The audience hushed as the authoritative tone garnered the attention of everyone in the room, including Sir Francis.
‘But of course… Lord Huntingly,’ she responded valiantly, though it was clear she was dumbfounded. ‘What a treat that we should be entertained bytwoeloquent gentlemen this evening! I’m sure Lord Davenport can learn much from this…’ She paused to allow for several guffaws of laughter. ‘Please do come forward– the floor is yours.’
The room fell silent again, but this time there was a murmur of curiosity and briefly, Josephine wondered how many knew of the rumours surrounding Huntingly’s past.
‘Thank you, Lady Davenport,’ Lord Huntingly began, his melodic tone somehow quieting the air. ‘I perhaps ought to mention that I am no poet, but I did learn something of the world on my travels abroad.’
He smiled then, his amber flares catching the flickering candlelight, as Matilda suddenly fell quiet.
‘And, if you will permit me, I will break with the current mood and recite a passage from Homer’sBattle of the Gods, which I return to often because it reminds me that it is mortality that gives life its significance.’
There was another low murmur while Lady Davenport blinked at Lord Huntingly in abject wonder, and then he began. Much to her irritation, Josephine found herself entirely mesmerised this time. It wasn’t so much that he related the passage without falter, as that his rendition left no one in any doubt that life and love were meaningless without mortality. And when he came to an end, there was a moment’s protracted silence before the whole room erupted in applause.
‘What a dark horse!’ Matilda exclaimed as Lord Huntingly made his way to a footman holding a tray of glasses.
‘You have no idea,’ Josephine murmured.
Thoughtfully, she watched Lord Huntingly polish off a glass of Burgundy, as Lady Davenport’s piercing voice rose above the chatter once more.
‘And now I believe there are only the Miss Fairfaxes left to perform, and it will be time to break for refreshment!’ she announced in a vulturous tone. ‘Come, dears, which of you modest young ladies would like to delight us first?’
Josephine’s hopes sank as she realised the gentlemen’s performances had not distracted Lady Davenport at all. Another hush fell across the room, before she became suddenly and intensely aware of a heavy pressure on her toes. She rose reluctantly.
‘I will play for us both tonight, Lady Davenport,’ she replied with a forced smile, ‘for Matilda has the headache.’
Immediately, there were several murmurs of sympathy for the afflicted Matilda, who accepted them with the grace of a true rogue, as Josephine made her way towards a harp in the shadows. It belonged to one of the Miss Davenports, but she’d chosen to sing, so it had remained silent tonight.
‘This piece is taken from Dussek’s “Sonata for Harp in C Minor”,’ she introduced quietly. Then before she had time to change her mind, she sat down and began to play.
The room fell silent, but Josephine was already unaware. Unlike her sisters, she’d relished her music tuition, and the escape it gave her from illness. And over time, while her sisters and brothers ran wild across Knightswood’s rambling estate, it became multiple worlds, filled with light and health. Performing always felt uncomfortably close to sharing this magic, but even she accepted that some moments couldn’t be avoided.
The piece passed in a blur, and it was only when she felt the very last string vibrate to a standstill that she allowed herself to look up. His was the first face she saw. He was still in the shadows, holding a drink, but his usual mocking expression had been replaced with something quite inscrutable. She returned his regard for a moment, and then the sound of rapturous applause reached through her haze. She stood up and nodded awkwardly.
‘Brava, Miss Fairfax, brava!’ she heard Sir Francis call from the crowd. ‘You play like an angel!’
‘Indeed you do, Miss Fairfax,’ Lady Davenport added a little sourly, glaring at her own daughters. ‘All that practice has certainly paid off!’
Josephine flushed, so conscious of Lord Huntingly’s watchful gaze as she made her way towards the refreshments table at the back of the room. For a second, she thought of the glass-eyed hares hanging from his saddle bag, and swallowed.
‘You were wonderful, Miss Josephine, quite wonderful!’ a female voice gushed as she began pouring herself a glass of ratafia. ‘I found myself transported somewhere else entirely. Indeed, such was your concentration and skill that I wonder if you might not be in need of a breath of fresh air… or a turn around the orangery perhaps? I find the air in here quite…exhausting.’
To Josephine’s great surprise, she found herself looking directly into the perfectly-ringleted face of Miss Amelia Carlisle. She smiled at her almond-shaped eyes, pert nose and rose-bow lips, and briefly wondered if every Carlisle was blessed with the face of a Renaissance maid.
‘And now we will break for refreshments!’ Lady Davenport announced. ‘During which time, my daughters have prepared something a littleextra specialfor your entertainment, so please don’t wander too far.
Josephine raised her eyebrow at her companion, and then followed her swiftly out of the room.
ChapterTen
Lord Davenport’s Orangery; Blossom and Thorns
A few minutes later
The first thing Josephine noticed was the ease with which Miss Amelia led the way and fleetingly, she wondered if she too was in the habit of escaping.
‘Are you enjoying your stay with the Davenports, Miss Amelia?’ she asked, following her guide turned down a succession of corridors until she paused before a wide, lead-framed door.
There was a solid click before she turned back to smile. ‘Why, yes, Miss Charlotte Davenport is one of my closest friends,’ she replied, before leading the way into the vast and silent glasshouse.
