Dahlia's Music

by Caitlyn Quirk

  He therefore hoped, rather than knew, what she felt towards him. He would catch her looking at him from across the table at meals, but she would not hold his gaze. She was quieter than on his last visit and, again, hoped it was because she felt her friendship and admiration for him turning to something more. He also hoped that she would not feel the intensity of his physical desire for her when he looked at her. For the first time in their acquaintance, he saw the beauty and perfection of her figure as it indeed was instead of the shadow of promise he had glimpsed in the girl. At fifteen, he saw the blossom of his Dahlia in full bloom, and he wanted her in every way he had denied himself from thinking about before now. As with every other aspect of her uniqueness, James was in no rush to know Dahlia in an intimate and physical way. He knew the time was not yet come for that, and enjoyed savoring the anticipation of her becoming his in every way.

  It was this combined desire not to rush their relationship while confirming there was one that left James in unknown territory – that of doubt. Thinking he saw something in her looks rather than knowing what he saw, like believing she had squeezed his hand last night instead of being convinced he felt the lingering pressure of her fingers on his, was unfamiliar – and unsettling. There was no doubt that she had treasured the gift of the lace gloves, but he was unsure whether that was because he had so painstakingly searched them out specifically for her, or if it was because none of her brothers or father had ever thought to give her such a personalized and frivolous present. She had not even mentioned the music from the opera he had sent to her on her birthday, and wondered whether the gift had been more for his own entertainment and pleasure as hers. He resolved to ask her about this directly.

  He did not get the chance to speak with her privately until late in the afternoon. They had one unexpected meeting on the stair landing on the second story when he was bolting back to his room to retrieve a forgotten item. Dahlia came around the hallway to go down the stairs, and if they both hadn’t turned sideways upon seeing the other so suddenly, he most likely would have run right into her. As it was, his arm intertwined with hers, almost in a do-si-do move as he tried to steady her at the top of the stairs.

  “Miss Talbot!”

  “Mr. Kent!” They both exclaimed together.

  “Forgive me,” he started, still holding her arm. She looked from his face to his hand, and he let it fall to his side. He was instantly afraid she did not welcome his touch, but she then looked back into his eyes and smiled broadly.

  “No harm done,” she said quite pleasantly, seeming to him not at all offended he had touched her. But she had then proceeded down the stairs as if nothing had happened. He stood at the top of the stairs watching her go down. When she was out of site, he wondered just what had brought him back upstairs.

  After spending the day with Tom and Michael and their father, James was perusing the library when he heard the light steps of a woman’s boot heels. He peered around a bookcase and saw Dahlia at the piano. Not wishing to give away his position, he retreated back behind the shelves. The most glorious music poured forth into the room, and he closed his eyes and let the sounds wash over him. The melody was unknown to him, but it evoked a sense of longing. The song was hauntingly beautiful, not unlike the woman who conjured it. When he thought he could take no more, he stepped from behind the bookcase and into the open area of the library. His appearance was noted by the pianist in the large mirror that reflected everything behind her position at the instrument. Dahlia looked up and their eyes met in the reflection. The playing stopped. Without turning around, Dahlia said, “Good afternoon, Mr. Kent.”

  “Indeed it is,” he replied, walking towards her without taking his eyes from hers by means of the mirror. “Please, continue playing. I’m sorry my appearance interrupted such an extraordinary melody. What was it?”

  She turned to him then, for her answer. “I don’t know. Sometimes I just play what I feel.”

  James wondered at the exquisiteness of Dahlia’s feelings if that is how they sounded. It was too much to comprehend at that moment just how extraordinary she was to generate the ethereal sense of feelings into comprehensible tones. “Did you like the music I sent you?” he ventured.

  He was rewarded with a broad and genuine smile. “I did! So very much. I asked my brother to tell you so in his next letter, but I suppose that correspondence went the way of his communicating your arrival to me.”

  James smiled back at her as it was impossible not to reciprocate hers. “And when shall I hear you perform it?”

  “At the feria!”

  James could not help but feel a sense of disappointment that he would not get a more intimate recital. Instead of hearing it alone, or with her family, it would be with half the county and the contingent of Roma.

  “I wrote to Doña Isabel about the story of the opera,” she continued excitedly. “She knew all about it. We’re going to perform the song amidst the background of the history of Carmen. Matty has made the most intricate costume for it and everything!”

  James’ disillusionment evaporated in light of Dahlia’s enthusiasm. Her response also gave him encouragement in that she had gone to such lengths to ensure her performance of the music he sent her was authentically and elaborately presented. He hoped, again without the assurance with which he was customarily acquainted, that she did so because she wished to impress him and not because of the singular impression the music had on her.

  Just then Glenda’s bulky figure appeared in the doorway to announce dinner. James held out his hand, into which Dahlia placed hers only long enough to get up. Then, they walked together towards the dining room.

  Chapter 41

  The Roma arrived with all the usual fanfare which never ceased to delight the Talbots. This year, James and Matty took part in the traditional greeting and were both greeted as extended members of the Talbot family. It appeared as no surprise to Alvaro and his family that Mr. Kent was there to greet them, and Alfonso greeted him warmly as a long-time friend.

  Steven and Maripaz were paid special attention by all. Dahlia noted how well and fit her brother looked, and the warmth and love in his eyes as he doted on the much enlarged figure of his beautiful wife, now seven months into her pregnancy. She had circles under her dark chocolate-colored eyes, but she was all smiles and endured the remarks as to her size and manner of walking likened to a fat Christmas goose with pride.

  The morning after their arrival was none too soon for Alvaro and Alfonso to ask to see the colt.

  “We may as well start calling him ‘the stallion’,” commented Peter as they walked with Tom, Dahlia, and James to the barn. “He’s certainly grown into Himself.”

  The honor of debuting the stallion under saddle was given without hesitation to Dahlia. She had dressed that morning in her britches, but with the massive riding overskirt that Matty had fashioned for her to completely cover her trousered legs in such open company. As she rode her dear Talisman into the sand arena, quite the crowd had gathered from the Roma and the household to watch.

  Tom and his father gave a running commentary of the training since last the Roma were here, including the ‘glorified dismounts’ the stallion had affected on both Tom and Dahlia. Alvaro and his eldest son were suitably impressed with the calm manner of the ebony horse and the perfection of his gaits. Although he had played no part in his development, James swelled with pride at the compliments given Dahlia’s training and handling of the powerful animal. Unsolicited by her father or brother as they were, the admiration voiced by the stallion’s owner and his son were effusive. When Dahlia brought the horse to a stop in front of this reviewing committee however, Alvaro merely said, “The success of the Talbot training remains unmatched in its effectiveness, Miss Dahlia. Well done!”

  James made a mental note to convey to Dahlia all the sentiments expressed by the Roma chief at a later time, since the enthusiasm of his direct comments to her paled to the ones he had made to her father out of her hearing. He expected to see di
sappointment shadow her features at this staid appreciation, but she beamed down at him.

  “It is all Talisman. He is a horse without equal!”

  “Talisman?” asked Alvaro.

  “Come, man! You did not think such a horse could remain at Talbot Hall for more than a day without Dahlia naming it, did you?” her father laughed.

  Alvaro and Alfonso chuckled. “No, I don’t suppose we could expect that. Talisman,” he said again, thinking of the name. “A charm indeed, and a ward against harm for who would challenge such a creature or his rider? A powerful piece of good luck to whomever possesses him.”

  “It is he who has possessed us, Don Alvaro,” Dahlia countered from her high perch above them. “You must take great care in finding a buyer for this animal,” she said solemnly. “For it is he who will choose a rider.”

  “Indeed,” mused Alvaro, stroking the black velvet of the horse’s nose.

  As Dahlia left the arena to take the stallion back to the barn, James thought on the exchange. He remembered Lady Sweet talking about Dahlia’s singing and the fact that she did not seek the glory of center stage; she sang and performed because the music was in her and she had to let it out and share it with the world because of the pleasure it gave her to do so. She likewise did not train her horses for the compliments but for the joy of the partnership with them she forged. He imagined that if Alvaro had expressed his delight in the overly demonstrative way he had done with her father, she may have thought his manner condescending or superfluous. The direct manner in which he expressed his approbation was obviously one she could accept most readily due to its extreme simplicity and sincerity. Since the night of their first meeting he had been compelled to be honest with Dahlia in his addresses to her, but this was a solid reminder that any attempt on his part to conquer her affections with the flowery and poetic flirtations that other women seemed to crave would have quite the opposite effect on her.

  James spent the day among the Roma clans, helping them set up their camp and conversing easily with Alfonso and Steven about all the events of the past year. Steven told him about his new life travelling about the country, and his delight at all the new sights and sounds and people he encountered around his own country were equal to James’ descriptions of his impressions of Paris.

  In the afternoon, Dahlia and Matty joined the encampment for tea, a ritual the Roma had long adopted from their British hosts. The gathering of friends and family continued to sit comfortably chatting for nearly an hour. The numerous plates Isabel had set out were mostly empty. A single tart remained. As Isabel started to tidy the table, she stated, “The tart of shame.” Then she looked around at the assembled company.

  “The ‘tart of shame’?” asked James.

  Isabel and her offspring laughed. “It is an expression we have in Spanish for the last morsel remaining that no one is willing to take on account of good manners since it would shame them not to offer it to everyone else even if they truly desired to eat it.”

  “I have no shame!” exclaimed Maripaz, taking the dessert. “For I am eating for two!”

  Everyone laughed and Steven laid a hand on his wife’s belly. “My son certainly is demanding.”

  Maripaz shook her head and swallowed the tart before commenting. “You English and your sons,” she said, patting her mouth with a napkin. “A first-born daughter is considered powerful omen for prosperity in the Roma culture. She has quite a healthy appetite.”

  Dahlia laughed with the rest of the group, but she noted Isabel’s smile did not reach her eyes, which were focused on her daughter’s extended abdomen. She reached for the empty mugs and followed the woman to the back of a wagon where a wash basin had been set. “You are worried for the birth?” she asked in a low voice.

  Isabel looked at Dahlia and nodded. “My grandmother was right. You do have powerful instincts.” She glanced back at her daughter. “I have begun to think she may be eating for three.”

  “Three!”

  “I think his dreams for a son and hers for a daughter have resulted in twins. If not, the child is indeed very big. Either way, her birth will be very hard.”

  Dahlia was immediately concerned. She did not know if Doña Isabel was foretelling this difficulty from having read the girl’s palm as her grandmother Serena used to do, or from her experience assisting with dozens of births over the years. “How hard?” Dahlia whispered.

  Isabel smiled warmly and covered Dahlia’s hand with her own. “All births are hard, my dear. Bringing something as magnificent as a new life into the world is nothing short of a miracle every time. It is why we cherish life, for nothing easily wrought has much value.” She continued with washing the dishes. “No, I do not believe anything will be amiss with the birth, but I am beginning to think we should perhaps leave her here at Talbot Hall with Steven until she is delivered. We Roma women have, for centuries, endured pregnancies while travelling in bumpy wagons and given birth in the most unexpected places. But there is no sense in making things more difficult when there is no need. There is a reason she fell in love with Steven, and perhaps it is so she can avail herself of his home to give birth before rejoining us.”

  “Oh yes! Dr. Chase can attend her and Matty and Glenda and Lady Sweet and I will be there with her!”

  Isabel laughed. “That is going to be a very crowded birthing room! You shall have to set her bed up in the drawing room to accommodate so many!” Dahlia laughed with her at the thought of such an event. “Say nothing of this yet to Maripaz or Steven,” she cautioned. “I do not wish to alarm her. But if you would ask your father if he would mind their staying on after we leave, it would set my mind at ease.”

  Dahlia shook her head. “There is no need to ask him for permission. She is family and we have rooms to spare.”

  The Roma woman glanced at the young girl who was now a woman and quite secure in her position as lady of Talbot Hall. She could not help but think that if Dahlia had not chosen James, she would have made a fine wife for Alfonso and a future matriarch for the Roma clan. She knew better than to question destiny, however. Then, she remembered her grandmother Serena’s glimpse of Dahlia’s destiny all those years ago and thought perhaps it was just as well. Dahlia had suffered one terrible event in her mother’s death, but two still remained, and Isabel could not fathom that one or the other could involve some tragedy involving her son Alvaro.

  Trying to clear her mind of such unpleasant thoughts, she turned and called to her son. “Alfonso! Would now not be a good time to give Dahlia her birthday present?”

  The dashing figure of Alfonso jumped up immediately. “Indeed! I had almost forgotten.” He left the group and jogged to one of the wagons.

  “Present?” Dahlia said expectantly.

  “Go, sit with the others. He will bring it to you.” Dahlia did as she was told, taking Alfonso’s place, which happened to be next to James.

  “Close your eyes,” directed Steven.

  Feeling slightly foolish, she complied. She heard the footsteps of Isabel’s son approaching behind her. The next thing she felt was something squirmy in her lap and a warm, wet lick on her chin. She opened her eyes to see the most adorable puppy standing on his hind feet to wash her face with his kisses.

  “Oh!” she cried, laughing with the rest of the company. “Look at you!” she said to the little dog. He was black and tan, with wiry tufts of hair that seemed to stick out in all directions. Quite unaware of his unkempt appearance, he danced and wriggled at her delighted exclamations.

  Steven hugged his wife close. “I told you it was the perfect gift!”

  “Indeed,” she agreed, pleased with her sister-in-law’s reaction. “I did question whether we should not give you something finer for your quinciniera. After all, your fifteenth birthday marks you as a woman.”

  Feeling quite like a little girl again, Dahlia laughed at the wriggling bundle in her arms. “Steven knows me all too well! There is nothing you could have given me that would delight me more than this! Womanh
ood or no – I love him!” She said this just as James reached over a hand to pet the puppy. Due to the constant movement of her gift, his hand landed on Dahlia’s instead, lingering only a moment before repositioning onto the disheveled fur.

  The movement, however innocent, was not lost on Isabel. She regarded the scene tenderly, of her family and that to which her daughter had attached herself, of Dahlia’s extreme pleasure in the gift, and of the connection to the young man beside her. Everything she saw just seemed right, as if the last piece of a puzzle had been placed so the picture could be seen clearly. The happiness of the scene and of the comfortable joy the group shared pushed all foreboding out of her mind.

  Chapter 42

  The six-month old puppy was dubbed Rory according to the wishes of his new mistress. The little Border Terrier followed Dahlia everywhere and wormed his way into the household’s heart. He was fearless and had Glenda laughing as she fed the dogs the next morning. Rory walked right underneath the big Irish wolfhound to get to the front of the queue. The wolfhound looked down between her front paws to see the little creature standing there and was rewarded with a lick. She adopted Rory as much as Dahlia did from that moment on.

  Preparations began at sun-up for the Roma banquet and lasted throughout the day. Dahlia and Matty were pulled this way and that, given orders and making them in their turn. Little Rory thought it all a great game, chasing everyone about and trying to keep up with Dahlia. Isolde, the Irish wolfhound, had the long legs and stamina to shadow the people around her, but also had the experience of her years to find a quiet corner of the foyer and simply supervise it all. By noon, Rory was tuckered out and curled up between’s Isolde’s front paws.

  James’ day was just as full with errands and activities both at Talbot Hall and at the Roma camp. Both he and Steven made so many trips between the two that he quite envied Dahlia’s little dog collapsed in a ball asleep in the hall. Adrenaline coursed through his system, however, at the thought of interacting with Dahlia at the banquet – and of dancing with her again.