In the Eye of a Storm
In the Eye of a Storm
Mary Mageau
DOCTORZED
PUBLISHING
In
the Eye of a Storm
Copyright © 2011 Mary Mageau
Mary Mageau asserts the
moral right of the author of this title.
1
st
ebook edition
2011
DoctorZed Publishing
eISBN:
978-0-9871239-2-3
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication
may be reproduced, scanned or transmitted in any printed or electronic form
without prior permission from the publisher.
Please do not participate in
and/or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the Author’s
rights.
Acknowledgements
Personal acknowledgements and
appreciation are due to Pauline Reckentin for the time and assistance she spent
in working with me as my editor and proof reader. I would also like to thank
Australian writer, Penny Garnsworthy, for reading my manuscript and writing its
first review.
Other
Titles by Mary Mageau
The
Trousseau
An
Antique Brooch
‘And to think that she is only thirteen years of age!’ The
Marquise du Laungier spoke excitedly to the distinguished guests who were
gathering in her elegant music room. For many years her salons had become
famous throughout France. Here the latest literary writing and poetry was
heard, the art of conversation offered great delights, but above all – fine
music was enjoyed. Voltaire, frail in his declining years, was seated in a
comfortable sofa in a corner. Dunod, the young Count de Charnade, had drawn up
his chair nearby and the two were chatting amiably.
Liveried footmen escorted other guests to their gilded chairs, which
were covered in embroidered damask. Anticipation electrified the air as silence
slowly settled over the room. All eyes were focused now on a young girl who sat
alone at the harpsichord.
Laneve de Nervode trembled slightly as she mused, ‘Wouldn’t Papa and
Mama be proud of me today? Ever since I was a small child of five years I
pleaded with them to give me music lessons. They always found me the very best
teachers and here I am now, in this grand chateau.’
Laneve, herself a member of the nobility, was elegantly dressed in pale
blue satin and lace. Her abundance of softly curling brown hair, rolled and
pinned to the sides of her head, was decorated with small spring flowers. She
wore her mother’s three strand pearl necklace which made her feel like a great
lady. But at this moment, all of Laneve’s thoughts were focused on the
magnificent harpsichord before her. Overcome with delight she suddenly
exclaimed aloud, ‘This beautiful harpsichord is the largest one I’ve ever
seen.’ A light ripple of laughter flowed through the audience.
In reply the marquise spoke, ‘Everyone is seated now,
ma cher,
so you may begin.’
Laneve took a slow deep breath then lifted her small hands to the
keyboard. The plaintive notes of Dandrieu’s piece, ‘The Lyre of Orpheus’ filled
the room. Her ears told her that its sound, both rich and expressive, had
captured the attention of her listeners. She ventured next into a ‘Suite’ by
Couperin which delighted the audience with its technical demands of cross hand
arabesques, intricate ornaments and flourishes. Two more quiet and expressively
beautiful pieces followed until Laneve reached her final musical offering. For
the last she had saved Rameau’s great tour de force, the ‘Gavotte with
Variations.’
Now she was completely in control. Laneve and this wonderful instrument
were as one. She could move commandingly between the two keyboards, adding a
brilliant four foot stop here and there, removing this to colour the music with
the dry plucking sound of the buff stop, then quickly coupling the two
keyboards to bring forward the brilliant spectrum of this glorious instrument.
One by one she worked her way through Rameau’s ever more challenging and
difficult variations until the final one, ‘The Black Pearl,’ approached. Her
many hours of practice and study were met and tested as its scales, arpeggios
and broken octaves showered like a torrent of golden sparks, cascading from a
whirling Catherine wheel.
At the final mighty chords the salon erupted into cries of ‘
Magnifique
–
Bravo!
’ Then the Count de Charnade rose to his feet as one by one
all in the audience followed. On and on they applauded.
The marquise thanked her graciously as a trembling Laneve acknowledged
their praise and slowly withdrew from the music room.
‘Ah, this musical gathering has been a great success today,’ the
Marquise du Laungier remarked. ‘Oh what a talent and what charm! The
performance here today has made this gathering my most memorable music salon by
far.’
And I too have been a success today thought Laneve, as her young
chaperone, Malande Dubois, helped her into her wrap. A footman escorted them to
their coach and they departed through the chateau’s front gates. On her journey
home, Laneve’s thoughts were happy ones as she confided to her companion. ‘Even
though this was my first performance for a great salon in a chateau, I hope to
enjoy many more in the years to come. Yes, I love to play and especially when I
can do so on such a fine harpsichord.’
‘O
ui,
Laneve, you have always worked so diligently for your
musical art. Both Mama and Papa will be proud of you today.’
And as the marquise and her guests retired to the drawing room,
to enjoy her post-concert refreshments, many approached her with their thanks
and appreciation.
The Count de Charnade caught her attention and expressed his total
admiration for young Laneve. ‘And to think that even Voltaire remained awake
throughout her entire program! You know how often he nods off to sleep during
concerts.’
Laughing the marquise said to all present, ‘I believe we will hear
again from this young performer - this Laneve de Nervode. She is so sweet, so
beautiful, and yet serious and mature for her tender years. A talent such as
this one has, will not remain hidden. All of you, my dear friends, mark my
words today. In times to come this young Laneve de Nervode shall indeed be
noticed.’
‘Now play this final section again for me, Laneve. Do not slow the
tempo before the end but keep the excitement flowing until the very last
chords.’
‘Very well, Monsieur Dussek.’ Laneve turned back to the keyboard, took
a deep breath and launched into the music’s finale. Now at twenty one years of
age she was approaching the height of her performance powers. Under the
tutelage of this fine Bohemian composer, pianist and teacher, Laneve was
growing more confident and her own talents were slowly gaining recognition.
‘Was it better this time, Monsieur - more convincing perhaps?’
‘Laneve, you can play this work anywhere now and in any place. Well
done! And before you leave this afternoon I have a surprise for you.’
Jan Ladislav Dussek had arrived in Paris that very year and had taken
the city by storm. He had already become well known in the Netherlands,
Germany and Russia through a series of concerts that featured him performing
his own piano concertos. Recently he had found favour with Queen Marie
Antoinette and he had developed a studio that produced a number of fine
pianists.
‘Now I hear a carriage outside and want you to meet another of my prize
students, Marie Duval. You have heard of her perhaps? Her father is one of the
architects advising King Louis XVI.’
‘Yes I have. So many others tell me that she is very talented and plays
so well.’
‘I know you will enjoy one another’s company and who knows – today you
may even find a new friend.’
Moments later a lovely young woman was ushered into Dussek’s large
music room. ‘
Bonjour,
Monsieur Dussek.’
‘
Bonjour
, Marie. And may I finally introduce Laneve de Nervode
to you.’
‘
Enchante
, Laneve, and what a delight it is to make your
acquaintance. I have heard so many wonderful comments about you and your fine
talent for music. I have always hoped that one day we would meet.’
‘And I too, Marie, am so pleased to finally meet you.’
Laneve felt an immediate affection for Marie Duval, for her warmth, her
sense of style and for the elegance of her flowered summer dress. But it was
her hat, that remarkable hat that caught her eye. Laneve loved hats, especially
the new casual and wide brimmed straw hats that were beautifully trimmed with
flowers and feathers. Marie was also dressed in the current and less
formal English fashion. Her hair was rolled at the sides but flowed freely in long
curls that cascaded down her back and over one of her shoulders. Her lace
trimmed dress was of a light muslin fabric with a floral
toile
print.
Its full skirt ended above the floor in the new polonaise style, allowing
occasional glimpses of her slim ankles. Even her shoes were lovely, featuring
little curved heels and satin bows decorating the front, each set off by a
small rosette. Marie Duval was kind, attractive and totally feminine.
Next to Marie, Laneve felt awkward and too formally dressed. At last
she had taken a stand at home about her choice of clothing. Against Mama’s
better wishes Laneve had finally refused to adopt the stiff and conventional
clothing and the powdered hair so favoured by the
Ancien Regime
. It was
always a struggle to dress now in a more feminine and light hearted style even
though she loved her family and tried to respect their wishes.
‘Oh Laneve, why is all your beautiful hair and all those curls, flying
loose about your head and shoulders again.’
‘Come Mama, this is the new style. And I won’t cover my hair with
powder, ever again.’
‘Your hair is your greatest beauty Laneve, but why do you leave it
looking so untidy and windswept? All these new fashions – oh they are all so
common – so lacking in the regal sense.’
‘Oh Mama, can’t you see how pretty and comfortable they are.’
‘We love you, Laneve, but you are becoming very wilful, especially
about your clothing.’
Because Laneve’s family were formal and correct at all times she was
finding it especially difficult to break away from her mother’s rigid
restrictions. Her only close friend was a cousin, Vivienne de Nervode, but
thankfully she was also able to enjoy the company of Malande. In her heart
Laneve hoped that she and Marie would see more of one another.
Dussek interrupted her thoughts. ‘Now that you have met it’s time for
my surprise! Come with me, both of you, into my study.’ Dussek led the two
young women into the next room and there before the window it stood - a
magnificent new fortepiano. Both of them gasped with wonder at the fine sheen
on the wooden cabinet of cherry, with its inlay of delicate scroll work and a
narrow strip of gold veneer.
‘It has finally arrived from Augsburg and was built in the factory of
Johann Stein. But just wait until you hear it. When you touch the keys lightly
you can create a softer sound. When you press down more heavily on them the
volume will increase. You can play both loud and soft, hence its name –
fortepiano,
from the Italian. Now look here, because a quill no longer plucks the strings
as in a harpsichord. Instead a little hammer strikes the string. You can truly
express yourself at this instrument. You can draw music from your soul and play
it straight from your heart. But enough of my rambling! You must play it for me
now.’
