He moved to stand behind her, watching her fingers fly over the keys, sensing her pleasure as they did so. Would she touch him like that? He hoped so.
Resting his hands on her shoulders, he could feel the soft and relaxed muscles moving in concert with her arms. Instead of tensing when she played, she eased, giving herself over to the music.
The tune slowed, turned almost wistful, and then ended on a rippling trio of chords. The last tiny sounds wafted up to the ceiling and died away.
He wanted to turn her into his arms, to hold her closer than close and kiss the living daylights out of her. Then take her upstairs, strip her naked and do it all over again.
But the sound of applause brought that line of thought to a crashing halt. He turned, as did Grace.
“Oh, Mrs. Chaney,” sighed Mrs. Muir. “I don’t believe I’ve heard such lovely playing in my entire life.”
“Indeed, Ma’am, that were a rare treat,” added Edward, who stood next to the Cook.
She was wiping her eyes with her apron. “Pardon us, Ma’am,” she dropped a curtsey. “But we ‘asn’t heard the likes o’yer music in a long time. Missus Standish was the one what played. But nowhere near as good as yerself…”
Grace blushed as she rose, accepting Perry’s arm for support. “You are all very kind.” She glanced to her side. “It’s a wonderful piano. And well-cared for, too…”
Edward nodded as the little group at the door broke up, and he came toward Perry and Grace. “Mr. Standish has a permanent arrangement with a piano tuner. Comes every six weeks or so, he does. Dusts it, tunes it and makes sure it’s in good workin’ order.”
“Even though they’re gone?”
Edward smiled, a bit wistfully. “Mr. Standish were that kind of gentleman, Ma’am. Knowing that things were difficult for Mr. Pierce, the tuner, he gave him a lifetime contract, no matter who lives here. As long as the piano’s here, it’ll be cared for, and so will Mr. Pierce. His wife loved it that much, you see…”
“And it wouldn’t travel well to a smaller home in Cornwall, I’m guessing,” added Perry.
“That’s right, sir. But I think the master bought a smaller pianoforte for his wife before they left. I expect she’s having fun with that one now.”
“I do hope so,” said Grace.
A sudden increase in the noise outside the hall heralded the arrival of the rest of the Muir family, who skidded to a halt at the door to the ballroom. Gasps of surprise and wonder could clearly be heard.
“Come in children. There’s not much to damage here, so you might as well take a look around.”
Little Elizabeth walked to Grace and Perry. “That’s a vewy big piano…”
Grace leaned down. “It is, isn’t it? Perhaps when you’re older your Mama and Papa will let you learn how to play it.”
The little girl nodded, her eyes wide as she stared at what must seem like a monstrous piece of three-legged furniture from her perspective.
A shout from the windows distracted them all.
“It’s snowing. Look…” Jonathan was standing in front of the French windows, jumping up and down at the sight of the fat flakes falling from a steel grey sky.
“At least it’s not ice,” sighed his mother.
“Can we go out and see? Please Mama?” Jonathan’s plea was echoed by his brothers and sisters.
Mrs. Muir glanced at Grace. “A good romp outside would do them good.” She paused. “And tire them out too, come to think of it.”
Perry looked at the garden. “The ice though. Might it be risky?”
“Not if they stay on the lawn,” replied Grace. “Yes there’s ice there as well, but it’s less likely to be a hazard on grass.” She turned to the other woman. “I agree with you, Mrs. Muir. I think it’s a good idea. But urge them to keep off the terrace and be very careful? You can sit in here and watch if you like, rather than go out with them…”
“I have a feeling my husband would be ready for a snowball battle,” she grinned. “Sometimes boys really never finish growing up.” She glanced at Perry. “With all due respect, Sir Peregrine.”
He chuckled. “Please note I’m not arguing that point at all.”
Grace leaned close. “You’re planning on joining the snowball fight?”
