~ Matters of Taste and Etiquette ~
“Very good to meet you, Lord Harzess. And you, Lady Harzess. I will say the Lord has found a true flower in your delicate beauty.” Stefano smiled and hoped nobody saw through the façade to the tired, bored, anxious young man hiding behind. “I shall truly consider repaying the complement and joining you and your good husband for an evening’s entertainment. I am afraid my calendar is rather full at the moment, but if you contact Viktor, I am sure he can arrange something in a couple of months.”
Viktor only nodded, his face also a mask of servility and quiet. He leaned over slightly to whisper in Stefano’s ear. “You are aware, m’Lord, that ye will need to meet with these houses as ye have agreed.”
“I know, my friend. I can only hope the ladies do not wear the layers of perfumes they carry tonight. I’m almost surprised the scent has not peeled the stain from the stairs.”
The evening continued with little movement among families and groups, Stefano felt drowned in polite conversation. Finally, with the moon high in the heavens, Stefano returned to the bar for a refill of his iced tea. He spoke under his breath, “I swear, Viktor, the men could talk a leg off the piano. And, speaking of which, I do notice everyone has stayed away from it and the harp. I assume that is your doing.”
“Indeed m’Lord. Though at a bit of a price…”
He did not get to finish as the clapping of one of the lords’ hands brought down the bee-hive hum of conversation and drew all eyes to the one standing before the open balcony doors.
“Ladies and distinguished friends, I believe we all owe our gratitude for the generous evening Lord Stefano has made of his grand home.” He paused for the immediately thunderous applause to recede. “I have discovered our generous host is a gifted pianist. Concert level … or so I hear.” The thunder returned.
Stefano glanced at Viktor who simply replied under his breath “Ah … a bit of a price I was saying …”
The lord of the manor glanced around the room and bowed his head enough to just lower his shoulders, then stood full. He waited for his guests to calm down again before he addressed them.
“Lords and Ladies, I would beg the lack of preparation to play.” He paused at the sounds of dejection and held up one hand. “However, I shall be honored to have my fingers stumble across the keys for my distinguished guests.”
He moved to the piano amidst the sound of gloved applause from the ladies and a more subdued sound from the men, making him think maybe the men were not so eager for the typically more “feminine” activity. Just before sitting, he glanced around the room and caught glimpse of a young face standing at the end of the bar, resting an elbow lightly on its surface. He grabbed the raised edge of the piano and sat, almost falling, onto the stool.
Across the room, Viktor reacted quietly, pupils dilated and he paused in pouring a drink for a moment. He caught himself and went back to his duties, though his attention was now divided with watching the Master’s Son.
Stefano looked around the room once more, allowing his gaze to linger longer on faces, especially the young one that stood near his manservant. He then closed his eyes and lightly bowed his head.
His left hand gracefully went to a bass note, playing almost too softly to be heard. The deep sound resonated through the hall – evidently Vargon had paid much attention to the acoustics of the room. He allowed the sound to permeate the air before his right hand began to glide over higher keys. Slow, ominous sounding in its minor key, the music flowed around the room as if it had a life of its own. Gradually his hands quickened, notes grew in volume. All the while Stefano’s eyes remained closed.
Occasionally a husband and wife would share almost silent comments about his playing, though that soon ended as the music grew. Shade and shadow seemed to weave in with the notes, bringing the room alive with the sound of mourning and grief, yet power and majesty. Stefano continued, allowing his kindred gifts to push his fingers beyond any normal tempo, notes flying with distinct and clear tone – almost as if each had its own purpose.
Finally the music began to slow, sound diminishing, as calmness once again surrounded the piano. Most of the ladies were fanning themselves; the men could have sworn they had just returned from war with the pace of their heartbeats. Stefano continued to slow until ending as quiet as begun, a lone low note fading into the night air. Only then did the player open his eyes. He raised his head slowly, allowing his gaze to lock momentarily on the younger man, still at the bar, but sitting now, leaning back lightly against the wall. Stefano allowed himself a satisfied smile as he stood, easing the stool back behind him. The air exploded with applause, the calls of “maestro” and “encore” filling the room. He bowed his head to different groups around the room before once again holding up a hand.
“I thank you for your encouraging response. For those who I am sure will ask, the piece is entitled “Requiem at the Piano”, composer is…”, he bowed his head again, “myself.” Again the raised hand. "It has truly been a remarkable evening, I am sure now my home is in the right place, as you are all extremely kind and generous. I thank you all for coming, but I am afraid there is much to accomplish on the morrow and I must be calling an end to our wonderful first evening together.”
There were the expected and dutiful sounds of sadness at the evenings end, but each family slowly made their way toward the main door, leaving any glasses on the bar, then a quick moment saying goodnight to the lord of the manor. Stefano nodded and smiled, then kept an attentive eye on the young man he had seen earlier. When finally they stood before each other, Stefano spoke out.
“I am not sure we met, young sir. But if we have, you have my sincerest apologies.”
The younger man cleared his throat, but his eyes were not raised to look directly at the one speaking to him. “No, Lord Stefano. Only in passing. I am Lord Falow’s eldest, Gerik”.
Stefano felt a shudder pass through him as he took the man’s hand briefly. “It is good to meet you, even at the end of the night, sir Gerik.” With that, he turned to the next in line and continued his host’s duties until he finally was able to close the main door and draw its heavy bolt. He leaned back against the heavy door and looked at Viktor. “At last. I was beginning to fear they would be here until the morning sun.”
Viktor ushered two servants into the back with trays heavy laden with glasses and some small plates for washing. “Indeed, m’Lord. Though I must admit, ye did seem a bit … ill at ease … with the young Falow.”
Stefano slowly headed for the stairs. “He … reminded me of someone I once knew.” was all he said before making his way to the top of the stairs. Unlocking and opening the door to his room, he stepped in, closed the door, then walked over and collapsed on his bed. Too early to begin his sleep, yet he was physically and emotionally drained.
Niko. My dear Niko. Have you truly returned to haunt me and test my strength? Or am I simply too tired to filter out a mild resemblance? The weary lord closed his eyes to rest.
Tomorrow's Shadow Page 6