by Beth Byers
“This is a private performance, Mattie. Just for us. We had our pick of seats, and I thought you might enjoy being front and center to watch your favorite tenor.”
Mattie was giddy, practically hopping up and down in her seat, nearly upsetting her champagne. “Just for our small group? Frankie, you have truly outdone yourself. It wasn’t necessary.”
The look in Mattie’s eyes was somewhere between unadulterated pleasure and concern for what this must have cost Frankie. She wasn’t overly materialistic, but she did enjoy her luxuries. Everyone knew that Frankie didn’t have nearly the resources Mattie was used to, but it likely wasn’t going to affect Mattie at all. After all, she had her father’s wealth and there was plenty of it.
Julia had heard Mattie say on another occasion that she wouldn’t need to marry for money because her father would spoil her with his wealth. “A rich husband would be entirely too redundant. Let the rich men marry the poor girls and the waifs. They’ll need the money more than I ever will.”
Hopefully that statement hadn’t been in jest because Frankie definitely didn’t have money.
“How much longer until the concert begins?” Mattie asked.
“About fifteen minutes.”
Julia leaned over Edith toward Mattie and spoke somewhat loudly. “Mattie, there is still time to hunt Enrico in his dressing room and question his choice of venue. Shall we?”
Mattie laughed and smirked playfully at Julia. “This venue is absolutely perfect. You know how I adore Prince Albert! Don’t be such a snob, Julia.”
Julia smiled, satisfied that Mattie was having a lovely time and that she seemed to still be clueless. She was beside herself with anticipation for the moment when Mattie finally put it all together.”
“More champagne?”
A waiter in a tuxedo offered drinks from a beautiful silver tray to each of the guests, who eagerly took their second champagne.
“I’ll be around once more before the performance begins.”
They continued to visit amongst themselves about nothing in particular while they eagerly waited for the main event. Only Mattie didn’t know that while Enrico was performing, he was going to introduce Frankie, who would then propose.
When the Italian tenor came on to the stage, the nine that made up his audience made so much noise that Julia forgot for a moment their group made up the entire audience.
Enrico spoke briefly to them, welcoming them to his performance, told a few anecdotes about his most recent performance at The Met in New York City, his illness, and his overprotective wife, who seemed to have put her foot down concerning public performances.
“She allowed me,” he said to his small audience, “to perform for you tonight only because she wanted a trip to London from our beloved Naples. When you applaud, remember that you are applauding my wife’s good nature.”
They all smiled at his obvious regard for his wife. Certainly, she didn’t have to allow anything. He was a famous opera singer, after all. He could do whatever he chose.
“Whenever you young men decide to marry, be certain to choose a woman who will set aside her concern for your health for a good shopping trip. It may be your only hope for freedom!”
Once again, they laughed at his joke. He seemed a very likable fellow, which was a bit surprising to Julia since he was so famous. It was nice to see someone who didn’t let fame and his incredible talent go to his head.
He took the time to ask each of their names and told a few stories from his boyhood. It was as if they were sitting around a fire in their parlor and chatting with an extended relative. It was all very intimate and extraordinary.
“I do not suppose you came here to listen to me drivel on about my wife and my childhood, now have you? I will sing for you now.”
The small orchestra began to play, and he performed one of his more popular pieces.
They clapped loudly when he’d finished.
“This one is called St. Lucia. It is about the beautiful waterfront district in the Gulf of Naples and a fisherman invited to enjoy a lovely cool evening on the sea. My wish for you is that you all have an opportunity to visit this beautiful place, and when you do, think of me. You may have heard it on the gramophone, but if not, I have brought records for each of you with a few of my favorite songs. A keepsake for this special Valentine’s Day.”
He lifted his beautiful voice in the familiar tune, and even though Julia didn’t speak Italian, she could picture the beauty and calm of which he sang.
The next song he introduced was one that Julia wasn’t familiar with.
“This piece from Les Huguenots is rumored to be a favorite of the late Queen Victoria, who adored the opera. I understand there is a young lady in the audience who is an admirer of Queen Victoria. Please enjoy.”
Mattie’s eyes lit up, and if Julia was right, Mattie was losing the fight not to tear up. She had to be completely overwhelmed with all of this. The finale from this opera with its swelling music highlighting the violent divide between Catholics and Protestants reaches its tragic climax. The love story lay in ruin, unable to overcome the power of religious fanaticism. Julia risked a glance and noted that even the men had tears brimming in their eyes.
They all stood to applaud after the last note. Tears were streaming down Mattie’s face.
Julia leaned toward Jacob. “I’d say Frankie pulled this off perfectly, wouldn’t you?”
Jacob nodded but didn’t speak. The emotion in the room was thick and tangible.
“I have one last song for you this evening. It is a song about a woman who shines as bright as the sun for her true love. I would like a little assistance from one of the audience members for this. Frankie Sutton, would you please accompany me on the stage?”
Frankie looked surprised, and Julia made a note to compliment him on his acting skills. Mattie looked even more surprised and urged him out of his seat. He kissed her cheek and then hurried towards a small door where a steward waited to direct him. Moments later, he appeared on stage.
Enrico shook hands with him. “Welcome to my stage, young sir.”
“Thank you, Mr. Caruso. It’s a pleasure to be in your company.”
“Frankie, who are you here with?”
“I’m here with a group of my friends from childhood, including my girlfriend, Mattie.”
“Ah, yes, Mattie. Mattie is the one who adores Queen Victoria, no?”
Frankie nodded. “Yes, yes she is. She was born on the day Victoria died.”
“Would you say, Frankie, that Mattie is as bright as the sunshine for you, like the words of O Solo Mio?”
Frankie looked out at Mattie, who sat staring in adoration at Frankie, and nodded. “Yes.” His voice caught, and now even Julia’s eyes welled up with tears.
This was almost more than she could stand. So much happiness. She felt like she might burst. As if on cue, Jacob squeezed her hand and leaned in to whisper, “O Solo Mio.”
Julia squeezed his hand in return and held back the sob of happiness that tried to overtake her so she could focus on the event unfolding on the stage.
“Mattie, do come up onto the stage,” Enrico invited.
Mattie stood, her hands shaking, and made her way to the stage via the same route Frankie had taken.
Enrico continued to speak while Mattie made the short trek.
“The lyric, ‘This sun, my own sun, shines from your face; it shines from your face’ is very special. Keep in mind that in times of darkness, you are each other’s source of light.”
At that moment, Mattie walked onto the stage, Enrico began to sing, and Frankie dropped to one knee, opening a small ring box and extending it out to Mattie as she approached.
Everyone watched Mattie, knowing what was coming, and they were well rewarded for their patience.
It took her a moment to realize what was happening. First, she looked at Frankie like he was mad, kneeling down when this famous singer was performing for them. Then her eyes traveled to the ring box in his ha
nd, and she stopped walking. She was still several steps away from him, and Julia knew she hadn’t seen the details of the ring yet.
Mattie looked from the ring box to Frankie, out to her friends in the audience, then over to Enrico Caruso, who continued his dramatic performance with a wide smile on his face and joy in his eyes.
Mattie faced Frankie and ran the last few steps across the stage to drop to her knees in front of him. They stared into each other’s eyes for a brief moment before Frankie tipped the ring box so Mattie could see the details. The moment she realized it was a serpent ring with an emerald setting in the fashion of Queen Victoria, she let out a gasp that was louder than even Enrico’s singing.
She collapsed into Frankie’s arms, and he held her for a moment. He then pulled the ring from the box as if in a question. She nodded, her countenance overtaken by joy, and he placed it on the ring finger of her left hand. He helped her to her feet and they danced on the stage with Enrico Caruso serenading their first dance as a betrothed couple.
When the song ended, the couple turned to face Enrico and applauded passionately.
Enrico shook Frankie’s hand. “You, sir, have done a fine job of proposing to your sunshine. May you find the strength to outdo yourself for the rest of your life.”
He kissed Mattie on the cheek. “Mattie, my dear. Do not forget to go shopping sometimes and give this one freedom to be himself. If it were not for my own sunshine, I would not have been able to be here today to witness such a wonderful example of young love. Congratulations, my darling couple.”
After a final farewell to Enrico, the couple made their way from the stage and back to their friends, who stood and greeted them both with smothering hugs and kisses.
With congratulations given, Mattie turned to Frankie. “Thank you, my love. This was more than I could have ever dreamed.”
Frankie pulled her close. “As are you. More than I could have ever dreamed.”
Edith spoke. “You really didn’t guess a thing? You had no idea?”
Mattie paused and looked around, a bit guilty.
Frankie’s face held shock. “Had you guessed it, Mattie?”
“Well, not entirely. I knew there was a ring. I overheard you on the phone one day, but I had no idea it was a serpent ring. I simply adore this ring, Frankie,” she gushed. “I knew there would be a proposal sometime, or at least I’d hoped there would be, but I wasn’t suspecting tonight. Once I learned where we were going, I was a bit suspicious, then when I saw the flowers…I was almost certain, but didn’t want to get my hopes up.”
Mattie blushed. “Honestly, when he announced his last song, I felt a little bit disappointed because I thought it might not happen but was so pleased with the whole evening that I got over it quickly. It didn’t truly sink in until I was on the stage with you and saw you go down on one knee. So, you see, you did pull off the surprise. The details from Queen Victoria’s and Prince Albert’s lives were truly beautiful touches that I could never have expected in a thousand years. This was a perfect evening, Frankie. Perfect.”
She kissed him again, much to the delight of their cheering friends. When they came up for air, it was Opal’s turn to chime in.
“What do you think? Shall we go dance at the Candlelight and celebrate the happy couple?”
The waiter came around with more champagne.
“Yes,” Frankie said. “Let’s enjoy our champagne and then get rowdy.”
Mattie’s voice turned even more sentimental. “I’ll never forget this night. What a dream come true.”
More hugs all around and final toasts. They set their empty champagne glasses on the serving tray and filed out of Royal Albert Hall and into the cool London evening with nothing but happy possibilities in front of them.
Once again, Julia and Jacob were at the rear of the nine-person procession.
“That was simply beautiful,” Julia said.
Jacob pulled her close. “It was. Frankie loves her, I would say, quite a lot.”
Julia giggled. “Yes, I would say that also.”
“Is now a good time to discuss whether we want children, my little barlow girl?”
“I do believe, if my sources are correct, that a barlow girl is entirely too chaste to find herself with child.”
“Does that mean you don’t want to talk about it?”
“It means that I don’t want to argue with you. This night is too perfect. I don’t want to spoil it.”
“What if I told you that I want you, whether or not children are part of our future?”
Julia stopped walking. “What?”
“Would you want to talk about it then?”
“What are we talking about, exactly?”
“I don’t care if we have children, Julia. Only that I have you.”
“Oh, well, in that case. Yes, let’s discuss it all you like. However, first I think we should dance until we fall over, then talk about it tomorrow after we’ve recovered from a night of mischief.”
“You have yourself a deal, Miss Barlow.”
They hustled to catch up with the group, but she whispered in his ear before their intimate moment was consumed by the energy of the group.
“Call me Julia, Jacob.”
“As you wish, Julia.”
Then the night carried them away to celebrate the possibilities that awaited them.
THE END
If you enjoyed this mystery, you can pursue the series by clicking here.
The Case of the Misdelivered Valentine
By Emily Queen
This story serves as a prelude to The Case at Barton Manor in the Lillywhite Mysteries series.
Chapter One
Rosemary Lillywhite, draped across her settee in a deceptively languid pose, put her glass down on the end table and stubbed out the cigarette from which she had taken a single drag. The taste of tobacco coated her mouth, and she scrunched her nose in distaste. The scent was what reminded her of Andrew, anyway, and the positively acrid taste had done nothing to improve her mental state.
Rosemary had been dreading Valentine's Day ever since her maudlin mood ruined Christmas and turned New Year's Eve into a personal pity party rather than a celebration of new beginnings. Thankfully, this holiday would not inspire a spate of invitations to be regretfully declined.
Enduring such events as a widow brought on sympathetic stares from everyone who knew she'd lost her husband, not to mention platitudes offered by well-wishers who didn't understand how their condolences only made her plight all the more vivid. Instead of soothing the passing of time and the pain of growing older without the man with whom she'd expected to experience all the gifts life had to offer, their comments made barricading herself at home and avoiding all contact with the outside world a much more enticing prospect.
Valentine’s Day, above all others, inspired within her a dread she could not ignore. Each year of her five with Andrew, Rosemary’s front table bloomed with a big bouquet of beautiful roses—red for love, of course—tokens from her doting husband to exemplify how much she was adored. This year, there would be no roses, save for the white ones she'd draped across his headstone. White for purity, white for remembrance.
Rosemary sighed and took up the glass again to consider the inch of gin. Roses to remember, alcohol to forget. She raised the drink to her lips, then set it down with a click and another sigh as a thumping sound echoed from the front entrance through the nearby door to the parlor where she was unhappily ensconced.
“Bother,” she muttered, and a moment later, she heard a familiar voice muffled by the wavy glass.
"Rosie, open up, I say.” More knocking. “Where are you?"
Rather than answer, Rosemary closed her eyes and vehemently hoped her friend would just go away—a fanciful wish, as giving up simply wasn't in Vera's repertoire.
A few seconds later, the last remnants of her wish disappeared as quickly as the tendrils of smoke from the cigarette, as Vera threw open the parlor door and squinted into the darkness
.
“If you wanted to keep me out, you should not have given me a spare key.” Vera said, brandishing the offending object, then tucked it carefully into her clutch. The rolling of her eyes annoyed Rosemary, who now huddled on the settee, her hair a wild mess around her face and her eyes red-rimmed from crying,
“A mistake I intend to rectify the moment my vision returns.” Rosemary threw an arm up over her eyes when the drapes rattled open to let in the sun. “I suppose there’s little use in asking you to leave me to my misery.”
“None whatsoever.” Cheerful and determined, Vera whirled around the room setting things to rights and making Rosemary tired by the simple fact of her animated presence. “You simply must stop moping, dear one,” she chided.
“You’re a tiresome bother to me.” Yet, Rosemary was touched by the effort on her emotional behalf, and found it straining to maintain a morose manner when Vera finally plunked down upon the opposite end of the settee. “Why can’t you let me have a good wallow and drown my sorrows in peace?”
Vera waved off the plea. “Where on earth is the staff? Your Wadsworth usually doesn’t miss a beat, certainly not a knock at the door. The state of this room is an absolute disgrace.”
“I gave them all the day off. It is a holiday, after all, and they should all be allowed to spend it with their own loved ones.” Rosemary replied, her voice dull and monotone. It hadn’t been easy to convince her butler or her personal maid, Anna, to leave her alone in the house, but neither the cook nor the housekeeper had protested overmuch.
“Why, it’s barely noon. You mean to say this is the result of a single morning without help? What would the place look like in a week?”
The nerve of the woman, Rosemary thought, and then said in a dry tone, “Are you calling me a slob, darling? Or saying I have excellent taste in staff? I can hardly tell the difference.”
There must still be a little fire left in her if she could participate in verbal volley. “Yes, well, had you insisted they stay on, you might have received news of this bouquet of roses before the blooms drowned on your front stoop.” Vera reprimanded Rosemary as gently as she was able.