“Oh? Very well, then. Good night, my lord,” Teresa said, quickly looking away so that he would not see the hurt in her eyes. She must simply be tired after the excitement of the ball. There could be no other explanation for the way she was feeling. She blinked a few times to clear the tears from her eyes.
He ran a finger along her jaw line, forcing her to look up into his eyes once again. No, it had not been her imagination. He wore a rather sad smile. “Good night.”
Very quickly, he turned and walked away. She watched him go into his library and close the door behind him.
She continued up to her room where she undressed and slipped quickly into her overly large bed. Holding her pillow to her chest, she quietly wept herself to sleep.
Chapter Fifteen
Teresa leaned forward at the edge of her chair, intent on the large woman standing at the front of the room. Richard was impressed as well with Signora Capellini’s voice as it flowed and dipped effortlessly in song. But he had heard the Signora sing before and so was not as enthralled.
Lady Thorpe’s musicales were very well regarded among the ton. She always managed to get the best musicians and singers to perform for her “little get-togethers”. It was, therefore, a rather overcrowded drawing room in which they sat in closely placed chairs—latecomers, being not so lucky, were forced to stand around the walls of the room. Richard desperately wished someone had had the forethought to leave some windows open as the room was getting rather warm and close.
And, of course, an evening at Lady Thorpe’s would never be complete without a performance by her extremely talented daughter. Evangeline Thorpe was, unfortunately, not very pretty to look at, with her small eyes and her pinched face framed by awkwardly straight mouse brown hair. However, once she began to play her harp, it was easy to forget her looks and to merely sit and enjoy the beautiful music. Her long graceful arms reached around her instrument, plucking and stroking the strings to produce the most lovely, flowing melody.
Richard looked over at Teresa with a smile but found her rapt once again. Unconsciously, her eyes had half-closed and her body swayed slightly with the music. The music seemed to permeate her being, rather than her simply hearing it. Richard had a hard time keeping his eyes from her. He gave up the battle and enjoyed the music not just for its own beauty, but for the lovely effect it had on his wife.
The three selected pieces were played and fervently applauded by all. Lady Thorpe then stood up and said, “And finally, we have one more performance for you this evening.” Lady Thorpe looked around. “Lady Merrick, would you be so kind as to come up?”
Teresa jumped, her eyes going wide. “Me?”
Richard smiled at her and gave her hand a squeeze. “Go ahead, Teresa, you play so beautifully.”
“But I… I haven’t prepared anything.”
Lady Thorpe laughed, “Oh, I am sure you are very well prepared. Please, Lady Merrick.” She gestured to the pianoforte that was being pushed forward by two footmen.
Richard stood up to allow her to pass. “You will be wonderful. Don’t worry, my dear,” he whispered, as he pulled her to into the aisle.
Nervously, Teresa made her way to the front of the room. She gave Lady Thorpe a quick smile. “Thank you,” she whispered as she seated herself at the pianoforte.
As always, she had dressed beautifully for her society visit, but in her absorption with the performances during the course of the evening she had become slightly disheveled. Some of her hair had come loose from its tight chignon. Richard noticed her fingers tremble as she quickly fixed her coiffure to keep her hair from her eyes.
An uneasy hush had fallen over the room as the assemblage realized how uncomfortable she was. Richard felt his own nails digging into his palm as they all waited for her to begin.
Teresa raised her hands over the keyboard and after a false start, launched into a slow and melodic piece by Haydn. Richard let himself relax as the music began to flow from her fingers—perhaps not as effortless as usual, but still pretty enough.
And then she missed a note.
And a couple more. Her mistakes continued to get worse until she stopped altogether, seemingly paralyzed and unable to go on.
Richard felt his stomach tighten. He, as well as everyone else in the room, watched her as she sat with her eyes tightly closed, fighting her demons.
There was a hum, even a few titters from a few girls in the audience. Richard could clearly hear Miss Bowden-Smyth, who was also present, say in a loud stage whisper, “Not only is she boorish when you speak to her, but she can make a fool of herself at the pianoforte too.”
Richard felt himself flush with anger and was about to turn around and deliver a stinging set-down when his eyes were arrested again by Teresa. She had clearly heard the comment as well, for she had turned bright red. But at the same time, she visibly shook herself and started again.
This time, instead of continuing with the slow Haydn piece, she launched into one of the fast and very complicated pieces by Soler that she favored.
She was brilliant. There was no other word for it.
Richard watched, spellbound with the rest of the audience, as Teresa’s fingers flew up and down the keyboard at a pace so fast that they almost blurred. The music swooped and soared around them, the virtuoso performance filling the entire room with bold and sparkling notes that blended into one another.
The piece ended quickly, but its memory still hung in the air during a prolonged moment of astonished silence. Immediately thereafter, the stillness was shattered by an outburst of applause and bravas, and calls for more.
Unable to suppress the broad smile on his face, Richard joined in the applause. As Teresa took her curtsey, he caught her eyes for a fleeting moment and was delighted to see a small glint of a smile reflected back at him. The applause died down as she sat down and began to play once more.
It was the Haydn piece again. Only this time it came out beautifully with no hesitations or mistakes. Teresa had finally begun to relax and play the way Richard knew she could. Within a few minutes, she became totally lost in her own music.
Fascinated as always, Richard watched as Teresa began to glow and move with her music. A small smile played upon her lips and even from where he was sitting right in the middle of the room, he could see her half-closed eyes framed by her long black eyelashes.
Without pause, she played one more lilting piece before remembering where she was. She stood up, flushed with her exertions and obviously embarrassed to have so completely lost herself in the music.
The applause was fervent. To Richard’s ears, it seemed louder and more heartfelt than for any of the previous performances. As Teresa tried to make her way back to Richard, she was stopped again and again by people complimenting her on her recital.
Richard stood and watched as she went from being rather awkward at first, to flushing with pleasure and finally to conversing easily with all of the men and women surrounding her. Smiling to himself, Richard left her to her admirers and moved away to get himself a drink.
At the refreshment table, Richard ran into his cousin, Fungy.
“Inspired, Merry, old man,” Fungy said, patting him on the back.
“She is very good, isn’t she?”
“Yes, ‘course she is. I was, however, referring to you.”
“Me?”
“Obvious you put her up to it, m’boy,” Fungy said, giving Richard a sly half-smile. “Don’t deny it.”
Richard laughed, “No, I don’t. I knew that Teresa would enjoy a musicale. It is the first one we have been invited to. I could not help but jump at the opportunity.” He took a long drink from the lemonade in his hand and then helped himself to a lobster patty.
“I had hoped that the more parties Teresa went to, the easier they would get. Unfortunately, this has not proved to be the case,” Richard said, giving a sad shake of his head.
“Had some moderate success at your wedding ball,” Fungy offered, clearly trying to give him a little
encouragement.
“Yes, she did have a few moments there when she forgot to be self-conscious, but more often that not, she simply went through the motions of social conversation with all the grace of a frightened deer.”
“Suppose it makes escorting her rather trying,” Fungy said, sympathetically.
Richard nodded and tried not to show his cousin just how close to the truth he had come. Teresa’s lack of composure and self-confidence made escorting her to social events a strain, a stress compounded by his own periodic urges to escape.
Yet he did have to admit to himself that he was finding it easier to slip into his Merry Marquis persona with each party they attended. But this simply meant that while Teresa stuttered and groped for something to say to the few people who approached her, Richard’s group of admirers, both male and female, was growing. It was awkward when many of those who sought him out were old friends expecting Teresa to simply be another Julia. Their disappointment when it was discovered that she was not at all like his charming former wife was evident.
“Still,” Fungy said, helping himself to more lemonade, “have to admire Teresa’s efforts.”
“Oh, absolutely. And we practice her conversation as often as we can. But the problem is not that Teresa does not have conversation. She has proven herself to be confident and capable when we attend Lady Cowper’s political drawing rooms. When she is completely focused on the point she is making she doesn’t think about being self-conscious or awkward. I believe playing the pianoforte does the same thing. She is so focused on her music, she forgets everything else. I was sure that this would work, and it has, hasn’t it?”
“In spades. Never seen anything like it. Just look at her.”
Richard turned around to look and realized that he couldn’t see Teresa because of the crowd of people, mostly men, surrounding her. He could hear her laugh, however, and the answering chuckles from the group told him that she was holding her own in the crowd.
Fungy’s chortle caught his attention and he turned to look at his cousin. “What is so amusing, Fungy?”
“You, dear boy. Should see the scowl on your face.” His cousin’s lips twitched again.
“I am not scowling,” Richard denied vehemently. How could he be irritated at Teresa’s social success when he had just explained to Fungy that this was entirely his intention? Why would he be scowling just because his wife was completely surrounded by a bunch of young and eligible tulips of the ton? Was that Hawksmoor holding Teresa’s hand? Now, he was a rogue of the worst sort.
“Jealous. That’s what you are.” Fungy interrupted Richard’s scrutiny of the gentlemen surrounding his wife.
“I most certainly am not jealous.” He was, however, rapidly becoming very annoyed with Fungy. He walked away.
Richard had not wanted to get in Teresa’s way, but he could not resist the urge to be near her. He found himself making his way through the crowd to stand by her side.
She was glowing still. Whether from her performance or from all of the compliments and flattering words being heaped upon her from the gentlemen surrounding her, Richard did not know. All he could see was that she was more beautiful than ever.
Very soon though, to his relief, the crowd began to disperse.
“You seem to have quite a number of new admirers,” Richard said, after the last one had walked away.
“Yes, I suppose I do,” Teresa said, still feeling rather exhilarated from her sudden success.
Teresa had been surprised by the amount of attention she’d received after her performance. Never had she experienced such a thing, not even when she’d performed for the soldiers at her father’s house in Spain. But here, by the way they crowded around her as soon as she had finished, it was as if they had never heard anyone play the pianoforte before.
And then there had been the compliments.
“You were absolutely brilliant, Lady Merrick,” Lord Millhaven had said, taking her hand and kissing it.
A bright red headed young dandy she had met only once before and could not now remember his name gently pulled her hand from Millhaven’s grasp to place his own salute on it. “Never have I seen anyone more beautiful at the pianoforte than you, dear Lady Merrick.”
Teresa opened her mouth to refute him when Miss Peyton joined them. “Lady Merrick, that was an incredible performance. I never knew you could play the pianoforte so well.”
“Th-thank you, Miss Peyton,” Teresa managed. Teresa could easily set aside the gentlemen’s compliments, but for Miss Peyton to say that she had done well, truly meant something to her. “You really think I was good? I was so nervous at the beginning.”
“That was certainly obvious, but then once you truly began to play…” Miss Peyton had begun.
“Once you began to play, Lady Merrick, you were magnificent,” the unnamed dandy finished for her.
“Indeed, and not only played superbly, but lovely to watch as well,” Lord Millhaven added.
Other gentlemen who had crowded around her seconded this statement.
“You are all too kind,” Teresa had said.
But somewhere, deep inside her, Teresa had felt a spark of pride begin to grow. And with it came self-assurance. She did not understand how it was happening, but the more compliments she received, the easier she found it to talk to all the people around her. Before she knew it, she was laughing and having fun and not feeling self-conscious at all. She had forgotten to be nervous and shy.
They spoke of music and the performances by Signora Capellini and Miss Thorpe—Teresa praised them both as wonderful artists. More than one gentleman who had begun to say that Teresa was much better changed their tune when Teresa insisted that they were equally good, if not better than she. They were so eager to please her and to agree with her that she nearly laughed.
When Richard had joined the group, at first she had been happy to have him next to her. He added to her sense of well-being and comfort. But when he began to give fierce looks at the gentlemen who surrounded her, they all moved on quickly and she was left alone with Richard.
“Why did you frown at them all so?” she asked him.
“Frowned? Did I? I am sorry, I did not mean to scare them away. But, honestly, Teresa, you could do better than Hawksmoor, Millhaven and Crusty Corstairs.”
Teresa laughed, “Crusty Corstairs? Is that what the red-haired gentleman’s name is?”
Richard finally smiled. “Yes, did you not know? I am certain you’ve met him before.”
“I had, but I could not remember his name.” Teresa laughed again, “Oh dear, now I’m sure I won’t forget it.”
Chapter Sixteen
After returning home that evening, Richard bade Teresa good night at the bottom of the stairs as usual and then quickly retreated into his library before he was tempted to act on his growing attraction towards her. However, for some reason, even as he sat down in his favorite chair, he felt the urge to go out.
He hadn’t actually been to his club for some time, preferring the solace of his library to continuing with the effort that was still required to maintain his merry façade. This evening, however, he wanted company.
The smoke-filled room at White’s was gratifyingly unchanged with the same heavy leather furniture scattered about the large reading room. Richard walked through on his way to the card room, which, in turn, was filled with the same tables that had been there for as long as anyone could remember. Also unchanged was the acrid smell of tobacco mixed with the sweet smell of alcohol and the sometimes pungent odor of unwashed male bodies. Richard suppressed a laugh as he thought that it would probably be this way even a hundred years from now.
He found Fungy at a card table with Lords Sefton and Kelter, the fourth seat having just been vacated. Richard was pleased to take the seat and ordered a bottle of brandy for the table.
They had barely begun the bidding when Lord Sefton said, “Hear your wife had quite a night, Merrick. Didn’t realize she was a pianoforte virtuosa.”
R
ichard could not hide his smile and the glow of pride that had suffused him for most of the evening returned in full force.
“She is normally very quiet and shy, is she not?” Lord Kelter asked.
“Yes, normally,” Richard answered.
“Not tonight. Had nearly every young buck at Lady Thorpe’s surrounding her after her performance,” Fungy said in his usual succinct manner.
“Heard Lady Thorpe wasn’t too pleased about that.” Lord Wold joined in the conversation, standing next to Richard and peering down at the cards with his quizzing glass.
“Had rather high hopes for that sour-faced puss of hers, I imagine,” Lord Sefton replied.
There were some appreciative chuckles from other gentlemen who were watching the play unfolding on the table.
“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose she’s not much to look at, but Miss Thorpe is a very nice, even-tempered girl,” Richard said in her defense.
“Easy for you to say, Merrick, you don’t need to worry about being caught in the parson’s trap,” said a young gentleman standing to the left of Fungy.
“Doesn’t it bother you, Merry, that your wife was completely surrounded by so many young fribbles?” Lord Kelter asked.
“Of course it does! Did you see the card he just played?” another gentleman answered before Richard could say anything. There were guffaws of appreciative laughter from the men surrounding them.
Smiling, Richard watched Lord Sefton neatly stack the pile of coins in front of himself. He had better try harder to concentrate on his cards, he realized while dealing out the next hand.
An hour later, his purse was considerably lighter but his mind was completely relieved of any anxiety over Teresa’s performance that evening, Richard thanked the other gentlemen at the table and stood. He knew when to cut his losses and was too well aware that it was not the cards that were holding his attention this evening.
Fungy followed his lead and the two were soon joined by Huntley and Reath in sharing a bottle of port in front of a slowly ebbing fire.
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