“Mr. Stanford arranged it?” Her brow furrowed, then she said, “But Father doesn’t gamble!”
“Every man gambles now and again,” Sharon said matter-of-factly. “Well,” she conceded. “Perhaps not Vicar Jacobs.”
Dahlia giggled, thinking of the plodding Pastor and his plodding music. She certainly could not imagine him indulging in anything with pleasure.
The conversation turned to the Roma, and Dahlia’s excitement to see her brother and sister-in-law, the expectant parents. Dahlia seemed almost as excited about her costume that Matty was making for her as singing the score James had sent her from Paris.
“I wrote to Doña Isabel to ask her about the story of Carmen and she wrote and told me about Seville, where the opera is set. I wish I could see the whole opera!”
Sharon saw Dahlia’s eyes sparkle. Music. The girl was all about the music. She lived it, breathed it, loved it. Sharon doubted she could ever live without it. Music was in her blood and in her soul, it was the very fabric of her being. “I can’t wait to see you perform it,” she said, sincerely. “Though I think my anticipation will be nothing to Mr. Kent’s.”
-----
In truth, she was absolutely right. James went with the Talbots to the Men’s Club, but he had never taken a liking to Mr. Standford or his son as a result of their first encounter at the Cirencester Ball. The comments about them made by various members of the Talbot family did nothing to improve his opinion of them. Luckily for him, Tom was even more amusing than usual after he had a few drinks and his witty repartees with his brother Michael had the group in stitches. He liked Squire Talbot very much, his easy going style reminding James of his own father. He and Sir Randal told increasingly embarrassing stories about the Talbot children when they were growing up. Colonel Parkinson didn’t have much to add to the comical conversation but his snorty laugh egged on their laughter till their sides ached.
As the day drew on, however, his thoughts kept returning to Dahlia. He had had very little time to converse with her at breakfast and doubted he would see her this evening. The Roma were due to arrive tomorrow or the following day and he knew his opportunities to speak with her alone once they arrived would be scant. He wanted to know that she had received the music and found it as bewitching as he had. He longed to hear her sing it – to sing anything – after a year of hearing other performers fall short of his expectations. He longed for the opportunity to just watch her, to drink in all the changes in her that had created the beautiful young woman who tried to be so angry with him this morning.
A punch to his shoulder brought him back to the smoky room. “What?” He looked around the table to determine who had addressed him.
“Where were you? Thinking of nights in Paris?” Mr. Standford asked with a smirk.
“There are many, shall we say, memories of the ‘unexpected’ in that drawer, but no. My thoughts were grounded more closely to home.”
“Your uncle must have several young heiresses lined up for you in London.”
James noted that Mr. Standford’s words were slurring, the word ‘heiresses’ came out ‘airses’ and there was a definitive sneer in the delivery. Thinking of his uncle playing matchmaker made James laugh out loud. “Good Lord I hope not. His idea of a woman’s perfect ‘figure’ is one that can be counted, not admired from across the room!”
“The former can buy plenty of the latter.” Cynicism oozed from his words like sweat and the stench of Mr. Standford’s discontent was equally unpalatable.
James knew he should not respond but, bolstered by the wine, he couldn’t help himself. “Luckily, I don’t have to pay for it,” he replied with an engaging smile. The other three Quartermasters whistled. Michael’s eyes opened wide in disbelief at his bravado. Tom was trying to hide a smile behind his hand. To his surprise, Edward’s countenance radiated delight at his father’s comeuppance, although his head was turned slightly away from his father so he wouldn’t see. Colonel Parkinson began to laugh, sounding as if he had inhaled his ale through his nose and was trying to blow out the bubbles. Everyone began laughing at his chortle, although Mr. Standford lagged behind the rest of the table.
Sometime later, it was Squire Talbot who stood up to break up the party and indicate they should be heading home. All had partaken their fair share of the spirits, and more than a couple of shins were bruised by connecting with chairs that didn’t have the decency to get out of their way as they made for the door. Colonel Parkinson even turned to say “excuse me” to one such chair, throwing Tom and James into another fit of giggles.
As James waited his turn to get into the carriage, he saw Mr. Standford trip getting into his chaise. His son tried to steady him by grabbing his elbow, and James watched as Mr. Standford tore his arm away, then slammed it into his son’s chest. “Don’t touch me!” he growled. The blow had startled Edward, but other than rubbing the spot where he’d been hit, he seemed completely unfazed by his father’s actions and attitude. Edward must have sensed James watching him. He looked over, nodded abruptly, and jumped in the carriage before James could respond.
Chapter 39
James had two more days alone with the Talbots before the Roma arrived. His trunks had arrived from the station and he passed out small gifts brought from Paris. For Squire Talbot, a miniature bronze horse, a French book on philosophy for Michael, a picture book of dress fashions for Matty, a cookbook of French delicacies for Glenda, and a history of European horse breeding for Tom.
“You were, it appears, quite fortunate in your choice of ship to carry you safely across the channel without succumbing to all the weight from these books,” commented Peter with a grateful smile.
“Indeed,” James agreed with a smile. “Which is why I’m afraid Miss Talbot’s gifts are made, out of necessity, mostly of air.” He handed Dahlia a small parcel wrapped in chintz paper with colored twine. It was too small to be sheets of music, which Dahlia expected. Curious, she opened the gift to find the most exquisite white lace gloves with small roses at the wrists and a long stream of matching lace ribbon for adorning a hat. The lace pattern was more intricate than any she had ever seen, with fleur de lis surrounded by flowers. As she studied the beauty of the work, holding it up to the light to see the pattern clearly, she noticed something more.
“They are dahlias!” she exclaimed.
James smiled at her surprised delight. He had been to so many shops and fabric warehouses that his acquaintances in Paris were starting to think him quite the dandy until he explained he was on a quest for the perfect gift for a lady. Matty and Glenda made such a fuss over the pains Mr. Kent took to acquire the lace personalized just for Dahlia that he admitted it had been made to suit his requirements. Dahlia thanked him as profusely as she dared in open company, but it was the look she gave him that made the time he had spent searching for the gift – and its considerable expense given his limited funds – worthwhile. He knew with that one look that he had achieved his goal of conveying his regard for her, and that she returned his affections.
With that one look between his daughter and their young guest, Peter scrutinized Mr. Kent with renewed interest.
That evening, they went to the Sweet estate for dinner. James watched Dahlia descend the grand staircase every inch the young woman he had envisioned her becoming since the first night they met. He smiled up at her and Dahlia’s face lit up. She was wearing the lace gloves and the unique floral ribbon encircled her bonnet, the ends trailing down her back. As he waited to help her into the carriage, he felt her lace-gloved hand linger a moment in his and give a small squeeze before she let go.
Lady Sweet commented on Dahlia’s new adornments as soon as they greeted one another. “Mr. Kent brought them to me from Paris,” Dahlia said nonchalantly in the company of the others, but as they moved to enter the house, she leaned towards her friend and whispered, “He had them specially made with dahlias in the pattern!”
Sharon smiled at the perfection of the gesture. A young man could not have
chosen a better-suited gift, and the manner of his gift delivered amidst those for the whole Talbot household was brilliant for he could not have given such a gift only to Dahlia without openly acknowledging his intentions towards her. By giving her the lace items as part of familial tidings, he presented her with the opportunity to discern his attentions and give her the choice of how to proceed. It seemed quite clear to Sharon that any doubts her friend had a year ago regarding her affections for Mr. Kent were clearly dispelled.
The Sweets were not forgotten in terms of Parisian delights. For them, he brought brandied cherries covered in chocolate and a small toy soldier for little Randy fashioned after Napoleon. Everyone laughed when the toddler put his hand in his jacket and James commented that both he and Napoleon were of similar stature.
Sharon noticed changes in James since they had last seen him. He was more solid – physically and emotionally. He had always been sure of himself, but the cocky attitude was gone. He was not a boy acting like a man. A man he was, and a gentleman at that. Watching him steal glances at Dahlia across the dining room table, Sharon tried to see her friend as he did after a year apart. In that light, she had to admit how much her friend had matured as well. It was so hard to note big differences when one saw the changes on a day-to-day basis as opposed to a yearly one.
James was indeed a very eligible match, and Sharon could not help but approve of him as a suitor for Dahlia. Having known Dahlia all her life, Sharon knew this was the first boy in whom Dahlia had ever taken a special interest. She guessed he would be the last, the only one.
He was nineteen, she was fifteen. Sharon wondered if Peter would give his consent for them to marry before she was eighteen. She doubted it. In any event, James was still studying. By the time he finished, she would reach the age of majority. Sharon smiled; what she first had thought to be a significant difference in their ages turned out to be rather perfect as far as their lives coming together at just the right time. With the exception of the tragic loss of her mother, Dahlia always did seem to have a charmed life. Her extraordinary eyes, exceptional musical talent, and even her courage at continuing her unconventional horse training because of her love of it – not to mention her success at it. No one who knew her could begrudge her such blessings for her temperament was so kind.
Sharon felt a moment of panic as she thought of losing Dahlia in just a few short years. It was very likely James would take her to London where his architectural skills would be most sought after.
She had once explained to Dahlia that life started out appearing to pass too slowly, then stood still as you focused on your children growing, then sped up again once they were grown and had their own families. She felt as if life were speeding by too quickly as she was contemplating Dahlia getting married and moving away. Dahlia wasn’t her child but she might as well have been, and she didn’t understand how the years had passed so quickly since Dahlia was her son’s age to thinking of her marriage.
As Sharon contemplated Dahlia’s future, Dahlia was just trying to get through dinner. She was surrounded by her family – in which she included the Sweets, but she had never felt more on guard. She observed James, who was completely at ease, telling stories of Paris, and laughing with the rest of the company. It appeared to her that he was part of the family and she was the guest tonight. She was watching her manners, trying to sit up as straight as possible, and praying she didn’t knock over her water glass. As the table laughed with James at his jokes, she desperately tried to conjure up some form of witticism, but found her mind blank. Whenever she turned her head, the exquisite lace ribbon caressed the satin of her dress with a soft whisper, reminding her of the special gift from James. Sneaking glances at him across the table, she could not imagine why the young man now made her feel uneasy or why she felt the need to try and impress him – but she did. All her life she had never felt the need to try and be what she was not or to impress anyone. She was just Dahlia and had, for the most part, been accepted for who and how she was. Why all that had changed with one gift was baffling.
Yet everything had changed. She wanted Mr. Kent to approve of how she looked, what she said, and how she behaved. She wanted him to address her more in the dinner conversation, but when he did, she was insecure in her answer, assured he would find it lacking. Her heart was racing through the entire meal and by the time dessert was served she felt as if she had galloped the colt to the top of the tor and back.
She heard her name, but who said it and in what context she did not know. She looked up to find the company getting up to adjourn to the drawing room. Sharon took her arm and leaned in close.
“Are you well, Dahlia? You seem a bit out of sorts tonight,” she whispered.
“Yes,” Dahlia breathed. “Quite well…I think.”
Her friend smiled inwardly. Here she had been planning Dahlia’s marriage, worried about losing the girl to London and married life. She had not considered that her ever confident neighbor was now feeling the effects of being in love for the first time. Just as she had seen the gifts he had given Dahlia as a turning point in their relationship, Dahlia must now be reconsidering their friendship in a new light. Sharon knew well how her young friend’s mind worked, and how she cogitated endlessly over problems until the answers revealed themselves. She should have guessed that this new twist would consternate Dahlia.
“Play us something on the piano, Dahlia. It will calm your nerves and you will feel yourself again,” she suggested.
As the two families settled into perfectly-appointed chairs and sofas around the room, Dahlia walked sedately to the piano and sat down. She lifted the cover and stared at the black and white keys, then stroked the white keys without depressing them, feeling their coolness. Although not a sound was heard from the instrument, Dahlia heard the tone of each key in her mind as her hand passed lightly over it. Sometimes she heard the music in the background, and at other times, like tonight, the music edged out everything else in her mind. She sent a mental word of gratitude to Lady Sweet, for she had been right. The mathematical perfection and rhythm of music did calm her. Her hands went to their starting position on the keyboard and she started to play without consciously knowing what song would come forth.
As it turned out, the music was Beethoven’s Andante Favori in F Major – slow, measured tones spanning the whole of the keyboard. It slowed her breathing, measuring her heartbeats into a more relaxed rhythm. It then became more playful as Dahlia’s mood lightened, returning to the base bridge and grounding her. Down to the bass keys that resonated in her gut, up to the treble keys to engage her mind, then back to the staccato notes in the middle that made her heart smile. As the sonata went on, Dahlia felt a calmness take over her. The notes became slow, deliberate, and delightfully harmonious. She was balanced again as the last note reached out to the audience. She heard applause, and she became part of her environment again instead of feeling like a stranger looking in from the outside.
She looked up from the keyboard and found herself staring directly at Mr. Kent, who was staring back at her with such an intensity that Dahlia was sure the whole room could see in their mutual glance what she now knew. She was in love.
Chapter 40
Dahlia had but one day before the contingent of Roma arrived to get used to her new status. Despite her feeling of the night before when she looked at Mr. Kent and thought everyone in the room knew the truth, everyone went on about their business without any acknowledgement of the fact she knew she was in love. Everyone except Mr. Kent. She was sure they both knew in that one, unspoken exchange. Today, instead of anxiety, she felt anticipation. Anticipation for the unexpected chance to see Mr. Kent, contriving to ensure their paths crossed. Her mood was bolstered by this enormous secret, and she was convinced her extreme happiness made everything go her way through every moment of the day. She awoke early, before the sun warmed the dew drops off the plants, and took Talisman on a hack. Every ray of light was brilliant, every sound was accentuated, and the music that fille
d her mind was glorious.
She was back at the house, cleaned and dressed by the time the rest of the family gathered for breakfast. As they sat down to eat, she felt an enormous pull from the opposite end of the table, where James was sitting. As much as she tried not to look at him, her eyes just seemed to dart that way like a magnet. More often than not, she found him glancing back at her. As she tore her eyes away from him, she looked around the room. She expected everyone else to act on the pull of the vortex created between herself and Mr. Kent, but gravity seemed not to attract anyone else. They sat solidly in their seats, calmly eating and chatting just like every other morning.
Dahlia could not explain why this morning was different from any other, but she felt different. She was filled with a delightful anxiety and anticipation, but for what exactly, she also could not define. She only knew it had to do with James.
For his part, James was hopeful, but not entirely convinced he had succeeded in conveying to Dahlia how much he felt for her. With most women, his confidence in their attraction to him never wavered. With most women, however, his attraction to them and their resulting reactions to his attentions were entirely physical. They were also the type of women to accept and act on flirtations. Dahlia, as ever, was the anomaly. By knowing her family, he knew she was protected and had never had – let alone acted on – any male attentions. The descriptions given by her brothers, reinforced by his own observations, was of a girl who had grown up thinking she was one of them. She had not the wiles of most young women, nor the inclination to flirt or toy with members of the opposite sex. Her truthful and direct nature seemed to go against this, even if she had had the benefit of such education in these matters.
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