Dahlia's Music

by Caitlyn Quirk

  At the wedding feast, each toast to Steven and Maripaz was laden with wishes for a happy and fruitful marriage. Alvaro’s toast included his welcome to Steven as part of his clan, for Steven would now be one of the Roma, and his blessing on the union.

  “May you always endeavor to be worthy of the love of an exceptional and beautiful woman as I have been,” Alvaro said, acknowledging his wife Isabel. “And be as blessed as I have been with many children. Strong sons,” he raised his glass in the direction of his four boys, “and daughters who lighten your life with their beauty.” Maripaz and Christina bowed their heads to their father’s compliment.

  Dahlia smiled at the thought of becoming an aunt. Surely their children would be beautiful – and spirited! Her smile became a laugh as she imagined the strong-willed and mischievous little creatures they would have and the trouble they would cause! Then their children would grow up and form their own circles of acquaintances. Perhaps that is how the world stayed connected – each circle, each family touching or combining with another.

  As Dahlia considered this, looking around at all the families gathered together, she noted that each family member’s music was complimentary to each other’s. She reached a bit deeper and found that she could very easily link her family’s music to the Roma’s and the Sweet’s despite their various musical styles and the myriad instruments each individual conjured in her mind. The music of each Quartermaster could also be bridged. Miss McElroy’s trumpets seemed to fit with and accentuate everyone’s music, just as her personality could mix with the most unlikely combination of individuals and make them all enjoy one another’s company at her dinner parties! Dahlia was so involved with this new musical study she didn’t hear James talking to her, and he had to touch her arm to get her attention.

  “Mr. Kent!” She looked up at him in surprise.

  “Are you all right? I thought the combination of wine and food and Roma dancing had put you in a trance!”

  “No, I’m sorry. I was just,” she wasn’t sure quite how to explain what she was doing. “Composing,” she finally said.

  “Composing? Music?”

  “Yes.”

  “How can you compose music when music is playing and everyone is talking and laughing so loud I can barely hear myself think?”

  “It just…happens. I see people and their music comes to me. Tonight, their music came together. I’ve never seen the connections before,” she said excitedly. “But I heard them just now and I don’t know why I couldn’t see them before!”

  James wasn’t sure he followed what she heard in her mind and why this was connected to what she saw. He could tell, however, that whatever it was, it was making her very pleased, and decided this was a very good opportunity to ask her to dance. “I’d love it if you would explain it to me in more detail,” he said standing up and offering her his hand. “Over a dance.” Dahlia looked up at those engaging eyes and all music but his subsided.

  “That’s a deal.” She placed her hand in his and they took to the dance floor. She did her best to explain to him how her mind had been connecting the music between her friends where before she only heard individual tunes. She was half afraid he would laugh at her, or think her a bit touched. Instead, he asked a few questions, then nodded his head.

  “I do understand. You finally got ‘round to building the ceiling.” He laughed when Dahlia looked at him as if he were a bit mad. “In my world of architecture, you build the foundation, then the supports – the weight-bearing walls and columns. These would be like your songs you attribute to individuals and families. When you put in the ceiling, you finally connect all the structure together and make it whole.”

  Dahlia smiled, thrilled he understood. “Yes! Yes, that is what it was like! Each component of music now forms a complete symphony.” Her face was alight with this epiphany, and James looked down at her as they danced, elated that he had begun to understand her extraordinary mind and talent – and that he had contributed to her obvious state of happiness.

  The happy occasion of weddings are known to prompt thoughts of love and matchmaking among the attendants, and the present event was no exception. Lady Sweet, herself dancing in the arms of her husband whom she adored, kept glancing over at Dahlia and James.

  “Look at them,” she whispered to Randal, who looked in the direction of his wife’s gaze. “I think they are forming quite an attachment.”

  Randal smiled. “You’re going to insist I talk to Peter again, aren’t you?”

  “Still plenty of time for that,” she started. “But you might start dropping hints to prepare him for losing Dahlia. God knows her father has always been blind when it comes to his daughter – especially after Penelope died, bless him. Peter thinks his little flower amongst the weeds will always be with him at Talbot Hall. If we start preparing him now, he might just get it by the time she marries in four years or so!”

  William Standford also watched Dahlia and James dancing. The expressions on their faces propelled him into a dark mood as if a huge cloud had suddenly appeared over him and blocked out the setting sun. James did not fit into his plans for his son and Dahlia. He looked about the crowd for Edward but could not find him. Damn fool boy, he thought angrily. Why wasn’t he engaging more with the Talbot girl? Hadn’t he impressed upon his son that their very survival was tied to their union?

  Alyce Standford was sitting as far away as she could from her brother. Edward had disappeared as soon as the dinner was over and the dancing had begun. She looked at Dahlia with longing and remorse. Her chance to be happy and carefree and in love – the picture that her young neighbor portrayed – was lost forever. She hated watching such youthful delight but could not tear away her gaze from it for all her yearning to experience it. She convinced herself that she could bear her situation in life if she had just one memory like the one Dahlia was now making.

  She continued to watch Dahlia as the young Mr. Kent escorted her back to her seat. The couple was intercepted by four young Roma men, Don Alvaro’s sons although Alyce did not know them well enough to recognize them. They walked with Dahlia to the stage built for the Roma fair and where the musicians sat. Alfonso, the eldest of the Pedraza brothers, called for the attention of the crowd. When he had it, he announced the next performance to be dedicated to the newlyweds, who came to stand directly in front of the stage. Dahlia was flanked by two Pedraza sons on either side, and she looked quite petite indeed in contrast to their tall statures and powerful builds. The men started their song in turns, each voice adding richness and power to the melody of the first verse. Dahlia stood there, quiet, enjoying the extraordinary quartet as they sang to their sister and her new husband, their friend.

  James waited, knowing Dahlia would join her glorious soprano voice to the strength of the tenors and that it would be spectacular. He was not disappointed. As the second verse began, softly, she overlaid her pureness of tone on the richness of the tenors like cool cream poured on warm chocolate pudding. Where their voices deepened, hers went higher, matching their power with her own. Instead of competing with their voices, Dahlia’s floated on and above the men’s like a white sail on a solid mahogany ship and the potent complement of the soprano and tenor tones propelled the ecstasy of the song forward like a gale swiftly skimming a vessel over glassy waters.

  As unforgettable as Dahlia’s first performance was when he first heard her in London, James knew he would always keep this song etched in his mind as the epitome of Dahlia’s vocal perfection. This was not a performance for strangers in a large music hall; this was a gift of love for her brother and his wife and she wove a piece of her soul into the performance just as the Pedraza brothers did for their sister.

  As the song ended, there were tears in Maripaz’s eyes and even Steven’s looked glassy. James supposed it was as much a farewell as a wedding gift, as Steven would be leaving with the Roma when they broke down their camp and continued their endless odyssey. It was a poignant tribute to the wedding couple, as much a testame
nt to how well loved they were as to their celebrity on this day.

  Dahlia and the Pedraza brothers gave a deep bow to the wedding couple, then departed the stage as the musicians started another song and the guests quickly partnered for the next dance. Etiquette dictated that James only ask Dahlia for one more dance during the evening, so he watched as her co-performers each swirled her about the dance floor in turn. With her brothers also following suit, James bided his time dancing with Lady Sweet, Matilda, and a string of beautiful Roma girls – hardship that it was.

  Dahlia was thoroughly enjoying herself. It was a day during which everything was good. She was surrounded by the people she loved most for an occasion which brought so many such joy. At one point, she caught sight of Alyce Standford, who appeared to be the only person at the gathering who was not happy. Thinking it a shame that anyone present not share in the felicity of the day, Dahlia sought out the twins Denny and Danny. Bolstered by the wine and ale and in a very good mood themselves, they agreed to Dahlia’s suggestion and followed her over to where Miss Standford sat. Denny, who was taller than his twin by just enough that people could discern who was who, bowed to Miss Standford and asked her to dance. Dahlia saw her glance over her shoulder, believing the young man to be addressing someone behind her. Seeing no one else, she looked back at Denny, not knowing what to say.

  Dahlia broke the uncomfortable silence immediately. “Oh, you must accept, Miss Standford!” She said amiably. “Between my brothers and new brothers-in-law, I scarcely have wind enough for another dance with one of the Smythe twins! I couldn’t possibly oblige both! You must help me out and dance with the other.”

  Without realizing she was placing her hand in the young man’s, Alyce looked at Dahlia. How could she not accept when Dahlia needed her help? Dahlia was the only one who came to visit her. Dahlia was the one who had given her a song – a beautiful tune that evoked everything she would have wanted to be in life but never achieved. She stood up as if in a daze and let herself be led into the throng. Danny and Dahlia swirled away and Denny aptly guided them into the dance as if in graceful pursuit. She had anticipated nothing, of course, but soon found that the young man carefully and respectfully holding her was very engaging. He did not act like her nephew, who on the sparse occasions over the years when he had danced with her simply went through the motions of the dance without feeling or conversation. Denny chatted with her easily and when she did not know how to respond, filled in the gaps with funny comments about the guests and their dress or how they danced. He gave no indication he felt slighted by having to dance with her instead of the lovely Dahlia. In fact, he made her feel as if he had been wanting to dance with her all night and her company was as agreeable to him as any of the stunning young women there. She felt herself relax, like one did on the first warm day of spring after a very cold winter. Just as an early spring day was all too short, however, the dance was over before she knew it. Denny bowed over her hand, and instead of immediately departing, he stood firm, holding her hand and looking directly at her. “Miss Standford, thank you for that honor. It was a pleasure to spend this time with you.” Dahlia and Danny joined them.

  “Thank you, Miss Standford! I daresay your favor was not an unpleasant one. Denny and Danny do everything alike and your dance partner was no doubt as skilled as mine!”

  “He was indeed,” she answered. Then, looking at the young man in question, she added, “I thank you, Mr. Smythe. That was the highlight of my evening.” She marveled at the realization that was the truth. She could not remember how many years it had been since she had danced – with anyone. She turned to Dahlia, then.

  “Thank you, Dahlia, for thinking of me,” she said sincerely. Who else but the young girl would think to bring her a partner for a dance? Nobody.

  “Let us take some refreshment, Miss Standford,” Dahlia replied. “And,” she said turning to the twins, “you must allow me to introduce my dear friend from London, Miss McElroy!”

  The foursome followed Dahlia to where the singer was seated, surrounded – to no surprise – by a group of people paying homage to her wit. Josephine looked up and saw Dahlia.

  “Dahlia, dear! I am quite enchanted with the society here. I am resolved to find a husband and settle down in this county of yours!”

  Dahlia laughed. She was convinced Miss McElroy could never settle on one man to entertain her, or leave the variety of London society where she was such a fixture. Matilda had put it best after their trip to stay with Miss McElroy – that she was the engine that kept all the gears of London’s elite social circles turning. Perhaps churning was a better way to describe it.

  “Well, in that case, you must allow me to introduce two new candidates for your consideration. Miss Josephine McElroy, Mr. Dennis and Daniel Smythe. Affectionately known as Denny and Danny to their friends.”

  Josephine looked from one twin to the other and the grin on her face broadened. “Twins! Exactly what I should marry!” The little entourage around the singer broke into guffaws and bawdy jests hinting at what Miss McElroy could do with the twins. They endured it well, although both their faces turned crimson. Even Alyce couldn’t hold in a nervous titter she let out behind a hand covering her mouth. Dahlia and the twins were immediately incorporated into the circle around Miss McElroy. Alyce stood outside the circle, as usual, looking in. But she was on the periphery, just close enough to hear and be amused by the conversation. She was almost a part of the group – closer than she normally was; closer than she normally would dare approach on her own. Despite being on the outer edge of this amusing bunch, she basked in the warmth of being included. It was like approaching a fire and feeling the glow of it on one’s face when one had only seen the light in the distance for so long.

  Her pleasant reverie didn’t last long. A hand grabbed her arm tightly and pulled her up from the bench. “Come. We’re going,” growled William, pulling his sister along with him without waiting for an answer. He was grumbling about his useless son, and the glow Alyce had felt dissipated quickly as she was tugged away into the darkness of the night and of her everyday world.

  Dahlia only noticed that Miss Standford was gone when she turned and glimpsed the back of her figure next to that of Mr. Standford some distance from the revelry. They got into a carriage and disappeared from view. Dahlia frowned. She should have paid more attention to Miss Standford, but she also doubted that when Mr. Standford wanted to leave there was anything she or anyone else could have done to prevent it.

  Dahlia’s consternation over Miss Standford lasted far less time than she thought it deserved, but the wedding couple was going to dance their last dance before retiring. James was suddenly by her side as this was announced and he immediately took her hand and asked her to dance this last dance with him, the Blue Danube Waltz. He led her to the dance area with one hand on the small of her back – like he had done in London after her second performance. She felt the same warmth from his hand as she had then, and now she imagined there was a touch of possessiveness in this gesture. In London there had been no one behind him to see; now, everyone in the group she had been with saw his hand placed strategically on her back. Miss McElroy certainly noted the gesture, and she smiled. Smart move, boyo, she thought. Let the local boys know how it is before you leave again.

  Chapter 33

  Dahlia was playing Sor’s Obligato on Etude in B Minor on the guitar while the rain beat down on the roof.

  “What’s with Dahlia?” asked Tom, picking some grapes from the bowl on the table in the library.

  “She’s sad everyone is gone,” Matilda said. She was almost as good as Michael at discerning Dahlia’s moods by the music she played.

  “It does seem very quiet around here,” agreed Tom. First, their neighbors had all gone back to their estates along with their friends from other counties. Then Mark, Leland, and James had returned to London with Miss McElroy. Yesterday, the Roma had left, taking Steven with them. Dahlia had cried as the reality of his departure sunk in. She
would see him only once a year from now on. As happy as she was for him and Maripaz, she felt her diminishing family circle keenly. Time was ruthlessly passing and each minute that fled into the past was accentuated by her memories of them. She wondered how the day had arrived so quickly when half of her family was grown and gone into the world to seek their unknown futures.

  Dahlia’s own future was a mystery. At least Mark knew his would be tied to the Army, and Leland’s to the church. Steven’s would undoubtedly be filled with adventure through his travels with the Roma and he had found his partner to accompany him through these travels and through life. Miss McElroy would return to her life and singing in London, and James would be an architect. What would she be? Where would she live? Would she marry James as she fancied at the moment? Would she stay at Talbot Hall and be a spinster who trained horses? Should she pursue her singing under Miss McElroy’s tutelage?

  There were so many questions and absolutely no answers. Dahlia liked having answers. Throughout her childhood, someone always had the answers – whether it was her father, older brothers, tutors, or even Vicar Jacobs. It seemed as if the questions got harder the older one became, and the answers became more elusive. Over the weeks that followed the wedding, Dahlia spent a lot of time in the library looking in books for some answers. The philosophy books Michael recommended only brought up more questions. She searched the novels to find a character in a situation similar to her own, but none appeared with which she could identify. Certainly without the unlikely appearance of a genie or a fairy godmother, she would have to figure out her destiny on her own.