After the meal, Vincent offered an arm each to Gert and Agnes, who steered him toward the drawing room.As he saw them settled, Miss Walden seated herself at the pianoforte and began to warm up.
His harp playing skills were not sufficiently developed to share if anyone was listening.He considered the harpsichord, then checked the cupboard and found the violin case.There were other small instruments, but playing the violin would give him the perfect excuse to stand behind Miss Walden and play from her music.He checked the violin’s tuning and began his own warm up.
After a few moments he recognized the tune Miss Walden was playing, and switched from the tune he’d been playing to the one she’d started.They finished in perfect unison.She gave him a sideways glance, then immediately started another song.He let her play the first few measures while he cudgeled his memory, finally recalled the correct song, and finished it with her.Not bad, considering she still hadn’t got out any music and he hadn’t played that tune for quite some time.
Her last chord hadn’t even faded when he began a tune.He was barely two measures in when Miss Walden joined him.He soon recognized they were playing two different arrangements, but they worked together surprisingly well since there were only two instruments and no voices.
Aunt Gert waved her hand to cut them off before he could decide which song to play next.“Yes, yes, I’m sure you two could spend all evening challenging each other with Guess That Song—”
“But we want to hear you sing!”Aunt Agnes clapped her hands twice for emphasis.
“A duet!”Aunt Gert gestured for them to get on with it.
Vincent set aside his violin.“Lady’s choice.”
Miss Walden narrowed her eyes at him when he gave her a slight bow, then set her hands above the keys.She wiggled and stretched her fingers for a moment, then played the opening bars of the first warm-up song she’d played just minutes before.
Vincent exercised great restraint in not rolling his eyes.How many times had he heard some husband-hunting miss warbleThe Last Rose of Summerat a musicale in an attempt to show off how accomplished she was, to prove what an excellent wife she would make?He should resent Miss Walden for her role in teaching this song to so many vacuous young ladies.However, given the look of expectation on dear Aunt Gert’s face, he swallowed down any acerbic comments he might have made and joined in.
Sophia had been so certain Lord Fairfax would not accommodate his aunt’s wish, not with this song.Yet he joined her, his voice a passable tenor, though a bit strained on some of the higher notes.Given his rumbling speaking voice, she had expected his singing voice to be much lower.Perhaps he was more accustomed to playing than singing?His skill with a violin had been better than average.And how had she not noticed until now that he was left-handed?
When they finished, she looked at Fairfax expectantly.It was only fair they take turns.
“Are you familiar with Moore’s ‘The Meeting of the Waters’?”
She launched into the opening chords.Her alto and his tenor did indeed sound pleasant together, she had to admit.Mrs.Digby and Mrs.Royston looked like they were enjoying the entertainment.In fact, they almost looked like Sophia and Fairfax were singing novelty songs.What could possibly strike them as so amusing?She and Fairfax sang two more songs before Enid brought in the tea tray.
Sophia perched on the sofa as she accepted a cup of tea and two of the same kind of biscuits she’d had on the day she’d arrived.If there was to be more entertainment, she was more than happy to let Fairfax play.After writing all day and then playing after dinner, her hand was on the verge of cramping.
“Did you enjoy your walk on the beach this afternoon?”Mrs.Digby stirred two sugars into her tea as she addressed her nephew.
Fairfax drained half his cup in one go.“I met your new neighbor walking Lady Lyttleton’s dogs.Nice chap.”
“Oh, Mr.Thorpe.”Mrs.Digby turned to Mrs.Royston.“I have been quite remiss.I’ve barely said five words to him when I’ve seen him while walking Henry.”Upon hearing his name, the white terrier raised his head from Mrs.Digby’s lap.She gave him a reassuring scratch down his back.“I should invite him to dinner.”
“Yes, we certainly should.I’m surprised we haven’t done so already,” Mrs.Royston said.She practically dropped her cup into its saucer as she leaned forward.“Do you think it’s the ghost of Lady Lyttleton that we’ve seen walking on the beach at night?”
Mrs.Digby shook her head.“One, I’m not entirely sure it’s a ghost we have been seeing.And two, Lady Lyttleton was a dear friend for nearly twenty years.In the highly unlikely event she’s come back as a ghost, why would she walk along my stretch of the beach but not come inside the house for a coze?”
Sylvia kept her teacup away from its saucer so she couldn’t rattle them.Today she had been too busy catching up with transcribing notes that she had not had a chance to go down to the cave and check on Mildred, and inquire why in the world she was walking on the beach so much after dark.The foolish chit was putting herself in danger!
Perhaps she was hungry, and using the cover of darkness to enhance her disguise as an old woman when she walked down to the pub in Sidmouth for a meal?Sophia fervently hoped Theo had been able to take food and drink to her today.
“If we have him over for dinner, which we should do as good neighbors,” Mrs.Digby said, “we can inquire if there have been any unusual sightings on his property.”
“Oh, yes, excellent idea,” Mrs.Royston said, helping herself to another biscuit.“We could invite a few other neighbors.We haven’t entertained since before Lady Lyttleton’s funeral.”
“Excellent idea,” Lord Fairfax seconded.“It will be good to hear the vicar, Mr.Middlebrook, again.If Mr.Middlebrook is still the vicar?”
Mrs.Digby assured him he was.
Fairfax turned his warm brown eyes on Sophia.“Miss Walden, your playing and voice is as good as you professed at luncheon.Your students must have greatly benefited from your instruction.I’m surprised the Academy let you leave their employ.”
“My departure was not of my choosing, I assure you,” she replied, trying not to sound wistful.“The headmistress and owner, Madame Zavrina, died in an accident and unfortunately had not made provisions for the school in a will, and so it went to her brother, Mr.Smythe.The assistant headmistress and Miss Hamlin, Madame Zavrina’s assistant, were happy to keep running the school, but Mr.Smythe said he didn’t want to own an establishment run by women.He closed the school and gave the staff two weeks’ notice to vacate the premises unless we wanted to work for him in his new enterprise.”
Mrs.Royston leaned close.“What is his new enterprise?”
“He calls it a social club, but everyone knows it’s a brothel.”
