immediately, there were several murmurs of sympathy for the afflicted Matilda, who accepted them with the grace of a true rogue, as Josephine made her way towards a harp in the shadows. It belonged to one of the Miss Davenports, but she’d chosen to sing, so it had remained silent tonight.
‘This piece is taken from Dussek’s “Sonata for Harp in C Minor”,’ she introduced quietly. Then before she had time to change her mind, she sat down and began to play.
The room fell silent, but Josephine was already unaware.
Unlike her sisters, she’d relished her music tuition, and the escape it gave her from illness.
And over time, while her sisters and brothers ran wild across Knightswood’s rambling estate, it became multiple worlds, filled with light and health.
Performing always felt uncomfortably close to sharing this magic, but even she accepted that some moments couldn’t be avoided.
The piece passed in a blur, and it was only when she felt the very last string vibrate to a standstill that she allowed herself to look up.
His was the first face she saw. He was still in the shadows, holding a drink, but his usual mocking expression had been replaced with something quite inscrutable.
She returned his regard for a moment, and then the sound of rapturous applause reached through her haze. She stood up and nodded awkwardly.
‘Brava, Miss Fairfax, brava!’ she heard Sir Francis call from the crowd. ‘You play like an angel!’
‘Indeed you do, Miss Fairfax,’ Lady Davenport added a little sourly, glaring at her own daughters. ‘All that practice has certainly paid off!’
Josephine flushed, so conscious of Lord Huntingly’s watchful gaze as she made her way towards the refreshments table at the back of the room. For a second, she thought of the glass-eyed hares hanging from his saddle bag, and swallowed.
‘You were wonderful, Miss Josephine, quite wonderful!’ a female voice gushed as she began pouring herself a glass of ratafia.
‘I found myself transported somewhere else entirely. Indeed, such was your concentration and skill that I wonder if you might not be in need of a breath of fresh air … or a turn around the orangery perhaps? I find the air in here quite … exhausting.’
To Josephine’s great surprise, she found herself looking directly into the perfectly-ringleted face of Miss Amelia Carlisle. She smiled at her almond-shaped eyes, pert nose and rose-bow lips, and briefly wondered if every Carlisle was blessed with the face of a Renaissance maid.
‘And now we will break for refreshments!’ Lady Davenport announced. ‘During which time, my daughters have prepared something a little extra special for your entertainment, so please don’t wander too far.
Josephine raised her eyebrow at her companion, and then followed her swiftly out of the room.