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

by Aria Norton

  Rose shrugged her shoulders. "I haven't the foggiest. He appears well-cultured, although I do not know if showing your paintings are a good idea. What if he were to grow accustomed to your work, see it in another house, and recognise it? You would lose your male customers in a heartbeat."

  Helena hated it when Rose was right. “Instead of telling me what I cannot do, why not tell me what I can do?”

  Pouring some tea and handing it to Helena, Rose took a seat nearby, neatly crossing her legs at the ankle.

  “Why is it so necessary to have him play again? I'm confident he will do so again in his own time. After all, he has to teach you how to play the violin, yes?”

  Helena placed her teacup on the table and put her head back on the chair, blowing out a gust of air. Rose just didn't get it. I have explained it to her countless times, but she fails to understand the sheer magnitude of the situation. Hearing Nathaniel play had been... There simply aren't any words for it. Helena just knew how the music had made her feel and how helpless she had been. I became a willing slave unable to do anything but allow his notes to penetrate my very being and ignite my soul. Helena had even seen colours! Whites, reds, pinks, yellow- these colours had played behind her eyelids.

  She wanted to feel like that again, but for the life of her, Helena couldn't convince Nathaniel to play. Each lesson would start out in the hope that he would give in to her pleas, but they always seemed to fall on deaf ears. One would think that my improvement is celebration enough to give the violin another go. Stubborn man. Still, Helena had to respect his steely resolve. Not many people could say no to her.

  “Nathaniel might play the violin, but he won't play from the heart. Not as he did that day. Even I can play a tune on the pianoforte without much thought to it, but once I put my heart into the musical piece, it becomes something else altogether.”

  “I think that you are asking for far too much.,” said Rose between sips. “The poor man must feel overwhelmed by you.”

  Helena brought her head back down in a hurry. “I beg your pardon? Me? Overwhelming?”

  Rose chuckled. “Do not act so surprised. Just because people are accustomed to your oddities does not mean that they do not feel overwhelmed by you every now and then. Poor Nathaniel has only known you for some weeks! He must wonder what goes on in that fertile imagination.”

  Rose tapped her right temple twice before pointing her finger at Helena.

  “I am not touched in my upperworks,” Helena insisted.

  “Did I say anything?”

  “Oh, don't try to act innocent, Rose Bridgewater. I know precisely what you meant by tapping the side of your head.”

  Rose shrugged her shoulders. “But did I say it? Come on, drink your tea before Nathaniel arrives. You know how punctual he is.”

  Helena contemplated arguing further, but what was the use? I might as well be touched in my upperworks for the great lengths I've taken just to hear Nathaniel play again. She had done everything but shove the violin into his hands and demand he play for her. I almost did last week! But propriety and respect for her tutor had held her back.

  "I tire of this conversation," said Helena with a touch of Sophie. "Have you heard from Anna yet? I know that she was due to have her babe this week."

  Anna, one of the servants, had married last year and was having her first child. Helena's mother had given the woman a few weeks at home to prepare and have some time with the child.

  Rose gave a little smile but didn't comment on the sudden change of topic. “There are still some days left to the week, so we'll have to remain patient. She's hoping it'll be a boy, but Mimi thinks it's a girl.”

  Mimi, Rose's grandmother, had a knack for knowing such things. She was of the old stock of women who still dabbled in natural medicine and went foraging in the woods for potions and teas. The brews were more so concoctions for an upset stomach, teething babes, unsightly spots, and a host of other human conditions than actual potions for a lost lover, or a revengeful spirit.

  “Then I suppose it'll be a girl,” Helena mused. “I think I might visit her with a basket of preserves, a few meals, and some clothes for the babe.”

  “That would be lovely of you. I'm certain Anna will appreciate it. Now, drink up your tea and have something to eat before your lesson. You wouldn't like your belly growling louder than the plucked strings of the violin.”

  Helena grimaced. “How positively embarrassing. I'm sure Nathaniel would not say a word because he's far too polite, but I would be mortified. Push that plate of sandwiches and fruit towards me, please.”

  Rose did so, chuckling. The women soon fell into their usual daily chatter about everything and nothing, but Helena continued to think about her confusing tutor. Nathaniel Baudelaire was an intriguing fellow who burned hot and cold without notice. There was a passion bubbling beneath his cold façade- it had been evident the night he had played at the opera house, and the day he had played in her music room. If only she knew how to tap into that passion! Then Helena could have him play at every lesson and lift her soul once again until it was flying amongst the clouds and stars.

  That second piece plays in my heart every day, but it seemed to disturb him. Why? Helena vowed to find out. I cannot understand why I am so intent upon having him play again. 'Tis not as though my very life depends on it. Perhaps I do not like to accept defeat, or maybe his music unlocked a part of me that I had not yet discovered. It seemed ludicrous to hound a man, no matter how tastefully and sweetly it was done. It would be better if I laid this matter to rest and simply focused on my lessons. Helena thought about that for a few seconds, but soon enough gave a minute shake of her head. Failure is not an option.

  "Your progress continues to astound me, Lady Barclay," said Nathaniel later that day. "Do you practice day in and out? Not even my students have progressed this quickly, and they have had more lessons than you!"

  Helena basked in the praise for a minute or two. Should I tell him that I have not practised as much as he clearly assumes? Helena had a memory that retained every bit of information she fed it, making it easier to recall information. If I do so, he might not have any good things to say to me. Nathaniel seems to find it challenging to give any praise, and when he does, he does it begrudgingly. However, today's recognition had not seemed begrudging at all. Perhaps he is finally warming to me. Helena had broken through Nathaniel's cold exterior the day she played on the pianoforte, but he still remained reserved around her.

  “I have a wonderful tutor so it should not be at all surprising,” she returned.

  “Well, I suppose there is that.”

  Helena couldn't be sure, but she was almost certain that she saw a faint smile play about Nathaniel's lips. Goodness! I almost witnessed the man I met at the opera. What on earth did I say? All she had done was return the compliment. He doesn't appear to be a man who reacts to flattery, although what I had said was true.

  If she didn't know any better, she would say that Nathaniel was beginning to relax around her. Perhaps he'll be more responsive when I ask him about his life. Helena still wanted to know what influences in his life had led him to this point in his musical prowess, hoping that perhaps she might find some pearls of wisdom to harness her own love for music.

  Lowering her violin, Helena cleared her throat. “Sir, did your father play a part in your passion for music?”

  Helena's eyes widened when she saw Nathaniel's white knuckle-grip on the stick he was holding. His jaw tightened until she thought it would lock. I've clearly put my foot into something.

  “We are here to help you improve, Lady Barclay. My personal life is not up for discussion.”

  The coldness in his voice surprised her. I only asked about his father. Oh, perhaps he does not have one.

  "My sincere apologies, Monsieur Baudelaire. I did not mean to sound impertinent. I am only in awe of your skills and wanted to know who had influenced you the most. I know that you spoke of your grandfather, and I assumed that your father might hav
e had some part to play in your progress. I did not mean to upset you."

  “I am not upset!” Nathaniel snapped.

  Helena jerked with the bite in his voice. She was unaccustomed to anyone taking that tone of voice with her.

  “Monsieur Baudelaire!”

  Nathaniel winced, sighing. He rubbed his temples, his brow full of creases. Helena was not one to react to undesirable behaviour, but Nathaniel had taken her by surprise.

  “Please, forgive me, my lady. I should not have spoken as I did, it was completely uncalled for.”

  He appeared genuinely disturbed by his brief outburst, softening Helena's displeasure.

  “I suppose we all have our moments. Perhaps we should move on?”

  He nodded, seemingly relieved. “Yes, thank you. If 'tis all the same to you, I ask that we stick to your violin lessons and refrain from any conversations pertaining to our private lives.”

  Anything about his family was firmly off the table for discussion, but that didn't mean that Helena was giving up. His father was clearly the trigger to his behaviour, and I haven't a clue why. However, one discourteous moment was not enough to make her give up. I shall just have to be far more sensitive than before.

  “I shall not question you about your family unless you provide the information,” she vowed.

  It wasn't what he had asked for, but it was all Helena would agree to. Nathaniel pursed his lips for a moment and looked as though he wished to argue, but he didn't.

  “My gratitude, my lady. Shall we continue?”

  “Of course.”

  Helena allowed some minutes to pass before she ventured to ask another question, catching Nathaniel unaware.

  “Did you have a favourite pet growing up, Monsieur Baudelaire?”

  Helena watched him blink, his face scrunched up. “I beg your pardon?”

  "A favourite animal. Did you have any pets? A dog or cat, perhaps? Even a tortoise or parrot."

  Two lines appeared between his brows. “What does a pet have to do with our lesson?”

  Goodness! He is still on about that. All I wish is to know him better, to discover what it is that makes him play so beautifully, but he refuses to relent.

  “Nothing at all, sir. The question merely popped into my head.”

  “Does that happen often?”

  He made it sound like a sickness. “Quite often,” she replied. “My mind does not like to keep to one topic for too long.”

  Nathaniel's eyebrows rose. “And yet you're able to get through two hours of violin lessons fairly easily.”

  He had her there. “A new subject or hobby keeps me occupied for a good while,” she finally answered.

  “I see,” he said unconvincingly. “From the top, if you please.”

  Helena adjusted her violin on her shoulder and played a nursery rhyme. It was a silly one she had taught the servants' children to sing and was relatively easy to recall. By the time the music ended, Helena had come up with her next question.

  “You have a tiny accent, Monsieur Baudelaire. It's faint so most people will not pick up on it, but I have sharp ears. Besides your last name giving you away, you are French, yes?”

  Helena saw his jaw clench once more. Yet another topic change. Helena was growing tired of searching for the right angle, but she pushed on. Music popped into her head. Of course! Surely he will not have any objection to music? It was worth a try.

  “Never mind that, sir. Tell me, do you have a composer you prefer to the others? I find it so difficult to choose just one since there are so many great ones. George Frederic Handel comes to mind. I know that he was rather famous for his operas, but alas, I have not had the opportunity to watch any. Have you?”

  Nathaniel paused but a moment, scratching his chin. “Are you truly interested in music beyond the ability to play certain instruments?”

  What sort of question was that? Did he assume that she was all fluff between her ears simply because she was a woman? Perhaps he is like other men who think that a woman only learns enough to find a husband and settle down. That was a shame as Helena had had such high hopes for him. Setting her violin on the nearby table, Helena took to her feet.

  “But, of course, I am interested! How can I not be? Surely you are not biased about women knowing more than just a few sheets of music to play for the enjoyment of others?”

  “No, no, that is not what I meant, my lady,” said Nathaniel, his hands slightly raised in a fashion of surrender. “I assure you. I am simply surprised, that is all. I enjoy Handel myself.”

  Oh. That sounded better. “You do? I imagine you would as he is rather famous. What of Ignatius Sancho? Not many wish to acknowledge him due to his race, but he did write some noteworthy music.”

  Nathaniel tilted his head to the side as though he were studying her. Helena longed to know what he was thinking but left him to take his time answering her.

  “You continue to surprise me, Lady Barclay. Yes, Ignatius Sancho is certainly worth mentioning, although I lean towards Carl Bach and Johann Beethoven.”

  “You're rather mainstream in your tastes, Monsieur Baudelaire. I expected you to mention people like Muzio Clementi or Giovanni Pergolesi. Do you not like Italian composers?”

  Nathaniel smiled just a little. “I like them just fine, my lady. I am more so surprised that you have not listed any female composers. I would imagine that a woman such as yourself would not lose any opportunity in advocating for women in music.”

  Was Nathaniel issuing a challenge? He may be an accomplished violinist, but he does not know everything.

  “Bettina von Arnim and Anna Bach are wonderful, don't you think?”

  “Indeed, they are, my lady,” said Nathaniel, his smile broadening.

  It was such a profound change from moments before that Helena was momentarily stunned. My! He is more handsome with a smile on his face. He should smile more.

  "Is there something the matter, my lady?" Nathaniel asked.

  “Not at all, sir. In fact, there is a lot right. I don't suppose you've heard about František Benda?”

  Helena clutched her bosom when Nathaniel chuckled. I have never heard him laugh before. She found that she liked the sound of it.

  “You do me an injustice, my lady. The man was a violinist! How can I not know of him? You will have to try harder than that to trump me.”

  Who was this lively man before her? It seemed that speaking about all things music was the key to unlocking Nathaniel's mind and tongue. What a fool I have been! Of course, music would loosen his tongue. Why had she not used this tactic earlier? Oh, never mind that. At least I have him speaking to me instead of at me. Helena much preferred this side to Nathaniel.

  “You know your composers and violinists, but suppose I leave the continent and head to, say, Japan? Uragami Gyokudō, for instance?”

  Nathaniel frowned. “I feel that you have made that up.”

  “I assure you I have not. He is most certainly a musician and well-known in his country. Of course, I have never heard his work before, and I'm not confident that many in England have. Perhaps those well-travelled.”

  “I'm inclined to believe you,” Nathaniel admitted. “You don't appear to be a woman taken to lying.”

  “I feel that there is a compliment somewhere in your sentence.”

  A slow smile spread across his face. “Perhaps.”