Lord Mansfield turned the page of music and resumed playing. The crowd quieted down and drifted toward the pianoforte. Now they heard a mandolin and the deep tones of the viola da gamba play the opening of the song.
Ashley stood on her tiptoes and was finally able to see Ravencroft and Westbrook seated near the pianoforte, accompanying Mansfield. Her heart pounded.
Lawrence began to sing. Uncertainly at first, until Mansfield, Westbrook, and Ravencroft joined in, and his voice grew stronger. They kept their voices soft and their instruments barely above pianissimo, a supportive foundation to let Lawrence shine as he sang directly to Clarissa, lyrics of undying love, his devotion evident in his animated expression and gestures.
Clarissa had one hand over her mouth, tears glistening in her eyes, and blindly reached for her mother’s hand. Lady Mansfield held on, and barely glanced at the now-silent crowd that had gathered to listen before turning back to watch her husband and new son-in-law, a dazzling smile on her face.
At the end of the song, Lawrence bowed to hearty applause, a few politeHuzzahs, and a shouted “Bravo, boy!” from Lady Bedford. Clarissa rushed to Lawrence and they stepped aside, hand in hand, trying for a moment of privacy. Lady Mansfield likewise took her husband by the hand and led him from the room.
Ashley hoped for a chance to converse with Ravencroft but he set aside the viola da gamba and immediately sat at the pianoforte and began to play a scale. Westbrook exchanged his mandolin for a violin and joined him in warming up.
Some of the crowd dispersed. Ashley and Georgia stayed, now with a clear view.
Ravencroft and Westbrook began to play. Chills chased up Ashley’s spine as she recognized the tune. The same tune Ravencroft had been humming just before she kissed him the first time. The notes she had tried to transcribe for him.
Now there was melody and harmony. Westbrook stood just behind Ravencroft’s right shoulder, playing from the same sheets of music. What she had transcribed as the barest charcoal sketch he had transformed into an oil painting.
Lady Templeton came to stand beside them, clutching her shawl, barely breathing as she stared at her brother and his friend.
Parker and Deirdre joined them. “It’s come a long way,” he said softly.
“Come what?” Lady Templeton stared at him.
“Yesterday afternoon and evening,” Deirdre said. “We heard them working on this.”
“They must have stayed up half the night,” Parker said. “Rewriting passages, playing it on every instrument in the house. Even heard them on the shawm and sackbut. They were still working on it when I went down to the kitchen to fetch a snack for Clarissa. I’m surprised Uncle David didn’t send for his viola da gamba.”
Lady Bedford had one hand on Deirdre’s shoulder. “At the Ravencroft townhouse?”
“Didn’t even come to dinner,” Deirdre said. “Ravencroft’s valet had the staff serve them food in the music room.”
“At the Ravencroft townhouse?” Lady Bedford repeated, giving Deirdre’s shoulder a gentle shake.
Deirdre nodded. “Moved in when he returned from Surrey. Said he didn’t want to overstay his welcome at Mr. Westbrook’s.”
Lady Bedford turned her stare on Ravencroft, a slow smile spreading across her face, the dazzling expression lighting up her hazel eyes, so much like her nephew’s. “Balderdash. Those two have lived in each other’s pocket practically since they were let off leading strings. If one eats beans, the other breaks wind.”
Ashley and Georgia both stifled a chuckle.
“David wrote this.” Lady Templeton sounded as though she didn’t dare believe it. “Or did Liam compose it?”
Even without lyrics, the pianoforte and violin together expressed yearning and an invitation to play and frolic, a call and response. To desire, and have desires fulfilled. Or perhaps Ashley was projecting her own wants and needs onto a charming melody that had no deeper meaning than to sound pleasing to the ear. “Ravencroft created it,” she whispered.
“Really? Oh, thank God,” Lady Templeton softly said, glancing heavenward.
Lady Bedford looked sharply at Ashley.
“I heard him humming it,” she offered, hoping her face and voice gave nothing away.
Concentrating on reading the music, Ravencroft and Westbrook paid no attention to their audience, and when they finished looked pleasantly surprised by the applause.
Lady Templeton rushed over to talk with them, Lady Bedford following at a more sedate pace. When Melissa gestured that she wanted the bench, the group stepped away from the pianoforte and continued their conversation by the cupboards.
The crowd resumed chattering, and Melissa began playing a Vivaldi sonata. With so many musicians in the family eager for an audience, Lord and Lady Mansfield had not hired anyone to entertain for the event. Another cousin stood beside Melissa, music in hand, waiting his turn.
Ashley strained but couldn’t hear a word of the conversation with Ravencroft. “Your aunt seemed shocked that Ravencroft composed something.”
Georgia’s brows were furrowed as she stared at her uncle. “He used to arrange music to suit his voice or someone else’s, or other instrumentation. And he’d often compose something entirely new. He wrote a song for each of us—my cousins, siblings, and I—for our birthdays.” She folded her arms across her chest. “But I can’t remember him doing any composing or arranging since my grandparents and Uncle Philip died.” Her head tilted, she turned to stare at Ashley. “I wonder what changed.”
