Heart Strings (Music of the Heart Book 1) (7 page)

He kissed her hand. “Mother, I miss you, and I promise to see you as much as possible while you are in London. But I am not coming home to subject myself to that intolerable tyrant.”

“Your father only means to guide you to make the wisest possible decisions.”

“I couldn’t sneeze without his leave.”

She sighed. “It’s been two years. Perhaps there has been enough distance that he will allow you more liberties than before.”

“Twenty years may not be enough distance.”

A sad smile lined her mouth. “He means well, dear. He regrets his misspent youth and only wishes better for you.”

“I know. And I assure you, I did not misspend my youth, nor am I doing so now. I am quite content making my own way in the world, independent of his control. I have steady work, and have made friends who seem to like me for who I am rather than my family tree.”

She winced a little at his use of the word ‘work’ but only smiled gently as he finished. “You can’t stay away forever, my dear. You need to remain involved in matters of the estate.”

“Only Dunlap needs to involve himself in matters of the estate—that’s an heir’s purpose, don’t you know? I am only the spare, which means I’m spared from such responsibilities.” He smiled at his own pun.

A shadow passed over her face but she rallied. “You have never been merely the spare to me, son. I love both of my sons equally.”

He squeezed her hand. “I know, Mother.”

“Have you met a young lady yet, Christopher?”

The memory of the harpist with the clothes of a beggar and the smile and talent of an angel flashed through his mind. She was the only girl to have captured his interest in a very long time. “I don’t socialize in the right circles for any of those entanglements. As far as my associates know, I am merely Kit Anson, a violinist. I spend my days with the working class.”

She sighed delicately. “No, I suppose a suitable lady would not be amid that group.”

If she only knew that the closest he had come to a lady in years was Susanna—a lady in every regard except, obviously, financial means, nor did he know anything about her family. For all he knew, her father might be a physician or a banker or even a factory owner.

“You
do
have comfortable accommodations and plenty to eat?” she pressed.

That was the third time she had asked if he had enough to eat. He grinned. “I have comfortable bachelor’s rooms with a roof that doesn’t leak, plenty of coal and candles, all the food I could eat, and sincere friends who don’t toady up to me or try to outdo me—except, occasionally, my stand partner who wishes he were concertmaster. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

“Except a relationship with your father.”

True, but he refused to discuss that. “It’s better this way. Tell me about yourself. Are you well?”

“Oh yes, except for the usual aches and pains and the annoying need to wear spectacles to read now.”

Voices from the great hall attracted Kit’s attention. His father. Time to leave. Kit kissed his mother’s cheek. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“I love you, Christopher.”

He paused and took her hand. “I love you, Mother.” He released her and departed through a side door.

Sooner or later he would have to speak to his father, but he planned to delay the inevitable as long as possible.

Susanna awoke to voices and footsteps. Yawning, she stretched luxuriously. How lovely to finally sleep undisturbed, if only for a few hours. The floor of the opera pit had been a more comfortable bed than any she’d had in the previous ten days, ever since she left home.

“He’s sweet on you, isn’t he?” a feminine voice asked.

“Oh, aye,” replied a second.

“And by your blush, you like him, too?”

“Aye, but I won’t tell him. I must play coy lest he think I’m too easily won.” A faint Irish accent gave her voice a musical lilt.

Susanna hurried to move out of the corner where she had napped away the afternoon, exhausted after spending hours looking for a room to rent. But with no money and no permanent position, she’d been refused at every turn. What would she do tonight?

They both giggled like school girls as they walked down the stairs to the orchestra pit. The only other female members of the orchestra walked past without noticing her. Susanna sat on the harp bench and ran her fingers up the strings in a soft glissando to check the strings’ tune.

“Oh, my goodness, you scared me!” one of the young women exclaimed, looking at Susanna. “I thought we were the first ones here this eve.”

Susanna smiled apologetically. “Forgive me for startling you. I arrived early. It takes a long time to tune.”

She flushed. She hadn’t exactly lied, just implied something other than the truth. She couldn’t very well confess she’d slept in the orchestra pit because she had no place to stay at night. Still, she felt deceptive.

“Aye,” said the other young woman. “I imagine with that many strings, it does.”

“I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself last night,” the first one said. She smiled, revealing the whitest teeth Susanna had ever seen. “I’m Jane. I play viola. And this is Nora, a cellist.”

Nora grinned and indicated the large instrument she carried on her back. “As if you couldn’t guess.”

Susanna smiled. “I thought it was either that or you were carrying a body.” As the others chuckled, she added, “I’m Susanna, the temporary harpist.”

Nora looked behind her and cocked her head. “Sleeping here, were ya?”

Susanna flushed and glanced back at the makeshift bed she had created out of her portmanteau, coat, and shawl. “I, er, took a nap. I wanted to be fresh before performance.”

“Not sleeping well at night?” Jane took a step closer.

Susanna let out a little nervous laugh. “Not really, no.”

Nora nodded sympathetically. “Are you new to London, then?”

“Yes, I arrived from the country only two days ago. I suppose I’m pretty green.” Susanna ran her fingers along the harp’s curved neck, similar to her harp back home but with different carvings, and made with dark wood.

Did she dare confide in these young women? If so, perhaps they could recommend a boarding house who might take her. Still, they were strangers. And Martha’s warnings of the jealous and competitive nature of professional musicians were fresh in her mind. Nora and Jane seemed friendly enough, not the type to poison a competitor, but Susanna vowed to be careful, regardless.

Nora slid her cello off her shoulders and opened the case. “I never sleep well in a new place, either. Everything sounds and smells and feels different, it does.”

“You brought your bag with you?” pressed Jane, glancing at Susanna’s portmanteau.

Susanna flushed. “Yes, I always bring it.” She could think of no reasonable explanation so she gave none. “It was a pleasure to meet you both.” She picked up her tuner.

“You, too,” Jane said. “I suppose as the only female members of the orchestra, we girls must stick together.”

Susanna smiled, searching for the courage to ask if they knew of a place to stay. Other musicians filed in, talking and laughing. Jane and Nora chatted as they unpacked their instruments and warmed up. Susanna bit her lip. She had missed her chance. Perhaps after the performance.

Covertly, she slid the items making up her makeshift bed under the harp bench before she began the lengthy process of tuning.

“Are you feeling better, Miss Susanna?”

She glanced up at a pair of warm brown eyes and her heart did several flips. Truly her angels must have guided her to such a kind and handsome gentleman. “Mr. Anson.”

He smiled. “Kit, please.”

She got so lost in his handsome face that she almost forgot to answer his question. “I am feeling better, thank you. And thank you again for your assistance today.”

“My pleasure.” He shifted his grip on his violin case. “You mentioned you were new in town. If I can be of any assistance getting you settled, you have only to ask.”

If he knew she had run away from home with little to her name and had slept last night in the streets next to a heap of refuse, he probably would not be so generous with his time. She dare not ask a man for recommendations for a woman’s boarding house. That simply wasn’t done.

“Thank you, er, Kit.”

He studied her a moment longer, offered a brief bow, and moved up front to speak with the conductor, Alex. Susanna allowed herself the luxury of admiring Kit, his striking face, his lean, almost graceful form, his confident stance but without the swagger of an arrogant womanizer, like Percy. Kit certainly had been kind to her, more so than other men of her limited acquaintance.

Who was he? He spoke like a high born gentleman, and clearly had the benefit of an education. Of course, she daren’t ask such personal questions.

“He’s certainly a feast for the eyes, isn’t he?” Jane smiled at her.

Susanna didn’t know whether to be ashamed she had been caught mooning over him or relieved Jane shared her opinion. She settled for a guilty smile and a nod.

Jane continued, “I declare the first time I played with the orchestra, I was so distracted by looking at him that I could hardly pay attention to the music. Too bad I’m not right next to him where I can see him better. Then again, maybe it’s just as well. I am married. Still, I have a good view from here.” She let out a lusty sigh.

Susanna almost allowed herself a giggle before she stopped herself. Kit glanced back just then. Her face flamed at having been caught and she pretended to be absorbed in tuning.

He picked his way back to her. She considered whether she could truly sink into the floor but didn’t know how to go about it.

When Kit reached her side, he said, “Alex said to tell you that the principal harpist is not expected to be healed enough to return for another few days, so if your performance is as good tonight, you have the job—temporarily.”

“I do? Oh!” She clasped her hands together so she wouldn’t embarrass herself by throwing her arms around him and hugging him. As it was, she barely managed to refrain from hopping up and down. “I’m ever so glad to hear it. I hope I will prove myself to Alex’s satisfaction, then. And yours.”

“You have nothing to fear.”

“Thank you,” she gushed. “Thank you again.”

He nodded and returned to his seat. How wonderful! She had a position for the present time.

The performance went even better that night than the first, and Susanna immersed herself in the music. When the score called for rests for the harp, she watched Alex’s animated gestures as he conducted. Once or twice—oh, very well, much more than that—she let her gaze stray to Kit. He swayed slightly as he played, and much of the time he closed his eyes as he poured his soul into his craft. Near the end of the first act, he played a solo. Susanna had never heard such beauty as Kit playing his violin. Such power and passion. The candlelit chandelier hanging from the domed ceiling shone on his dark hair, and the far chandelier backlit him, giving the illusion that he was some kind of heavenly being. Her father used to say angels played harps in heaven, and even called her ‘his little angel.’ Susanna was pretty sure they also played violins.

Pity no one in the audience could have the pleasure of watching Kit perform. The male singers on stage couldn’t hold a candle to his masculine beauty.

When the score called for the harp, she joined in, blending her notes with the orchestra, and at the right moments, playing her glissandi. Then it was time for the harp and violin duet. She let her heart guide her, soaring with him as he soared, slowing and softening with him as if they performed an intricate dance with music instead of feet. A heavy weight lifted from her heart and dissipated like so much mist, carried away by the hauntingly beautiful pleasure of playing with Kit. A glorious sensation of being connected to him filled her, giving further emotion to her music.

By the time the last note faded away, a hush had fallen over the audience before thunderous applause nearly shook the theatre. He glanced back at her. She smiled and wiped tears from her cheeks.

With admiration shining in his eyes, he inclined his head in an abbreviated bow. If only she could always be so connected.

Alex broke the spell, cueing the prima donna who sang from stage and bringing in the orchestra. Still, a version of that wondrous sense of belonging lingered in Susanna’s heart until after the performance.

As the final curtain fell and the orchestra packed up to leave, Susanna deliberated. Could she dawdle and then slip into the shadows so she could sleep in the orchestra pit, or did she dare ask Nora and Jane for their advice? She couldn’t bring herself to face another night sleeping in an alley. The danger alone declared that a foolhardy plan.

Kit approached her, grinning. “I hope you will forgive me for saying so, but I’m glad the principal harpist was unable to perform. I never would have had the pleasure of playing with you. Don’t get me wrong—he is a very skilled musician, but you play with more feeling than I’ve ever heard from a harpist. That duet we played…” he trailed off and shook his head.

She shrugged, warming all over that he’d felt that same connection she had. “I merely followed your lead.”

He smiled and a soft light entered his eyes. “Please allow me to buy you dinner at my favorite tavern. I’d really like to become better acquainted with you.”

He wanted to become better acquainted with her? He couldn’t mean that the way she thought. If only he did….

She held up both hands in an attempt to ward off temptation. “Oh, no. I couldn’t impose.”

“It would only be imposing if you refuse.” He smiled disarmingly, a friendly, slightly teasing glint brightening his eye.

Still, she hesitated. How well, really, did she know him? Sure, he had helped her acquire the position as temporary opera harpist, he had come to her aid when she’d fainted, and he played the violin beautifully, but dare she trust him enough to go somewhere with him? Alone? All her life, she’d been cautioned to have a chaperone with her on the rare occasion she left home or if she ever were to entertain a male visitor.

Of course, she was no longer the cloistered daughter of a gentleman whose every move fell under public scrutiny.