As Sophia’s parents had.
They’d scraped together the funds to gift her one Season when she turned eighteen, after she’d completed her studies with Madame Zavrina.Sophia enjoyed the dancing and carriage rides in Hyde Park, but the musicale evenings had been equal parts torture and bliss.
Torture to hear unskilled girls humiliating themselves with public performances, goaded on by mamas eager to show them off and secure a match.
Bliss when someone with talent played or sang, or those rare occasions when Sophia could perform, and transport an audience with her voice or her playing or both.Had her life station been different, her blood less blue, she would likely have sought a career in the performing arts.Visited grand opera houses on the Continent.Perhaps entertain large, appreciative audiences in them.
Teaching at an academy was the closest she could get within society’s constraints.Teach girls so they didn’t embarrass themselves.Sing and play and compose in her spare time.After she failed to secure a husband by the end of her season, her parents had been amenable to her plan to teach.She had secure employment at Torquay Academy when they died during a pox outbreak in their village, so she was heartbroken but not left destitute.
Secure … until the untimely death of Madame Zavrina earlier this year, and the school abruptly closed.
Sophia would by no means become wealthy as a music teacher, but schools provided room and board so her expenses were minimal.As she was of age,shewas in charge of her destiny, not a male relative, as long as she could support herself.She had been subjected to the whims of her cousin-in-law this spring while she looked for work, reliant on his reluctant hospitality.
If she married, the law would give that control to her husband.
Could she trust Lord Fairfax to let her continue to play and compose?He enjoyed playing with her now, but would he have different expectations for how his wife spent her time?
More than one student had written to her, bemoaning how their husband had dramatically changed after marriage.How the flirtatious suitor who gave lavish compliments and gifts became a cold fish in the bedroom as soon as she becameenceinte, a pinchpenny who confined his wife to a strict budget.Limited their social activities, controlling with whom they associated, even what hobbies occupied their time.Almost as though the husband became an entirely different creature from the suitor.
Lord Fairfax was kind to his aunts.Was he kind to his mother?Sisters?Brothers?
Did he even have siblings?
He was eager to meet his Italian grandmother with whom he’d been corresponding, but Sophia knew almost nothing else about the rest of his family.He might be almost as bereft of family as she.
“We’re having trouble coming to an agreement,” Mr.Huntley said, joining Sophia on the sofa and helping himself to a cup of tea and the last three jam tarts, “seeing as we didn’t bring any music with us.So he’s going to play a solo.”He gestured at Fairfax with a tart before he popped it in his mouth.
Fairfax flipped his coattails out of the way as he sat on the pianoforte bench, and began to play.
Sophia soon forgot about the teacup in her hand, only a twinge of disappointment that Fairfax did not sing.
Like Vivaldi’sSpring, the music that flowed from Fairfax’s fingers on the pianoforte told a story.A gentle melody to start, the harmony high in treble clef, reminding her of a spring rainfall.Then a smooth summer with the trill of birdsong.She could almost smell flowers in bloom.Autumn came swiftly, and then changing to a minor key for winter storms with the melody low in bass clef, the notes coming faster, Fairfax’s hands flying over the keyboard, his feet working the pedals so that it sounded like multiple instruments being played.With his brow furrowed in concentration, his attention focused solely on the keyboard, there was no hint of the flirtatious peer who’d tickled her cheek with her scarf just a few hours ago.
As the storm in the song abated, Sophia finally drew a deep breath and looked around.Mr.Huntley was moving his fingers, almost as if he was playing along, as though he could make sure his friend did not miss a note.Mrs.Royston and Mrs.Digby had rapturous smiles.Henry snored at her feet.
Had Fairfax won any competitions with this composition?
He played the final notes and took a moment before he rose from the bench, then gave a slight bow to acknowledge the applause.
She recognized his expression, the need to pause before coming out of the music and back to solid surroundings.
Fairfax returned her smile with a knowing look of his own.
Their moment of connection stretched out, making her think she should reconsider his proposal and ponder a life lived with someone who could immerse himself in music as deeply as she could … until a commotion at the front door shattered the moment.
“Good heavens, who could be calling this late?”Mrs.Digby rose to her feet, Mrs.Royston following suit.Henry jumped up, on guard.Sophia set her teacup on the table.
The door to the drawing room opened, and before Kendall could announce the guests, two young men swept past him, handing him their capes and hats as they surged forward.
“Wallace!”Mrs.Royston cried, as the first man practically lifted her off her feet in an embrace.
“This is an unexpected pleasure, Xavier,” Mrs.Digby said as the second leaned in to kiss her cheek.They clasped hands for a moment before the men switched to greet the other lady.
Sophia noted that Mr.Huntley was now standing beside Fairfax at the pianoforte.Neither made any move to greet the newcomers.
“My apologies for arriving so late, Aunt Gertrude,” the man called Wallace said.“We were close enough that we decided to push on rather than spend another night at an inn.”He bent down to ruffle Henry behind the ears.
“Yes, we couldn’t wait to see you again,” Xavier said to Mrs.Royston after he’d kissed her cheek.
