by Aria Norton
Did she know him? Nathaniel definitely didn't know her. No one could forget a woman as beautiful as her.
“Good evening, Miss Helena,” he said, taking her hand to kiss it.
But the woman surprised him by shaking his hand. “I'm so glad to have met you, Mr?”
“Baudelaire, but you can call me Nathaniel,” he found himself saying.
Nathaniel was not usually so informal with women, but he couldn't stop the words coming out of his mouth. He jerked when Barnard laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it encouragingly.
“We'll be here for another hour or so, Baudelaire. The offer still stands if you would like to join us.”
“Oh, uh, thank you,” Nathaniel replied distractedly, unable to tear his gaze from the woman.
Barnard and the men chuckled as they walked away, some of them giving him slaps on the back. Eventually, it was just him and the woman. Helena. The name sounded divine and mysterious, just like its owner. I should probably say something.
“You wished to speak to me?”
“Yes!” the woman gushed. “I just had to find you and tell you that your solo moved me. I have never seen anyone play with the passion you exhibited tonight. You were quite riveting.”
Nathaniel's cheeks grew warm. “Why, thank you, Miss Helena. I'm pleased that you enjoyed my performance.”
“Please, call me Helena, Nathaniel. I more than enjoyed your performance! I could have quite easily have listened to you for the rest of the night. I actually hoped that you would have another solo.”
Nathaniel felt himself puff out his chest a little. “You must have an ear and heart for music to be so moved by it.”
“Well, it's an essential part of the human existence, isn't it? We wouldn't be who we are if not for music. I find that two things more than anything else shape human society: music and literature. Rules and regulations may govern a people, but 'tis music that moves them.”
That was possibly the wisest thing Nathaniel had ever heard a woman say or a man for that matter. Helena looked to be about sixteen or so, but she had to at least be in her twenties to have come by such wisdom.
“Those are profound words, Helena, and very true. I have never thought about music in that way- thank you for enlightening me.”
The woman's grin widened. "You are the one who has enlightened me or rather lit up my fires of creativity once again. I have to know what is the reason behind all the passion I saw tonight. What drives you, Nathaniel?"
Nathaniel knew the answer to that, but he didn't know if he wanted to reveal it. His past experiences, emotions, his dreams- these all contributed to the passion she had seen. Instead of saying this, he went with a more generic answer.
"My passion is driven by a need to be the very best. You should never do something unless you enjoy it, and once you do it, you should go all the way. Let it consume you, and allow it to become a part of your very soul."
Helena appeared riveted by his answer, nodding repeatedly. “How... refreshing it all is! You are certainly an inspiration to me. How long have you been a part of this orchestra?”
“Oh, I only just joined last week. I'm filling in for their lead violinist who suddenly fell ill. He will be back to take his place once he has recovered.”
Helena gasped, startling him. Nathaniel's eyes widened, looking around him. What had happened?
“You learnt all that music in one week?” she asked.
“Yes, I had no other choice. I was only informed of the position some days ago.”
Helena looked at him in wonder. “You're marvellous, Nathaniel! You must have been a child prodigy. No one with normal talent could achieve what you did in such a short space of time.”
Nathaniel could not have stopped his grin even if he had wanted to. He touched the back of his head, rubbing his one shoe against his leg.
“Thank you, but it was nothing. I simply did what I had to.”
“Don't tell me that it was nothing! What you did was nothing short of miraculous. My admiration has increased ten-fold.”
Nathaniel wasn't one to give in to flattery, but this woman's praises had him bursting with pride and pleasure. No one had ever given him such verbal accolades, not even Beatrix who often paid him sweet compliments.
“I suppose I did manage quite a feat,” he relented.
Puffing himself up was not his modus operandi, but Nathaniel found himself doing it anyway.
“It should have been announced at the end of the performance. People should know how brilliant you are. In fact, why don't we find Mr Cavanaugh? I know he owns this opera house.”
Find Mr Cavanaugh? This woman is certainly a different breed. Helena was already turning around, but Nathaniel managed to catch her hand, stopping her. She spun back to him, looking at his hand on her own. Nathaniel quickly let go, fisting his tingling hand by his side. What on earth did he just do? He had never held a woman's hand unless she offered it to him.
“I beg your pardon, Helena,” he apologised. “I did not mean to startle you as I did. I only wished to stop you from speaking to Mr Cavanaugh.”
"But why? Do you not think it fair that your name is announced with those who were thanked?"
“The fact that you sought me out and acknowledged my craft is good enough for me.”
Helena frowned. “You are far too modest, Nathaniel. Not only are you a brilliant musician, but you don't throw your weight around either. I find that positively charming.”
There she went again with her compliments. Nathaniel's head would be the size of the moon by the time he left the opera house. I find that I like it. She's refreshing, and unlike any other person, I have ever met. Nathaniel felt somewhat guilty for thinking that when Beatrix should be the only woman on his mind, but he couldn't dismiss how excited and exhilarated he was around this interesting woman.
“Tell me, when did you start playing the violin?” Helena asked. “And can you play any other instruments?”
Thank goodness she no longer had it in mind to seek the opera house owner and demand Nathaniel be recognised for his talent and contribution to the performance.
“I was five when I began playing the violin, but I did learn to play other instruments to be more rounded. However, I always find myself gravitating towards the violin.”
“Five? I take it you were a child prodigy?”
Nathaniel smiled. “Something like that.”
“Lady Barclay?” said a male voice behind him. “How wonderful to see you here!”
Nathaniel turned, ready to pay the man a stern eye for interrupting them when he realised two things. One, this was Mr Cavanaugh himself, the owner of the opera house. There was simply no way that Nathaniel could scold a man in his own building. And two, he had referred to Helena as Lady Barclay. Perhaps that was the most surprising bit.
“Mr Cavanaugh! How lovely to see you again,” Helena, or rather, Lady Barclay, greeted.
Nathaniel found himself nudged to the side as the other man came to stand in front of Helena, taking her hand and bestowing a kiss.
“When I heard that a Barclay was in my building, I simply had to search for the person. Imagine my surprise when I realised that Lord Pembroke's daughter had come to grace my opera house?”
Nathaniel curled his lips in distaste. He hated it when people grovelled before the aristocrats.
“The pleasure is all mine, sir. I had no notion of you owning an opera house. When did you purchase it? Or have you always owned it?”
Nathaniel continued to watch the interaction, his irritation growing. This woman had disarmed him and then fooled him. How had he not seen that Helena was part of the body of people he despised so much? Her beauty, the graceful way she carried herself, her attire, her manners- these should have been warning signs, but her personality had thrown him for a loop.
Nathaniel didn't know of any aristocrat who spoke to others as though they were equals, and allowed herself to be called by her first name. Had she stated her title from the very beginnin
g, Nathaniel would have found a way to get out of the conversation, but she had caught him in a net of her friendliness and wound her web around him. Well, Mr Cavanaugh has given me the knife to free myself.
“Tell me,” the older man continued. “How are your father and mother? Everyone was hoping to see them here. They are such beloved and upright standing members of this community.”
“I'm sure they would have come if they could, but they were invited by General Mousley for dinner.”
This woman and her family were clearly well-known, but Nathaniel did not know them. Was it any wonder when he kept well away from these people? And for a good reason. Disappointed in himself, and discovering that this woman was not who Nathaniel thought she was, he gathered himself and prepared to exit.
“Do excuse me, Lady Barclay, Mr Cavanaugh. I must be going.”
“Oh, but Nathaniel-” Helena began.
“A good evening to you both,” he interrupted.
Nathaniel bowed and walked off. He caught a glimpse of Helena's surprised face, but he steeled himself against feeling anything. In his excellent opinion, aristocrats were no good, and he wanted nothing to do with them. Not even the beautiful, disarming, charming, friendly, intelligent, and interesting ones. Those ones were probably the most dangerous of all.
Later that night, as Nathaniel settled in his favourite armchair, a cup of tea in the one hand and a book in the other, he found himself thinking about Helena. He couldn't stop himself.
I must be some poor fool to still be thinking about her. I should know better.
This was Nathaniel's time to unwind and relax his mind, but it was as active as it had been at the opera house.
It's that woman's fault! I should have taken Barnard up on his offer and left that woman instead of talking to her and letting her suck me into her web.
Had Helena taken some pleasure in pretending to be something other than what she was?
Lady Barclay! Ha! I've never heard of this name, neither have I heard of Lord Pembroke. I'm almost tempted to find out about these people.
Perhaps Nathaniel might find that these people had a habit of pretending to be people they were not. Did they find it amusing?
Their kind have a twisted sense of humour.
Oddly, Helena had not come across as someone intent on fooling others. She had been sweet and had seemed sincere in complimenting him.
She actually sought me out! No one else did that...
Could he be wrong about her? No, that wasn't possible. Lady Helena Barclay was an aristocrat, and that was that. No longer in the mood for tea or reading, Nathaniel took himself to bed.
Chapter 5
Helena sat cross-legged under the shade of a large, overhanging tree, deep concentration on her face. If I move my pawn, Rose is sure to take it and get a hold of my bishop. What to do, what to do. If only her handmaiden wasn't so brilliant at chess! She's more competition than I want.
“Would you make a move already?” Rose demanded. “We cannot sit all day staring at this board. I still have chores to do.”
Helena cupped her hands over her ears. “Do not disturb me! I need to think here. You do know that the role of a handmaiden is to be by her mistress' side at all times? You spend more time away from me than with me.”
“How is that my fault? If your mother or Mrs Hubbard need my help, then I must help them.”
“Perhaps you should stop doing Mrs Hubbard's chores, then my best friend might have more time for me,” Helena grumbled.
Rose raised her eyebrows. “Oh, so now I'm your best friend again? I thought I was the handmaiden that had to be by your side at all times.”
"You know full well that you're both. You're my right-hand woman."
Chuckling, Rose shook her head. “I only said it in jest. I know that I am your best friend where it matters, but for everything else, I'm your handmaiden. Now, please make a move and tell me about the opera. You've been rather silent about it which is not typical of you. Was the performance terrible?”
Helena could see that she would lose the game, so she might as well make her move. Rose had been taught by her grandfather, a grandmaster of chess, and so had Helena. The two girls used to pester the old man to train them so they could outmanoeuvre the boys who thought they were better than girls. Rose's grandmother had been their housekeeper for decades until she retired last year, so Rose had grown up with Helena and later became her handmaiden when the girls would not separate. Helena didn't treat Rose like a servant, but the young woman preferred to keep her place as a servant in the company of others.
She didn't think it proper for Helena to treat her with the familiarity of friends her own status. Rose always wishes to do the right thing and is near perfect in everything. Sometimes I wonder if she truly is a humble servant or perhaps an aristocrat but just doesn't know it. Anything was possible. Maybe Rose was switched at birth or stolen away from her parents. If I say anything like this to her, she'll just laugh.
“Yoohoo!” Rose called, waving her hand. “Are you still there?”
“Yes, sorry. My mind was up in the clouds for a moment there. Right, make a move,” said Helena, staring at the board.
“And tell me about the opera,” Rose reminded her. “I want to know how it was.”
“Well,” Helena began, moving her pawn forward. “It was lovely, it truly was.”
Rose made her move, taking Helena's pawn and advancing her bishop. Pouting, Helena analysed her next move.
“And?” Rose pressed.
“I cannot concentrate on the game as well as explain everything about the opera. You need to choose one.”
Rose swiped her hand on the board, scattering the pieces. “Problem solved. Now, tell me about the opera.”
Glad to no longer have to worry about the game (since she was losing), Helena straightened, stretching her arms in the air.
“The performance was based on the love story between Julius Caesar and Cleopatra. Did you know that Cleopatra was not truly a beautiful woman? It was more so her charisma that attracted men.”
“While that sounds interesting, tell me more about the actual performance. How were the costumes, the actors, the orchestra.”
At the mention of the orchestra, Helena's mind went to Nathaniel's solo. Days had passed since that night, but she couldn't get him out of her mind.
“The actors gave a stellar performance, I'll give them that much. Their singing was amazing, the set was historically accurate, and the costumes were lovely. However, I think that most of the credit should go to the orchestra. Without them, the audience would not have been so moved.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes. There was one man in particular who caught my interest- a violinist. He played with a passion I have never seen in anyone else. It was almost as though the violin was somehow attached to him, like an extra limb. His solo was amazing.”
Rose smiled with a gleam in her eyes. “So, what you're saying is that a man caught your interest? Helena Anastasia Barclay was actually interested in a man?”
Helena rolled her eyes. "'Tis not in the way you have described! 'Twas his passion, his ability to create emotions within me with just that instrument in his hand. No one has ever aroused such strong emotion within me. I sought him out after the performance."