Chapter Fifteen
“If music be the food of love, play on.”
We had agreed to meet at two. I wore a shawl wrapped tightly beneath my cloak to keep warm as I made my way to Clearfield House. Large snowflakes landed on my shoulders and head, and I looked up, watching them spiral from the sky in pretty flurries of white.
My stomach fluttered with nervousness. I didn’t know exactly what James had planned, but I was excited to find out, moving with quick steps across the thin layer of snow. Doubt filled my mind as I walked. Surely there was no way I could play the pianoforte the same as before, but he seemed to believe I could. I was desperate to know what he meant.
I took care not to slip on the steps when I arrived in front of Clearfield House. Mrs. Abbot was there to meet me in the entryway. I tried to smooth the wet, melting snow out of my hair but gave up when I realized it was bound to look horrendous no matter how much I touched it.
“You walked here? Good heavens, Charlotte! You’ll catch a cold!” She snatched the wet cloak off my shoulders, shaking itand handing it to the butler. “I could have sent a carriage, you know. Poor Rachel and Lucy are ill themselves and are confined to their rooms.”
“Oh, dear.” I looked toward the west corridor. “I hope they recover soon.” I was surprised by the genuine concern I felt for them.
“I am certain they will, not to worry.” She gestured to the drawing room door at the right, and I followed her in. “Butyoumust be careful. How is your hand healing?”
I hesitated as I sat beside her on the settee. The pain and swelling had decreased significantly, but I knew that soon the stitches would be removed and the bandages would be minimized, and I would have to see my fingers for myself. I could no longer avoid it. The bandages had become a comfort—keeping me blind to what had really happened. I took a deep breath and smiled. “Mr. Watkins says it is healing well.”
Mrs. Abbot smiled. “I am glad to hear it. You are so very strong.” She gave my arm an encouraging squeeze.
I returned her smile. No one had ever called me strong before. Strong-willed, perhaps. I found it strange that she cared so much about me—my concerns and fears and hardships. Mama had never cared about those things.
A footman appeared in the doorway of the drawing room, and I knew what that meant. I sat up straighter, my stomach swooping with sudden nerves as James walked into the room.
He gave a charming smile as he greeted Mrs. Abbot, then me. My gaze lingered on his face, and his on mine. I wondered what Mrs. Abbot thought of our plans to meet that day in her drawing room. She hadn’t implied anything about an attachment or courtship, which I was grateful for. Because I was indeednotattached, and we werenotcourting. We were simply acquaintances—friends—something greater than enemies.
James lowered his gaze, dark lashes hiding his eyes from view. “Thank you for lending us your drawing room, Mrs. Abbot. There simply isn’t a pianoforte that compares to yours.” He could sound very refined when he cared enough to do so.
She laughed. “I find that quite amusing. My pianoforte is ancient and half the keys are chipped.”
James shrugged. “But the sound is all the richer for it, and the flaws give it character.”
“If you say so.” Mrs. Abbot chuckled again. “I am simply grateful that you wish to grace my home with your musical talents. I don’t understand how I have been so fortunate to have two of the most talented musicians of my acquaintance play on my old, antique instrument.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “You have both touched my heart.”
I smiled through my nervousness. At least Mrs. Abbot would be here with James and me, keeping our meeting proper.
She took a deep breath as she started toward the door. “Well then, I will leave you to it. I must go tend to my daughters.”
A wave of panic struck me. “What?” I kept my voice calm.
“Rachel and Lucy are unwell. I should be with them.”
James frowned. “I’m sorry to hear they are unwell.”
Mrs. Abbot waved a hand in dismissal. “It is nothing too dreadful. Only a cold.” She continued toward the door. “At any rate, my absence will afford the two of you a little more peace and quiet.” I thought I saw a spark of mischief in her eyes.
I almost protested again but thought better of it. She gave one last smile and flitted out of the room. Silence flooded the air, and I stood perfectly still, facing the open doorway. I counted to ten in my mind, wondering which second would be the most natural to turn around on.Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen?I could hear myself breathing.
“Are you ready to be proven wrong?” I heard the smile in James’s voice.
Turning to face him, I was relieved that he was indeed smiling. The tension in the air slackened enough for me to speak clearly. “Are you going to present me with a new hand? A whole new set of fingers?” I raised an eyebrow at him.
He stepped closer, lips curved upward. “No.” He tipped his head down to look at me. “But I am going to offer you a share ofmyhand, if you don’t mind.”
I scowled in confusion, and then he reached forward and took my uninjured hand in his. My heart skipped. His hand was soft and rough at the same time, gentle and strong. I tried to pull it away, to accuse him of being too bold, but I was weak from the unexpected gesture of his touch.
“I’ll show you,” he said in a quiet voice, guiding me by the hand across the room. We stopped by the pianoforte. He motioned for me to sit on the left side of the bench, and to my dismay, he sat on the other side. I stared down at the keys, unable to look at his face, knowing full well how close it would be to mine.
He pointed at the music on the stand. “Do you know this?”
