by Aria Norton
Oh, so that is what all the fuss is about? Did I really say that? It seems unlike me. No wonder they're all so taken aback. Why had Nathaniel said that anyway? It was not an opinion he had ever considered before. Now he had told it, he needed to back it up. Floundering for an explanation, Nathaniel grasped at whatever came to mind.
“I just meant to say that there are other parts to life that are not subject to rules and self-control.”
“Like?” Stephen pressed.
Did his friend have to be so pushy about this? Nathaniel wished they would drop the matter and continue with their meal. They still had classes to teach, and he wanted to eat.
“You, Stephen, have no self-control when it comes to food. You evidently don't need it because you never grow fat no matter how much you consume.”
Stephen rubbed his chin. “I suppose you're right, but I am surprised that you would admit to such a thing. I'm almost led to believe that something or someone influenced you to think in this new way.”
Nathaniel had an idea of who that person was, but he pushed that thought out of his mind.
“It's common sense. Now, let's eat out meal before we're due back in our classrooms. I do not know about you, but I do not wish my stomach growls to interfere with good music.”
Everyone did as he bid and got stuck into their food, but after some time, Beatrix spoke.
"Nathaniel, you never did tell us how the opera performance went. It has been several days since your last show, but you have not said a word."
Nathaniel had not wanted to remember that too much because he would eventually recall everything about his conversation with Helena.
“It was great,” he offered. “The performance had all the glory of an excellent show, and the orchestra played beautifully.”
That was as much as he was willing to discuss. Nathaniel saw no need to say any more than that. He resumed eating, cutting into his sandwiches with a knife and fork.
"Is that all?" Beatrix asked, disappointed. "I wished to hear about the stage, the actors, the singing, and most importantly, your solo. You must have made quite the impact because I heard Monsieur Debussy say that he has students on a waiting list waiting to come into the school. We've had a sudden influx of students, and it all has to do with your performance."
Nathaniel knew that already, although his employer had not said as much. He merely shrugged.
“I cannot take credit for everything. Many people know about the school, and perhaps they wish to make music a bigger part of their lives. I can tell you that they set up the stage well, and the actors sang beautifully. My mother would have been impressed with the prima donna had she been there.”
“And your solo?” Stephen pressed. “Did you manage to learn it on time, or did you make a few blunders here and there?”
Although good friends, Nathaniel had always sensed competition from Stephen. He knew that the man would love to hear about any failures or mistakes.
“I played perfectly from beginning to end, and my solo was good.”
It had been better than good, but Nathaniel didn't want to boast. In fact, he had played so well that Helena had sought him out and puffed him up with her words of praise. If only I could simply forget about her.
“I am delighted for you, Nathaniel,” said Beatrix. “Perhaps this will be the start of something new for you. You might receive more opportunities like this from now on.”
Nathaniel grimaced. "Not if they involve having to learn mountains of music in a short period."
Or meeting beautiful women he had no business thinking about.
“Well, you have certainly brought acclaim to the school,” said a colleague. “At least we can all agree on that. That means more work for us, and hopefully, more pay.”
Stephen snorted. “We'll see about that. Old man Debussy is not one to give where it's due.”
Nathaniel frowned when Stephen's eyes widened, and he quickly ducked his head. What? Turning his head to the side, Nathaniel saw Monsieur Debussy coming their way. He groaned, hoping that the man was not coming to speak to him. I've had just about enough of him. The man now had the attention he had wanted for the school, and it was just a matter of time before donors would come pouring in.
The whole group busied themselves with their food, none of them looking up. Their employer drew up to the table, tapping it.
“Good day,” he said.
Everyone was forced to look up, muttering words of greeting. Nathaniel was the first to look down, hoping the man would not call him.
“Monsieur Baudelaire, a word in my office please.”
Nathaniel inwardly groaned. “Not again,” he muttered.
“I beg your pardon?” said Monsieur Debussy.
“Yes, sir.”
Nathaniel stood up and began packing his meal away, but his employer stopped him.
“That's not necessary, Monsieur Baudelaire. This will only take a moment- you will still have some time to eat your meal.”
Monsieur Debussy walked off, leaving Nathaniel to hurry after him. What could the man possibly have to say this time? Finley had returned to his position, freeing Nathaniel from any obligation to the opera house. He entered the room within seconds of his employer doing so, closing the door without the need to be asked.
“Take a seat, Monsieur Baudelaire.”
Nathaniel did but kept to the edge just as the last time. He waited for the man to speak, his stomach in knots. Why did he feel so nervous? There wasn't a matter that could not be solved.
“I have some good news for you,” the man began. “Good news indeed. Lord and Lady Pembroke came to speak to me just this morning about acquiring the services of a violinist from our school. Their daughter wishes to learn to play the instrument. Now, just between you and me, I do not approve of women playing the violin, but these aristocrats manage to get away with all sorts of things.”
Pembroke? That name sounded familiar. Where had Nathaniel heard it before? I feel that this name is somehow significant to me. Where did Nathaniel fall in with this supposedly good news? Surely his employer did not mean to assign him to that task? Monsieur Debussy is well aware that I have personal issues with these type of people.
“I suppose each to their own, sir,” Nathaniel finally said.
“Yes, yes. You start tomorrow.”
Nathaniel choked. “Excuse me, sir? I start tomorrow? Surely you do not mean to say that I will be tutoring their daughter? What about my own classes?”
“I will organise for one of the other teachers to take your classes when you are not available. I doubt the tutoring will take above an hour, Monsieur Baudelaire. I got the impression they were humouring their daughter.”
Nathaniel couldn't believe what the man was saying to him. “I cannot tutor such a woman, sir. Why not ask one of the other violinists? I am confident they will jump at such a chance. Stephen, for example.”
Why did he have to give up time with his classes to teach a spoiled high society woman? Her parents should have said no instead of humouring her! While Nathaniel had no qualms with women wishing to learn to play the violin, he had a problem with having anything to do with the aristocrats. Monsieur Debussy was well aware of this, and yet the man was telling him to train the girl!
Monsieur Debussy's jaw tightened. "You are the best in this school, and I have promised Lord and Lady Pembroke that I will offer them the services of my best violinist. Now, I will not go back on my word with them, so I suggest you set aside your personal prejudices and prepare for tomorrow's lesson."
"But sir! Surely they have no notion of who is the best? Our violinists are of good calibre and will do perfectly for their daughter."
Nathaniel's employer shook his head. “You do not understand. The Earl will be donating a substantial amount of money to the school, and you will earn a good salary. You are in no position to refuse such a generous offer, Monsieur Baudelaire.”
Nathaniel caught the threatening undertones in the man's words. So, I have no choic
e in the matter, do I? First, I am forced to replace a violinist with but a week's notice, and now I am to teach a spoiled woman who will likely make a joke out of my talent.
“What would happen if the girl were to take a disliking to me and destroy my reputation?”
The man shrugged. “Then I suggest you keep her happy. She has all the power to shut down this school if she means to do it. Praise her even when she does terribly, makes the lessons easy. I do not know of her intelligence level, but it is my belief that most women haven't a sensible bone in their bodies. Do all that you can to keep her pleased with you, Monsieur Baudelaire, and you will reap the benefits.”
So, Nathaniel would be compromising his talent, peace of mind, and skill to keep a spoiled woman happy? I might as well sell my soul to the devil.
“Very well, sir. May I be excused?”
“Just one more thing. Lord Pembroke has arranged transport for you. You will be picked up from the school tomorrow, but thereafter you can decide the location. It can be from your home or the school- whatever is most convenient for you. Make sure to thank the Earl for this generosity."
“Yes, sir,” said Nathaniel through gritted teeth.
“That will be all. You may leave and close the door behind you.”
Nathaniel got out of the office quickly, a mutinous expression on his face. Why did Monsieur Debussy have to pick him of all people?
“It seems that my talent has become somewhat a curse.”
He never thought he would one day say that, but Nathaniel meant it. Every fibre of his being dreaded meeting the young woman. What would she be like?
“Rude, spoilt, self-entitled, lazy- any of these. Perhaps I can plead sickness to avoid meeting her tomorrow?”
No, Monsieur Debussy would see right through that lie. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Nathaniel fought off the anger rising up within him.
“I spent my life avoiding these people, and now I shall find myself under their roof.”
Not only that, but Nathaniel would have to put in the effort to please the woman and create easy lesson plans for her.
“I suppose I should first test her aptitude before I create any lesson plans. Even what I consider easy might be too difficult for her.”
Nathaniel continued to speak to himself as he made his way back to the table. His colleagues were still there happily munching away, none the wiser to what had happened. Everyone was aware of Nathaniel's dislike of the upper classes, but no one knew the real reason. I cannot tell them the story of my mother and father, or they will look at me differently. Perhaps Beatrix might turn away from me once she learns that I'm an illegitimate man. It would be far too humiliating for something like that to make its rounds in the school. Stephen knew a little of Nathaniel's past, but not much. Nathaniel did not trust his friend with such a secret.
Drawing up to the table, everyone looked up. “You're back!” said Beatrix. “We were worried you wouldn't make it back in time to eat some food. Hurry, take a seat.”
Nathaniel sat down, but he didn't pull his plate closer. “I am not in the mood for food right at this moment.”
“Why?” the woman asked. “Did something happen with Monsieur Debussy? Did he say something to you?”
Nathaniel nodded. "It seems that I am to tutor a young upper-class woman from now on."
Beatrix's lips formed a small 'oh'.
“I see,” she said. “Oh, you poor thing! Can you not get out of it?”
“I tried to, but Monsieur Debussy is adamant that I will teach that woman. I start tomorrow.”
“So soon?” said Stephen. “Do you know who this young woman is? Her parents?”
“The woman's name was not mentioned, but Lord Pembroke was. He's apparently an Earl who has plenty of money to give because he has donated some money to the school and he will be paying my salary.”
"Then, why are you complaining?" Stephen asked. "If the man is so wealthy and willing to shell out money to keep his daughter happy, then that's a good thing. If I had the opportunity and not so many other commitments, I would have taken the job."
Nathaniel wanted to tell Stephen that he had mentioned him to Monsieur Debussy, but he held his tongue. I do not wish to fan his flames of jealousy or competition. I know how easily pushed Stephen can be.
Nathaniel passed a hand over his face, suddenly feeling weary. "Only time will tell if it is truly a good opportunity or one that will destroy my career before it has even had a chance to take off."
"That will never happen, Nathaniel," Beatrix assured. "You are an excellent musician and a gifted violinist. All you have to do is play the instrument to please her. Perhaps you will not do much teaching as you think. She might just want you to play for her."
Nathaniel was in no mood to think about playing for anyone who would not appreciate his craft. Not even Beatrix seemed to understand that. Had Helena not been who she is, she would have understood. What was that saying? Do not cast your pearls before swine? That's what Nathaniel believed he was doing by taking on this woman as his student. The pay might be good and useful to him, but Nathaniel was selling himself, wasn't he? That was the bottom line. I never thought that I would be put in this position, and now I find myself with no way out.
Chapter 7
Helena hummed a silly tune as she walked about the music room. Everything had to be just perfect for her first lesson!
“I wonder if I should pick some flowers from the garden? It might give the room a little more colour.”
Would a male tutor appreciate that? Helena supposed not. Men were not great lovers of flowers, but perhaps the aroma of them might cheer up the tutor.
“I gather he'll be rather old, and wise. Papa assured me that they had hired the very best for me.”
She never did ask where her parents had found the man, but if he was as good as they said he was, then Helena was in for a treat.
“Still excited, I see?” said Rose from the doorway. “I do not think I have ever seen you behave like this for any other instrument. I think it has to do with the fact that it's not typical for a woman to be a violinist.”
Helena grinned. Her friend knew her too well. “Well, knowing that I might be one of the only female violinists does appeal to me, but I genuinely wish to know how to play the instrument. If you had been at the opera that night and seen Nathaniel play, you might have been tempted to take it up yourself.”
Rose pulled her face. "Oh, no, thank you. Your mother made me learn to play the pianoforte, knowing full well that a servant does not need to know how to play an instrument. Our duty is to serve."
“Which you have. If I am too tired to play, who does Mama call?”
“Me. I suppose you're right,” said Rose walking in the room. “Do you know when your tutor shall arrive? I do not wish to put the refreshments out too soon.”
“I imagine any minute now. Papa said that he has sent the carriage to pick the man up. I wanted to go with the driver, but he refused. I am only curious to know where my tutor lives.”
"Why not ask him that question when he arrives?" Rose suggested but quickly changed her mind. "No, do not ask him. He may think you are prying into his life. Not everyone likes that sort of thing, even when politely phrased."
"Oh, all right. Perhaps after the third lesson, he'll have warmed to me and will not mind such a probing question."