The Melody of A Lady's Heart: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Aria Norton

  “I could hear the music the moment I jumped off that carriage. It called to me, and I found myself walking into the house with the express purpose of finding out who was making it.”

  Nathaniel paused when a cow came out of nowhere, chewing tufts of grass as it crossed the road. That was the thing about living in the countryside. One never knew when a beast might cross your path! Slapping the reins gently, he urged his horse forward, hoping that these little delays would not affect his punctual record. Nathaniel hated to be late to anything, and now that he knew what awaited him at Barclay Manor, he certainly didn't want to miss a minute of his two-hour lesson with Helena. It was astonishing what music could do to change a person's perception of another.

  “That's not to say that I have changed my mind about the aristocrats. My opinion remains the same, but I cannot deny that Helena is somewhat different.”

  Nathaniel had to admit that he had been wrong about Helena and her attitude towards music, and he had.

  “If I am wrong, I can admit it. I don't like to be wrong.”

  When Nathaniel had entered the house, he had immediately asked the first servant he saw who was playing that music. He had not known who to expect, but when the woman had said it was Helena, Nathaniel had immediately refused to believe it.

  “Why would I have believed it? Helena had not shown any aptitude for music beyond whining that she was tired of all the theory work he had given her.”

  But it had been Helena- Nathaniel had seen her with his own two eyes. Shocked, intrigued and drawn to the music, Nathaniel had walked into the room, his eyes on the golden head at the pianoforte.

  “I wasn't able to tear my eyes away from her. Not that I had wanted to.”

  It had suddenly become imperative to Nathaniel to find out how well Helena would take to the violin, so he had ended their theory lessons right there and then.

  “Her excitement had been palpable, and some of it had rubbed off on me.”

  Nathaniel smiled at the recent memory, recalling how he had taught Helena to hold a violin, how to draw the right sound from each string, and the wonder on her face when she had struck her very first tune.

  “I have never taught a student with so much eagerness. I will not have to ask if she has done all the exercises I gave her last week- I know she has.”

  His students at the school usually grumbled about having any extra work to do after school, but not Helena.

  “I suppose it's pleasant to deal with a student who welcomes practice.”

  Barclay Manor was just up ahead, and according to his pocket watch, he had seven minutes to go. Nathaniel had a feeling that Helena would surpass his expectations today, and if she showed the same passion for the violin as she did the pianoforte, she would learn to play the instrument in no time at all.

  “I wonder if she will play the pianoforte again?”

  Nathaniel wanted to hear her play, but he was too full of pride to ask her. What if she had the wrong impression about him? He had no intention of being friends with her, but music was their common ground.

  “I suppose I should have picked up on her love for music when she sought me out after the opera and gushed about my performance.”

  For days to come after that day, Nathaniel had wondered if Helena had merely been mocking him. It was unheard of for an aristocrat to seek an ordinary fellow simply to compliment him about his performance. Not even Mr Cavanaugh had said a word about his performance, but he had praised Monsieur Debussy as though the man had anything to do with Nathaniel's talent.

  “I work for the fellow, but he certainly was not the one to train me.”

  Nathaniel was first trained in France under his grandfather and his mother's brother, world-renowned musicians in their own right. Later, he furthered his studies at a famous French conservatoire and then went on to become a music teacher at an English conservatoire.

  “Debussy has given me nothing but drama since I started working for him. I would leave, but I need an income.”

  Nathaniel drew up to Barclay Manor, allowing a stable boy to tend to his horse. Half-expecting to hear Helena playing the pianoforte, he hurried inside the house only to be disappointed when he heard nothing.

  “Perhaps she is doing something else today.”

  Rose, Helena's handmaiden, came to meet him with her usual suspicious eyes. She always appeared to watch him closely, as though she were waiting for him to do something.

  “Good day, Rose.”

  “Good day, Monsieur Baudelaire. Lady Barclay is in the music room, sir. She is waiting for you there.”

  “Thank you.”

  Nathaniel wanted to turn back to see if the woman was still watching him, but he didn't want to appear nosey, so he continued on, surprised when he found the door closed. Should he knock? Rose had said that Helena was waiting for him. Nathaniel's hand had not yet touched the door when it opened, revealing a smiling Helena.

  "Monsieur Baudelaire! I was wondering where you were. Please, come in. Rose closed the door because she feels I was making far too much noise. I see you bought a phaeton? I asked Papa if perhaps I could have one for my next birthday, but he immediately shut down that request."

  Helena continued to speak about all sorts of things, none of them matching the other. Nathaniel could only listen until the woman lost steam or realised that he had not said a word since walking into the room.

  “I have been practising, and I'm pleased to say that I'm making progress. Will we continue with the practical side of the lessons?”

  Finally, he gets a word in edgewise! "I think you have had enough theory, for now, Lady Barclay. Please, take out your violin so we can get started."

  Nathaniel actually wanted to ask if Helena would play the pianoforte again, but he held back from saying anything. I am here to teach her the violin, not listen to her play another instrument.

  They first recapped on what he had taught her in the previous lesson and was glad to see that she had remembered everything. It made training a breeze.

  "I think that I'm trying to run before I can crawl," Helena commented sometime later. "But every time I remember how wonderfully you played, I can't help but wish that one day I'll wake up and be able to play the violin just as well. I know that it must have taken you years of practice to get to where you are today, but you make it look so easy."

  “Practice makes it look easy. You can take comfort in that you're doing well, Lady Barclay,”

  “Am I truly?”

  Most students would be fishing for compliments when they ask this question, but not Helena. Nathaniel could tell that she genuinely wanted to know if she was progressing.

  “You are better than your last lesson. I imagine you'll be even better during the next lesson, and the other after that. Perhaps I should assign you slightly more challenging homework.”

  Helena chuckled. “Rose would not appreciate that.”

  “Your handmaiden is a formidable woman. Shall we continue on with the lesson? We have an hour left.”

  Helena suddenly looked uncertain about something. She didn't immediately pick up her violin but kept looking at him as she gnawed on her bottom lip.

  “What is it?” he asked. “I can see that you have something on ask.”

  “I do,” she agreed. “I know that we're busy with my lesson, but I was wondering if you could possibly play something on the violin? It doesn't have to be long at all. Just something short and sweet. You may use my violin.”

  Nathaniel would question himself for days to come about the decision he made regarding Helena's question. He would ask himself just what made him consent to her request when he was supposed to be keeping himself away from her.

  “Sure,” he said simply.

  Before Nathaniel could even think to consider what he had just consented to, Helena brought her violin to him.

  “I loved listening to you play at the opera,” Helena explained. “So to hear you play with my violin in my very own home is a wondrous occasion.”

/>   The woman was gushing just as she had gushed that night. In that second, Nathaniel was taken back to that particular moment when he had been happy that such a woman had enjoyed him playing. This woman and that woman were the same, and yet they were different. That woman had been a simple one, whereas this one was an Earl's daughter. Nathaniel had identified with the simple woman, but the aristocrat had no place in his life.

  Saying nothing, Nathaniel took the violin, caressing its strings as he considered what to play. I find myself wanting to please her, to hear her say those very words she said to me that night. What can I play that will move her and inspire her? The music walked into his mind, translating itself into his fingers and through the instrument. Nathaniel watched Helena immediately close her eyes, giving him the freedom to observe her. What was it about this woman that made him do things that he would otherwise not do? To think about her when Nathaniel tried so hard not to? He was confident that Helena was nothing to him. I have Beatrix who respects and adores me, and yet I find myself thinking less and less of her by the day.

  Not that he had ever thought much about her before, but he would think about certain things like when would be the most appropriate time to ask for her hand in marriage. Nathaniel was twenty-three, but that was considered relatively young for a man to get married. However, Beatrix was twenty-two and was nearing that age of spinsterhood. It would not be fair to me to keep her waiting.

  Just the other day, Beatrix had hinted at having a wedding the following year. Nathaniel had instantly recoiled at the thought and had imagined a noose tightening about his neck. That wasn't right, was it? Nathaniel should be excited to marry the woman he had chosen for himself. Beatrix has everything I want in a spouse, but I still feel that something is lacking.

  His mother would say it was love, but Nathaniel didn't think so. What good did love do? Look at what had happened to his mother and father. Nathaniel knew that his father had seduced his mother and promised her all sorts of things. Maman believed this man's lies because she loved him, but where did that get her? Pregnant and single in a world that despised women like that. Thankfully, his family had rallied around her and helped her, assisting in raising him as well. People put far too much focus on love.

  Helena's body began to slightly sway with the music, her eyes never opening. Nathaniel couldn't help but take in her beauty, absorbing everything about her. Helena's heart-shaped face had the cutest sharp chin and the rosiest cheeks he had seen on a woman. Her cheekbones were not as high and prominent like Beatrix, but soft, rounded and inviting.

  Nathaniel was comparing the two women again, something that he had promised himself he would not do. Helena and Beatrix were like chalk and cheese, and he should be loyal to the woman he intended to one day marry. Nathaniel's mother seemed to think that he was making a mistake by wanting to be with Beatrix, but she just didn't understand.

  Shaking his head, Nathaniel looked away from Helena, but his eyes went right back to her once again. The look of pure enjoyment on her face appeared to be his undoing as his music changed from something light to something hidden away within him.

  For all his beliefs against love, Nathaniel was secretly a romantic at heart. The music he was playing was one he had written some years ago when love had still been something he might have pursued. Nathaniel's heart spilt into the violin, making it speak for him. But then, he seemed to catch himself. What was he doing?

  He stopped playing, horrified that he had revealed that part of him. Nathaniel watched Helena's eyes spring open, seeing the telltale signs of tumultuous emotion in them.

  “I, uh, I have to leave,” he said suddenly, getting to his feet.

  “Right now?” Helena asked, seemingly bewildered by his sudden change of behaviour.

  “Yes, yes. I apologise for cutting the lesson short, Lady Barclay, but I simply must go.”

  He handed her violin and bow back to her and rushed to the door.

  “Monsieur Baudelaire!” Helena called. “What is the matter? Has something happened?”

  Nathaniel paused at the door. What could he tell her? You somehow influenced me to play a piece of music that I have never allowed anyone else to hear. I do not know what it is that you do to me, but it's clearly dangerous. Nathaniel couldn't say any of these things. Instead, he gave her a short bow.

  “Please, excuse me, Lady Barclay. I simply must leave now.”

  He didn't wait to hear what she would say but walked off, his eyes desperately waiting for the exit to appear.

  As Nathaniel left Barclay Manor, the unsettled feeling within him did not lessen. If anything, he was more confused than ever. He urged his horse into a faster pace, not bothered when the phaeton took a sharp corner a little too quickly and tilted. Nathaniel put his weight into the opposite side, bringing the tilted side under control. If only he could control himself with the ease in which he handled this contraption!

  “What must Helena think of me? Did she pick up on the music I played?”

  He would be mortified if she figured out that the second piece was tied to his tucked away heart's desires. Why had he played that particular piece in front of Helena?

  “I should have never agreed to play in the first place! If I had just said no, I wouldn't be in this situation. From now on, I will never play in front of her again.”

  But was that a promise he could keep?

  Chapter 11

  Sometimes staring at the world upside down put things in perspective for Helena. This wasn't one of those times. Sighing, she slid off her armchair, careful not to hit her head on the nearby table. Helena had been staring at the ceiling for nearly a half-hour with her legs propped up against the chair's backrest, and her head hanging off the seat.

  Feeling slightly woozy from the blood leaving her brain, Helena got to her knees. She paused.

  “Why not stay on the floor?”

  Other than the fact that it was the proper thing to sit on a chair as the rest of the civilised world?

  “Well, there's nothing civilised about sitting the wrong side up on a chair and staring at the ceiling as though it has all the answers in the universe.”

  She might as well remain on the carpet. Helena spread out her legs, arranging her skirts about her. It was like sitting on a bed of moss out in the woods.

  “My goodness! How wonderfully comfortable. I have never appreciated how pleasantly soft this carpet is.”

  The fluffy floor covering was a frightful thing for the servants who had to clean it, but it suited Helena's personal parlour perfectly. The room was an eclectic mix of velvet scatter cushions, plush furniture and whimsical pieces of décor to give it the feel of a place straight out of a Charles Perrault book. Helena would probably change it before summer ended, but it suited her just fine right now.

  Rose found her like that moments later with Helena's one o'clock tea perched on her palm. The woman took one look at Helena, shook her head once, and arranged the tea tray on the table within Helena's reach.

  “Should I ask?” Rose finally questioned.

  “That depends on the answer you expect to hear.”

  “Ah, I see. You're still put out that your Nathaniel refuses to play for you again. You cannot get your way in everything.”

  Helena raised her eyebrows several notches. “Firstly, I do wish you would cease with the 'my Nathaniel' narrative and, secondly, I have not admitted defeat just yet. I need only appeal to Nathaniel's creative side, but I have yet to find out how. I cannot play the pianoforte again because he is well aware of my skill. That leaves me with very few options. Do you suppose he likes art?”