For over two hours they wandered from room to room surrounded by music in various renderings. Georgiana slowly relinquished the bashfulness Sebastian found so charming, conversing with students and teachers with growing confidence. A few were now familiar to her, and their welcoming attitude encouraged passionate discourse. Sebastian observed her exuberance, empathized with the happiness, and vividly related to her fervor, not realizing that some of the latter arose from female envy! Indeed, he only discerned the unique inner fire of the true artist, and in those hours, he recognized that he would give anything he owned to grant her heart’s wish. If only there was some way to make it so.
Refreshed after a pot of hot tea and sweet treats in the tearoom, Georgiana and Sebastian left Mrs. Annesley to rest while they headed down a semi-deserted corridor, lined with doors marked with French names on thin wooden plates.
“Do not be intimidated by Professor Florange,” Sebastian said as they walked. “He can be gruff, but he is an excellent teacher and he means well.”
“Are you sure it is acceptable for me to accompany you? I could wait in the tearoom with Mrs. Annesley. I do not wish to irritate him or intrude upon your appointment.”
“I assure you he will not mind in the least. I have some new compositions I wish to share with him, and I think you will benefit from hearing his instruction. Ah, here we are!”
The office of Professor Florange was blessedly devoid of females. The gray-haired man, tiny and stooped with thick spectacles perched on a beaked nose, greeted Sebastian and Georgiana with abstract enthusiasm. His office was a chaotic mess of sheet music, melted candles, ink-splotched tabletops, and leather portfolios stuffed with scribbled papers. His suit was rumpled and face stubbled, but his beady black eyes examined the compositions Sebastian withdrew from his leather portfolio with intelligent concentration. He mumbled indecipherable French as he read and then shuffled to the pianoforte, clearing away several pieces of music with deliberate care before placing the new sheets on the rest.
Georgiana stood near the door, away from the professor’s desk and the pianoforte, not wishing to be a distraction, and was therefore unaware of which composition Mr. Butler had given until the opening chords. She gasped, hand rising to her heart and eyes saucers. It was their piece! Instantly, she pierced Mr. Butler with an accusatory gaze and noted his flinch, but he met her eyes unrepentantly. Anger flared, her cheeks flaming in response, yet to her exasperation, the anger rapidly dissipated as the music swirled about the room.
Professor Florange played the composition perfectly. He never said a word or glanced at either of them, his focus complete upon the written notes rendered masterfully by his aged hands.
Georgiana bit her lip, the odd man’s mannerisms lending no clues to his opinion. And suddenly she realized she wanted to hear his opinion! Sebastian smiled, annoyingly pleased at her altered attitude, and winked at her as the music flowed melodically about the room. The professor reached the end, muttered a few more French sentences that she could not hear, and to her alarm, flipped back to the beginning and started over again! Sebastian only smiled wider, which should have steeled her nerves or irritated her, but only served to increase her apprehension.
Finally, he stood from the bench, startling her into near apoplexy by turning to her rather than Sebastian, his ebony gaze sharp and voice shrill when he asked in heavy accented English, “Why have you not sat for our examinations, Mademoiselle Darcy? You should be a student here with talent such as this.”
“Mr. Butler wrote a greater portion, truly he did—”
“Yes, yes,” Professor Florange interrupted, “I know of Butler’s style and can discern his contributions. Yet there is something more here than previously seen in his work. This is better, much better, than his work has ever been…”
“Mr. Butler’s compositions are extraordinary, sir, you must know this to be so!”
Professor Florange chuckled, the sound grating and unexpected. “No need to bristle, since I meant no offense to your young man here. He is well aware of what he is capable of and thus what he needs to learn. And do not let your head swell”—he wagged a bony finger under Georgiana’s nose—“since I am not saying you are a genius. But there is great aptitude inside you, Mademoiselle Darcy, possibilities that should be unlocked and given wings. I can do this. I long to do this.”
“Thank you, Professor. You are kind, but—”
“Kindness, bah! I am not kind at all! Just ask Butler here. I am a teacher, a very nasty one a good percentage of the time whose job is to recognize the gifted, admit them into the Conservatoire, and exhaustively drive them until they excel beyond their wildest potential. That is you, mademoiselle. Gifted and, I suspect from this”—he stabbed the sheet of music still propped on the pianoforte—“that together you and Butler could even be brilliant. So you shall take the exams and join us, yes?”
He turned away, the latter obviously not meant as a question. Georgiana stood speechless as the professor bent to gather the sheets. Sebastian raised his brows questioningly, satisfaction and pride mixed with nervousness at her reaction.
“I appreciate the offer, Professor,” she stammered, “but I am afraid that is impossible.”
“Impossible? What is this ‘impossible’? For an artist nothing is impossible.” He walked back to his desk, dismissing her objections with a grunt. “Butler, this girl is good for you. This glissando is inspired, the entire refrain beautiful. I might suggest adding a flute here to enhance the pitch…”
Sebastian nodded, bending over to jot notes onto the paper as Professor Florange continued to offer ideas. Frequently, the younger man looked up with eyes bright and warm. With a glance he tried to transmit pride and compassion.
Georgiana walked to the desk silently, watching the men interact while her emotions churned from the opportunity so cavalierly thrown at her feet. Never had she expected, even in the wildest of her imaginings, that a distinguished master of music would praise her humble compositions. It was staggering. It was overwhelming. And it was impossible despite Professor Florange’s assertion otherwise.
As the moments passed, her anger reawakened and pervaded the jumbled emotions. The arrival of a student interrupted the impromptu collaboration. Professor Florange ushered them out of the office with curt gestures and fuss, the door shut with a firm thud that nearly bumped their heels. Yet before either could take a breath to speak, the door opened again, the professor’s grizzled face thrust through the crack and tiny eyes fixed on Georgiana.
“In the autumn, Miss Darcy. Autumn.”
And then the door was slammed again. Silence fell, except for the muted noise of a cluster of passing students, while they stared at the solid wood, half expecting it to swing open for another parting sally. Sebastian recovered first, turning to Georgiana with his captivating grin in full force.
“Did I not tell you he would love your work? With Professor Florange’s endorsement your admission is a given, not that you would not pass the exams with stellar marks, but his recommendation is—”
“You planned this?” she interrupted in an incensed whisper.
“No. That is, I hoped his opinion…” he trailed off at the fury marring her features, his confusion compounded by the unbidden vision of the vehemence suffusing her face occurring in a more intimate setting. Gods! When highly passionate, even in anger, she was surpassingly beautiful!
“Are you listening to me?”
The finger jabbed into his chest brought him back to the present. Georgiana was standing inches from him, obviously having said something quite scathing while his thoughts veered into baser realms.
“Of course I am listening,” he lied, mentally giving himself a shake and willing his blood to calm.
“Then how could you disrespect my feelings so thoughtlessly? How could you forget your promise?”
“I promised not to talk about it and I did not.”
“You are going to parse over semantics?” She was incredulous. “You knew what I
meant! I did not want this and you know it!”
He stepped closer and placed his hand upon her shoulder. “Miss Darcy, you would be marvelous here. Can you not see yourself learning more? Music is your future, I know it is.”
“This is your future, Mr. Butler, not mine. Do not mistake the two.”
“I only wanted you to see the possibility. It could be yours if—”
“No, it cannot.”
“Are you worried what Mr. Darcy will say? You have said that he approves of your interest in music and applauds your talent. Surely he would want you to fulfill this dream?”
“If it were my dream then perhaps he would agree, but that is not the point. This dream is more of a fantasy, Mr. Butler. Yes, I love music and I love composing. I am flattered by Professor Florange’s praise. If I were someone else, then maybe this would be a viable option. Nevertheless, this is not the life for me and it is wrong of you to presume that your beliefs are the same as the ones in my heart.”
She twirled away, graceful and fluid even when agitated, and headed down the passageway.
“Miss Darcy, wait! Please accept my apology. I meant no disrespect, truly.”
She whirled back around, Sebastian pulling up short to avoid colliding with her. He took hasty steps backward and his inhale caught painfully in his throat when he saw her face. Her mien remained one of ire but also a shimmer of wounding, the latter hitting the middle of his gut like a knife. Her next words caused the knife to twist.
“Have you so misunderstood me, Mr. Butler? Have my disclosures of homesickness, of missing my family and wanting to be in England fallen upon deaf ears? In the course of our friendship, have you forgotten that I am a woman? My desires are of hearth and home above all else.”
She paused and looked away. Sebastian struggled with how properly to respond to her accusations when the only one he seemed able to focus on was the ludicrous idea that he had ever forgotten, even for one tiny second, that she was a woman! Before anything coherent and gentlemanly formulated, she lifted her eyes, Sebastian noting the fury but also hints of something else mingled into the blue depths. Was it fear?
“Tell me truly, sir. Would you have me stay behind, alone, living in Paris? Can you imagine how such an act would damage my reputation? All while wasting my best years on pointless pursuits that serve no purpose other than to increase my vanity?”
He opened his mouth to respond, but paused when two instructors passed by, their curious glances at the bickering duo bringing a smile to his lips.
“Are you not being melodramatic?”
Sebastian may have begun to see traces of humor in the situation, but Georgiana had not. Her cheeks flamed and jaw clenched, hands fisting at her side as she stiffened her spine and pierced him with a withering look. “Am I? Imagine how Lord Essenton, or you, would take to the idea of Lady Adele or Lady Reine behaving in a likewise fashion.”
“They would not be alone, since I will be here,” he countered, the underlying message that he would be there for her not transmitting as he wished.
“Somehow I doubt that would convince Lord Essenton. You have the luxury of freedom and waiting years or decades before marriage with your perfect, aristocratic wife, even then to do as you wish. I do not have that luxury.”
“You speak as if in your dotage! I hardly think one or two years will render you unfit as a wife, Miss Darcy. And think of what you could accomplish here. We could compose together, brilliantly, as Professor Florange said!”
“Is this why you brought me here, Mr. Butler? Was it ever about my pleasure in viewing a place wondrous and unique or only to exert your selfish wishes for glory? Is our friendship nothing to you but a means to an end?”
Color washed over his cheeks as anger surged. He involuntarily leaned closer and pressed one palm against the wall above her head. “Never would I wish to cause you pain, Miss Darcy, whether you wish to believe it or not,” he replied acidly, his eyes hard as granite. “My heart is honorable in its intention to want you to excel. Perhaps I am somewhat selfish, but only in that I desire your company and will miss our collaboration when you depart. Can you honestly say you will not miss it as well? Is that what you fear and why you insult me and cheapen our relationship with ludicrous accusations?”
Georgiana had not budged. In unconscious increments, Sebastian had drawn closer to her immobile body until his face was scant inches away from hers. His words penetrated her mind but she found them difficult to assimilate with his presence overpowering her senses. His mouth was so close, his stormy eyes mesmerizing and his masculine cologne stinging her nostrils in a most pleasant manner.
Kiss me rose unbidden to her lips and for a dizzying moment she thought she may have spoken aloud when his eyes lowered to her parted mouth and he leaned even closer.
“Butler! Is that you? Ha, indeed it is! What a surprise!”
Sebastian jerked as if scorched by a hot brand and whirled about to face the owner of the voice, his tall body hiding Georgiana, a fact she was grateful for as she needed the concealment to compose her shattered wits and frayed emotions. From the strain in his voice, Sebastian was as impaired, although he did manage to string words into a sentence which is more than she could have done.
“Lord Caxton! Unbelievable. I had no idea you were here. Teaching?”
“As always. A position was offered and I could not pass it up. I have been here for nearly two years now. I cannot stay away from home for too long, however, and will return this summer. I heard you were touring the Continent, so I am not shocked you gravitated this direction. Thinking of enrolling?”
“I already have, for the fall session. Have no fear, however, as I shall not torture you by taking one of your classes.”
“I shall be gone by fall, but my successor will be thrilled at the news. I could not pass by without greeting, but I apologize for interrupting your… discussion with the lady.”
“No! Not at all!” Sebastian stepped to the side and turned toward Georgiana, extending his hand. “Please, forgive my rudeness. Miss Darcy, I have the honor of introducing you to an old friend and long-suffering instructor from Oxford, Baron Caxton of Alford Hall in Suffolk. Caxton, Miss Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire.”
Caxton bowed, his brows lifting slightly. “Miss Darcy, enchanté. It is a pleasure indeed. I have had the good fortune to meet your brother on a handful of occasions and Mrs. Darcy once. Luck has smiled upon me greatly now to make your acquaintance.”
Georgiana’s turbulent emotions had no opportunity to recover, one glance at Lord Caxton sending them spiraling. Air escaped her lungs in a rush, the greatest of self-control required to not stammer and drop her mouth open.
Standing before her was the most physically exquisite man she had ever beheld. He was only of medium height, but brawny and possessing a face to rival the gods as personified on canvas or in marble. Nothing she had viewed in Italy eclipsed the figure standing before her. He was flesh and blood. His perfectly chiseled attractiveness was magnified by lushly curled coal-black hair, dynamic ebony eyes, bronzed skin, and a full mouth lifted in a vibrant smile.
As handsome as his person, equally impactful was his vitality. He possessed an energy within that was rawly male and charismatic, piercing her as a lightning bolt even from several feet away. She was enervated and terrified, her core shaken by an instantaneous, visceral reaction to another human being unlike anything she had ever experienced.
He stepped closer, increasing the power of his impression, and for a second she feared she would swoon! But somehow her hand was in his, being lifted toward his lips, serving as an anchor to her drowning spirit. He stopped before making contact, his warm breath feathering across her knuckles in time with the musical cadence of his voice.
“An extreme pleasure it is, Mademoiselle Darcy, my only sadness is that I have been deprived of your company these many years.”
“You know my brother?” she responded automatically, her heart pounding so loudly in her ears that she barely heard he
r own voice and had little idea what she was saying.
The baron stared as if equally enchanted, dazzling her further. “Indeed quite well. My uncle is the Duke of Grafton, who has partnered with Mr. Darcy for some years now, as you are undoubtedly aware, and we are rabid horse enthusiasts all. I frequent the tracks and am a member of the Jockey Club, although my duties to Oxford, and now here, do not allow me to participate as I would wish.”
“You are a professor?”
“I teach the violin. One of the few instruments poor Butler here could never master. Quite inept with it, I must reveal.” He nodded toward Sebastian but did not remove his rapt attention from Georgiana. “Thankfully, he has myriad other talents. Miss Darcy, pray, tell me my good fortune is continuing and you will be attending the opera tonight?”
“The answer is an affirmative, my lord. I will be in the company of my uncle and aunt, Lord and Lady Matlock.”
“Excellent news. You shall see me in the orchestra. I lead the string division of the Académie Royale de Musique. Do you like opera, Miss Darcy?”
“Very much.”
“If my prejudice can be excused, I must say that we perform Rossini’s The Barber of Seville extraordinarily well. You will be delighted.”
“I am certain I shall.”
“Your opinion is one I will appreciate hearing, Miss Darcy, if I may be granted permission to converse with you in the salon afterwards? Fresh ears offer unique insights that are of tremendous value.”
Georgiana murmured a promise to render a critique, Baron Caxton’s vibrant smile of appreciation increasing the fluttering in her chest and capturing her focus so thoroughly that she almost missed his next sentence. “Tomorrow evening is the gala in memoriam of Duc de Berri. Dare I hope to be so fortunate as to assume your presence there as well?”
Miss Darcy Falls in Love Page 12