by Kay Moser
The dining room glittered. A tall sterling and etched-crystal epergne with four arching arms supporting smaller crystal bowls dominated the table. A lavish arrangement of roses and camellias filled the large central bowl, and each of the four smaller bowls held floating camellias. Cranberry mercury beads swirled down the length of the snowy-white embroidered cloth and circled gleaming four-armed sterling candelabras at each end. The table was already set for the evening’s elegant dinner party, with monogrammed Hodges sterling and Mr. Hayden’s mother’s platinum-edged white Limoges marking each of the twelve place settings.
In the main hall, Miss Victoria and Sarah had nestled a Christmas tree against the staircase, and it was resplendent with European glass ornaments and strings of mercury glass beads. The electrified lights awaited dusk to showcase their glory.
For the first time in her life, Sarah reluctantly returned to reading as she waited in the library while Miss Victoria and Mr. Hayden left for the train station. She was acutely aware that she would soon meet the most famous visitor Riverford had ever received. Struggling to focus on Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, a play Maude had assured her would be covered on the entrance exam, she read the lines aloud as Maude had taught her to do and carefully outlined each scene. All the time she had her ears perked, waiting for the sound of carriage wheels and the opening of the front door.
Finally, she heard voices in the main hall and easily discerned the new voice in the house, a melodious, rolling version of English she had never heard. Much to her surprise, all her eagerness fled, to be replaced by painful shyness. She buried her head in the volume, mindlessly reading the lines as she struggled to understand herself. It seemed like such a huge leap—from an immigrant’s farm to a glimpse of the highest culture of Europe.
Delphie soon poked her head in the door. “Miss Victoria be wondering where you is, Miss Sarah. She want you to come meet that music man from Italy.”
Sarah closed her book, and, after pausing in front of the hall mirror to smooth her hair, she finally entered the drawing room. Antonio Santoro offered a dramatic profile—a mane of wavy black hair overflowed his collar. His face was strong and rugged with a prominent nose and cavernous dark eyes arched with bushy brows. He was tall and broad-shouldered, but lean. In his long, delicate hands he held out a carved object to Miss Victoria.
Drawn by a force she could not define, Sarah moved closer to this remarkable man until finally she saw the tears lying on his cheeks. Startled, she averted her gaze to Miss Victoria, and there she found similar tears accompanied by a light of sheer joy emanating from her mentor’s eyes. There was an undeniable sympathetic energy between them that Sarah felt. Her heart lurched, and tears filled her own eyes. Confused, she dropped her gaze to the rug. What is this? Is it passion? No. That cannot be. Miss Victoria loves Mr. Hayden. I’m sure of it.
She searched the room for Mr. Hayden’s face and found it covered with resignation. Her heart sank as she turned her eyes back to the stranger.
Miss Victoria did not immediately take the object the man offered. Instead, she reached up, and, gathering his leonine head in her hands, she kissed him on first the left and then the right cheek. For a brief moment, their tears mingled. Then Miss Victoria ran her hands lightly down his long arms until she grasped the object he held, clutched it, and hugged it to her breast.
“What is it?” Sarah murmured, her thought changing, unbidden, to sound.
Her words broke the spell. Miss Victoria turned toward her voice and seemed to emerge from another world, one Sarah had never experienced. “Sarah!” she exclaimed as if Sarah’s presence was unexpected.
“Good afternoon, Sarah.” Mr. Hayden’s voice was dull. “May I introduce Antonio Santoro, our guest from Rome?”
The man who had momentarily stolen Miss Victoria turned toward Sarah. His eyes were magnetic, and, captured as Miss Victoria had been, Sarah gazed into the bottomless pools of shining brown. Such joy there! Sarah yearned to crawl into those eyes and reside.
“Sa-rah.” He accented the last syllable of her name, making it into a one-word song that lilted toward her. “So this is our little Sariana. Cosi bella!” He stepped toward her, extending his lanky arms as he came. Clasping her head in his large but gentle hands, he kissed both her cheeks just as Miss Victoria had kissed his. “Volto dolcissimo!”
Sarah struggled to unlink her eyes from his but failed.
Mr. Hayden cleared his throat, prompting Miss Victoria to intervene.
“Cosi bella is Italian for ‘so beautiful,’ Sarah.” She glided to Sarah’s side. “And volto dolcissimo means ‘exquisite face.’”
“Thank you, Mr. Antonio—oh, I mean Mr. Santoro—oh dear, I’m so sorry, but I don’t know what to call you.”
“Antonio, bella Sariana. For you, I am Antonio.”
“But I couldn’t.”
“I insist! I will be called only Antonio. I am your servant, bella Sariana!”
“Don’t bother arguing with him, Sarah,” Mr. Hayden drily advised. “He’s as stubborn as a mule.”
“I apologize.” Antonio made an elaborate bow as he turned to Mr. Hayden. “But I can hardly be faulted, surely.” His hands fluttered in the air. “Her beauty makes me forget myself.”
A cynical smile barely lifted Mr. Hayden’s lips. “You must steel yourself, Antonio, from the onslaught of beautiful Texan women. Otherwise, you will not survive a day.”
“I am prepared to die for such a cause!” Antonio declared as he turned and smiled adoringly at Sarah.
“Not this afternoon,” Mr. Hayden quipped. “We haven’t time for a funeral.”
“Look, Sarah.” Miss Victoria diverted everyone as she held out the object in her hands. “Look what Antonio has brought Hayden and me from Italy. Isn’t it exquisite?”
Antonio turned an indignant gaze on Miss Victoria. “I did not bring it for that barbaro you married, donna amata. I brought it for you.”
“Remember who’s feeding you for the next three weeks!” Mr. Hayden warned.
Miss Victoria laughed. “Oh, stop teasing, you two.”
Antonio took Sarah’s hand and leaned in. “She could have had me,” he whispered, “but she chose him. The mind of woman ...” He shook his head sadly. “Molto strano, facilmente confuse.”
“Pour a cup of coffee for Antonio, Hayden,” Miss Victoria commanded as she beckoned Sarah toward the window. “And quarantine him on that side of the room. I can’t wait to show Sarah the crèche.”
“Crèche?” Sarah asked as she followed Miss Victoria.
“Santo presepe,” Antonio called after them.
“Manger scene,” Mr. Hayden countered. “Speak English, you crazy Italian. You’ll scare the girl off.”
But Mr. Hayden need not have been concerned. Sarah was thoroughly entranced by Antonio Santoro, quite unwilling to leave him, and she suspected she was just one of many Riverford women who would fall under his spell in the next several weeks.
***
Sarah’s heart ached with joy the next day as she listened to Antonio practice. Just when she thought nothing could be more beautiful than the violin in the hands of such a master, Mrs. Boyd arrived with General Gibbes. When Antonio asked her to play for him, she performed Chopin’s “Nocturne in G Minor.” The performance left Sarah breathless, and Antonio murmured with reverence, “Bellisimo, the song of angels.” He rose, and, taking Mrs. Boyd’s hands, he kissed them. “Such a waste,” he declared, “to hide such talent in a small Texas town. It is tragico. The world does not deserve so grand a loss.”
Miss Victoria wiped tears off her cheeks. “It was marvelous, Christine, quite extraordinary. I can hardly speak ...”
“Povero me! I am doomed,” Antonio announced. “I fear to play with you, Signora Boyd. No one will listen to me.”
“Nonsense.” Mrs. Boyd demurely shook her head. “They are coming to hear you; I shall only be your accompaniment.”
“No, no, no! Dear lady, you must play a solo.”
�
�Yes, you must, Christine,” Miss Victoria agreed. “Riverford has no idea what a treasure it has in its midst.”
“It is time, my dear, to share your gift,” General Gibbes added. “This is not Carnegie Hall, but you can bring great beauty and joy to this town, now and long after Signor Santoro leaves.”
“The general speaks the truth,” Antonio declared. “Nothing changes until someone ‘puts the plow to the shoulder.’” He turned to Sarah. “This is the way to say this, yes?”
Everyone burst out laughing.
“Why do you laugh?” Antonio pretended to be offended. “Maybe I got it wrong? I must go to biblioteca pubblica and study up my English.”
Sarah’s intensive study of Latin clicked in. “Bibliotheca is Latin for library!”
“Ah, bella e intelligente!” Antonio took her hand and kissed it. “What then, mia studente, does biblioteca pubblica mean?”
“Public library!” Sarah clapped her hands together. “It means ‘public library,’ doesn’t it?”
“Eccellente!”
Sarah’s excitement faded. “But Riverford doesn’t have a public library.”
“We must change that,” Miss Victoria said, “and we will!”
“What a wonderful project for the Ladies Literary Society,” Mrs. Boyd added.
“Could we please just have Christmas first?” General Gibbes pleaded, and everyone burst into laughter.
***
On the night of the musicale, Sarah stole a few moments and mounted the staircase several steps so she could gaze down at the beauty and gaiety flowing through the main hall and into the drawing room. The Riverford ladies were bedecked in their most elegant clothing, and Sarah delighted in the swirl of full velvet and silk skirts and the sparkle of hair ornaments. No one, however, could compete with Miss Victoria, who was absolutely in her element. Her happiness radiated from her face as she and Mr. Hayden stood in the center of the hall, welcoming guests and introducing them to Antonio Santoro. Framed by yards of shimmering emerald silk, which had been fashioned into a square-necked, puff-sleeved gown, Miss Victoria’s milk-white skin glowed, and, in her crown of red curls, she had set a delicate diamond tiara. The Boyds and General Gibbes had just arrived, and Mrs. Boyd kissed Miss Victoria on the cheek, her gleaming golden hair juxtaposed for just a second with Miss Victoria’s red curls. How different their styles are, Sarah thought as she studied Mrs. Boyd’s ivory dress. The silk was covered with embroidered netting—ivory on ivory—that draped loosely across her bosom but hugged her slender arms. It lay flat on the smooth skirt in front but rose in the back to form a cascading bustle. Each one is so comfortable with her uniqueness. Oh, I wish ... She sighed. No, I couldn’t wish for more than just being allowed to be here.
Mr. Hayden and Antonio were wearing white tie, an elegant style Sarah had never seen. They were sleek and sophisticated in their black tailcoats and silky white cummerbunds and ties. Antonio charmed every lady by gallantly kissing her hand and giving her a few moments of his undivided attention. Sarah saw more than one husband prompt his wife to move on into the drawing room.
The front door opened, and Lavinia and Mrs. Logan swept through. Sarah’s smile widened as her friend spotted her and waved extravagantly. Just as Sarah raised her hand to wave back, tall, dark-haired Lee Logan emerged from the shadow of the doorway. Hurriedly, Sarah dropped her hand, but not before he spotted her. Embarrassed, she abandoned her perch and, circling the new arrivals, went into the dining room under the guise of checking the readiness of the food. Miss Victoria’s earlier words, “Tonight I want you to relax and enjoy yourself,” came to mind the moment she saw the store clerks Hayden had hired to serve. She was not needed in her usual role, but she did not know how to play any other.
Who am I tonight? The words slithered through her mind, and hot panic followed.
“Would you like a glass of punch, Miss?” The uniformed sales clerk addressed her with such deference that Sarah could not formulate an answer.
“Maybe you would prefer tea or coffee, Miss?” Another clerk suggested from the sideboard.
“Miss Novak will have punch,” a male voice answered for her, “and I shall have the same.”
Sarah’s panic subsided as General Gibbes placed his hand beneath her elbow. “Would you like a pastry, Miss Novak?” he asked, and when Sarah shook her head, he added, “Your nerves are no doubt in sympathy with Christine’s. She has not eaten a bite since noon.”
“At least she has good reason.”
“Forgive me for saying so, but I think perhaps you feel like you are giving a performance tonight too,” he murmured as he led her away from the table. “Let us find a quiet corner, if there is such a place in the midst of all this merrymaking.”
“The window seat in the drawing room,” Sarah suggested, and they made their way there.
“Now, tell me what you are feeling, Sarah,” General Gibbes prompted as he seated her. “I would be honored to be your confidant.”
“Overwhelmed! The life I’ve seen here since Mr. Santoro arrived—well, I never imagined such a life existed. So much beautiful music and such conversation! It’s all so grand. There’s a different attitude, an assumption that life will be joyful—not just drudgery, not just a fight to get ahead.” Sarah wrung her hands. “I don’t seem to know how to explain.”
“You are explaining very well. These have been stimulating days indeed, perhaps overly stimulating. Mr. Santoro certainly charges everything he touches with intense vitality.”
“Sometimes I have even wondered who I am. That sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”
“Not at all. You are young and exploring new things, many new things. You have been living with one foot in two very different worlds. I should be surprised indeed if you were not confused, and I should be most disappointed if you were not formulating new personalized values.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to suggest that there’s anything wrong with this life!”
“You haven’t, my dear, but the fact is that you are neither Victoria Hodges nor Christine Boyd. You are Sarah Novak, a unique creation.”
A quiver went through Sarah, and General Gibbes saw it.
“Enough, my dear. I insist you relax now and simply enjoy the beauty around you.”
Tears of gratitude sprang to Sarah’s eyes.
“Ah, here come Christine and Antonio. I believe they are preparing to begin. Shall we go and encourage them?” General Gibbes stood and offered Sarah his arm. She proudly took it, and together they went to the piano to speak to the musicians. Mrs. Boyd welcomed Sarah with a hug and poured out her misgivings as Mr. Hayden and Richard Boyd quickly arranged dining room chairs into several semicircles around the piano.
“Good evening, Miss Novak.” Sarah heard a male voice behind her and knew without turning that it was Lee.
Her heart leapt wildly, and she flushed as she turned toward him.
“I wonder if I may have the honor of seating you.”
“No, sir, you may not,” General Gibbes answered for her. “I am escorting this lady.” Once again, he offered Sarah his arm, and when she took it, he added to Lee, “Advanced age has some advantages, as you see.”
Lee smiled and bowed as General Gibbes led Sarah to a seat in the front row.
“I think I should probably sit in the back and let the guests have the front seats,” she whispered.
“My dear, I have been looking forward to this evening since Christine was a little girl, and I want to share it with you.” He patted her hand. “You will allow me that privilege, won’t you?”
Sarah nodded and, placing her hands in her lap as Miss Victoria had taught her, straightened her spine, determined that it would not touch the back of the chair.
The audience settled, listened to a brief welcome from Mr. Hayden, and awaited the first notes. Antonio raised his violin, then surprised everyone by lowering it. Walking to the back seats, he took Miss Victoria by the hand and escorted her to the front. General Gibbes rose and relinquished his
seat to Miss Victoria, and Sarah guessed that Antonio had planned this in advance. She was certain when he spoke.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said without taking his eyes off Miss Victoria. “Last spring, an opera by Jules Massenet, which he named Thais, was performed for the first time in Paris. When I heard it, I knew that this ‘Meditation from Thais’ was written to express my feelings for my beloved Victoria, and so tonight I beg Mrs. Boyd to forgive me because I must postpone the beginning of our program. I cannot begin without placing this offering at the feet of the most beautiful woman I know.”
Stunned, Sarah held her breath and watched Miss Victoria’s face as Antonio began to play the most plaintive, haunting melody she had ever heard. Miss Victoria’s eyes softened as the notes soared, but she never diverted her gaze from Antonio’s face, and she shed no tears. Sarah cried for her; she cried for all the things Miss Victoria had been denied and for the sheer beauty of the melody.
When the last note vibrated in the air and floated into the rapt silence of the room, Antonio stepped forward, and, raising Miss Victoria’s hand to his lips, he kissed it with reverence. Sarah stole a glance around the room. Everywhere women were burying their faces in handkerchiefs as men swiped at their eyes. Only Mrs. Boyd and Mr. Hayden remained composed. It is Mrs. Boyd’s sense of decorum that saves her now, Sarah thought, but I do not know what controls Mr. Hayden.
“Enough with the tears! La musica è bella, non è tragica,” Antonio insisted. “Felicita! We need happiness. We change the mood. Yes, Mrs. Boyd?” She nodded. “I race you. We see who can play moltissimo rapido. You play the Schubert impromptu for us. Yes?”
Mrs. Boyd laughed, turned to the keyboard, and raced off. Sarah’s heart abandoned sadness as she listened to the fast-paced piece that made her think of racing streams splashing against rocks and hurrying on to a frantic plunge over a waterfall.