Page 19 of Part of Your World

"All right, Miss Quinn. I'll call your bluff. Impress me, and I'll grant you an audience. Though I warn you, I don't impress easily."

The girl beamed a smile of such joy, Octavia felt compelled to frown to keep the atmosphere balanced.

"Thank ye, ma'am." She moved to where Clarice had stood a moment ago and glanced through the sheet music.

Not one to give an opponent any advantage, Octavia slid onto the piano bench and began playing the introduction without waiting for the redheaded urchin to indicate her readiness. Her eyes widened a bit in surprise, but she shuffled the music back to the first page and made her entrance in perfect time.

"'Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone."

Octavia nearly missed a key, so shocked was she by the purity of the sound coming from the ragamuffin before her. Miss Quinn didn't belt out the notes, trying to impress with the strength of her musical prowess. Instead, she sang with a gentleness and ease that befit her floral subject matter. Even in the second measure where the melody jumped a sixth from the A to the F, she floated up to the note like a butterfly catching a breeze. No pouncing upon it like most amateur sopranos.

"All her lovely companions are faded and gone."

She moved into the third line, swelling with the music. Octavia moved with her, the challenge fading from her awareness as the music took precedence. And when Miss Quinn slowed the tempo to add the turn of coloratura at the end of the third line? Octavia followed, slipping out of the role of instructor and into the role of accompanist.

"No flower of her kindred, no rosebud is nigh

To reflect back her blushes and give sigh for sigh."

They progressed through the second and third stanzas, each as effortless and beautiful as the last. Octavia's mind began to spin. She could make a fortune off this girl. Folk songs, not arias, would be the angle. Ballads like "Red River Valley," "Oh, Shenandoah," and "Barbara Allen." She'd make grown men weep. They'd likely have to start in dance halls, but it wouldn't take long to earn their way to the opera house circuit. She could take a year off from teaching at the academy, travel throughout Texas, maybe even to St. Louis or Chicago.

Her ambition had expanded to New York by the time the final note faded into the concluding measures of the accompaniment.

Applause rose from Sister Mary Vincent at the back of the room, and the sound startled Octavia out of her plotting. She'd forgotten the nun was there.

"Oh, Miss Quinn," Sister Mary Vincent enthused as she made her way down to the piano. "That was lovely. The Lord has truly blessed you with an amazing talent."

Pink colored the girl's cheeks as she dipped her chin. "Thank ye, sister. I be hopin' to honor him with me efforts. 'Tis why I sing with me church's choir."

Octavia rose with stately grace from the piano bench, carefully banking her enthusiasm. "A talent such as yours shouldn't languish in a single church, my dear. It should be shared with the masses. Just think of the lives you could touch. With my training and connections, we could make you the toast of Texas."

The girl wagged her head, panic erupting in her gaze. "Oh, nay, ma'am. I can't be leavin' Galveston. 'Twould break me da's heart. Mine, too, if I'm bein' honest. I belong here. Near the sea." A new glitter entered her eyes. "In fact, 'tis the sea that introduced me to the man who captured me heart. The one I need yer help to win. His name is Zane Erickson. Do ye know him?"

The disappointment that had been rising like a wave in Octavia's chest receded with lightning speed. Zane Erickson? That's the suitor she sought? Her pulse zipped about like Machi and Velli in a pouncing frenzy. Perhaps working among the Ursuline nuns all these years had finally scored her some heavenly favor. What else could explain the miraculous appearance of the perfect solution to her ledger problem?

Keeping her expression carefully composed, Octavia turned to Sister Mary Vincent and dipped her chin. "Thank you, sister. You may leave us. Miss Quinn and I have business to discuss."

"Very well." The nun folded her hands into her sleeves, tipped her head in deference, then glided out of the classroom, closing the door behind her.

The lowborn schoolgirl with her unfashionably bright hair and cringe-worthy accent bounced forward and clasped Octavia's hand. "Oh, thank ye, ma'am. I can't tell ye how much this means to me."

"Yes, well . . ." She extricated her hand from the overeager girl's grip and took a step back. "I've not agreed to anything yet." Though the innocence shining in Miss Quinn's gaze proved quite encouraging. Naïveté made a subject so much easier to manipulate. Especially when the heart was involved. "Have a seat, child." She gestured to one of the student desks.

Miss Quinn hastily slid into the chair, her eyes nearly as large as her smile as she blinked up at Octavia.

Eager to please. An excellent start. Octavia grinned slightly as she pulled a chair from a neighboring desk and positioned it across the tabletop from her new client. Best to make the girl think of her as an ally. Although, she also needed to make it clear who was in charge.

"Now, dear, before we go any further, you need to understand that as much as I enjoy bringing lovebirds together, matchmaking is not a charitable pastime for me. It is a business. As such, payment will be required. And if I might speak plainly, I don't think someone in your position can afford my usual fee."

The girl's smile dimmed but determination flared in her eyes. "I know I ain't one o' yer wealthy clients, Mrs. Underhill, but I can pay in other ways. I can work for ye at yer home. Cleanin' and such. Or . . ." She straightened her posture and lifted her chin. "Or, if ye think people will pay to hear me sing, I'll give ye me voice for . . . say, six months? Ye can keep all the profits I bring in to cover me fee."

Hmm. The girl had pluck and could think on her feet. Good. She'd need those qualities to pull off the scheme brewing in Octavia's mind.

"My dear girl, you must realize that winning Mr. Erickson's heart is not the only battle you face. If you hope to marry, you must also win the approval of his family. Should word reach the Ericksons that you are working as a servant in my household, not only would it destroy your chances of making a match, but it would destroy my reputation. Something I cannot allow. And as much as I would love to take you and your lovely voice on tour, I'm afraid that won't help your cause, either. As unfair as it may be, female performers are often assumed to be immoral. My chaperonage would protect your reputation in the eyes of most, but even a hint of scandal could taint you in the eyes of a family like the Ericksons. No, I'm afraid we'll have to come up with a different plan."

"Do ye have somethin' in mind?"

So hopeful. So desperate. So ripe for the picking.