People attributed Rosanna’s popularity solely to her looks, but Katherine had witnessed other beauties who had not a fraction of her sister’s popularity. And conversely, there were ladies who would never be considered objectively attractive who drew beaus like flies to honey. Outward attractions aided to a degree, but there was aje ne sais quoito some that transcended physical appearances. Rosanna had a presence that Katherine could never mimic, even if she boasted her sister’s golden curls, voluptuous figure, or perfect eyes.
And wasn’t that a happy thought?
Letting out a sharp sigh that drew the attention of those around her, Katherine forced aside such thoughts. Dwelling in such darkness wasn’t helpful, and it did no good to lament that which she couldn’t change. Nor to blame the whole of her situation on unchangeable things.
Mr. Garrison stood before the crowd, and though he spoke of the revelries to come in glowing terms, he mostly thanked himself for the evening, despite having nothing to do with it (beyond funding and housing the thing) before turning it over to the performers.
Katherine rose and followed Miss Collette to the front, taking her seat at the pianoforte whilst the singer stood centerstage. Her seat was far too close to the instrument, and she had to rise and adjust it several times before it was in the proper place; Katherine ignored the impatient murmurs as she did her due diligence.
Focusing her thoughts on the here and now, she stared at the notes and focused on the piece. Only then did she raise her hands to the keys.
A movement from the audience drew Katherine’s attention, and she spied Mr. Archer on the edge of a row, his hand slightly lifted in greeting. Forcing her gaze from him, she looked at Miss Collette, and with a nod from the young lady, Katherine began the introduction.
For all that her family cringed at her “excessive” practicing, a performer never did better in public than she did in the privacy of her parlor. Mistakes were inevitable, so one needed to know the piece so well that having the sheet music in front of her was merely a formality.
At that moment, Katherine rather wished she were less diligent. As she knew the piece by heart, her fingers moved without prompting, following the singer’s dynamics with little thought. Which left her free to ponder the interlude with Benjamin and Mr. Tryck—the gentleman her brother wished to “foist” upon her, as Mr. Archer had put it.
Why Benjamin wished to do so was a mystery Katherine no longer wished to consider; she had pondered it enough times over the past sennight, and the answer wasn’t important. As Mama and Rosanna were keen to be rid of her, it mattered little that Benjamin had decided to join in their efforts. Besides, it wasn’t that surprising: he was Mama’s darling boy, after all.
No, it was the man he’d chosen for her that startled Katherine.
Mr. Tryck was not a nice man. True, he wasn’t violent or loose with his morals and money, but he was an arrogant fool who delighted in belittling others. He cloaked his cruelty in wit, but it couldn’t hide his sour soul. And that was the gentleman her brother wished her to consider marrying.
Katherine knew her features were unlikely to win many over, but did they truly think so ill of her that the only personalities she might entice were those no one wished to marry because they were so sinfully boring or beastly? But then, could she really cast stones when it was clear that few people thought her interesting or engaging?
Her fingers stumbled, but she did not flinch; the first lesson of performing was to school one’s expression. Most never noticed as long as the musician didn’t give herself away with a wince. And thankfully, that rule held true, for Miss Collette was the entire focus, and Katherine’s playing was merely the background support for the girl’s voice.
Forcing her thoughts back to the music, Katherine stared at the pages. But her eyes grew unfocused. She didn’t need its guidance to know what notes to play, and her hands ran up and down the keyboard, easily hitting each note without conscious thought.
With so many set against her, why did she believe herself worthy of someone better than Mr. Tryck? How could she say she had value when no one else saw it? Pride was simply an overinflated sense of self, and if everyone believed her to be a sour-faced hag with all the personality of a viper, who was she to say it wasn’t true?
And how pompous was it of her to say that Mr. Tryck wasn’t good enough for her?
Katherine’s throat tightened, and she blinked at the music. Drawing in a deep breath, she held it for several long seconds before letting it out. Forcing herself back to the music, she refused to let her mind wander into those dark corners again.
Thankfully, the song came to an end, and Miss Collette took her applause whilst Katherine gave a small bob from behind the piano. A room full of people all watching her, and not a single one of them knew or cared how much her heart ached.
But when she lifted her gaze from the ground, her eyes fell straight to Mr. Archer, who was applauding with all the rest, though his attention was fixed on her alone. His broad smile lit up his face, and he called, “Brava,” with far more gusto than an accompanist garnered. Katherine’s brows pulled low, and she jerked her gaze away. Another voice echoed his, and her eyes flew to where Pamela and her husband sat, both of them clapping for her as well.
A few people who saw something of value. But was their affection enough to balance out the vast ocean of apathy?
The applause ended, and she took her seat once more amongst the performers, her gaze turned to those who claimed her and Miss Collette’s previous positions. However, Katherine’s attention was well and truly occupied.
At various intervals, her internal thoughts were interrupted when she was called to accompany again, but she couldn’t free herself of the melancholy that had taken hold of her heart. Or the unease she felt every time Mr. Archer called out with far more exuberance than was warranted for her part in the performance.
Then the moment Katherine had feared. With many years of experience amongst the musical set of Greater Edgerton, she knew full well how aggravating some of them were. Creativity and talent did not make one inherently better than another, and there were far too many musicians who believed themselves to be a gift from heaven to bless lives with their music. And more often than not, those with the least amount of talent were the most pompous.
Mrs. Turley was one whose talent deserved acclaim, for having earned her living with her voice before her fortuitous marriage to Mr. Turley, she was by far the greatest amongst the ragtag set of amateurs gathered tonight. And how her voice soared.
Katherine lost herself in the music, reveling in the clear sound; though she far preferred the lower registers of altos, Mrs. Turley’s bright soprano lacked the shrillness so often found in those higher ranges. Having never traveled outside of Greater Edgerton, Katherine had never graced the theater, and the professionals she’d heard were few and far between. The tears she refused herself surfaced as Mrs. Turley’s voice hummed in the air, warming Katherine’s heart as the lady sang of love and loss.
When the final notes sounded, applause erupted, and Katherine shot to her feet. Her gloves muted the sound, and she longed to rip them from her hands; though the others joined in, it was still not enough, for the lady deserved far more. Despite the dwindling sound from the crowd, Katherine remained on her feet, and she wanted to scowl at the others, for a few seconds of appreciation was hardly worthy of that performance.
Finally, Katherine took her seat and wished Mrs. Turley was the entirety of the program. Lost as she was in that thought, she entirely forgot about what was to come next until she spied Miss Flora Archer standing center stage, staring out at the crowd with large eyes.
Katherine’s muscles clenched as she watched the poor young lady. To follow Mrs. Turley would be difficult for any performer, but it would be impossible to avoid comparison when attempting a soprano solo directly after. And when Miss Flora’s first note faltered, Katherine’s heartbeat stilled as the pianist and singer fumbled to align with one another.
In any other instance, it would’ve been a small misstep. Embarrassing, to be certain, but not devastating. But it was easy to see the panic in Miss Flora’s eyes as her gaze darted to Mrs. Turley. It was a simple country tune, and it suited the performer, but Katherine could well imagine the thoughts flying through Miss Flora’s mind at that moment. The song wasn’t as grand as Mrs. Turley’s aria; it never could be.
