Jess probably thought him rude, but he shut down any attempt she made at conversation on the way back to the castle, more determined than ever to terminate her contract as soon as possible. Even though the saving made by not paying her wages would be a bit like attempting to stop a runaway truck with a feather, it would be a start – and he needed to start somewhere. There seemed no way around the fact that Sebastian would be facing nothing but difficult decisions for the foreseeable future.
Much later, when he was sure everyone had gone to bed and the castle had fallen silent, Sebastian headed for the music room. This was the first time since his return that he’d allowed himself entry.
With the doors from the breakfast room and the drawing room firmly closed, and moonlight spilling in from the large double French doors which led out to a formal garden, Sebastian ran a hand over the top of the grand piano which stood in the centre of the room. It was sleek and elegant, but had been silent for far too long; Sebastian wondered how badly out of tune it had become. Hopefully not as badly as the old upright in the village hall.
But that wasn’t why he wanted to play. This wasn’t about the maintenance of the Steinway; this was more about the maintenance of his own mental health. He should never have made such a ridiculous promise to himself – that when his time with the Philharmonic came to an end and he was called back to Kirkshield, as he’d always known he would be eventually, he would set aside his violin. He’d promised himself he would make up for his years away, indulging himself in his passion, by forsaking the instrument once he became earl.
What he hadn’t bargained for was the rapidity with which he would be forced to give up his precious instrument. As he propped open the lid, then pushed back the fallboard to reveal the keys, he hoped the piano would go some way towards bridging the gap. Before he’d begun to learn the violin, the piano had been his first musical love. This piano had stood in the same spot for the whole of Sebastian’s life, a fixed point in the roaring waters of his adolescence. And although it had been one of the many aspects of his character which didn’t seem to live up to his father’s hopes, his mother had always encouraged him in his musical endeavours.
Pulling out the piano bench, he settled onto its familiar tapestry-upholstered seat, resting fingers on well-worn keys as he checked he could comfortably operate the pedals. Before he knew what he was doing, his fingers found their way across the keys, and he began to play. The sounds came softly at first, a smile edging onto his lips as he realised the instrument wasn’t too badly out of tune and his rendition of ‘Für Elise’ was recognisable. The smile spread as he remembered Freya sitting at the far end of the stool, watching him, remembered his own delight when he first managed to play the piece from beginning to end without error, and how his little sister had clapped and called it his special Furry Knees music.
With nothing but the light from the moon to guide him, and blocking out thoughts of anything else, Sebastian played piece after piece, losing himself in the simple pleasure of making music.
Jess had taken Digby out for a final comfort walk and was about to go to bed when she thought she heard something. Fairly sure the family had all retired for the night, Jess shut Digby in her room and pulled on her metaphorical big-girl pants, deciding to make a lap of the ground floor just to be sure everything was as it should be.
The sound came again as she rounded the vestibule corridor near the front door and headed back down the picture gallery. The door to the breakfast room stood wide, and nothing was out of the ordinary in there – if ‘ordinary’ was the correct term to use for having a room purely in which to eat breakfast – but the sound came again. It was music. Someone was playing a piano.
She cracked open the door at the far side of the breakfast room, widening the gap enough to get a look at the piano and its player, even though she was sure she knew who was playing.
It was Sebastian.
In the doorway, Jess stayed put, almost holding her breath as she found herself transfixed. Above and beyond the way he’d played in the village hall, there was a subtlety to the way he was delivering this far more complex piece of music, a confidence in his interpretation – something Jess had noticed from professional musicians. It was as though the music wasn’t even coming from the piano but was somehow manifesting itself in the room at Sebastian’s command, like a conjuring trick.
She lost track of how long she stood there, watching Sebastian play by the light of the moon, with his back to the door and not a single piece of sheet music anywhere to be seen. It was like being at a concert but being the only person in the audience. Afterwards, she wondered if it might have been better if she’d slipped away, unseen. If he’d never realised she was there. But she had shifted her weight and a floorboard had creaked in a particularly soft passage in the music. Sebastian turned at the noise and saw her standing there.
‘That was amazing,’ she said, hoping maybe to strike up a conversation about his clear love for music, but he looked annoyed to see her standing there.
Jess tried to lighten the atmosphere. ‘You could invite the village choir to practise here – that way at least the piano would be in key.’
She smiled. He didn’t. He turned away from her, pulling down the fallboard with a snap. The magical atmosphere he’d created with the music was gone, the room was cold and dark again, and without saying a word he swept past her and was gone, too.
Dee could hear the music from her bedroom. She recognised so many of the pieces her son was playing, remembered listening to him learning to play them. Remembered the constant undercurrent of disapproval which had flowed from Henry every time a music teacher had arrived at the castle to give Sebastian a lesson. Dee had stood sentinel outside the music room to ensure Henry hadn’t gone in and interrupted whenever Sebastian went in there to practise – which had been very often. She’d been there to deflect and distract while giving her son the time he needed.
It seemed extraordinary, now, that she’d gone to such lengths – or rather, that she’dhadto go to such lengths – to allow her son to play the piano. If it had been one of the girls, Dee felt sure her husband wouldn’t have cared – he probably would have encouraged them. After all, they were girls, so it didn’t really matter what they did so long as it was interesting and attractive to men. Whereas he wanted Sebastian to match up to his own ideals of what his son should be. What being a man was all about. And playing piano, or the violin for that matter, with the skill and the subtlety of the truly gifted, didn’t appear anywhere on Henry’s wish list.
Would it have been better to have left? To have taken the children and run? It was easy to say that, now. But everything had happened incrementally. It was child’s play to look back with a cold, hard dose of hindsight, and see just how controlled they had been. Just how brave Sebastian had been to leave. How desperate Freya had been to move to Austria with Christian.
It had been far more difficult to spot the creeping control as it was happening. When did you decide enough was enough? How easy was it really to set a line in the sand, to say that a particular action or behaviour would be the moment you packed up and left?
After all, Henry had never once shown any sign of being aggressive or physical with her or any of the children. He’d been unfaithful, yes. But so were many husbands. He’d blustered and been demanding, but he’d never threatened them physically. It had only ever been psychological – and how did you go about explaining that to people outside the environment?
And anyway, who would have felt any sympathy for someone like her? A countess, no less, calling her life into question, when she lived in a massive house in one of the most beautiful parts of the world, with a healthy family and people looking after her every whim? How couldshehave anything to complain about when there were people in the world without a roof over their heads, or enough money for food?
No, she understood the hierarchy of pain, and she’d made her choices. She had made her bed and had chosen to continue to lie in it. She didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for her – never had.
Dee sighed, refocusing on the music filtering into her ears. Maybe it had been worth it. With a bit of time to adjust, Sebastian would come to realise he was in his rightful place and would set about making a far better job of looking after Kirkshield Castle and everyone on the estate than his father had ever done. There was nothing stopping him continuing to play his music – Dee hoped it wouldn’t take him too long to lift a bow to his violin again, and she could again listen to him play the instrument he loved the best. Freya had promised to bring her family for Christmas, and Olivia was here; she hadn’t ever left. At last Dee would have all the important members of her family back with her, even if it was only fleeting, in Freya’s case.
The music stopped. Dee continued to stare into the darkness of her bedroom for a while, then turned onto her side and closed her eyes. She imagined her thoughts would continue to swirl, ebb and flow around her children and their futures, and yet she found her mind’s eye filled with someone else. A strong image of Robbie, his dogs running freely around him, while he stared in her direction.
Even though it was dark, Dee felt sure her cheeks burnt crimson at the way the man stole into her thoughts. Like a movie playing in her head, she was back on the path to the waterfall, watching him lifting a hand to acknowledge hers, a slight smile on his lips. Or was that bit purely in her imaginings? Had he smiled, or had the smile been only on her own lips?
Dee frowned into the darkness. Why did it matter so much? She was simply overtired, that was the problem. A good night’s sleep was what she needed, and there was no place for Robbie in her thoughts. Dee huffed, turned over with a thump on her pillow, and did her best to shut out all her thoughts and allow sleep to claim her.
Chapter 9
Jess answered her phone as she closed the dishwasher, setting off an entire load of breakfast tableware which had made it, unbroken, through another mealtime. It had been three days since the incident with the tea tray, and she was getting rather good at not destroying the castle’s dishes, even if she did say so herself.
She had, however, burnt the bacon when she’d tried to grill it in the Aga and got the timings spectacularly wrong.
