“Helena, you should play first since you are the eldest,” Faith said, as she opened the fallboard of the pianoforte.
Helena sighed. Picking up the music sheet that she had chosen earlier in the evening, she proceeded to sit on the bench.
“You have been forewarned that my playing is merely tolerable,” she reminded Matteo.
“Do not listen to her, Your Grace.” Grace said, “She always says that, so one will be surprised at how good she really is at playing.”
“Away with you, Grace!” Helena said, laughing.
And Grace’s statement was, in fact, a true statement; Helena played beautifully in Matteo’s opinion.
Chastity played after her, followed by Faith, and then Grace.
Faith might be the most technically proficient among the four sisters, but Faith was not the one who drew his eyes. He had watched Helena openly, observing the line of her shoulders and the gentle swaying of her head as her fingers danced over the keys of the instrument. He caught himself leaning closer to catch every detail of the performance—the deft movements of her fingers, the spark of concentration in her eyes, and most of all, the easing of her perpetually serious expression.
When Helena finished, she looked up from the pianoforte, and he caught her eye instantly. He grinned his applause and delight, then went to assist her in standing up.
“Beautiful.”
He took her hand and kissed it.
When tea arrived, they had gathered by the settee and started the exchange of stories. Starting with Matteo himself, until it had come full circle and he took his turn again. The difference this time was that the stories had taken on a supernatural and suspenseful tone.
“If it was I who heard the rattling of chains in the tower, I would have never dared return there!” Grace said, hands on her cheeks.
“Well, what happened next?” Helena asked, enthralled by Matteo’s tale.
Matteo swept his gaze over all four sisters, his green eyes carrying the mystery of what happened next.
“I could see Michael and the other boys from the village—the moon was full, you see, so it was a very bright night. I moved closer to the tower window, the one that Michael had described seeing the phantom from.” Matteo paused for effect, thoroughly enjoying the ladies’ enthralled expressions. “But I found nothing.”
Helena and her sisters all heaved a sigh of relief.
“Until—”
They all jumped in their seats.
“Michael and the boys started shouting and pointing behind me.”
“Oh!” Grace exclaimed. “I cannot bear it!”
She ran and fitted herself beside Helena, grabbing a pillow off the settee and hiding her face behind it.
“The phantom!” Chastity gasped. “It was real! Michael was telling the truth!”
Matteo raised his eyebrows and continued with a suspenseful look.
“I looked behind me, and there in the light of the moon, I saw…”
“Oh!” Grace exclaimed again.
“My great uncle, dressed in a cloak, and laughing at me.”
“What?” Helena cried. “It was all a trick?”
“I had thought as much,” Faith said with a self-satisfied smile. “Michael and the village boys were too eager to show you something that was supposedly too frightening for them. They were all part of it!”
“Perhaps had you been there, Lady Faith, you could have caught them at it. But, alas, twelve-year-old me was not as clever as you.” Matteo said, smiling.
