“Come, let’s go in. Sir Randal is waiting for us in the parlor.”
Dahlia did not know how grateful she could be for accepting an invitation to tea. With Sir Randal and Lady Sweet’s thoughtful questions, Dahlia learned more about James than she could have on her own. For one, she learned a great deal about the work of an architect as he told them about his apprenticeship in Shropshire, which entailed a great deal more than Dahlia would have thought.
“I’m afraid I thought an architect merely thought up beautiful or useful designs for buildings and then worked out the specifics on paper so they could be constructed. I never thought about the surveys of the land – slope and pitch and these things you talk about. Do all architects consider the environment and the design of a building in harmony as you do? It seems as the cities expand all they do is level everything.”
“City design is very different from architecting a country estate. For one, the infrastructure is different and for a house, one must consider how the spring thaws will affect the placement of the foundation so it does not flood, how easily it will be to get water to the occupants, and how to place the interior rooms to take advantage of the natural light. I am also learning about acoustics, Miss Talbot, which are so important in building a conservatory for young ladies so their music can be best appreciated.”
Sharon found this last comment very telling, and hoped the young man was thinking of building a home with an exceptional conservatory for one young singer in particular.
The Sweets also prodded James to talk more about his family. Dahlia heard him talk affectionately of his brothers and sisters, acknowledge the romance of his parents’ marriage – which he only mentioned went ‘against convention and family desires,’ and display his respect for his mother, raising such a large family alone. The Sweets heard just how bleak his own financial outlook was. It appeared he – and his family – were quite dependent on his uncle, Lord Telford.
As she watched the young couple leave, Sharonturned to her husband. “Did you ask Peter about her dowry? What will he think of the young man’s prospects?”
“Peter has a hard time admitting that Dahlia will ever be a woman and leave his house,” sighed her husband. “But he said she would be well-prepared for marriage. You know Peter is never one to boast of – or complain about – his financial situation. If Dahlia has her heart set on this young man as you think she does, let us hope he stays in good stead with his uncle. An architect’s training takes years, and it would be some time before he could set out a shingle. But, don’t fret my dear. Time is on their side. She is but fourteen.”
Chapter 30
Dahlia, James, Steven, and Tom spent the next day preparing for the banquet with the Roma. Dahlia was off with the musicians and players to prepare the entertainment while the boys assisted in the construction of a stage. Alvaro’s daughters Maripaz and Christina and other young women were only too eager to help with the construction by bringing cool drinks or handing tools to the young men.
William Standford could see the distant activity from his property. He normally hated the visit of the gypsies. He distrusted anyone that did not own land. It wasn’t right for people to be nomads in this day and age. It wasn’t civilized. Not to mention that, for all they may have been born here, they acted, dressed, and spoke like foreigners – and Spaniards at that. This year, however, their visit presented several opportunities for Edward to interact with Dahlia. There would be the banquet this evening, then the fair. It was normal for people to come and view the gypsy wares. Therefore, making frequent visits to the Talbot estate would not be questioned. He informed his son and sister they would be attending the banquet, and to plan to attend the fair as well. Edward responded immediately with the standard ‘Yes, Father.’ Alyce, however, was quite surprised. She had been expecting William’s outburst upon hearing the gypsies had arrived, and the arbitrary explosions of anger he was want to unleash when he was agitated. This year, though, the anger did not arrive with the colorful wagons and now William seemed almost anxious for all of them to participate in their festivities. Alyce wondered whether her nephew even heard the actual content of his father’s orders anymore, or if his responses were merely automatic.
Alyce didn’t like her nephew. She hadn’t loved him since he was a child and the father’s meanness started to be exhibited by the son. She wondered whether the cruel streak was learned or inherited. Maybe both. Still, she thought how sad it was that she now saw her nephew becoming more like herself Her nephew never had a chance to be any different, perhaps, but she did. She had started as a happy child, an independent little girl. She had learned over time to fear her brother; Edward had been raised on it. He never had a chance…– conditioned like a dog who is mistreated by its owner, but keeps coming back.
At six o’clock, the Standfords set out for the banquet and arrived at the same time as the Parkinsons. The Sweets were engaged in various groups of conversations beside a long table that no dining hall in the county could accommodate. It had seventy-five settings and the four families of the Quartermasters were to be interspersed among the five families of the Roma. Big pitchers of sangria dotted the table and a rope braiding of fresh flowers ran the center of it. Fourteen candelabras of hand-crafted silver would provide light as the sun went down and torches were placed strategically around the table, stage, and dancing area. The mood was as festive as the scene was colorful, set against the artistically-painted wagons of the caravan. The Roma herd of horses stood in roped off pens, munching on hay and watching the activities like a stately band of spectators.
As the Roma and families of the Quartermasters renewed acquaintances, Alvaro and the other heads of the Roma families walked around pouring sidra, a fermented cider made from apples that was sweet and bubbly. The proper way to pour the drink so that it could let the air bring out its best flavor, as demonstrated by the family heads, is to pour it from the bottle in one hand extended over the head in an arch and into a waiting mug in the other hand lowered on the opposite side of the body. With much practice – and good eye-hand coordination, the men consistently poured the cider without missing the glass, much to the delight and amazement of their guests. They made it look so easy that invariably someone from the county asked to give it a try. This usually resulted in the novice dousing themselves in the sweet liquid and the crowd erupting in laughter. This year, it was James who found the serving ritual fascinating enough to attempt it. To everyone’s amazement, the arch of the cider overshot his body and the extended cup by only a couple of inches and he quickly adjusted his receiving hand to fill it. Everyone cheered and clapped. Don Jorge, who retrieved the bottle of sidra from James, slapped him on the back.
“Well done, hijo! We’ll make a Roma out of you yet!”
James smiled broadly, recognizing this as praise and a sign of acceptance. Dahlia, who had studied Spanish with her tutors, knew that the Roma did not apply the term hijo – or son – lightly to outsiders and was impressed with how quickly this acceptance by the Roma had occurred. She was pleased by this, and also felt relieved. She realized it meant a great deal to her that the Roma liked James. She watched as Alfonso, Steven, and Tom went over to James, congratulating him.
“Mathematics and geometry,” she heard James say, explaining how he had accomplished the tricky feat. “If nothing else, I’ve studied the arch and its dimensions this past year.”
James certainly was getting on very well with her brothers as well, she noted, watching them. For a moment, she started to worry that instead of being her particular friend, which she could not claim out loud but that was how she thought of him, Dahlia worried that James was becoming a favorite of her brothers. She remembered back to the ball at Cirencester Park and how they had all seemed thick as thieves within a couple of hours. Then James had invited Mark and Leland to visit him in London. Now, he was spending quite a lot of time with Steven and Tom. Dahlia’s brow furrowed as she considered whether she had perhaps inflated her estimation of James in he
r own mind to suit her wishes. Perhaps she was just a talented girl who turned out to be a conduit to new friends in the form of her brothers. Lady Sweet had cautioned her from an early age that talent attracts people like moths to a flame. Maybe James was one of those people who liked to be near the center of attraction which, when they first met, was her.
She remembered how Miss McElroy commented on attendees of the Valentine’s Day Ball who greeted her as if they were long-lost friends. “People will pretend to know you,” she had explained, “because they see you perform, know your name and things about you that they read. But just because they have been introduced to you once does not mean we’ll remember them – there are too many! We will meet quite a lot of people, Dahlia, as a result of our talent. Rather than offend them with our memories – or lack thereof – just say ‘Good to see you’ instead of “Good to see you again’ or ‘Good to meet you.’ This works for people to whom you have been introduced but don’t remember as well as for people you’ve never met. And be careful of people who only want to use knowing you as a means to impress others.”
Dahlia didn’t know who here James might want to impress – he was going a good job at impressing everyone else on his own. Lady Sweet walked up and stood beside Dahlia. She had seen the little furrow in her brow and her gaze at James with her brothers and Alfonso. Dahlia glanced at her, then back to the boys. “There are all sorts of talents, aren’t there, Lady Sweet?”
Sharon looked at Dahlia, surprised. That was not what she expected the young woman was thinking. “To what talent are you referring?”
“James has an uncanny ability to make people like him. That must be considered a talent.” James had never sung or indicated he could sing or play an instrument. His only acknowledged accomplishment included being a “fair rider.” Yet he drew people to him like the moths to which Lady Sweet had alluded. Dahlia had thought she was the flame of talent which may have drawn James to her. Now she wondered if perhaps he was the flame.
“Indeed,” Sharon started, trying to decipher the track of her friend’s thoughts. Dahlia’s mind was a complicated matrix of thoughts and associations that did not follow the linear form of most people. Dahlia’s mind could hopscotch from A to D without passing through B and C.
Maripaz joined the two women who were watching the group of young men. “Your brothers’ friend is very nice. Even Papa likes him!”
“Everyone likes him,” Dahlia sighed, and awareness dawned for Sharon. Dahlia was questioning her attraction to James since she now saw it was not an isolated magnetism. They had talked about how infatuations could be a precursor to love and that was special for Dahlia, who had never experienced such emotions. At this moment, she would be confused and wondering whether it was anything special or not.
At that moment, James looked back at Dahlia and smiled at her, then returned to his conversation. “He certainly looks at you a lot, Dahlia,” said Maripaz. “Especially when you don’t know he is looking at you,” she continued, seeing Dahlia’s expression.
“Really?”
“Really,” confirmed Maripaz. Sharon smiled, knowing Maripaz’s observations pleased her.
Presently the company made to be seated around the enormous table. Dahlia would have liked to sit next to James, but her brothers chose the positions on either side of her. James sat two seats down from her on the other side of Steven. He leaned forward and addressed her. “You are going to save the first dance for me, aren’t you, Miss Talbot?”
Sharon watched as Dahlia’s face beamed with happiness. The pendulum of doubt was starting to swing the other way.
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The meal was not presented on silver platters, nor cooked by a renowned French chef. No pie was cut so live doves flew out to delight the guests. The desert was not a soufflé expertly timed to tower above its crock. The fare was simple, but hearty, spiced perfectly and accompanied by freshly baked bread and salted butter. Course after course was presented – meats followed by fowl followed by fish – and the sangria was continuously replenished. The desert was a cool custard drenched in a thin caramel sauce and served with coffee, not tea, but the combination of tastes and the contradiction of the custard’s coolness and sweetness against the warm bitterness of the coffee was delectable. As the sated guests finally pushed their plates away, the musicians took the stage, Dahlia among them.
She sat next to Don Jorge, guitars in hand. James was intrigued. He had never heard Dahlia play the guitar. Don Jorge started first, then stopped to allow Dahlia to follow. He continued, and she followed with the same notes, chasing his tunes with hers faster and faster until she caught up with him at last and their playing blended together. James could barely see their fingers for the blur over the strings. He had never heard the guitar played so quickly, so expertly generating a frenzy of lyrical beauty that floated through the night. Then the frenetic wave ended at the apex of its crest and the crowd cheered.
James saw Dahlia move to a chair at the side of the stage and take up another instrument. Other musicians joined her, and two flamenco dancers took the stage in traditional Spanish dress. The male clapped a beat, then accompanied the beat with the tapping of his heeled boot on the wooden stage. The musicians enhanced the rhythmic tapping as the man and woman began to move, circling around one another – close, but not touching. Their intense gazes were locked together and seemed to create a fulcrum around which the movement twisted and turned, around and around, back and forth in time with the staccato tapping of their heels. The woman was all female grace with long, smooth lines accentuated by the intricate hand movements at the ends of her extended arms. Her partner exuded strength and masculinity, his posture erect and his head held proudly as he determined the rhythm of the dance. James could not tell who was leading in this dance. The woman seemed to circle around the man, but when she backed away he followed, only to circle her in turn. It was a sensuous interlude between male and female, light and dark, power and grace – all in equal terms so one never overpowered the other. They were opposing forces that worked with one another rather than against to make the effortless struggle a thing of beauty. Despite the fact that both dancers were fully dressed and barely touched one another physically, it was as if they were making love right there on the stage – standing up and in full view of the entire company.
Isabel watched James as he took in the flamenco dance for the first time. It always amused her to see the reactions of outsiders to the dance. The powerful sensuality of the dance often made people who were not used to it uncomfortable, but only those who could truly feel the intent of the music and appreciate the movements that accompanied it. Those who viewed it on face value merely saw an exotic dance from a far away land. As James started to look around at the other guests, Isabel smiled. This young man felt it – she could tell in his blush and his furtive glances to see if anyone else was seeing this dance as he did. His first night with the Roma James had admitted to not knowing how to play any musical instruments or sing, but Isabel could see he felt the music even if he could not make it. She supposed that is what attracted this young man, who focused his learning on steel and concrete and mathematics and geometry, to a young girl who produced the musical sentiment he drank into his soul. Perhaps this was a very good match as she would feed his need for the ethereal nourishment of the senses and he would ground her and keep her warm and safe with his architecture that captured and contained the sounds she created.
When the applause for the dancers ebbed and the players rearranged themselves once again for the next number, the audience also maneuvered themselves into better positions to view the entertainment. Lady Sweet came to sit next to James and Steven.
“What do you think of our Roma, Mr. Kent?” she asked.
“Extraordinary! Everything I could have imagined from the tales I’ve read and heard.”
“Oh, now this will be a treat,” said Steven. “Maripaz is going to sing.”
James watched as one of Alvaro’s daughters took center stage.
He could not imagine anyone could sing like Dahlia, but she was still amidst the musicians in the background.
Maripaz did have a lovely voice and performed a very enjoyable arrangement in Spanish, but it did not have the range or power that Dahlia’s voice had. In contrast to James’ controlled applause at the end of the number, Steven was on his feet clapping loudly. Another number followed, this time performed by four Roma men with rich baritone and tenor voices. James watched Dahlia in the background and started to wonder when she would be center stage. He leaned over to Lady Sweet and asked her if Dahlia would be singing.
“Probably not,” she said, trying to think back to last year’s banquet. “No, I think that she only played with the Roma in the past.”
“But why?” It was a logical question to James.
“Dahlia understands she is not always the star of a performance. This is the Roma’s time to exhibit and share their culture with us. She is perfectly happy supporting them.”
James looked at her among the players. She certainly did not seem upset to be in the background. In fact, she looked as happy as Lady Sweet supposed she felt.
“It is admirable she can easily give others center stage when her talent is so far above theirs,” he said quietly to Lady Sweet so none of the Roma in the audience could hear, let alone Steven who seemed to think so much of Maripaz’s singing.
Sharon chuckled. “Mr. Kent, her greatest talent is not in being the best singer or musician, it is simply in freeing the music that is in her. She will do that regardless of whether there is anyone to see or hear her.”
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